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madame-fear · 3 months

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*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 .ೃ࿐

[ one | two ]

ೀ amira speaks! : Based on this plot. Okay,, I know I said I would write it all in one part, but splitting it in two helps me stay motivated to keep writing. 🙈 Smut will be in part two. This chapter only contains Luke being a bit possesive with you. Enjoy! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : Prince Lucerys had his eyes set on you ever since you were children, and his affection for you grew stronger when you comforted him after losing his eye at the hands of his Uncle Aemond. But when your time of marrying another Lord comes in your early 20s, the now young Lord of Driftmark isn’t happy at all — though, he plans on making you his, as you were always supposed to be. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 2.1k

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : AU, smut, friends to lovers, a bit of an obsessive Lucerys. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : One Eyed!Lord!Lucerys x (childhood best friend)!Reader

Lucerys Velaryon, your childhood best friend, had grown to be known as the “One Eyed Prince”; or the “One Eyed Bastard”, as many referred to him.

The loss of his eye had been greatly significant in his early life, having lost it after trying to defend his older brother Jace and his cousins from his uncle Aemond. If anything, it had helped to encourage and fuel the resentment their families felt for one another. And you had been there to witness the tense aftermath of the situation.

Your mere presence was enough to comfort Lucerys when you were just young children; you had a shoulder for him to cry on if he wished to grieve his eye, until he became used to living with it. “The loss of your eye is a symbol of the courage you had to confront your uncle, and defend your loved ones,” you constantly reminded him, embracing him tightly whenever he needed you. And the comfort he so desperately sought for, was always found in you.

You had always been there for the Velaryon prince, before and after the incident with his eye. But, there was something in that constant warming comfort you provided for him, that made Lucerys feel as if he could melt right under your love and attention. Perhaps, it was something he had been feeling deep down inside of him without even admitting it to himself, you were supposed to be just a good friend — but during the aftermath of his eye loss, nothing else mattered to you except his well-being.

You made sure to spend as much time as needed with him, offering comfort and love; which made Luke realise, just how perfect you were in every sense. Hardly any other woman could possibly compare to the inner and outer perfection you so gracefully carried.

The years passed by, and his personality simply grew to be more of a cold, and reserved one; compared to the timid, innocent boy Lucerys used to be. You couldn’t complain — his personality around you remained as endearing and gentle as it always used to be, though a bit more overprotective. You had grown to be as delicate as glass, precious as the petal of a flower; how could Luke not be protective over you? Especially since he was particularly fond of you... In more than just a friendly way.

Every boy, Prince, and Lord had their eyes fixed on you whenever you passed by, occasionally getting to flirt with you and making you laugh. Lucerys was never exactly proud of this, especially when another man tried to flirt with you in front of his face. He always kept a close eye on you, and made sure to advert your attention away from those men with any excuse that came to him. Jealousy ran on his blood like a fiery venom, and it was impossible for him to hide it — yet, you never realised the obvious intentions he had of keeping you away from anyone who wanted to compete against him for your affection.

Lucerys’ efforts where never in vain, they worked just the way he wanted. You always gossiped with Lucerys about whatever man tried to woo you, laughing to yourselves at your own remarks — and it never seemed as if you were interested in anyone else, except Lucerys when his presence was near your own. Compared to him, you weren’t exactly discreet when your gaze was fixed on his features, and to him, that was something to hold great pride for.

As you had always done since childhood, you sat under a large tree that you both considered your secret spot. The weight of his head rested peacefully on your lap, with his eye closed. One of your hands held a book, which you were reading outloud to him, and your other free hand mindlessly played with his dark curly hair. Both of you had managed to find a free space between your duties, deciding to spend some quality time together after quite some time of not having seen each other.

He now might be the Lord of Driftmark, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t visit you, and do the same things you had done since children. After all, the responsabilities that came with being a Lord were exhausting — could he not calmly rest with you, the woman that practically owned his heart, feeling your fingers mess with his hair and your soothing voice reading to him?

Pausing in between your lecture, you softly tilted your head towards him, admiring how peaceful he seemed with his head weighing on your lap. Teasingly, your fingers moved from playing with strands of his hair, and they moved to slowly caress the skin on his cheeks. “Have you fallen asleep already?” you inquired, with an amused voice tone and a growing smile at the corner of your lips.

Like your own, Lucerys couldn’t help but immediatly smile, softly chuckling as he opened his eye. “I am very well awake, love, and attentively listening to you.” his green eye stared at you admiringly, appreciating how the sunlight reflected gracefully on your features. The cold, reserved personality he had grown into, fortunately never affected your relationship.

Yes, Luke might have grown quieter and more kept to himself, but whenever you were near him all of that faded away — being the sweet, gentle boy Lucerys had always been with you. Except that, he might be quite a bit possesive around you; with no other Lord or Prince being allowed to flirt with you, just a mere cold glare with his eye as he stood by your side was enough to frighten them away.

A soft chuckle spurred from you as your fingernails playfully scraped on his skin to caress him. His eye felt heavy, feeling as if he could fall asleep right there at the mere sensation of your warm touch. “I have greatly missed you, Luke.” you began speaking, as his grin grew wider. “I’m quite content having been able to sneak away from our duties to be together. Your duties as the Lord of Driftmark are taking your attention away from me.”

Part of you said that as a jest, with both of you laughing softly at it, and another part of you was being wholeheartedly genuine. And having known you since childhood, he immediatly noticed that. Which left him quietly surprised, to hear suh confession — but Luke wasn’t going to deny the fact that he enjoyed having you clinging to him for his attention and care.

“I could say the same to you, byka jorraelagon.” lazily, he raised his hand. His fingertip lovingly caressed you under your chin, fixing his stare on your delicate features. “But don’t worry too much about it. None of my duties as Lord ever take you off from my mind, I can assure you.” a rosy hue smeared across your cheeks, nearly melting as his digit traced your skin under your chin. It seemed as if he knew exactly what to say, and how to touch you. It was satisfying enough for him to see your reaction, which was just the one he wanted.

Softly, you sighed, allowing him to keep stroking your skin. You had always longed for these private moments between the two of you, where you could do or say anything without caring for anything else. The smile that had grown at the corner of your lips dropped faintly, becoming a grimace as you frowned. Your expressions slowly turned into a despondent one, to which Lucerys immediatly noticed as his eye stared attentively at you.

Your own thoughts about enjoying solitude with him, escaping from your own responsibilities just to feel the warmth of each ofher’s presences, reminded you of your betrothal — and you were afraid such compromise would stand in the way of your meetings with Lucerys, in one way or another.

“What’s the matter?” he cooed calmly, noticing the change in your demeanor. You offered him a frowny smile. “Nothing, Luke. Everything is alright. Why?” as quick as you were in dismissing his concern for you, he wouldn’t leave it just there. “I know you. Your face says otherwise, something happened.” slowly, he stopped caressing you under your chin with his fingertip, just to rest his hands on his chest as Lucerys stared at you attentively.

“What happened? I need to know, (y/n).” Lucerys kept insisting, and you knew he wouldn’t give up so easily — not when he noticed something was troubling you. You huffed at the mere thought of it, beginning to shake your head in disappointment. “It’s just...” the words trailed off, hesitating for a moment before continuing. Your gaze lingered elsewhere, feeling how his eye was fixed on you.

“I have been betrothed— And... I’m afraid our moments together will not be as often as they currently are.” you managed to spill out. The words spurred mumbled, but they escaped from your lips, finally.

Moving your stare back to him, his expression was cold — yet, mixed with other emotions. Luke seemed confused, blankless, and yet... So impotent. Betrothals were a duty that no noble could ever from, it was a fate expected for you. But you should be betrothed to him. He could treat you so much better than any other mediocre, arrogant Lord. No one knew you better, than Lord Lucerys himself.

His head weightened further on your head, before he rapidly moved to sit by your side, instead of resting on your lap. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Betrothed?” he inquired in a low tone. “Betrothed to whom, exactly?” both your hands now laid on your lap, fidgeting anxiously with your own fingers. Bewilder was expressed all across his young features. Your eyes stared down at your fingers, nibbling on your lower lip discreetly.

“I have been betrothed into House Lannister.” you mumbled, “Specifically to Loren Lannister.” deciding to stare at him, you noticed his jaw clenched slightly. His hazel eye lowered it’s sight to the vividly green grass, thinking quietly to himself. You stared at him nervously, noticing the silence looming between of you, amidst the faint sounds of the birds chirping.

House Lannister. The Lannisters had quite a reputation of their own — he always thought of them as arrogant, petty, and proud of themselves. Out of all the noble Houses that there were, you had to be betrothed into House Lannister? “Velaryon” suits you better, anyways — the young Lord knew he would eventually get away with what was his. You were not getting married to some cheap Lannister, not under his watch. A pretty little thing such as yourself will not go to waste with the One Eyed Lord.

“I see.” Luke coldly retorted. Despite his clear bemuse at the abrupt news, he felt satisfied with himself — he knew how he would find his way to get you out of that dreadful betrothal of yours. And that way, you’d be entirely free for him once again. Offering a warm smile, the One Eyed Velaryon took your delicate hand lovingly, caressing your skin with his thumb. He felt invitingly soothing, making you mindlessly grin and become flustered at the touch of his digit on your flesh. “But don’t worry, my love. I’m certain your betrothal will not affect our frequent meetings.” His hand raised your own towards his rosy lips, pressing them gently against your knuckles to give them a loving kiss. The rosy hue tainted on your cheeks leisurely became a reddish tone, offering him a sheepish smile to hide away your shyness whenever Luke demonstrated tender affection towards you — an endearing type of affection that he never thought of giving to someone else. Doubt overwhelmed you at hearing his confident statement.

“Are you...” the warmth of his lips on your knuckles lingered, as he pulled away, staring at you with his only eye. Gods, how pretty you were when it was obvious you were melting for him. “Are you quite certain about it? What if... What if my betrothed dislikes the idea of us–” the young Lord shook his head, using his other free hand to place it on your cheek comfortingly. You immediatly gave into it, allowing your head to fall against the palm of his hand.

“Your betrothed will say nothing, because I will find a way of being together— as I always do.”

You meekly smiled at him, softly allowing some chuckles to spur from those beauteous lips of yours; clearly content at his determination.

You were endearingly sweet— so innocent. Of course the One Eyed Lord had everything mapped out to find his way to you, as he had always done ever since you were children. Your lame excuse of a betrothed was no challenge to him, as he had exactly planned out how to get rid of him; having you all for himself, without anyone to possibly disturb your relationship.

You didn’t belong in House Lannister, and much less in Casterly Rock. You beloged in House Velaryon — you belonged in Driftmark. And Lucerys wouldn’t have it any other way.

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lady-targaryens-world · 10 months

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The only Daughter: Prolog

Note: It is my first story and i hope you like the Prolog….. ik it is very short!

English is not my native language!

Pairing: ? x Fem! Targaryen reader

Please like, comment and share 🫶

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You're the first born child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon

You are the only child of Rhaenyra who has Valyrian silver hair and purple eyes or better said, you have a purple eye and a green eye like Alyssa Targaryen, the mother of your grandfather Viserys and his brother Daemon the rogue prince.

Your eyes were also the reason why your grandfather cried when he held you in his arms for the first time, because after all those years he saw his mother in your beautiful eyes again.

You were the only grandchild of Viserys where he wanted to choose the name too.

Rhaenyra and Viserys thought about to name you after the late Queen Aemma or after Viserys mother Alyssa. But your father Laenor wanted a name for you which no Targaryen or Velaryon had yet.

Rhaenyra and Viserys agreed that you need an exceptional name, one that nobody will ever forget. And so they decided to name you

y/n Velaryon.

A few weeks after your birth, there were many rumors about you and your mother. Many believed you were the true-born daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen with Princess Rhaenyra. Viserys didn’t want to hear any of these rumours, for him you were his true-born granddaughter.

After you were born in King’s Landing, your parents made a big feast in celebration. Many lords and ladies from everywhere of the realm have arrived to see you and to be able to be there at your feast.

Your mother and father received many congratulations for your birth and many gifts were brought for you. You also received a gift from your aunt Lady Laena. After she heard about your birth, she went to the nest of her she-dragon Vhagar and chosed a black egg with red stripes for you.

That evening you were also named as the heiress of the iron throne. Both your mother and grandfather adhered to the tradition that the first-born child, whether boy or girl should inherit the throne.

But for many Lords of the realm and most of all for the Hightowers, it was bad enough that your mother Princess Rhaenyra was named as heiress of the iron throne.

But when you another princess were named as the next heiress, the protests among the lords became more, for them neither you or your mother were the rightful heirs but Aegon Targaryen your uncle and the firstborn son of the King.

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darklinsblog · 11 months

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Anomaly | Lucerys Velaryon Imagine

Summary: Years have passed since you created the nexus event, only this time, you and your family must visit King’s Landing, but Lucerys hasn’t forgotten of you.

Pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x Morpheus!Daughter reader

Part I

Author’s note: I promise after this we go back to on-scheduled Morpheus fics BUT I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS PART EVEN THOUGH THE FIRST ONE DID LIKE ABSOLUTE SHEE- okay thx ✨

It had been six years since you saved Lucerys from an imminent death, creating a Nexus event, resulting in your whole family, keeping tabs on the boy as his destiny became uncertain due to your accidental intervention.

The rest of the events went accordingly, but with the death of each loved one of Luke’s life you saw the poor prince being tormented by his immense losses.

He even had to watch, alongside his younger brother Aegon how their mother was viciously eaten by a dragon.

As well as practically being kept locked away as war kept going beyond the walls. When Aegon II died due to poison, and since he had no male heirs to inherit his throne, Lucerys was taken as next in line.

He had taken his place as the next king at the young age of fifteen, and regardless of other’s second-guessing. The king did an outstanding job, taking into consideration the post-war context of his reign.

Shockingly enough, Lucerys did not take Rhaena as his wife, but being a man, his decision to wait to marry wasn’t put onto the question.

Although, your father Morpheus knew better than anyone at the King’s court why he chose not to marry.

It was because his mind was fixated upon you, Y/N the girl who, so mysteriously saved his life. Truth be told, he had spent years searching for you on the low, but of course he had no luck finding you.

You didn’t admit to it even as the years passed but you would think of him too. A lot.

The Endless were going down to the Waking World, they would check upon the young king every once in a while, making sure everything was in perfect balance.

This time, as your father was to departure he stopped by at the gardens, where you spent an awful lot of time now.

Your dear father Dream sat beside you upon the grass, inspecting the view of The Dreaming.

“You may come if you please” your father spoke calmly, while you looked at him with your eyes wide open.

“But Destiny-“ you said nervously and Morpheus’ eyes softened.

“Leave your uncle to me, only be mindful of your distance with the boy” he advised you, while you nodded fervently and excited hugging your father tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You repeated as you hurried towards the veil at full speed now.

The Waking World felt so different now, more sober. Which was understandable given that this people had survived a war.

You were dressed up as nobles and tonight the kingdom was hosting a ball to reunite the noble houses. Thankfully your aunt had an eye to eye relationship with Mr. Cregan Stark so it was easy to blend in.

Every member of your family went in diverse directions including your father, not before he grabbed your arm softly.

“Please remember” he warned

“Father, I know. Maintain distance” you said annoyed

“Distance is no longer an option as he stands mere feet away from you. Only careful” your heart skipped a beat as he spoke such words, you turned but he was long gone and your eyes finally fell on Lucerys “The Dignified” Targaryen.

If you hadn’t spent all these years watching him from a far, you swore you wouldn’t have recognized him, he had grown taller and more muscular, his eyes seemed darker now.

Perhaps from all the horrors he had witnessed; but nevertheless, it was him. With that perfect golden crown contrasting his raven locks.

But the world stopped when he looked at you. The young king was looking at you, much worse, there was a sense of recognition in his eyes.

Panic flowed through your body as you tried to get lost in this sea of people and you almost managed to get through the door, but a hand caught your wrist.

Your breath hitched, you shut your eyes, maybe thinking if you did it would all go away but it didn’t.

Because truly you had no other choice but to face him.

When you did, Luke was still holding your wrist but it was almost as if he was trying to engrave your features in the back of his mind.

“Is it you? Y/N?” He asked trying to contain his excitement, his need, his hope and your eyes glistened.

“I didn’t think you would remember me…” you whispered softly but he heard you still, so he smiled softly.

“How could I not remember the girl who’s the sole reason of me standing here?” He spoke with such longing now making your knees tremble, he pulled you closer, placing a hand on your upper back, like a fine gentleman.

“Luke…” he smirked at the way his name rolled out of your tongue.

“I see you haven’t forgotten of me either” now he draw closer to your ear till you could feel his hot breath on your ear. “It’s been long since I’ve heard anyone call me that”

You would’ve already fell to the floor if it was for Luke’s strong arm holding you up.

“Please, come with me” he pleaded and you looked down, you were weak under his gaze and you knew it. “Please” he begged once more.

At last, you gave in and Lucerys guided you upon the palace gardens, you were quiet for awfully long, but you could feel the king’s gaze upon you.

“Y/N…” he chanted your name

“Don’t, Luke” you responded rapidly, Luke grabbed your waist and swiftly spoon you around, his hands were holding you firmly, so you could not escape as easy.

“Listen to me, only hear me if your heart calls for me, the way mine roars upon yours” he begged and you could only breathe heavily

“Your memory was the only thing that kept me sane, I even dared to hate you, wonder why you saved me, wonder if you were just a fabrication of my tortured mind to endure the pain” your eyes watered at his words, you wished you could be with him in all those moments he needed someone, anyone.

“Luke, meeting you was the most wonderful thing to me, but even this moment, is stolen, not supposed to exist” you were holding back the tears as you closed your eyes.

“Y/N, Y/N!” He said cupping your face in his hands, and you had no other option but to look at him.

“I do not care if the soil beneath our feet turns to ash. If the world implodes in on itself, I would give away my realm, my crown, if that’s what it took to have you by my side”

“Luke, listen to yourself you sound mad!”

“Do you love me?”

“LUKE!”

“DO. YOU. LOVE. ME?”

“YES!” You exploded “LUDICROUSLY. IRRATIONALLY. I AM… hopeless beyond repair…” you trailed off, surrendering to the want for him, because you couldn’t hold yourself any longer.

You were breathing on each other’s mouths heavily, his eyes diverted to your lips, you were mere millimeters apart and it was driving you both onto utter madness.

“Then I beg you… choose me. Set me free of the torment of this suffocating distance that burns my very soul”

Maybe he was right, maybe the world would implode in on itself, maybe Hell would freeze, maybe the Earth’s crust would separate in two.

But you were tired of running from your desires, you just wanted to fall deeper in love to this king, to the sweet boy you met all those years ago.

Maybe it was a mistake.

But mistakes could not have felt this good. Could they?

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 6 months

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I love Lord Corlys.

Because no matter what and even though he knows Lucerys and Jacerys are not his blood grand children, he loved those kids

No matter what when he said his grandkids he meant ALL

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #lord corlys #corlys velaryon #jacerys velaryon #jacerys targaryen #lucerys velaryon

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jamieclearwater2314 · 1 year

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Also can anyone make it 10 chapters like the 10 episodes please and thank you because I'm STARVING 🙏 I beg of you

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lilibethwrites · 2 years

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Hello! you would write to aemond x reader. Where she goes to Storm's End, trading instead of her brother, and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Warnings: violence, NSFW, incest

Word count: 3583

A.N: Reader is the middle sister of Lucerys and Jacaerys. This is a good old enemies-to-lovers story with a happy ending.

The family was gathered around the painted table. Plans were made and changed and remade altogether in mere seconds, the lords loyal to your mother scrambling to do everything all at once to secure her rightful claim to the throne.

“Send us, mother. Dragons are faster than ravens,” Jacaerys insisted when the matter of reaffirming old oaths came up.

On your mother’s command, he was to fly south and Lucerys was to fly north, to Storm’s End. Luke agreed to the task, yet you could tell his hesitance from the way he tried to conceal his fidgeting. The rattled nerves made him seem smaller than he was as he hunched over, nodding to the duty given to him.

So you stepped up, though only after the meeting was adjourned. Lucerys was too proud to allow what you have intended otherwise, but you were too fond of your baby brother to let him fly through the treacherous weather of the North alone.

“Mother. A word, please?”

Rhaenyra intended Lucerys to familiarize himself with diplomatic duties which were sure to come in waves following her own coronation. Your proposal was compelling nevertheless. Storm’s End was a flight too difficult for your younger brother to make alone, and you as his companion might soothe his nerves and might even compel Lord Borros Baratheon to be kinder to the message you were to deliver.

“Very well, then,” Rhaenyra reluctantly agreed to your proposal but only on the condition that you would go in peace: as envoys and not as warriors.

The flight to Storm’s End was uneventful. With jokes and friendly teasing, it almost felt like your regular flights above the Dragonstone on beautiful mornings and starry nights. Except there was strong wind and downpour all at once, and Lucerys became quieter as you approached your destination.

“Come on, Luke. I will race you to the courtyard!”

Your dragon was older, not big enough on her own to be considered mature yet, but bigger in comparison to Arrax, which made Arrax faster in contrast.

So Luke landed first, and you were mere minutes behind him.

“Well done, brother. You beat me. You shall have my slice of the pie this supper.”

But Lucerys didn’t seem excited about what would make him jump up and down if it were any other time. He didn’t even smile. He was facing his sister with a hand gripping the saddle on Arrax and the other clutching the hilt of his sword, but his young face was contorted in concern as he looked through her. If you hadn’t known him better, you’d almost misread it for fear.

“What is it?” You asked, but Luke only remained motionless, looking beyond to the walls of the keep.

It was then that you saw it in the flash of lightning that lit up the sky for a moment. Vhagar. She was big enough to make the outer walls of the keep seem like miniatures. You gulped, though remained stoic on the outside for the sake of your younger brother. You accompanied him to support him, not to plummet him down into the endless pit of fear. Vhagar meant, however, the Prince you’d rather see the least had beaten you to Lord Borros. You only hoped he was given a chamber of his own, and you’d deliver your message and slip out without ever facing him.

“Come on, Luke. Let us haste. Mother’s expecting us back for supper.”

The dark and empty hall was as hostile as its Lord. And in the corner stood Aemond Targaryen with one of Lord Borros’ daughters. She seemed tense. You could tell, because so were you.

“Come on, Luke.” You nudged your brother, and he held the sealed message out for the guards.

As the Maester to Lord Borros slowly dragged his feet to his master’s seat and relayed the message to him in hushed whispers, your eyes were trained on Aemond’s. He stood tall and proud, looking at you and your brother with disdain in his eyes and disgust in the way his lips curled up.

Luke clutched his sword once again, and you squeezed his shoulder. “Let go of it, brother. Remember your oath to mother.”

With Luke unable to marry, Lord Borros without a son to offer you, and most importantly, with sweet promises laced with poison seeping into his ear all the way from King’s Landing, Borros Baratheon broke his oath. On any other day, you’d remain and quarrel, threaten the Baratheon forces to bend the knee to the true Queen and not to the Usurper King, but on that day, you wished nothing more than to escort your brother out to safety.

“We thank you for your consideration, Lord Borros,” you spoke without reverence. A turncloak deserved only the traitor’s death. But you’d return for it another day.

Meanwhile, Aemond’s gaze burned into the back of your head as you put a hand on Luke’s back to signal him it was way past your time for departure.

“Wait, my Lord and Lady Strong!” Aemond’s humiliating tone echoed off the walls.

“Luke—”

Fiery as ever, Luke shrugged your hand off and turned on his heels to face Aemond.

“Mind your tongue! Apologize to my dear sister right now!”

“Hm. How about you apologize to me for trying to steal my brother’s crown, traitor?”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor and I will have your eye, bastard.”

Aemond ripped the dagger from its sheath and threw it flying towards Y/N and her older brother.

With each lightning that struck, the sapphire eye in place of the one Luke once slashed out glimmered. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own, no doubt just as vile and dangerous as its owner.

“As payment for mine.”

“No,” Lucerys stood his ground.

Aemond all but jumped forward then, spurred on by the courage of a boy he saw inferior to him in all regards. Lucerys to stand against him, tall and proud, was a massive hit to his pride.

As Aemond picked up his dagger and moved for Lucerys, you stepped in between your brother and uncle.

“NO! No!”

Your intervention caught Aemond by surprise. He was intrigued, amused, even. What a fine, fiery woman his nephew has turned out to be. Shame she was a bastard all the same.

“Please— Aemond. My Prince. Please—”

“What? Do you plead to pitch in?” he stared into Y/N’s eyes then. He was unyielding, unflinching.

“Luke, go. I command you. As your sister, I command you to leave!” You pleaded with Lucerys, but he stood unmoving behind you.

“Lucerys!”

“No…” Aemond was amused. “No, your eyes are of no value to me. I want his eye!”

Luke would have escaped had it not been for his older sister. He would have turned around and made it to his dragon as you demanded. Yet, only a few acts were more loathsome than leaving kin to the wolves. Besides, Rhaenyra would’ve shredded him to bits and fed him to Arrax for all to see.

So Luke kneeled to take the dagger. Aemond’s request was fair after all.

“Perhaps not my eyes,” You spoke hastily with your hand wrapped around Luke’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

“But demand what you deem worthy of me and you shall have it. I beg of you, Aemond. Let my baby brother return to our mother. He came only as an envoy. He means no harm to you.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider the offer genuinely that time. “As if you could harm me if you tried. Well, it seems the girl has bigger balls than you, bastard. You’re strong only in name, Lord Strong.”

Then he turned his attention back to you with a cruel smirk that pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You would trade your life, no matter how worthless, for your bastard brother?”

“If it is my life you demand, you shall have it. But allow my brother safe passage first.”

It was Lucerys’ turn to protest then, but you took a step forward, hoping that Aemond would be merciful enough to at least spare your brother the grim sight of the execution of his sister.

“I won’t kill you, dear Nephew. Oh, no. That would be entertainment for what? an hour? No, I will marry you,” His eye widened and he grinned as if a child got a platter of cakes and pies all to himself.

“Go on, then, pup,” He nodded to Lucerys pulling at the sleeves of your damp travelling coat, begging you to stop.

“Go with your worthless life and carry the heavy news to your false Queen—that her daughter is to be defiled by Prince Aemond. Perhaps she will be overjoyed to see what true Targaryen offspring looks like.”

You were trembling then. From standing in a stone hall, dripping head to toe from the downpour you have just escaped from, or from the cruel design Aemond has traded you for your brother’s eye, you didn’t know.

Your brother was looking at you incredulously, clutching Aemond’s dagger with his shaking hand.

“Go—go, Lucerys,” you mumbled between shaky breaths that threatened to explode into a sobbing fit. “You’ve heard Prince Aemond. Relay the news to the Queen.”

“Sister—I won’t leave you—”

“How sad,” Aemond spoke joylessly, mocking Luke with his lips downturned in an exaggerated fashion. “Will you cry, pup?”

“Sister, I shall return. I promise—”

“You will do no such thing, Lucerys,” your back was turned to him, your tears concealed from his vision. “Now go.”

“Oh, and I will have this back,” Aemond reached behind Lucerys, tearing the dagger from his hand and sheating it back to its place on his belt.

Aemond took his leave after Lucerys’, all but dragging you to Vhagar. You grappled to reach for your own dragon but to no avail. Aemond’s vice grip would sooner rip your arm from your shoulder before he let you loose.

“Did you think I would let you fly on your own? What do you take me for, a fool?”

“No. You are no fool. But you are a cruel monster.”

It seemed to please him, and he snorted.

“A monster who is nought but a bully had it not been for his dragon!”

That, however, seemed to have gotten to him. He stopped in his track under the downpour abruptly and struck you across the face. It was your time to grin. For all his quiet mystery, his underbelly was clear as day.

“My Prince forgets who was there on the night he usurped Vhagar from her rightful successors. You were but a scared child who stole what you did not deserve.”

His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing so tight that your vision soon turned blurry and you gasped desperately, clawing at his on your throat. There was nothing but fury in his eye, wide with surprise that a woman would speak so plainly to him, and red with rage and the rain.

“Speak but another word and I shall send your skull to your whore of a mother!”

He let go and you collapsed to your knees, coughing and gasping for air. Then came waves of hiccups and sobs, not out of fear or misery but out of utter wrath.

“Save your tears. If it is sympathy you hope for, you shall get none from me. You are a foul bastard just like the rest of your brood and you shall be treated as one.”

Deep down, however, the deal he had just struck excited Aemond. His mouth watered at the thought of his reluctant but fiery bride in their marital bed, as they consummated the marriage and repeated the act over and over again until her belly was swollen and ran around the Red Keep children of Aemond’s own.

She was still a filthy bastard in his eye, yet if he had to choose one of his nieces to tolerate, he’d gladly choose Y/N over the others. Back when they all grew up on King’s Landing, he did have a crush on her, after all. Though it was silly, and he ripped the roots of it long ago. At least he thought so.

Something about her dark hair, livelier complexion, and eyes… her eyes. The defiance and pride in them. And she was brave; braver than most, braver than even his drunk, sorry excuse of a brother and father.

Back at King’s Landing, Alicent was rightfully outraged by the turn of events. Of course, you didn’t expect a warm welcome from your mother-in-law, and you didn’t get one.

Most of your days leading up to the wedding were spent in a chamber of your own with your door locked and latched on you and with a Kingsguard standing watch at all times. It was lonely, except for when Aemond came to visit, which he did almost every night.

He sat by the fireplace and you sat on the bed. Though at first not a lot of words were spoken, soon you realized just how much his conversation entertained you, and that you looked forward to his visits.

It was one of those nights that he stopped by with a heavy book under his arm.

“I had the Maester copy this for you,” he spoke dryly, but he had a hint of a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

He set the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.

“If you put your nose to it, you can still smell the ink.”

Aemond didn’t expect you to indulge him the way you did. You walked up to him, and with your cheek to his, joined him in inhaling the scent of ink on parchment pages.

“What is it about? The book?” You asked with genuine interest, flipping through the pages as Aemond pulled away to look at you incredulously. You weren’t resisting him, dismissing him, or threatening him with a slit throat in his sleep as you usually did.

“It’s—it’s on the history of Valyria. This is the first volume of many.”

“Oh, I remember this book.”

“You do?”

“Yes!” You pulled away with a proud smile of your own. For a moment, you looked like two ordinary lovers conversing by the fire, not enemies who supposed to hate each other and about to be united only as torture for one another.

“Remember Aunt Leana’s funeral?”

Of course he did. That was when you mocked Aemond for not being a dragon rider still, and told him the Gods were cruel not to give him the handsome face Aegon was blessed with. How silly were you back then. But how could you know that Aemond would grow up to be the Prince you’d fall for day after day?

“Yes?” he responded warily.

“Well, you were reading this then. I tore a page out, and you were so cross you told on me to my mother,” you giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder before seating yourself by the fireplace.

Aemond smiled as well, approaching his usual seat cautiously as if not to spook a skittish prey. When you nursed your cup of wine without a flinch, he sat by you. Though his face was turned to the fire, he stole quick glances at your face, your neckline revealed by your evening robe, and your delicate, ringed fingers wrapped around the cup.

“Regretfully, you were fluent in High Valyrian back then and I knew very little, and nothing much has changed ever since.”

“Oh,” Aemond caught your eyes, searching for the dark, burning dislike you had for him that he came to expect. Instead your face was relaxed, and your eyes were almost that of a lover’s. Then, you reached for his hand. It must be the wine, Aemond thought. What else?

“You shall have to teach me.”

“I shall arrange the Maester—”

“I asked you, Aemond, not the Maester.”

From then on, Aemond visited you every night without fail. He came earlier and left later into the night. Though he always brought books, parchment and ink, very little High Valyrian was actually studied. His days were eventful and you loved to listen, and he loved the way you reminisced their days of youth.

So, on a night like that, with your hand on his over the table, you spoke the words that almost stopped his heart.

“I wish you would stay the night, Aemond. It gets awfully lonely some nights.”

He blinked a few times, unsure if his ears heard what you spoke, or what he so desperately wished you would.

“It—it would be improper before the wedding.”

“You took me hostage, Aemond. Traditions are obeyed very little in our marriage.”

That night was the first time you called what was slowly blossoming between him and you a marriage. The words you spoke took him by surprise, just as the way you said them—playfully, with no hatred or resentment.

“You offered yourself up. I was content enough having your brother’s eye.” That was Aemond’s attempt at humour in response, a macabre and perhaps a twisted one that would have gotten raise out of any other woman. Yet you only looked at him for a second, then laughed.

“Yet you did not have to lock me up. I would not have run.”

“No, but my brother would have stolen you from me.”

“Oh, surely. Aegon did promise to demonstrate to me… what was it? Real manhood in case you ever failed to do so.”

“He did?” Aemond frowned. Was that what jealousy felt like?

“Mmhm. I told him I was confident you would make a good husband.”

Though the ceremony was mere days away, Aemond was still not used to being called your husband, especially by you, and he barely got used to wearing a band of gold around his ring finger.

“This would be a good time to say that I would make a good wife, as well,” you joked, hoping to pull Aemond out of his moment of silence.

Instead, Aemond stared at you. He was unblinking and impossible to read. Indeed because his face was impossible to read, it came to you as a surprise when he closed the distance between you and himself and locked his lips with yours.

It was gentle, way gentler than you assumed Aemond was capable of. When he pulled back just enough to study your face, you only whispered “Do it again.”

The caution and restraint went out the window then. His tongue danced across yours and you gripped each other desperately, pulling at your clothes and moaning your names.

Aemond ended up not only staying the night as you asked but consummating your marriage even before the ceremony itself.

It was gentle and cautious at first, but only briefly, before baser and more primal urges overtook you both. You woke up in Aemond’s arms with a dull but sweet ache between your legs and marks in the shape of his mouth and fingers all over your body. Likewise, Aemond woke up with raw lines of skin where your nails had dug into his flesh.

You took your bath together, and Aemond postponed his sword practice for a private noon at the library with you. Though it came as a surprise to neither of you that there was more kissing and touching than reading.

Then, things changed rapidly. Your door was no longer locked, though that might very well be because you all but moved into Aemond’s quarters. You became inseparable. You were there with a book or your embroidery when Aemond trained, you flew together, broke fast and had supper together in his bedchamber.

The only time you regretfully parted was when Alicent—who also surprisingly became like a mother to you, and you a daughter to her— insisted that your fitting for the wedding gown must be kept private and away from the prying eye of the groom. It was bad luck, she insisted, if Aemond saw you in your gown before the ceremony.

“And have you asked mother and the Septa if it is good luck or bad if I have you in your gown?” Aemond teased you, making you blush whenever his words came back to you as the tailors worked ceaselessly to finish the dress before the ceremony.

Neither of you could say if it was indeed bad luck or not, but you found out that it was delightful when Aemond lifted your heavy skirt up and snuck between your legs on your wedding night. He had you in it, just as he promised. Though it was a shame that he grew too impatient to undo the ribbons and laces, so he instead tore and ripped the dress apart, leaving it as a cut of tattered, expensive silk on the floor as the night went on.

You saw the sorry state of the dress in the morning. Well, as much of it as you could see from Aemond’s arms around you, keeping you flush on his body.

“Aemond! You shall never see me wear a lovely dress as this once was for you again!”

“My sweet wife, you should not wear anything for me,” Aemond whispered groggily, still in the sweet clutches of slumber, and he pulled you for a kiss that promised you would not be leaving his bedchamber for the day.

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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blossomingmoonlight · 2 months

Text

Under the eyes of the seven

summary: after years of leaving King's Landing, you go back to fight for your brothers inheritance, but the tense energy grows stronger when you meet you uncle again. So what will happen when your mother Rhaenyra betrothes you to him?

word count: 3606

warnings: nsfw, violence, family hating family, hot uncles, vaginal, handjob, oral, making out, grinding, vaemond getting k!lled

Aemond Targaryen x niece!fem!reader

The ride to King’s Landing felt like months passed after you left Dragon Stone, the voyage across the sea and then the never ending ride through the land. But finally you arrived with your family, the heir to the iron throne herself princess Rhaenyra, your stepfather prince Daemon, your brother Jacaerys, your other brother Lucerys and your brothers Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only and eldest daughter of princess Rhaenyra made you heir to the throne as well, which was a huge responsibility and one of the reasons why you were back in King’s Landing, at the very castle you grew up in. Your feelings were two faced, one the one hand you were happy to be back, on the other you dreaded having to see your uncle’s again and not to mention you step grandmother queen Alicent.

As the two carriages stopped inside the courtyard it was awfully deserted and quiet, not something you expected as usually someone from your family’s station should be greeted by the king and queen themselves. The doors of the carriage opened and your brother Jace helped you down the steps, a few feet away your mother and prince Daemon exited their carriage as well. Your brothers followed you and your mother was greeted by Lord Caswell, whom you then followed inside. Since your mother and Daemon were to talk to the queen you decided to join your brothers Jace and Luke in the training courtyard.

Following them down the steps in your beautiful red dress detailed with gold accents and flowers you realized it wasn’t very suited to walk around the sandy courtyard in but you decided it didn’t matter. Walking after Jace and Luke to the, what seemed to be training weapons, you decided to only spectate today. You weren’t shy of a certain amount of training yourself but you were too tired from the long journey you just made. You glanced around the courtyard and saw two men training with a group of people around them but stayed with your brothers anyway. Then you noticed your brother Luke’s uncomfortable expression. “Luke what’s wrong?” You asked him, a little concerned. “Everyone is looking at us.” He expressed, noticing the eyes of people around you three. Jace seemed to be occupied with the weapons table and just laughed. “Who cares what they think.” Jace said while picking up a training sword. “Jace is right, why would we care what they think?” You said while putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder assuringly. “Easy for you to say, you actually look like a Targaryen.” Luke scoffed, removing your hand from his shoulder. “That doesn’t matter, I know you want to look differently, but you shouldn’t give them the satisfaction.” You assured, but your conversation got cut off when there were cheers erupting from the crowd behind you. Jace and you couldn’t help but be curious who were dueling so you dragged Luke with you to witness the clearly exciting event.

As you pushed yourself through the crowd the image before you became clearer and a certain one eyed uncle came into view, you looked nervously at Jace next to you, knowing if he were to challenge one of your brothers now, he would probably end them. And then it happened, Aemond stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and your brothers. “Look who we have there, my niece and my nephews.” He said as his eyes fixated on your form, not even batting an eye at Jace and Luke. Heat creeped on your skin as you took in his tall and mature figure, he had grown into a man over the years, that much was clear. Just as you were about to say something, the gate opened and the members of house Velaryon arrived. The courtyard fell into silence as the intimidating portrait of Vaemond Velaryon came into view, followed by princess Rhaenys and princess Baela. You gave Baela a soft smile which she returned, the last time you saw her was at her mothers funeral, you felt horrible for her and comforted her and Rhaena through the service.

House Velaryon passed by and headed inside to prepare for the petition of Lucerys’ right to Driftmark. You couldn’t decide how to feel about it all, you were certain your grandfather the king would surely back him but after hearing about his health decline you weren’t so certain anymore. You pushed this thought back when you saw your uncle walk up to you. “Uncle, how good to see you again.” You faked a smile, growing up you had a hard time getting along and you were not sure how to feel about your relationship with him after these years. “Niece, you’ve... matured I see, are you here to watch me train?” Aemond boasted, a slight smirk on his lips. “No, I just wanted to see what the commotion was about, that’s all.” You scoffed, it seemed that his ego and cockiness had only grown stronger. His hair was now long, his left eye, or rather scar, now covered by an eye patch. His tall figure towered over you as he held his hand on the sword stuck in the ground. “I see, well tell your brother I wish him luck today, he does not seem to have many people on his side.” Aemond taunted, evidently trying to get a rise out of you. “We’ll see, uncle.” You exclaimed, and with that you sped out of the courtyard, once inside the tall and impressive castle halls, you tried to get his deep husky voice out of your mind. Some time passed as people were slowly starting to gather in the throne room, preparing for the petition to come. In truth you were starting to get nervous, if Luke was claimed to be unsuited to inherit Driftmark, was your and Jace’s inheritance put to question as well? You tried to stop thinking about it but it was quite hard as the petition grew closer.

When it was finally time, the hand was sat on the iron throne, with the queen and your uncles and aunt at her side. You stood to the front right, next to Daemon and Jace. Vaemond expressed his opinions on the matter and after some time it was your mothers turn to state her petition. But just as she started, the doors opened and King Viserys came into view, slowly but surely making his way to the throne. Luke was saved after all. The king struggled but managed to sit on his throne once more anyway and expressed his confusion on the matter, after Rhaenys had her say, the matter was settled and Luke remains heir to Driftmark. But Vaemond’s disgusted look told you shit was about to go down. “You may decide to rule your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond hissed as he now almost trembled with anger. He went on. “Her children are BASTARDS!” He screamed, now he really had everyone's attention as gaspes could be heard across the room. “I will have your tongue for that.” The king sneered. But just as you were about to look at Daemon, he had disappeared from your side and before you could process the scene in front of you, Vaemond's head was cut off and rolled onto the floor, and blood painted the stone under his feet. Daemon was about to be disarmed and escorted away but he wiped the blood of his sword and left himself. And you couldn’t help but look at Aemond, an admired expression on his face. His eyes locked with yours and you couldn’t help but show a tiny smile, which he returned. The room was quickly cleared after and you were escorted back to your quarters.

As the sun was setting, your handmaidens were dressing you for supper, by the king's request, he wanted to eat with the entire family one last time because he knew his time was near. Your handmaiden Alyssa was tightening the beautiful blue gown, with long flowy sleeves and pearls on the bodice, the corset and thick skirt of the dress accentuating your beautiful figure. Your second handmaiden Marina finished up your hair, two braids being braided to the back of your head and being braided back as one. Lastly Alyssa handed you your gold earrings to put in and Marina clasped a matching gold necklace around you. You added your favorite two gold rings on your fingers as well and headed over with your family to supper, where your step grandmother, aunt and your two uncles were already seated. A chair was pulled out next to Aemond and the guard waited for you to sit down. Feeling like you had no say in this you sat down and kept your mouth shut. Surprisingly the queen spoke to you. “What a beautiful dress granddaughter, an extraordinary color.” She smiled, the compliment took you by surprise but you thanked her anyway. When it was time for the king to be brought in everyone rose and he was put down between your mother and the queen. The king then gave a speech on how he wishes for things to be peaceful between you all and how it seemed it was time for celebration as your two brothers were now betrothed to your cousins Baela and Rhaena.

But then your mother rose and said she wished to speak. “I have another announcement to make, after the petition today, the queen and I have come to an agreement to bind our blood. So I offered to betroth my eldest daughter (Y/n) to her son Aemond so we may become stronger together again.” At your mothers words your mouth opened slightly not believing what you were hearing, you looked at her in disbelief and her lips formed a tight line as if silently saying ‘do not oppose this’. You glanced at Aemond who looked in disbelief himself and averted your gaze to your grandfather who seemed very pleased with this. “Very good, this is how we should be. Binded by blood and stronger together.” King Viserys smiled, but as he sat back down he heaved and coughed and Alicent commanded he be taken back to his quarters to rest. Just as the king was leaving, a big platter of what appeared to be roasted pig was brought in, and at the sight of this you looked at Jace and Luke unable to keep the smirk off your face remembering years ago the prank you played on your now betrothed. Aemond caught this and stood up, slamming his hands on the table and grabbing his cup of wine. “I would like to toast to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

About two seconds went by before he dared say the last word. “Strong.” He ended. “Aemond.” His mother, the queen, warned. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three... strong boys.” He challenged. You looked at Jace who was about to snap. “I dare you say that again.” Jace sneered, fed up with Aemond’s words. “Why? T’was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond continued. Jace had enough, stood up and stormed up to him, punching Aemond right in his jaw. He pushed Jace to the ground and smirked at you, you stood up with fury and smacked him as hard as you could across his face, leaving his cheek red as you stormed out of the room.

Once in the halls you raised your skirt slightly to be able to run to the only quiet place you knew in the castle. You thought you could hear someone following you but in your upset state you paid it no mind. As you descended several stairs you ended up in the dungeons near a bedchamber you used to escape to as a child. You opened its door and hurried inside, your face still hot with anger, and your heart pounding. Was this really the man you had to marry? This vile, cocky asshole? You couldn’t believe it. As you removed your jewelry the door creaked open and you turned to face the very man himself. You couldn’t believe he had followed you here. “What do you want? To throw more insults?” You sneered at him. “Don’t be like that dear niece, I was just messing around. No need to get all upset about it.” He prodded while stepping a bit closer to you. “So what do you want?” You huffed taking a step back and sitting down on the old creaky bed. “To talk about our... union, I suppose.” Aemond sighed clearly not too content about it himself. “If it were up to me there wouldn’t be a union.” You spoke and looked at him, you couldn’t help but take in his broader shoulders and his tainted face. Though even though tainted still handsome, no you thought, this man is horrible you won’t think about him this way, you refuse. “I understand, however, it seems to me like we don’t have a choice. We’re going to have to put up with each other.” He continued, now taking a few steps towards you and a slight smile on his face as he observed you, taking in your figure. “I will not put up with your insults against my family, I don’t talk about your family that way do I? Because don’t get me started on your disgusting brother.” You warned, which earned you a disappointed look from him. “So you deny it then?” He certainly seemed to want to continue to taunt you with the rumors of your family.

“Hold your tongue.” You snapped now standing up, right in front of him, looking up in his, well, eye. “Now now, no need for threats.” He smirked. “It’s not very nice to talk to your uncle that way now is it?” He said, now very close to you. If someone were to walk in, it would be a suggestive sight. “Why? Why must you taunt me this way? Do you really hate me that much?” You asked him, you tried to control your emotions but he was a little too good at getting a rise out of you. “I hate your pretentious family, if that's what you mean.” He looked at you, his lips still forming a slight smirk on his face, it almost seemed as if he wanted you to slap him again. “You fucking vile disgusting asshole!” You snapped, finally he got what he wanted. You smacked his face again but before you could move your hand away he gripped your wrist tightly. “Those are not very kind words niece, someone ought to teach you a lesson.” He grunted, he gripped your wrist tighter and pulled you against him, causing your left hand to be on his chest. “What are you doing?” You asked him, now a bit scared as to what he might do, knowing you are completely alone and no one could hear you. “Teaching you a lesson.” He almost whispered, grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. You wanted to push him off, you really did but as if you had no control over your body your lips started moving against his, moving your hands to his face instead. The kiss got more heated as he put his hands on your waist, pressing you tightly against him. With your bodies so close together you could feel something hard pressing against your lower stomach. He moved his lips feverishly against you and let his tongue swipe against your lower lip. You moaned at the feeling allowing him to slip his tongue inside, which you welcomed almost instantly and moving your own tongue against his. He let out a loud groan and squeezed your ass against him. “Fuck, move on the bed right now.” He ordered, and who were you to disobey your prince?

You crawled back on the bed, laying down as Aemond climbed on top of you. He wasted no time in getting his lips on yours again, his right hand holding your cheek. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered your body against yours, specifically his lower body. Again you felt something hard pressing against you. “Wai- wait Aemond, something is pressing against me.” You breathed out, having never been with a man before this entire situation was new to you. “That would be... me, love.” He whispered in your ear, a blush spread across your face, realizing what he meant. Then he started grinding against you, unable to help himself he groaned in your ear. “Fuck this is so wrong, but you just can’t help it can you niece, so hot for your uncle, fuck I bet you’ve never even seen a cock before.” He grunted in your ear, still grinding against you hard. At his words you could feel yourself dripping with arousal, you wanted more, needed more, only you didn’t know what you wanted more of. “Please uncle, please do something.” You pleaded in his ear. “Want me to make you feel good princess? Want me to make you cum?” He teased now back against your lips giving you a kiss before starting to kiss down your jaw, to your neck, down to your chest. He ordered you to sit up and he undid your dress hastily, almost ripping it due to his want for you. He removed your dress and shoes and your undergarments as well. He kissed you once more before moving his lips towards your thighs, giving small bites and licks and even sucking a couple of love bites on them as well. Finally he reached your throbbing core and licked a long stripe against your slit, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips. “Please my prince please I need more.” You begged, his tongue now lapping against your clit making you beg and beg for more. He started moving his tongue faster, occasionally putting his tongue inside your hole before sucking on your clit and entering a finger inside you, to prepare you for his hard cock.

When you seemed accustomed to his finger he curled it a bit and started moving it right against that spongy spot that makes you see stars. The movements on his fingers, in combination with his tongue lapping on your clit you came hard, screaming his name, feeling your juices leak all over his fingers and the bedsheets. “Seven hells that was…so good.” You gasped, trying to calm down from your high. Aemond smirked at your words and removed his shirt, along with his boots and pants. Wanting nothing more than to finally be inside you. “Are you going to be good and take my cock princess?” He uttered while climbing back on top of you. “Yes, yes please I’ll be good uncle, I’ll be so good for you.” You moaned as you felt the tip of his cock against your clit. He grabbed his dick by the base and moved the head slowly against your soaked slit. “Fuck you feel so good, such a good girl.” He groaned against your lips. You almost screamed as his tip entered you, a mixture of pain and pleasure overcoming you. As he bottomed out he stayed still for a bit to let you adjust and stretch around his hard cock.

“Are you okay?” He decided to ask, he wanted nothing more to just fuck you dumb already but wanted you to feel good as well. “Yes I think so.” You mumbled, a light layer of sweat on your skin, your hair now messy and sprawled on the pillows, such a beautiful sight. After you spoke he started to slowly move, moaning at the feeling of your tight cunt around him. You gripped his back harshly with your nails causing him to let out a loud groan, after a moment or so he started moving faster, not being able to hold himself back anymore. “Fuck please, please fuck me harder uncle!” You moaned loudly as he now started to really slam his hips against yours. The sounds of your moans and his filling the room as well as the slapping of your skin together, this only made you more aroused. He moved out of you for a second before flipping you over to your stomach, then he grabbed a pillow and moved it under your hips to raise your ass for him slightly.

He then inserted his cock back inside you and started fucking you rough. His balls pounding against your ass as he fucked you harshly over the pillow. “Oh fuck! Please uncle! Please fill me! Please!” You screamed begging him to cum inside you. “Such a good girl, already such a slut for me.” He grunted in your ear, feeling himself getting closer to his release. He moved his hand between you and the pillow and moved his fingers over your clit, matching the speed with his pounding hips. You moaned and begged louder until you finally came hard, your walls contracting around him. “Fuck yes, oh fuck that’s it.” Aemond moaned your tight cunt causing him to fill you up to the rim with his cum. He gave a final three thrusts to milk himself dry and moved off of you, laying by your side. You moved off the pillow and crawled in his arms. “Are you still upset about becoming my wife?” He asked you with a smile on his lips. “No I am definitely not.” You smiled back, as he held you tightly in his arms.

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I hope you liked my first Aemond fic, let me know who I should write for next and if there are things I should change. xx

#aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x fem reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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peterparkersnose · 2 months

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A Tale of Two Eyes

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: trauma, mentions of suicide, mentions of Helaemond, toxic marriage, reader has established relationship with Aemond and they have children, reader is pregnant, marriage of convenience, political marriage, arguing, undertones of an abusive relationship, selfish Aemond, hate on the Blacks (love Rhaenyra tho, just for the story themes)

a/n woah I wrote?!?! Happy birthday Ewan ily mwah

summary Aemond's son and heir just met the same fate as he did all those years ago with Lucerys.

masterlist

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read time: 10 mins 11 seconds

That afternoon was a blur. Everything for Y/N has moved so quickly, yet so slowly at the same time. She had asked Ser Criston to fetch her sons, ten-year-old Daeron and six-year-old Aerion, for dinner. They had been playing out in the courtyard for a few hours. She had her three-year-old daughter, Visenya, sat and prepared to feast for the evening meal. Visenya wiggled in her seat, anxious for her brothers to join her to feast. The morning was rough on Y/N, as she was currently seven months pregnant with her fourth child with Aemond. Visenya had been a terror as well, as she has now taken to escaping her caretakers and seeking out Y/N specifically. Y/N was speaking to Visenya, trying to distract her from her hungry stomach and practicing her vowels when her mother-in-law, Alicent, came rushing into the dining room. The Dowager Queen looked frantic as she quickly came to Y/N’s side.

“It’s Daeron,” she spoke, out of breath. “Daeron?” Y/N asked. Alicent motioned for her to follow her, as she did not want to alarm Visenya. Y/N immediately left Visenya with their nanny and followed her mother-in-law quickly down the castle halls.

“What has happened?” Y/N asked, holding her stomach with one hand and walking as fast as she possibly could. “Aegon and Viserys…” Alicent paused. The names of Rhaenyra’s last two surviving sons. They have always quarreled with her and Aemond’s sons, and now she truly feared the worst.

“They have taken Daeron’s eye just as Lucerys did to Aemond years ago.”

Y/N abruptly stopped in the hallway, grabbing the wall for guidance.

“Excuse me?” she blinked a few times, angered at her mother-in-law for just dropping this knowledge on her. For the sake of her unborn child, she tried not to let her emotions run rampant.

For her first child, her first son, heir to the Iron Throne, and the beginning of the new Targaryen age has just been permanently maimed or killed.

Aemond never attended dinners anymore. The man Y/N knew when they were first betrothed was long gone after the results of the dance. Aemond could barely deal with the grief of his siblings, niece, and nephews. Y/N had always speculated a secret love affair with her husband and his now-deceased sister, Helaena, but she never approached the subject. He was never the same after Helaena’s suicide. Aemond had been a broken man since, even though he was living out his dreams. He was now the King. The Blacks were defeated, only leaving Rhaenyra’s two legitimate sons with Daemon, as they were too young to understand the effects of what they were born into. Alicent took them in against her better judgment.

So now, he sat in his office alone like he did most nights. The candlelight was dim and his wine glass was almost emptied. He sat hunched over letters, writing them to various Lords around Westeros. Aemond often filled his time with work so he could escape the horrors of his true life. It was pitch black outside and pouring now, as it had been hours since dinner was supposed to have happened. He heard a knock on his office door.

“Enter.”

He didn’t expect his wife. He straightened his posture and took off his reading magnifier from the bridge of his nose. He took in her essence. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Their marriage wasn’t ideal, but she had been essential for the success of the Greens in the dance, as their marriage brought House Targaryen together with one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. Aemond took a deep breath.

“My lady wife–”

His words got caught in his throat when he saw the blood on her hands. “Is the child all right?”

Y/N nodded eagerly to assure him that this wasn’t a complication in her pregnancy. “What has happened? Is someone hurt?” Aemond eagerly asked, standing up from his desk and striding over to her. “I-It’s Daeron…”

“Daeron?” Aemond replied, relief running over him that the issue wasn’t the child. Yet he worried for his heir. Y/N was shaking, Aemond grabbed her hands. “You mustn't freak.” she asked of Aemond. His brows furrowed. “Calm yourself, woman. Explain what happened.”

“Him and Aerion… got in a scuffle with Aegon and Viserys.”

Aemond’s grip tightened on Y/N’s hands. If it weren’t for the grace of her and Alicent, Aemond would have had those two children’s heads on spikes before they were old enough to realize their parents' crimes. “What prompted the fight?” he asked angrily. Y/N shrugged. “That–that is to be determined. I don’t want you to freak–”

“Do not tell me what to do. What is of Daeron?” he raised his voice to his wife. “He–”

Y/N took a deep breath and paused. She didn’t know how to approach this with her husband correctly and not trigger him from his past. Her hand moved to her husband's cheek, her fingers moving over the strap of his eyepatch slowly. “Do you remember?”

Aemond scoffed.

“Of course, I remember. You don’t need to remind me.” his lips pursed as he closed his remaining eye momentarily and sighed. “Why is this relevant?”

Y/N had no clue how to tell her husband this. She was expecting him to have the same reaction she and Queen Alicent were having.

“Our son just met the same fate.”

Aemond pondered for a moment, then turned around and brushed Y/N’s hand off his cheek. He returned to his desk. He felt sick, he had to sit down. Aemond didn’t fully understand the situation yet but feared the worst. He was silent for a great moment, hearing a small sniffle coming from his wife brought him back to reality. “What happened to Daeron? Do you mean to tell me he’s lost his eye? Don’t tell me he’s dead…”

“He isn’t. But Viserys scraped it out like Lucerys did to yours.”

Aemond slammed his fist on the desk, making Y/N jump. Aemond seethed in anger, thoughts running rampant in his head. After a long pause, he spoke. “And did you tell my mother yet?”

“She is with him as we speak.” Y/N replied, anxiously waiting to see where her husband's emotions ran at that moment. “Where is Aerion? Is he harmed?” he asked of his spare, who could likely become his heir at any moment. “Aerion is fine just… traumatized. He tried to go after Viserys but Criston pulled him away when he got to the scene.”

Aemond seethed, then suddenly threw his wine goblet to the wall. It smashed and scared Y/N. “Aemond–”

“Send Daeron to my mother’s chambers. Tell her I’ll be along shortly, I have letters to write.”

He didn’t even look up at his wife as he put his spectacle back on.

“What?” Y/N held her stomach with one hand, the other on her hip. She was confused. “You’re returning to your work?” She didn’t even get another word in before Aemond snapped. “Send Daeron to my mother's room at once!”

She was utterly shocked. How could he? Work? His son needed his father. The only person who could relate and help Daeron through this terrible time in his life… and Aemond chose to work? “Your son needs you!”

Aemond growled. “I’ll tend to him later. He’s going to survive, and I have work to do.”

Y/N was flabbergasted.

“You’re the only one who can help him understand. The boy is ten and just lost his eye! That is your son!”

Y/N knew she was fighting in a losing battle. But she had to plead for her son. He had been requesting his father for some time now. Aemond abruptly stood, walking to his door. He didn’t look at her once. “If you think talking to him will do him any good, I’ll do it. I’ll write my letters and come when I can,” he mumbled. When Y/N realized this was the best she was going to get, she decided to leave. As she was exiting the door, the child kicked in her womb roughly. She groaned and Aemond looked up to her, seeing her clutching her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said coldly. He watched her exit. She wasn’t expecting another word from him.

She could hear him before she saw him. Y/N entered Alicent’s chamber to see her son sobbing, clinging to his grandmother. Alicent brushed his hair softly with her fingers, her stare distant. Y/N could tell that Alicent had seen this story before, and she didn’t like the ending. The look of vengeance plagued the middle-aged woman's face. As Daeron heard someone enter the room, he spoke.

“Father?” Y/N’s heart simply broke then. Daeron was truly in a state of shock, he barely paid attention to anything but the throbbing sensation of the worst pain he had ever felt in his life on his face. “No, sweet boy. Your father…” Y/N caught herself. She couldn’t tell her son that his father refused to see him. No. It would simply break his heart and his spirit more than they already were broken. “I could not find him. The guards will notify him shortly when they find him.” Y/N moved to the bed, and Alicent moved so Y/N could comfort her son Daeron. Alicent gave her an honest nod and stepped into the hallway. Y/N embraced her ten-year-old in her arms, and he rested his head on the fleshy part of her arm. He was still holding a rag over his wound, so Y/N took the rag from his hand and switched it with hers so the boy’s arm wouldn’t grow tired.

“What happened to me, mother?” Daeron spoke softly. He tried to look up at her but failed to do so. Y/N held back tears. “It wasn’t fair, my love. Viserys will pay. I will make sure of it.”

Daeron shook in her arms. “I-I’m scared.” he admitted to her. A sob finally came from the boy again, and he stopped crying when she entered the room. He was trying to stay strong for his mother. He was already showing such promising signs of a good King, even at such a young age. “What will I do without my eye, mother? Do I still have a future, will the girls still like me? They’ll think I’m gross for sure, I just know of it–”

“My son.” Y/N cut off his rambles. “Of course not. We shall not worry about this now. You are a handsome boy, and already a great warrior.”

“But–” Daeron began again. Y/N shushed him. “No. Shh. You must remember your father has the same wound as you. And is he a great warrior?”

Daeron nodded. “And is he married?”

Daeron nodded again. “My sweet son, my heir. Do not worry. You will be the greatest Targaryen that ever lived.” Y/N spoke. She moved closer to her son. “Don’t tell your father or siblings I said that,” Y/N whispered, managing a small smile trying to bring some humor to the boy. He desperately needed it. But it quickly faded, as the child inside of her kicked again.

“Mother?” Daeron asked. Even in his pained state, he cared for his mother. What a good boy she had raised. “Do not worry. The babe is just wild during this time of night.”

Y/N ran a hand over her son's bloodied hair which had now dried. She held him close until he fell asleep. Aemond never came.

During the very early hours of that morning, Y/N had failed to find sleep. She paced her shared chambers with Aemond. He had yet to return. She grew angrier and more frustrated by the minute. And finally, as she was re-lighting the candles that should have been blown out hours ago, she heard the door of her chambers click open and then shut. She turned to her husband, who looked cowardly now, with an angered glare. “Where have you been?”

Aemond shrugged. Y/N scoffed. “Do not play this game with me right now.” Y/N approached him, he smelt of dragon sweat and the salty sea. “Did you just take Vhagar for a ride?”

Aemond sighed. “Yes.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back the angered laugh. “You’re kidding me right now.” Aemond threw his boots from his feet against the wall. “I have my own ways of managing my–”

“Your son has lost an eye. Have you no heart?!” Y/N interrupted him. Aemond seethed silently, pausing. He then threw his jacket on the back of the couch. “I will see him in the morning.” Aemond answered tiredly. Y/N stared at him in shock. “I have no words for you.”

Aemond ignored his wife, moving to the closet. He changed into his nightly gown and his robe. He tried to get into bed, but Y/N was already sitting on the bed when he returned. “No. Not tonight.” she said sternly. Aemond scowled. “And why not?” Aemond asked with a sharp tongue. He was almost at his breaking point with her. Couldn’t she not understand his duties? His trauma from his past? How selfish of her…

“Why not?!” Y/N yelled “Your son has just been maimed for life and you refuse to see him! What kind of father are you?” This statement set Aemond off. All the anger, hurt, and hatred boiled over within him. He tried to keep it in for the sake that he did truly love his wife, but she failed to understand him over the years like this. Aemond took a deep breath. “Don’t you get it? I have been struggling for fucking years! Do you think I want to see my son, bloodied and broken as I once was at his age? No, you daft woman! I wish to be alone. You are incessantly bothering me and I am sick and tired of it!” he lashed out at his wife. Y/N sat in bed, tensed at his words. She didn’t know how to reply. The realization that the reason Aemond didn’t visit their son sank in; he simply did not know how to. “I cannot look at the mirror of my old self in him! For Gods sakes, he already is a copy of me! Now with this…”

Y/N took in his words. She saw him tearing up. “Aemond–” she attempted to speak. He cut her off. “I will have that child sent to the wall along with his blasted brother,” he spoke angrily. “Do not try to talk me out of it either. I am King and I have made my final choice. I have spared their lives when they should join their bastard brother Lucerys in Vhagar’s belly.”

“But your son–” “He will live. You cannot coddle the boy. He must grow strong.”

“How could you say that?” Y/N answered. Aemond shrugged. “My father did the same, and I will follow.”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. Viserys was a terrible father to Aemond and his siblings, favoring Rhaenyra. “You know damn well that if Viserys still lived, he would pardon Rhaenyra’s son and blame Daeron somehow–”

“THAT ISN’T THE POINT!” Aemond snapped at her. He knew how terrible Viserys was. He knew how damaged his father had made him. But he was the man he was now because of Viserys, and he would never be the same happy little boy he was before the loss of his eye. And now that the same had just happened to his son, his heir, he couldn’t deal. Y/N watched him in horror as he turned to violence, smashing one of the vases in the room. She held her stomach, fearing her husband in his rage. After Aemond realized what he had done and how he had scared his wife, he stopped. Aemond’s yelling turned into sobs. He collapsed on his bed. Y/N warmly opened her arms to embrace him, despite being terrified of him seconds ago. Aemond clung to her and her baby bump for dear life.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…” he whimpered, burying his face in the crook of her stomach under her breast. He was shaking. Y/N was too stunned to speak, but she spoke softly. “I know.”

She was furious at her husband. But the effects of the dance had ruined him. This wouldn’t have happened twelve years ago when they wed. They both had to re-learn each other–him with his trauma, her with her dedication to being a mother and a Queen. They struggled too often. But at solemn moments like this, when Aemond calmed down, they just held each other. The truth was, they were just two scared kids in this world. Thrown into the grasp of something neither of them wanted or intended. And that is how they stayed the rest of the night–trembling in each other’s arms, afraid of what the future held for them.

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floatyflowers · 3 months

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Percy Jackson x House Of The Dragon x Reader Crossover.

Your uncle Aemond accidently murdered you and your twin brother Luke.

So you found yourself as one of Aphrodite's extremely beautiful daughters.

Things were pretty weird for you at first, because you didn't know how to act like a demigod.

You only wore the dresses you found in your closet, and acted very adequately around everyone, like a proper princess.

Not like the sassy rude (Y/n) they know.

Which caught the attention of your friends and boyfriend.

So when they inquired about what is going on with you.

You tell them everything.

"So, I was engaged to Lucerys -"

"Wait, you said that Lucerys was your twin"

"And I also mentioned the fact that we are Targaryens, Percy, love"

"Your great uncle Daemon sounds cool" Grover pointed out when you described Daemon when cut off Lord Vaemond's head.

However when the name Luke gets mentioned in front of you, you thought they were talking about your Luke.

But turns out it was a different Luke.

Honestly Percy reminded you of your twin but with a sassy personality.

Percy also gets extremely jealous when you speak about your brothers or uncles.

Percy is the reincarnation of Lucerys Velaryon.

He just doesn't know it yet.

(A/n: honestly I don't know why I wrote this, but Luke and Percy look alike for me for some reason)

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere house of the dragon #yandere percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

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madame-fear · 2 months

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*ೃ༄ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍 .ೃ࿐

˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : with the joyous birth of your baby boy, soon comes mourning. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 746.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : angst. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Lord!Lucerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; mentions of blood loss during birth, reader’s death.

A healthy baby boy was given to young Lord of Driftmark. The realm prayed for a male heir to safely come to life. And while prideful joy was vibrantly felt across the entire castle the moment his child was placed in his arms, along came great sorrow.

The birth was a difficult one. The beige silk sheets of your bed leisurely turned into dried crimson, as you had an excessive loss of blood. Anxiety consumed Lord Lucerys as he noticed how much you were suffering, sitting by your side and whispering words of comfort to you while your hand tightly gripped his own; his other hand brushing away strands of your hair covering your features.

Your grip lost force with the passing of the minutes, until a loud baby wail was heard. Yet, the birth of the healthy boy, strongly kicking with his small arms and legs, was no indicative that you’d recover easily. In fact, his nervousness only increased when you barely had any force to move, open your eyes, or mutter a word. Child bed fever had quickly crashed upon you, as if the weakness you had been left with shortly after the birth of the heir wasn’t enough.

While you preferred for Lucerys to tend to the child, he had maids take care of your baby son. He was insistent in staying by your side, caressing your forehead and playing with your hair. His hand was placed on top of your own, his fingertips brushing gently against your cold skin with longing, knowing you could part away, and his green hazel eyes were fixed on you. They stared at you with a mix of adoration, and despondency.

Deep down inside, the hopes of your safe recovery were fading away, along with his courage of not having you by his side. He wanted to cling to the bit left of hope he had, but with the pale expression on your features, it was impossible.

“Find someone that will love you, and our baby boy, as much as I did. Or even more.”

But the truth was, no one could love him, or your sweet boy, any more than you did. Nor Luke would love anyone else as much as he loved you. His devotion and adoration remained untouched, even years after your passing — perhaps even until his last breath. It had taken great effort to not break down by your side, and collapse in tears as he had to witness your slow death.

A shallow hole had been left on his chest. A tense stillness loomed in the atmosphere of Driftmark when your death was announced. There had reached a point where he had no more tears left to cry, as he had already cried enough for you, and still occasionally cried himself to sleep. It wasn’t the same without you — his best friend, lover, wife, mother of his son.

It had been expected of him to take another wife for the realm to have a Lady, and the child a stepmother; but how could he? It felt disrespectful. He remained a dowager Lord in your honour. Even when the maids tried to tend your chambers by cleaning it and keeping it as a free space, Lucerys dismissed them away. Your chambers remained with the clothes, sheets, and objects that were there even before your death — it was a shrine that he would often visit during the late quiet hours to mourn, and honour you. If any of the objects had been moved from their place, your essence, your existence, your presence would soon be gone for him.

A locket with a strand of your hair remained near him at all times, clinging to it desperately as it brought him to you. It was a strand of hair you had cut off a few days before your official wedding ceremony, and gave it to him inside the locket as a gift. Ever since, solitude burdened him, but found solace in small things that for him, they represented you.

Emptiness lingered dreadfully, sitting down in a hefty manner on his chest. Lucerys wished things were different, it felt as some sort of unfair punishment from the Seven above.

The only place where he could keep seeing, touching you, hearing your comforting words and precious laughter that spurred from your kissable lips, was on his dreams. As well, as on the eyes of his son — which, fortunately, the boy took after you.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lord lucerys x reader #lucerys targaryen x reader #prince lucerys x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fic #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon x you #luke velaryon x reader

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys angst #hotd angst #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #manipulative reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

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thewriterwithnoplan · 3 months

Text

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.”

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

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darlingdekarios · 11 months

Text

prūmia hen zaldrīzes.

"heart of the dragon."

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 8,317 content: Prince Aemond Targaryen x f!Lannister!reader, reader is a Lannister but is not given a specific description, Aemond is so salty and petty, arranged marriage, infidelity, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie], kinks [biting, scratching, breeding]

when he is forced to watch his twin flame marry his brother, Aemond finds a solution for coping other than burning it all to the ground.

King’s Landing, 120 AC

“I’m sorry for your eye, Prince Aemond,” you whispered, your voice quiet and sincere as the boy you’d spent so many years of your childhood with avoided your gaze with the perfect eye he still had. “I came as soon as I was told what happened.”

All he could muster was a firm nod, the sweet boy you often encountered now tucked away inside crushing self-consciousness as he sat before you. Still, despite his unease at his bandaged face, he found it within himself to remark the pride he felt for himself. “I lost an eye but gained a dragon. I would make the trade again.”

You had to smile at his subtle insistence to impress you, to cover the aura of dread he seemed to be exuding. “A worthy trade indeed, my prince.”

His good eye finally found your face, his harsh resolve fading at the softness that covered your features. Only months younger than Aemond and the sole daughter of Lord Lannister, you had spent much of your childhood in the Red Keep beside the Targaryen children. With your father’s place at Viserys’ Court, you spent more time at the Capital than within the walls of Casterly Rock, and while Helaena had always been a wonderful friend, it was Aemond you often found yourself beside. Now, at the darkest night in his life, it would be no different, and the gratitude shown through his features. He could never hide his truest self from you.

“My face doesn’t make you want to scream?” he questioned, the anger at his own mutilation doing wonders at hiding the genuine concern he felt at how you’d respond to his new appearance – even as a child, Aemond always basked in your approval.

“Only because you must be in pain,” you reassured, your soft voice sincere in ways no one else ever was with him. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for you to laugh, so used to being on the receiving end of a joke these days but was met only with your kindness as your warm hand covered his own. With the subtlest of squeezes, you quieted your voice to barely above a whisper. “I shall put out Lucerys’ eye for your next name day.”

For the first time since the incident Aemond felt his lips curve into a light smile, anxiety’s grasp on his heart lightening. “Viserys says Lord Strong is not to be hurt,” he remarked, the distaste for his father’s decision and forsaking of his own son shining through his voice. “It is an embarrassment. It is shameful. I will have to sit here and have my bandages changed daily by…”

“Me,” you offered, your voice earnest and hopeful. If it would not cause him pain his eyebrows would have pulled together in visible bewilderment – why anyone would offer to see him in the state he was in was beyond him. You offered a gentle smile and gave his hand another squeeze, repeating your offer to help him understand. “I will have the Maester teach me the proper way tomorrow, and then I will do it for you, Aemond.”

It would both confuse and comfort Aemond every day for the coming months when you found your way to his door promptly, gentle hands providing a better, more caring bandaging than anyone else had offered.

King’s Landing, 123 AC

“He is insufferable,” Aemond gritted through his teeth, his jaw popping in irritation as he fought to remain composed before you. You had seen him in much worse states than this in your younger years when he had less of a cool control over his emotions, but it had been quite some time since you had heard this tone behind his words. “Laughing at me because I don’t wish to bed whores like he does.”

“He is only jealous because he has to pay people to like him, my Prince,” you spoke, coming to sit beside him before his fireplace. His good eye met your gaze, the smallest bit of his frustration dissipating under your gentle expression.

The years that had passed since he had lost his eye had only pulled the two of you closer together, your own mother having passed due to fever. Pained by the resemblance you bore to your mother, your father had all but abandoned you at the Red Keep – any time apart from one another was due to Aemond’s absence, not your own. In a world where both of you found backs turned to you, you always found one another – the familiarity so comforting it was impossible to give up.

“Even still, my lady – his words have point,” he spoke, falling into the sweetness you presented him with. Resting your hand on top of his between the two of you, you held onto his every word – ever the one to make him feel important and desired. “I am thirteen and, according to Aegon, I’m hardly even a man because I won’t let one of his whores kiss me.”

The silence lingered as you soaked in his words, the crackling of the fireplace lulling you into a comfortable state. With his hand beneath yours you were once again reminded how warm Aemond was, and how it always seemed to invite you closer whether you were conscious of it or not. “Is it truly so important to have been kissed?”

“I care more for other things,” he stated simply, while inside his mind he found no calm. “But I do wish to have a reason to quiet him.”

A nod confirmed your understanding, a quiet hum leaving your lips in approval. Without much more than a minute of thought you leaned across to him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste, delicate and inexperienced kiss. Aemond, always quick to action, found for the first time in a long time he was caught off guard, frozen to his place as you gifted him (and yourself) his first kiss.

The next time Aegon taunted his younger brother for having not been kissed over dinner, Aemond was proud to report that he had, in fact. Despite the queen turning her head to analyze her son’s proud expression, she hadn’t missed the redness to your cheeks or the quick giggle you had to silence. Though she very easily could have, Alicent Hightower kept the kiss a shared secret – even from the two of you.

King’s Landing, Winter 128 AC

Lowering your cloak’s hood and taking a step into the darkness you found yourself being pushed toward the stone wall, familiar hands grasping your shoulders. As you turned your gaze upward to take in the sight of his shining blue eye and eye patch you found the harshness of his expression.

“What are you doing? Have you lost all sanity?” he questioned, leaning his face closer to yours. Now that he was a teenager, he had begun to tower over you, his height serving an obvious intimidation advantage.

“I wanted to see you so I…I snuck through the castle and the city to here, and I thought…I’d find you down here,” you explained, your rationale doing nothing to soothe his pounding heart. “I’ve often wondered what the lower parts of the dragon pit were like.”

“I have heard curiosity often kills the cat,” he replied, one of his hands leaving your shoulder to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against the expanse of your cheek. “Dovodedha kēlītsos…this is no place for you.”

It was impossible not to lean into his hand more, embracing the warmth you so often craved these days. As Aemond grew older and responsibility loomed on his head, his hours training and hunting and flying grew, time away from you being a cruel result of that. And for your part, you had been returned to Casterly Rock a year prior due to your father wishing to keep you closer again, wishing to fend off those who sought betrothal to you, remarking often that none of them were good enough for his daughter. The most contact you’d received from your closest companion was through raven or middleman, the occasional visit atop Vhagar from him – when he had the time.

The moment you’d arrived in King’s Landing you’d wanted to see Aemond. And truth be told, if he had known of your arrival beforehand, there would have been nothing to keep him from greeting you. Your intention to surprise him by not giving warning of your visit had backfired, but Helaena had rescued the day by telling you where to find her brother. This close you could see the slick sweat to his brow, the subtle flare to his nostrils that signified his annoyance.

It was a secondary feeling – what he truly felt was concern.

“And yet I am still alive before you, unharmed, my Prince,” you taunted, your voice low and smooth and brimming with joy at being so near to him again. His hand on your cheek slid further, fingers entangling in your hair gently to refamiliarize himself with the texture.

“Only because I found you first, kēlītsos.”

“I wanted to be found.”

The smallest smile formed on his lips, a gentle shake to his head further proving his amusement. “I have missed you and your recklessness. You truly have the bravery of a lion, though I doubt you have the nine lives.”

His smile was returned by your own, your hands finding way to either side of his neck delicately. “I have missed you as well, Aemond,” you spoke quietly, fingernails grazing his skin lightly on the back of his neck and creating goosebumps across his skin.

Strong emotions rushing through him paired with the hormones of a teenager had him claiming your lips in a bruising kiss next, critical words lost to him as he lost himself in your features. This time, neither of you were caught off guard, the kiss returned immediately and met with a hum of approval. His grip on your hair tightened slightly as his tongue sought a taste of your lips, his own hum vibrating in his chest as your fingers found way to his hair as well.

As you allowed your jaw to relax and his tongue to enter your mouth his free hand grasped your hip, pulling your waist forward and into his, so he could grind his hardening cock into you, greedily swallowing the moan it pulled from you. Recognizing the danger that going further posed he was the one to reluctantly break the hungry kiss, and he who resisted kissing you again as he escorted you to the Red Keep.

If he had known taking you back to those who awaited you meant hearing his mother announce you were to marry Aegon, he would have fled with you atop Vhagar. Despite his best efforts, his family was still finding new ways to play jokes on him. This was the cruelest yet.

King’s Landing, Spring 129 AC

The months that followed were a harsh realization of your new reality.

Ever since, that day had been the first thought to your mind in the morning and the thing that you cried yourself to sleep over every night. Though Alicent Hightower’s announcement that the King had decided to honor tradition and name his eldest son the true heir to the crown (something you felt had to do with how heavily sedated and agreeable he was, not that you’d voice that opinion to any other than Aemond), it was the second part of her speech that ripped your heart from your chest. You would wed her eldest son and unify the crown and the Lannisters, a truly monumental occasion for the realm.

The words were those of two fathers – hers and your own – plotted with only greed in their hearts. Alicent did not relish in passing the news, and dreaded what it would do to her son, and yet that did not stop her from doing so. While you had attempted to make your objection to the match known, your words had no weight, and your future was decided behind your back. Aemond had returned to the Dragon Pit and did not return to the Red Keep for days. Even when he had returned, he would avoid you for the first time in your lives.

It took only months for the betrothal to move forward. With King Viserys the Peaceful dead by Spring and the Conqueror’s crown placed upon Aegon’s head, it become imperative to demonstrate to the people of Westeros that their new King was worthy of the throne his father had bestowed on him. This of course meant marrying a woman from a highly regarded family and bringing children into his bloodline (not that he hadn’t already).

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wi-“

The septon’s words were cut short by the familiar bellow of a creature far older than any other present, the familiar flap of impossibly large wings shooting a gust of wind directly over your wedding ceremony. The Queen of All Dragons landed with a harsh quake to the ground, your hand shooting out to the archway over you to steady yourself, Helaena rushing forward to assist you.

“You’re late to your own brother’s wedding, Aemond,” Alicent Hightower hissed through her teeth, attempting to maintain the smile she had plastered on her face as she watched her eldest son ignore the opportunity to assist his betrothed.

“Truthfully, mother, you should be lucky I am here at all,” the one-eyed prince replied, the sincerity behind his words unsurprising. “It is blasphemous. The one person in this world I truly care for, that I have no obligation to do so, and you stick her with my cunt of a brother.”

“Your words are treason, Aemond. Aegon is your king now,” she chastised, her glare fixating on him momentarily with the brief turn of her head.

“Apologies, mother – my cunt of a king,” he replied, stepping backward and away from further ridicule. His step was matched by his mother – one of two people he could never seem to hide from.

“Aemond…I know this is difficult for you, my sweet boy,” she began, her voice soft and diplomatic. A couple of years younger and he may have faltered, but not now. Not when he faced a waking nightmare before him. “I do hope that one day when you find a suitable wife for yourself, you will understand the decision we’ve made.”

“I will not find a suitable wife and I will not marry,” came his reply, voice unwavering and absolute. “If I am not to marry her, I am not to marry at all.”

“I have faith that you will see reason and change your mind.”

Aemond turned his face back to his mother, jaw popping in frustration as he did so. It was subtle, anyone unfamiliar with the prince would not notice the movement – his own mother did, of course. “The woman standing across from Aegon sat beside me while every stitch on my face was opened, the hole where my eye used to be pried apart, and a sapphire inserted into it. She never released my hand, she never looked away. And now you marry her to someone who can’t tell his own hand from a whore.”

“Be that as it may, it is done,” the former queen continued, the remorse in her voice showing itself slightly. She knew, all too well, what it was like to lose love because of duty. “We may talk about this more later, sweet boy.”

“There is no need, mother. As you say,” he continued, placing his arms behind his back carefully. “It is done.”

The remainder of the ceremony went without additional surprise. Aemond desperately wished to be free of this obligation, his annoyance showcased on his face regardless of whose eyes may have caught glimpse of him. His only comfort came from the look that remained on your face – solemn, unimpressed, unchanging; even when Aegon had kissed you. It was the first time Aemond had seen so very little of a reaction to one of his brother’s kisses, and the display of indifference both satisfied something deep with Aemond and caused his stomach to churn. Your wedding day should have been so much better than this – you deserved so much better than this, than Aegon.

It was a relief to his unsettled stomach when he saw you alone on a balcony during the feast to celebrate you – to celebrate the marriage and the new queen. Still, even with the food, the wine, and the gifts, Aemond had not seen your lips curl to a smile once the entire day. Though he wasn’t entirely certain he could contain himself from doing something foolish by claiming this moment of your attention, he opted to throw that caution to the wind. You were his to be foolish with.

He sauntered toward you with hands behind his back still, pleased when you turned as he approached within an arm’s length of you. For the first time all day he watched as you rivaled the full moon behind you with a smile.

“My Prince,” you greeted, eyes flashing up at him in profound appreciation.

“Your Grace,” he bowed his head slightly in return, a small smirk flashing on his features as he peered up at you between his lashes. He’d worn the eye patch you’d specifically had crafted for him in Lannisport – you had to wonder if it was an intentional show of your bond or not. He caught the way your eyes lingered, filled with uncertainty. Aemond was the first to put his swarming thoughts to spoken word.

“This should be our wedding day, kēlītsos,” he began, his eye burning into yours as he took a step closer – another and it may be considered indecent. “I wonder if that fact haunts you as it does me.”

Being this close to him always set your body alight, the heat blazing beneath every inch of your skin and begging for the coolness that accompanied his lips. “Every moment,” you replied, your voice quiet and so intentionally only for him. “You should have taken me across the sea on Vhagar where no one would follow or find us.”

The corners of his mouth barely twitched upward in a smile – the first you’d seen from him in months – your words almost pulling a growl from his chest. One of his gloved hands twitched toward yours, his fingers lightly grazing against your wrist, tempting him to pull you closer and closer until no one, not even his brother, could take you away from him. It was foolish to speak this way so openly with so many potential listeners nearby, but neither of you truly cared. “It may happen still.”

“Is this your way of telling me you love me, Prince Aemond? It is not immensely traditional, I’m afraid,” you taunted, eyes finding his face again and appreciating his features. “Though, I suppose it is your rebellious heart that has won my love, as well.”

“Sister,” Helaena greeted as she interrupted the moment between the two of you, his expression immediately hardening as he withdrew his hand from your wrist again. “I wish to walk in the garden with you before you retire to bed. Would you join me?”

With a final longing glance you departed, joining your sister-in-law for one of her nightly walks, growing ever-more dread-filled as the time passed and your return to your wedding duties continued. Soon enough, you thought, Aegon would be crawling between your legs, no doubt smelling like wine and dirt and dragons in the least endearing of ways. The thought made your stomach twist into knots more and more until the Princess had walked you back to your bedchamber, entering the warm room with you.

“The dragon sings at the moon’s brightest hour.”

She departed then, leaving you alone with a puzzled look on your face as multiple handmaidens joined you to remove the elegant gown that weighed you down, allow you to bathe, and help you into night clothes, removing your hair from the intricate style to lay loose. They put more wood on the fire and withdrew, remarking that one of the girls, Marleya, would be around should you need her. It was ironic to know that your husband regularly found himself buried in her, when he was failing to fulfill his obligation to you on your wedding night. Between the walk and the routine the handmaidens had carried out, hours had passed, and while you still felt the looming dread that Aegon may call on you, it had twisted into something far more pathetic. Soon you were sat on the open window overlooking the city, fixing your eyes to the sky with a forlorn expression covering your face as you envied what it would feel like to be able to fly away at any moment.

You were not the only one in the Red Keep troubled by your thoughts, as Aemond found himself wandering the halls since you had departed from him. Though he tried to think of something else, anything else, he could not prevent his thoughts from wandering back to his brother likely consummating his marriage, claiming something from you he had no right possessing. It made him sick to think of the way Aegon would treat you for the first time, almost sick enough to manifest fully.

He hadn’t planned to walk past Aegon’s room, and yet that’s exactly where his feet carried him shortly after 11, the familiar halls as he approached causing him to draw in deeper, steadier breaths, preparing himself for whatever he may hear. As he rounded the final corner he was greeted with the sight of his stumbling, drunken older brother holding the door to his bedchamber open for one…two…three…four…working women from King’s Landing, their quiet giggles being shushed by him until they were all nestled inside with him close behind. When the door closed with a heavy thud, Aemond released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

If Aegon was partaking in his usual activities, that meant you were alone. And while it pleased him to know his brother had not pulled you into his bed just yet, it also made the anger burn inside of him. This was, after all, your wedding night and you had looked so beautiful in his house colors – and now you were alone.

It was approaching the middle of the night when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Your Grace,” came the voice of Marleya. She was quiet, timid – not wanting to interrupt the state she knew you were in but unable to refuse what had been asked of her. “Apologies for the interruption. Prince Aemond has come to request a word with you, my Queen.”

When you heard the light fall of his boots against the stone floor you inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing so you could talk without giving away your emotional state. Although you wanted to seek the comfort you had so often found in his face you kept your eyes forward, back to him as you continued to look at the night sky. When his footsteps silenced relatively close behind your position you inhaled another deep breath to prepare yourself for whatever additional torment was fated for your night.

“Your Grace,” came his quiet timbre, the moniker pulling a sigh from you. Hearing anything but your name from him sounded so foreign – so wrong.

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you managed in response, mentally thanking yourself for the composure you kept over your words.

“I have come to pass news of your…good husband,” he began, his words laced with venom and disgust. Judging by his words, your handmaiden had lingered in the bedchamber, so you were not alone with another man – improper indeed on your wedding night. “I feel it best if the information is delivered between family.”

You briefly turned your head to direct a glance at the girl, who was not much younger than you, offering a light smile. “Thank you, Marleya. I am in safe hands with my…brother. You may retire for the night.”

The girl nodded before exiting, closing the door to the bedchamber as she went. Aemond watched her go, confirmed the door was closed with a lingering glance before turning his eyes to the back of your head. You had returned your gaze to the stars twinkling above the sky, wondering how it would feel to be there – to be so very far away.

“I thought that your Grace should be informed that I have witnessed our King entering his own bedchamber not long ago,” he started, almost expecting you to turn to watch him speak. It was curious when you did not look in his face when he spoke. “He seemed to be quite full of alcohol. Not to worry, though, he had escorts to ensure his…satisfactory retirement for the night. You need not wait for his arrival here.” He watched as your shoulders lowered with the release of a shaky breath, the visible signification of your faltering anxiety.

“Is this all, Prince Aemond? You’ve come to remind me my good husband is a drunken whoremonger?” you questioned; harsh words softened by the meekness in your voice. Despite your insistence to keep your face from him and hide your tears, your voice had begun to shake – as had your shoulders. Aemond was familiar with both.

He stepped forward, the sound of his boots drawing nearer both sending your body alight and filling it with dread. When he stood just behind you his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he had done so many times. You wondered if this would be the last. “What troubles you? I should think it is a comfort my brother will not summon you tonight,” he spoke lightly, lowering his head down to rest his chin atop your head.

“A woman’s wedding is supposed to be the greatest day of her life,” you began, forsaking strength in his arms and relying on him to support you. “And yet I feel like my life has been ripped away from me.”

“It is unfair, your Grace,” he began, his warmth radiating through you and settling into a familiar comfort deep within you that only he could bring. His voice was so soft, so sincere, so unlike it had been each time you had heard him speak in the last few months. “My brother is a fool to ignore such a beautiful bride. You were art brought to life in our house colors.”

You released another deep breath you didn’t fully realize you were holding, the relaxation in your torso allowing him to wrap his arms around you tighter. Even now you wore the Targaryen colors – a thin black night dress and an even longer, lighter red robe. Aemond wanted nothing more than to pin you against the wall like the art he viewed you as – even more now with your face free of additions and hair left loose. You raised onto your knees, turning simultaneously to plant yourself in his arms fully, chest pressed to his in an inherently indecent manner consider your new titles. Neither of you had ever cared for such.

You titled your head back to allow him a true look at your face – cheeks streaked with tear trails, bottom lip red and swollen from your incessant biting, and eyes red, glossy and puffy from undoubted hours of crying. Even under the despair in your eyes he could see the lingering hope, the love that burned for him hiding in the depths and screaming to break free. He raised one hand to cup your cheek in it, the cool leather coming against your warm cheek cueing a shiver up your spine.

Without giving you a chance to stop them more tears spilled over your cheeks, his glove soaking up the tears on one of your cheeks. Having spent so much time around Aemond in your life you knew what the subtle looks behind his remaining eye meant. That fact was doing nothing to help sedate the burning you felt for him as you met his gaze, facing the concern, the care and the longing he was harboring directly. The intensity caused your breath to catch in your throat.

“Īlē ñuhon, kēlītsos, [You were mine, little cat]” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eye. His perfect nose lightly brushed against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. He reveled in the way you melted to him, joining your form to his in a way that was so unique to the two of you. “I should have claimed you long ago.”

His thumb began to brush lightly against your cheek, the desire to free himself of his gloves and feel you again growing stronger. Your breath caught in your throat briefly before you found the word you sought in a language so different from your own, albeit hardly above a whisper. “Ñuhon.”

“Kessa, kēlītsos, [Yes, little cat]” he breathed, the tip of his nose kissing yours lightly. “Lions, like dragons, do not belong to people. We belong to ourselves. But you have always been mine, and I have always been yours.” He brushed your cheek again gently, his fingertips so uncharacteristically light as the fire behind his eyes burned into yours. “You may be his wife to the kingdom, but the gods know you are mine.”

You felt more tears spill over your lashes, a sigh falling from your lips as Aemond twisted his head barely, pressing his lips to one of your cheeks to kiss the tear away. You only melted into him further, nuzzling your face into his hand that still rested on your cheek. It was a crime to be certain, his next move – and yet there was nothing truly wrong with the way he turned his head again, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft it was nostalgic of the first you’d shared years ago now. Although you should have pulled away, or at the very least hesitated, you returned his kiss without second thought. When he spoke next his words were muffled by your lips.

“I came to do what my brother will not and give you a proper wedding night,” he began, pressing another kiss to your lips when his thought was complete. “If it is not your wish, stop me now. I will listen to your command – I will leave these walls and not speak of this again if you ask it.”

You almost hesitated, almost took a moment to consider your answer, but threw any caution to the wind by granting him another kiss – rougher, needier, more desperate and yet still softer than Aemond felt he’d ever deserve. He grasped you tighter, his fingertips indenting into the soft skin on your cheek as his other hand clutched the fine fabric on your lower back, holding you closer to him.

“I do love you, kēlītsos [little cat],” he muttered against your lips, unwilling to pull away but needing to say the words aloud nonetheless. “I have thought the words so many times now and never found it in myself to say them, though I should have before now.”

His hands left you to work on his own tunic, content with baring himself in some way to you first as he awaited your response. Your lips claimed his in another kiss before you found quiet words to whisper to him. “I have loved you for so long, Aemond, but he…he would kill me for this.”

“He wouldn’t dream of ordering harm to you with me to face.”

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he wanted to do this for years? Had he been considering taking you for months before Aegon could leading up to your wedding, or had something finally snapped in his mind today? Regardless of when it had happened – his mind was made up, and there was nothing that could be said to change his mind.

He discarded the thick black fabric from his torso to the floor, uncaring where it landed before he claimed your lips in another full kiss, his hands making busy with the thin tie around your waist. Craving the way he’d kissed you in the dragon pit only months ago you parted your lips for him, his tongue immediately staking claim on the warmth of your mouth. As he pushed the robe from your shoulders, he carefully placed the clothing on a surface close by, taking much more care in your belongings than his own. There was nothing worth doing so fast he couldn’t show you that he cared for you – deeply. The extra time would never be a bother with you.

He was thankful your night dress was thin and loose enough to slide down your shoulders carefully, his head bowing to press kisses down the top of one of your shoulders as he pushed the straps free, hands grasping your hips to pull you close. When the bare skin of your torsos met both of you released a sigh, Aemond tucking his head into your neck and holding you close for a moment, relishing in the warmth passing between the two of you. This close you could feel his heartbeat, and the raised skin of whatever wounds he’d found himself on the receiving end of already, so young in many ways and old in several more.

His lips started trailing up your neck, pulling a quiet gasp from you as your hands grasped his shoulders. He slid his hands to your lower back again to hold you as close as possible as his lips trailed lower, brushing over your collarbone. Aemond had been patient, and he could be for a while longer – as long as he got to feel as much of you as possible beneath his fingertips and lips.

He held you against him tightly, moving the two of you in front of the fireplace so he could see your body under the warm glow of the flames. As you followed his silent instruction your hands slid down his torso, eyes running over every inch of him hungrily as your fingers traced over the old scars you’d felt against you moments ago. He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backward so you would gaze up at him, and with your attention where he wanted it, he reached his other hand to cup one of your breasts, rubbing his thumb over your already hardened nipple gently. He sank to his knees in front of you slowly, covering you with feather-light kisses as he went, his every movement laced with intent as his kisses trailed to your hips.

Though the heat that spread throughout your body had created a fog that shrouded your mind, you found a moment of clarity. Reaching your hands to hold the sides of his face carefully and applying just enough pressure for him to respond you lifted him back up to you, sliding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before trailing them up the side of his face gently before brushing them, impossibly light and so full of love, across the lower part of the old scar that still brought him pain. The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his head, fingers dancing over the strap that secured the covering to his face.

“Kostilus [please],” you whispered gently, your quiet request filling his ears and pulling a gentle sigh from his lips. “I don’t wish for you to be hidden from me, Aemond.” It was the only time you were assertive with him, running your nose along his cheek to press a kiss beneath his ear. His breath caught in his throat, hands grasping at your waist as a quiet groan rumbled in his chest. He gave a firm nod, and you immediately pulled the patch free from his head, lying it carefully on the lounge next to you before whispering a quiet thank you.

“I see my sister has been teaching you to mind your manners in our ancestral tongue,” he purred, sliding one of his hands up your back to run his hand over your hair, encouraging you to look at him. The moment you tilted your head back for him he claimed your lips, only momentarily before he withdrew to give you a moment to run your eyes over his face appreciatively.

“Vhagar is the most fearsome dragon alive, and she wears many scars,” you cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the upper half of the scar on his face, your hand resting on his cheek to allow your thumb to brush over the bottom half. “The strongest dragons always do.”

While he wanted to claim your lips again in a kiss, he couldn’t hold himself back any further, lifting you into his arms to carry you to the bed as he gazed down into your face with an expression that melted further into love the longer it went on. He laid you in the bed with your head against the pillow before he crawled between your legs, encouraging your legs apart with the gentle caress of his hands. His lips followed his fingers on their path, soaking in the quiet mewls that he was already pulling from you. With your sex bared to him he could see your wet arousal leaking from your entrance, your thighs slick with the arousal he’d brought on.

He slid one of his hands higher up your thigh, a singular finger gathering some of the slick before he brought it to his face, popping the digit into his mouth with an appreciative hum. A wave of heat crashed through you accompanied by a gasp as your mouth fell open, the expression pulling a quiet chuckle from him as he lowered his head down, licking a stripe up the inside of your thigh with another low hum.

“Every inch of you is more beautiful than my mind could have done imagined,” he whispered into your skin before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. With one last glance to your face, he moved forward, running his tongue between your folds and grasping your thighs, holding you down slightly as you moaned for him. Wanton and greedy, he ran his tongue through your folds several more times before he could speak again. “I should throw you atop Vhagar now and flee so my brother may never taste you.”

With those final parting words, he dove into your awaiting sex, his tongue devouring you hungrily as the knowingly quiet symphony of your moans filled the bedchamber. He flicked the muscle over your swollen bundle of nerves, causing your hips to buck up slightly which only resulted in him grabbing you tighter, holding you against his face. Running his tongue downward again he dipped it inside your awaiting heat, groaning at the feeling.

Alternating between licks and sucks against your sensitive clit and fucking his tongue into you hastened the pressure building inside your lower half, your breaths becoming desperate as your thighs shook against his head. Feeling your walls flutter around his tongue he finally connected a thumb to your clit, rubbing it with the gentlest of circles as white-hot euphoria blinded your vision, his other hand reaching to clamp down over your mouth to stifle the scream that left your chest. Disconnecting his mouth from you, he continued his gentle movements with his thumb, his eyes gazing up to your face like he’d just discovered some fabled hidden treasure.

“I could stay here for hours feasting on you, beloved,” he cooed, leaning forward to lap up more of your nectar with a low groan in his chest.

“Please, Aemond…” you whined, already sensitive and satisfied and yet desperate for more.

“You want me to keep my head between your thighs, my Queen?” he pondered with that cocky, overly smug tone that always made you squeeze your thighs together. Another quiet whimper fell from your lips as you shook your head, breaths still desperate and mind still hazy from your orgasm.

“No, Aemond, I need you…please,” you began, shifting your hips against his hand to attempt for more pressure as his lips began to trail back up your body. He flattened his hand against your mound, allowing you to rub yourself on him – your desperation doing nothing to sedate his smirk. “Kostilus [please]. Don’t be cruel to me.”

His lips reached yours then, a gentle kiss carefully tucked into the corner of your mouth before he settled himself between your legs, leaning back on his haunches carefully. “Daor sir, gevie mēre [not yet, beautiful one],” he began, raking his eyes over your flushed figure beneath him in appreciation. “I have to open you up for me first.”

The hand that was still settled at your core dipped lower, one of his fingers teasing at your entrance in slow, tantalizing circles. When he’d pulled another moan from you and watched your face falter as you did, he slipped his index finger into your awaiting velvet channel. He felt your body tense at the intrusion, your walls clenching around his finger immediately. He wiggled it slightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth – more-so in concentration rather than disappointment.

“Lykirī,” he cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I cannot make you feel good if you don’t relax yourself for me, beloved.” You could only lean your forehead to his as you nodded, closing your eyes and inhaling in a deep breath. He withdrew the digit from you before thrusting it back in again slowly, the edges of his lips ticking upward as you released a quiet whimper. “That’s better.”

Within minutes he had relaxed you, his finger circling and wiggling inside of you with each thrust, pulling more moans from you as your body became accustomed to his movements. He added a second finger soon after, causing a gasp to fall from your lips and your hips to buck forward against his hand. Pressing another kiss to your lips he then trailed them lower again, sucking your swollen clit between his lips gently as he curled his fingers inside to rub against the rough patch behind your clit.

“A-Aemond…” you moaned, earning a groan from him as he then flicked his tongue against your clit, massaging it gently as he continued to wiggle his fingers against the spot deep within you that was causing your thighs to begin to shake again. When he began to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves again a second wave of euphoria washed over you, a rush of wetness covering his hand as he pleasured you through the orgasm.

Removing his fingers from you and chuckling quietly and the whimper you released from the loss, Aemond moved to stand beside the bed, working himself free of his pants which had begun to painfully restrict his throbbing cock. Once his member was free, he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself as he watched your breathing return to somewhat of a normal state, eyes roaming over your body appreciatively and the wetness that already covered your bed clothes.

When you opened your eyes again and turned your head to gaze up at him you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. His free hand grasped one of yours gently, guiding it upward toward his cock in silent suggestion. When you wrapped your lithe fingers around his member he threw his head back in a moan, the noise turning to a low, rumbling growl in his chest as you mirrored his stroking movements from moments before.

Unable to deny his needs any longer he climbed back onto the bed between your legs, sighing at the loss when you removed your hand from him but appeasing himself by rubbing his cock against your core. Wrapping his own hand around himself again, he rubbed his leaking head between your folds to gather some slick against it. “Beg me again, my love. You sound so gorgeous when you beg for me.”

“Please, Aemond,” you breathed out, wrapping your legs around his waist in knowing anticipation. “Kostilus [please].”

He pushed into you slowly then, his thick cock sliding into your entrance and pulling an almost too loud cry from your lips, the protest silenced by his lips soon. His lips molded to yours as your hot channel took inch by inch of him, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he finally felt your tight walls embrace him. When he was fully sheathed inside you, he licked across the seam of your lips, stilling his waist as he kissed you deeply for several moments.

When your legs around his waist started to relax just a bit and your walls fluttered around him, he slowly withdrew from you before pushing his cock back in to the hilt, pulling away from the kiss to hear the moan that left your lips.

“So tight,” he breathed against your mouth quietly, beginning to repeat his slow and intentional thrusts. “I should have been enjoying your little cunt for years now.”

You could only whine at his words, too overstimulated and focused on how full you felt and the lingering pain of being stretched this way for the first time to form coherent words. His hair fell beautifully over his shoulders and brushed against your torso with his movements, a piece covering his eye from your view. When you lifted a hand to move the piece away from his face he smiled, turning his head to press his lips into your fingers before moving his kisses to your neck.

“Oh, the way you feel around me…” he groaned before pressing a kiss beneath your ear, his pace already picking up slightly. You were so tight and warm around him and he had wanted you for so long, the sheer feeling of finally being inside of you was not going to allow him a long session with you. There would, of course, be others, likely even in the same night – but for now he could only give in to the pleasure filling every cell in his body. “I’m going to come back here every night until I have filled your womb with my babe.”

You nearly moaned too loud again, your walls fluttering around him at his brazen, forbidden words. He lifted his head to gaze into your eyes again, leaning to press a kiss against your lips to assist you with muffling your cries as he picked up his pace more, grinding his hips into yours each time he’d gone as far as he could go. Though you were already feeling weak you managed to nod enough for him to register, your confirmation pulling a smile across his face.

“Oh, you like that, kēlītsos?” he questioned, giving another particularly slow and intentional thrust to massage his velvety head against the spot deep within you. You moaned his name quietly, a worthy award for his efforts. “You want me to empty my seed into you? Speak it.”

“Yes, Aemond,” you whimpered immediately, knowing he would require an answer, knowing he needed to feel that power over you. His pace picked up again as another growl ripped through his chest, the lewd sounds of your bodies joining together creating a dizzying symphony in the room that he would gladly listen to forever.

“We will create the perfect dragon,” he replied, letting his intentions be fully known on the chance you hadn’t understood yet. “Strong, and smart, and beautiful, and powerful…much better children than Aegon could hope to give you.”

You nodded your agreement, moving your lips against his slowly, almost cautiously in a kiss to silence another loud cry that came from his lips as he rocked against your cervix. One of his hands reached to grasp yours, lifting it above your head as he lowered his own to connect his mouth to one of your budded nipples, suckling at it with fervor in the hopes it would push you closer to the edge.

Your breaths soon became more desperate, legs shaking around his waist as the hand that wasn’t being held in his found way to the back of his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. He disconnected his mouth from your tit with a gentle bite to your nipple, an almost sinister smirk covering his features as you cried out for him again. “Will you release for me again, beloved? Find euphoria with me,” he almost begged, quickly adjusting his words to a simple instruction.

You nodded, vision going white again as he reconnected his mouth to yours, kissing you with more passion than he had thus far. With your walls clenching him tightly he found his own release, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls as a loud cry of his own ripped through his chest, thankful once again that your mouth swallowed most of the volume.

At the same time Aemond’s sound of pleasure filled the bedchamber the familiar cry of Sunfyre was heard above the castle, an interruption in the night sky no doubt caused by the new king taken a drunken flight to impress his chosen whores for the night. As Aemond released your mouth from his when his orgasm had finished, he leaned his head against your shoulder to speak through bated breaths.

“Perhaps he will fall from his dragon and become so injured I must rule in his stead.”

masterlist.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction

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lady-ashfade · 2 months

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Lord Of The Tides

Yan!One-Eyed!Lucerys Velaryon x Niece!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ the best girl @madame-fear requested this from me and I love the way her mind works. She’s my wife- so I hope I make her happy with this one.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: targ’cest, lucerys being a bit different because he’s older, he also losses a eye, yandere behavior, slight dark themes, and slight mature themes (sexual), but no smut, and if there is a mistake about him having two eyes—Shh.

“were you scared?” the spoon in your hand scratched the bottom of the cup in your hand, and the sound of your heels clinking on the floor boards below were soft but could be heard around the room. even if it was only the two of you, the room was full in your eyes. “greatly. I was young and naive but I loved my brother, but I was too slow to reach towards the knife. Aemond had me beat in length, and that’s how,” his fingers moved upward to the black patch on his eye. He didn’t look ashamed of it like he did all thoses years ago before you were born, his body grew and so did his mind.

“I remember the story sounding much more…action packed as a child. Don’t get me wrong, uncle, you are the bravest man I ever met,” his chest filled with pride as the words fell from your dusted pink lips, “but I do recall you saying you road in on a dragon?” The sly smile on your cheeks was the only thing he recognized about you now. It’s been a few years since he had seen you, or took notice really. he was trying to fulfill his duty to study on how to be the next “lord of the tides” and he took it seriously.

glancing upon you now for the first time in years, he could see the beautiful woman you’ve became. perfect body that filled out your dress perfectly while showing just the right amount of skin but enough to leave any eyes yarning for more. you had matured more then well. In this moment he couldn’t pull his eye away from you, he was desperate to look at you for as long as he could. you were magnificent. “Would that enthrall you?” his teasing tone and brow arch made you flush in embarrassment.

“Would make the story a lot better, uncle.” you raise the cup to your lips and took a quiet sip while holding eye contact with him. the few seconds of silence had your stomach tingling and blood pumping faster. there was no secret from a young age you had a crush on your kind uncle. He had given you attention and made you laugh while teaching you stories and knowledge. It was just a silly crush that had you staying up late at night thinking of his smile years later.

“I suppose your right.” he broke eye contact to chuckle and lean forward to grab a soft pastry from the table. “Tell me, what has it been like while I was away? Has my brother learned anything about being future king?” His tone was off. Almost sounding as if he was belittling your father, or making fun of him. You stood up straight and place the glass down on its plate.

“My father has been doing a great job. Our queen is training him well, or do you doubt your own mother?” his body stopped in time for a second with half his lips wrapped around the sugared sweet to stare at you. he couldn’t believe how fast you acted to defend your father and tried to make a fool out of himself. the look behind your eyes and the smile tugging at your lips he could tell you meant no true harm. only to play a little game.

“You have changed,” he tone shifted as his eye made sure to run its way up and down your body, making you squirm in your chair. “No longer a girl but a lady.” you hated how easy it was to feel drawn into him again. it was different now then it was back then, you had aches and desire only the dead of night could see and he was making it so hard to control them. “I was pleased when I got your letter even if I had little time to prepare for it. But there is one question on my mind: why?” the truth wasn’t something you could tell him in that moment. So you settled for something easy, and nothing like the full picture.

“I missed you. Castle life is wonderful, but you always showed me the fun of things.”

each day that went by he was drawn in closer by you, from your smell, to your smile, to the sound of your laugh that he caused. he tried to deny himself from the thought of you but you were already hammered into his mind once he saw you getting off your dragon merely days ago. It’s been a long while since he saw beauty like you, your intelligence mind and wit, or your able to be naive in hopes of a better world. the strength to hold himself back when you were just a few inches away from him was great. he wanted to hold you, to touch your soft kiss…to whisper into your ear—

“I don’t understand,” the sound of you voice awakened him from his day dreaming. you had not noticed his staring from being turned away from him. “This game is incredibly stupid.” the mallet in your hands swung a bit as you exhaled frustratingly. the colored balls scattered around the ground, non of them close to being where his were.

“I think you wanted me to fail,” you pouted you lips at the tall man. “It’s not my fault your losing my dear,” the nickname made your body clinch, “if you had listened to me-” the words shouting from your mouth interrupted him.

“I have been listening to you. But you’re somehow cheating.” it made him unbelievably amused to watch you huff and pout at losing a game you forced him to teach you. if he could, he’d steal that pout away from your lips and make you whine about something else. “Are you accusing me of something?” He leaned his arms on the mallet but leaning on his leg to stare at you with scrunched brows. you took a moment to find something to say but only muffled and gagged words came from your lips before you eventually gave up. “No uncle, forgive me for my temperament.” You looked down at the yellow ball and glared down at it.

“It’s just utterly frustrating to loss when you’re already so far ahead of me,” you glanced back up and pointed to his, “I don’t like losing.” that was something you gained from both your parents if he was honest. jace never liked to lose a game or training, and your mother had a shorter temper he could only imagine how you’d act when you get heated. “Then we should keep playing until your good.” he turned back to hit the blue ball at his feet and cheers when he gets it through the metal bars. gods, he was going to kill you with his handsome smile.

It was heart wrenching to see his smile fade and his body tense days later, with his hand resting on the stone railing. it was a perfect day, the time you spent with him was still unmatched by the way he made you feel. the sun shining orange across the sky and bouncing off the both of you, making the other even more breathtaking to each other.

“What?” his voice rasped and dropped darker then you have heard it before. all ounce of happiness left his body and started to over flow with growing anger. “For how long?” the raise volume to his voice make you look down in guilt for some reason. he was mad at you for not telling him…but for reasons you did not know of. “Two months. Before I came he was set to stay in kindslanding to find our ground with one another,” you played with you finger tips. he took a deep breathe to stop himself from shouting at you any further. his sweet girl knew nothing of the pain it caused him to hear those words. to find out she was in fact not his.

“He’s sweet, and kind. A perfect match for the realm,” you look up at the orange sunset and feel the aching in your heart grow, “we are to be wed in three months.” grabbing the long glass of wine from beside you and bringing it up to your lips to take a big sip. you needed to drown out the doubts and fears you had somehow. lucerys fist tightened at the thought of another having you be their bride, to get to kiss you and share your bed every night. he was lord of the tides, he had the best fleet and army at sea, he could protect you, love you like you deserve- but this man got it just on a whim?

you are more precious to be sold for some on going alliance with a household- you deserved a prince.

“But,” you start again with hesitation and force yourself away from his eyes, “he is not the one I long for. Yes, he would be a good and faithful husband but my heart does not long for him.” the title belonged to the man you stood beside, the man who made your soul burn blighter. he stepped forward and your breath hitched and couldn’t keep your eyes away from him. the eyepatch on his face never made you fear him, not even once did the stories make you feel any less for him.

“Who does it long for?” He fell hushed as he stood even closer to you now, your bodies almost touching and you could almost feel the heat coming from him. you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to belong to him- to marry him. but it was not to be so, your duty as the princess is to care for the kingdom the best you can and that is for your betrothal to the lord you barley knew to work. and not to the man you loved.

clearing your throat you step back away from him and force a smile your face. you clearly were imagining things and he was not pursuing your fantasies, or his own. “A chat for another time perhaps, it’s getting quite late wouldn’t you say? I need a good nights sleep for my travels tomorrow.” he had forgotten all about you leaving. time slips away with you here. how could he bring himself to part ways now after everything you brought him?

“Then I shall fair you goodnight,” before you could pull away his body moves forwards and his lips pressed against the hairline of your forehead. it was a few seconds long but the feeling made you overwhelmed in shock, you froze up. pulling away from you he took notice of your reaction and how tense you became, “slept well, my dear” he walked away with a curled smile towards his cheeks and leaving you standing there alone.

that night you toasted and turned in your sheets thinking of how his lips felt on your skin and your brain started to wander. how would it feel for him to kiss down your shoulder, or you lips and down your chest in his chambers at night. he had no wife to warm his bed, surely he must be lonely? but a man like him was definitely no stranger to the feeling of a lovers touch and you knew that for sure. the thoughts you had that night made you feel embarrassed to see him the next morning when you woke from the vivid dream you had.

you fixed your glove over your hands and made sure everything you need is tied on tight to your dragon. she squirms beneath your touch and if she could purr like a cat you know she would. lurcerys appreciates you carefully as your attention was not on him, he liked to see your face in shock because he found it adorable. “Leaving without a goodbye?” to his pleasure he was right. when you turned around at his voice spooked like a horse.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have time, it’s early.” you shifted awkwardly and covered yourself. he hummed along and walked closer and then inches by you. he stops before the scales of your dragon and slowly guides his palm over repeatedly along her body, makes her happy like it was you. even she enjoyed his company, much like her rider. “I’m sorry, I did not know how to say goodbye.” admitting the truth was harder once it was out for some reason. you didn’t want to look like a girl despite in love.

“This isn’t a goodbye, we will see each other again.” he gave one last pat and turned to face you again. he stood with his hands clasped together, his black outfit with golden accents shining in the morning sun, his dark brown hair reflecting just like the gold.

“I’m sure of it.”

Lucerys Velaryon was many things. a prince, a lord, a brave soldier trained, and powerful man with connections everywhere. he could pay his way through the slums and have anything he wanted done at the snap of his fingers. he never wished to see you in tears or upset, really, but that’s the way things happened. to even think of letting you suffer a marriage to— anyone but him was a taste worse then the gods could give. and it was tragic how the lord just ended up dead a few days later from being poisoned by one of his own cooks. he died in his mothers arms and his heart felt sorrow for her and only her.

you came running into his arms after you heard the news since he was the only one you could go to. of course you would, he planned it just right. so he kept you in a tight embrace as you cried into his chest while stoking your hair and whispering everything was going to be fine and you were too distraught to say anything. “just breathe sweet girl,” he whispered into your ear. you grabbed ahold of him and tried to calm your breathing but the hiccups messed you up. he hated seeing you like this but was overjoyed at the same time. he was with you, you were his now.

“I’m scared,” you sobbed as more tears rolled down your already damp cheeks, “he was kind- the next man might not be the same. I don’t want to be a miserable wife,” naive little you to think he’d ever let that happen.

“look at me,” he commanded but not harshly. his hands cupped the skin of your jaw and cheek to guide your face up to him. even now you looked as stunning as ever. “I’d never let you be miserable, you are too special,” his thumb traced shapes into your skin. he looked into your puffy eyes and drank them in, you looked so innocent and in need of his protection. and he loved that. “I shall confess I find myself thinking of you since you first arrived in driftmark as a new woman.” he watched your eyes widen in anticipation and surprise.

“my heart longs for you and only you. the minute you come the place lit up and worked smoothly with you around. driftmart needs a lady, I need someone by my side that is wise and has a soft approach.” your brain fogs up as he leans down near your face like he was going to kiss you but stops just before your noses touch. “I’d fill your rooms up with anything you ever ask for, show you love like you’ve never dreamed, or protect you from any harm that comes your way. you know I’m a better choice than the boys competing for your hand.” you hear the slight venom in his voice towards the mentions of other lords.

“my father, what would he say?” you whisper and he could feel your breath making him hold himself back. “I’m in need of a wife, he’s daughter is a reasonable gift. He knows I’d never mistreat you,” the other hand grabs ahold your waist and moves his hands up and down your dress making you shiver. “come on, sweet girl. say yes.” a simple nod of your head was enough of a answer for him to finally capture your lips like he had been waiting for. you felt so warm pressed up against him it made him feral inside.

the warmth inside became like a explosion when he kissed you, the way he’s holding onto you so tight and against him, his short breaths and gasp for air, the hunger makes you sore and aching for everything he had. he wanted to give you it all, but he couldn’t. not until he put a ring on your finger and that pained him. the hormones in his body were at its peak now.

slightly tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth he pulled away slowly with a husky growl. he held your hips in place to stop you from trying to get more. he listens to you pant while doing the same thing himself. you smiled up at him, “I’ve always wanted you to be mine,” you say blinking your eyes up at him teasingly, “I don’t think I can ever belong to another.”

his chest rumbles in soft laughter. “About my brother— I’ll make him see we belong together, he raised you well so he knows just how much I need you.” he was so good a flattering. you roll your eyes playfully at him, “you have honeyed words, my betrothed.” you needed no acceptance from your father. you’d run back to dragon stone and wed Lusercys there. you couldn’t be pulled away from him after this.

“Because you get the cutest look on your face, you haven’t been as secretive about your feelings towards me. Should we talk about the time you practically bursted into flames when you knocked yourself onto me?”

“You stoop so low, my lord.”

#Lucerys Velaryon #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #yandere lucerys velaryon #yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader #house of the dragon #yandere hotd x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon

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misguidedasgardian · 9 months

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Storm's End 2

HOTD Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, mentions of a minor in a pleasure house, maiming, blood, violence, victim blaming, self blame, and other very dark things.

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4,7 k

Notes: Ufff It seems I can’t do one shots anymore, I think this required another third part because I didn’t want to make it so long.

They say that when you are dying, all your life passes right through your eyes, making you relive all those moments, and the way you felt

Now you are able to say, that it wasn’t that accurate

Because all you could see was HIM

His head on your lap while you read to him in High Valyrian under the heart tree

You turning to him with a smile on your face the first time Karnax obeyed your command, the way he smiled back

The time you grabbed his hand and patted Karnax’s snout making him purr

But suddenly you were that frightened little girl in that tunnel in Driftmark

“no! stop it!”, you screeched, as Aemond had your older brother grabbed by his vest and he held a rock in his hand

“stop it!”, you begged him again, he threw his hand back to gain momentum and he hit you in the face with the rock

You wailed and cried, your face burning, a warm liquid filling your mouth with a metallic taste, blood pouring from your nose

Because of you your brother grabbed the knife, to avenge you, because of you baby Lucerys jumped at Aemond and slashed his eye off of his face

Soon you were not the only one crying bitterly

Soon some gloved, adult hands grabbed you and lifted you from the ground and took you to a maester

Soon you were seated across from Aemond, as the maester sewed his missing eye shut, his remaining eye didn’t leave your face, his mouth twisted in a dark mock

He didn't even blinked, he barely reacted when the needle pierced his skin over and over

While you only got a bloody nose.

Deeper into the night, after the maester sneaked you a bit of milk of the poppy, you woke up when you could no longer breathe, feeling a weight over your chest, when you opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Aemond’s scowl, the slash on his face still bright red.

“Aemond?”, you called, then he took a knife off his belt, you screeched but he placed his hand in your throat, “what’s happening?”, you cried, “I want my mom”

“Why was I the only one who lost something?”, he asked bitterly, “the only one scarred”

“You have Vhagar”, you whined

“I didn't stole her”, he clarified

“I know”, you said

“perhaps I should scar you too”

“You mom scarred mine”, you whined, a tear falling down your cheek, “please don’t”, you cried

Aemond looked down at you, you didn’t know what he was thinking, you only stood still, afraid. Your uncle seemed to ponder about something, thinking, analyzing, and then , with the hand that hold the dagger, he grabbed the covers and retired them, you were sleeping only in your loose nightshirt,

You were eight and he was ten, he grabbed the dagger, you were so scared you didn’t even move, you only cried and whined when he carved an “A” into your thigh

“Now you are scarred like me”, he said with an even voice, and an uneven stare, looking down at you like he was bored.

Even though you thought the Red Keep was your home, you were so relieved when your mom told all of you that you were going to live in Dragonstone from now on. You were now scared of your own uncle, of your friend, and therefore you managed to conceal your mark, never showing it to your parents

The next part of your memories were only a few weeks back, when you return for the first time to the Red Keep, to defend your own right to inherit Driftmark

You were lucky you were the only one that looked like a Targaryen

But Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s words still hurt

As he screamed bastard and whore to the entire court, you couldn’t help but look up at your uncle, feeling his gaze on you.

And before that in the training yard

That is when the uneasiness began, his gaze on you, that same smirk, like he was mocking you, and Jace, you were barely a year younger than your brother, he was only a year younger and yet, it seemed like Aemond was ages your senior, in abilities, in knowledge, in maturity, in everything

Perhaps that is why he was so amused

He seemed to mock you, to pity you, to be amused of how much of your childhood you still carried with you

You hugged yourself as Vaemond cursed you and your mother, and you felt his gaze on you the entire time

But then Daemon slayed Vaemond in front of all of you, Jacey, before you could see anything, he grabbed you and hid your face on his chest, to prevent you from looking at your now dead great uncle

Soon the impression on Aemond passed, as he watched in anger that bastard touching you, protecting you

He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else other than him.

That’s why he asked his mother, to ask Rhaenyra for your hand that very afternoon, right before the dinner

You couldn’t even eat, not with his gaze on you, you kept looking up at him, as he drank you in your black leather dress at the same time he drank from his cup. He didn’t not even for a second, let his gaze off of you.

You mother saw this, and grabbed your arm gently, and whispered to you what he wanted, that he asked for your hand

When your face twisted in fear and anguish, your mother’s changed to that of concern, then you both looked at Aemond across the table, and he could see in your faces, what the answer was going to be.

So fueled by anger and resentment, he stood from his chair and toasted to the health of his Strong nephews, and he looked directly at you when he said this.

“To the health of my nephews and sweet niece, my the gods keep them handsome, wise and Strong, she will need her strength, to bear my children after we are married”, he said with a smirk, and the entire table shared concerned looks

“WHAT?”, growled Daemon, looking at Rhaenyra

Whole hell broke loose

You tried to stop Jace, but he wouldn’t hear of it, he went for Aemond to defend your honor and he pushed him away like he was a doll

“Stop it!”, You begged him, after helping Jace on his feet you put yourself in between them Aemond walked towards you and grabbed you by the neck, he didn’t squeeze, he didn’t choke you, but you could see the anger in his eye

“You think you have a choice?”, he whispered to you, “I think you should see the scar in your leg to remind yourself of who you belong to”, But a leather hand grabbed Aemond’s arm roughly, you looked to the side and there was Daemon

“Get your hands off my daughter”, he whispered dangerously, and in the background, you could hear everyone screaming in desperation, specially Alicent

You were already crying, but he released you, smiling wickedly.

He had a face to face with Daemon, who put you behind him to protect you

“Over my dead body you will marry her”, he promised, Aemond only looked at you, and then he exited the room

Your mother send you home with your siblings that very night, scared of her own brother

And then as you took to the skies in the night you were suddenly transported to the last time you saw him

Aemond standing in front of you,��

You were still in Storm’s End Hall, but there was no one else besides the both of you, you were alone. You wanted to speak, but couldn’t

“My beautiful, bastard, niece”, his words made you wince

You didn't know why you were here, is this what it was like to die? it felt like you were dreaming

“Why?”, you whispered, he tilted his head, amused, “Why do you hate me so much?”, you manage to ask, “I never did anything to you”

“I don’t hate you”, he said simply, “I’m just treating you like you deserve to be treated”, you frowned, “you are just a bastard, mine to toy with, mine to torment”

“Nobody deserves to be treated like that”, you fought, “is not my fault”, you whined, he only smirked, with a smooth movement he retrieved from inside his leather vest the dagge

“You are nothing, only the bastard daughter of a pretender who will never be Queen, strutting around the keep, with your bastard siblings”, a tear fell down your eye

“Is not my fault”, you cried, you believed him, a sadness taking a grip on you, you gasped for air as an inexplicable sorrow took a hold on you, “is not my fault!”, you cried, soon you couldn’t breath, you felt someone had a tight grip on your throat, you couldn’t breathe

You gasped for air, but something was preventing you from taking the oxygen you needed, you dried heaved, until you managed to throw up

Your body convulsed trying to expel the water from within your lungs, you tossed and turned until you finally manage to turn in the sand and threw up the salt water from within you

That is how you came to your senses again, disoriented, feeling sick, and clouded, and cold

So so cold

“So cold”, your voice sounded like a broken bagpipe, you tried to grab onto something, but your hand grabbed rocks and sand, you could barely see around you, it was all dark, it was late, and it was cold

You were soon aware that you were back in the land of the living, if you were dead, you wouldn't be in pain, you wouldn’t be so aware of your numb extremities, from the cold, the adrenaline, and the fact that you felt like you had been ran over by a herd of horses

You took your time to gather your bearings, to take deep breaths and expel the salty taste from your mouth, so sharp it clouded your mind even more

For some reason, even the stranger had forgotten you

once you managed to regain the mobility of your arms and legs, you turned around

“Karnax?”, you called, as you whimpered, feeling your loss in your chest, making it tight and hurt, as memories of the last moments coming back to you

“KARNAX?”, you called desperately, but you knew it was of no use, your dragon had been ripped apart by Vhagar, and it was a miracle that you were still alive

Then you stopped, maybe shouting and drawing attention back to you, wasn’t the brightest of ideas. But as you looked into the stormy sea, bitter tears fell down your eyes

Your baby dragon was gone, the one who had been with you since you were born.

You couldn’t stand on your own legs, you tried to, but failed.

You shivered, and tried to hug yourself

it was some miracle that the waves and current had dragged you to a small piece of beach with dark sands, rather than the rockery all around you

But you soon realize it wasn’t a miracle

You saw something, someone moved in your peripheral view, and you got a feeling…

Aemond walked towards you slowly

It had stopped raining but he was still wet as you were, his wet silvery locks stuck to the edges of his face and his clothes, all leather, protected him from the rain, he had taken off his eyepatch, and the sapphire gleamed even in the dark

You haven't yet recovered the feeling to your legs, but scared out of your mind you tried to crawl back, away from him. he smiled, wickedly, as he walked towards you

“Get away from me!”, you whined, but he stopped on your leg meanly, preventing you from advancing away from him. He only hummed, entertained

He looked like a creature that had come from the bottom of the ocean, front he pits of hell, he had resurfaced just to drag you back with him. He had come from your deepest nightmares

He leaned down towards you, you tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t budge, he grabbed you tightly, roughly, tears fell down your eyes when he dragged you to him in a wicked embrace

“NO!”, you screamed squirming, trying to get away from him, “Why would you do that?”, you cried, bitter tears that burned your cheeks fell down your eyes, “My Karmax, my dragon, he was gentle, fair tempered, he never hurt anyone! He was good! Why did you do this? HE LOVED YOU AS HE DID ME! YOU KILLED HIM!”, you screamed, desperately fighting against him, to release yourself from his grasp

“He was weak and small, so are you”, he mocked in your ear

“WHO CARES ABOUT THAT?”, you felt physical pain in your chest, “he was my soulmate”, he manhandled you until he was face to face with you, he grabbed your jaw forcefully

“You have other things to worry about”, he growled, and you whimpered in his hold, trying to get away from him, but still you couldn’t, he was stronger than you, and you were completely destroyed

“please”, you whimpered, “you killed my dragon…”, his eye darkened even more, his expression was now the one of a man enraged

“Don’t you dare to even think we are even”, he growled, he then smirked darkly, “but after this we might”

The night was awfully calm, strangely so, and it was ridiculous you would think about something like that in a moment like this, but here you were

Because you knew what was about to happen

You only cried when Aemond threw you on the sandy floor, the hit numbing you partially, more than you were already. Aemond looked down at you for the very first time, in all this years, you saw him smile, he didn't smirk, he smiled widely, openly, you could see his teeth

“Please”, you begged him, to just leave you alone

“I love it when you beg”, he ceremoniously removed his long leather jacket, and left it gently on the floor

“I never did anything to you”, you whined, tears kept falling from your eyes and he finally jumped you, like a lion to his prey.

You tried to fight him off but you were so tired, so drained of all your energy, you couldn’t

You whined against him, but he didn't care, he never did, why would he do now?

He took the dagger off his belt, and for a fraction of a second you felt relieved, he was going to slice your neck and be done with it, but no, he sliced your riding pants instead, you tried to kick him, but barely moved him.

He got tired of your antics and grabbed you by the neck roughly

You whined and trashed, but he wouldn’t let go, soon the inability to breathe make you dizzy, losing the little strength you had left

“Please Uncle”, you managed to let out, cheeks wetted with your tears, the salty air making your skin burn

But he wouldn’t let go, he looked down a you with a sick satisfaction that make you whimper once more, as you were bare from the waist down

You never had high expectations regarding your first time with a man, you had heard from the Septas that it was your duty as a wife to please your husband in that matter, they had also said that it won’t be pleasant, that pleasure is not something you must seek

That the act of bedding was only to produce heirs

But with your sibling, Jace in particular, you had seen and read things, fueled by your curiosity, and you found out that it was quite pleasurable, for people that worked in the skin trade anyways…

You knew you had no expectations, but still

You never expected this

He undid his pants, releasing his manhood, it was big, thick, long, the tip red and angry, and even looking at it make you cry even more

“No please”, you managed to say, Aemond could see you were running out of air, so he released you just a little

He needed you conscious

“Please don’t do this, please”, you begged and begged, and he rebelled in it, he placed himself between your thighs, making you hurt

But the worst part was yet to come

“Why wouldn’t I?”, he mocked

While he still had you by the neck, the other went between your legs, yout thighs shook when you felt him, trying to introduce one of his fingers, it was uncomfortable, and it burned

You were dry

And he seemed to enjoy it

“Noooo”, you babbled, as you started hiccuping because of your distress, he only hummed. Pleased, with the situation, with you, or whatever

He fisted his cock only a couple of times, and gave you no reprieve.

He give you no space to move, no space to escape,

You shrieked in pain, the burn felt like nothing you had experienced before, you cried out as he ripped you open for him

“No! it burns, please”, you begged, “it hurts!”, you cried, you scream bloody murder

“Fuck”, he cursed, a sick smile on his lips

“Why?”, you cried, tears falling, whimpers being drawn, “Why?”, he paid no mind to you, only retrieved yourself and you almost thought that he was going to free you from this torment

Only for him to thrust into you even more roughly than before

You shrieked, as Aemond looked down for when your bodies were united and smiled when he saw the blood pouring from you. But he almost caught a glimpse of the mark he had drawn in your skin all those years ago.

“Now you are just a whore”, he said, satisfied with himself, again thrusting into you, “do you think Cregan Stark will want you now?”, he mocked

He kept fucking you, raping you, and the only thing in your mind to distract you from the pain was… why? Why did he hate you so much? if your dreams were to give you any clarity… which you doubted

“I’m sorry uncle”, you whispered, as he retrieved himself from you and then pushed again inside you, making you cry out

“I don’t care”

“I’m sorry”, you repeated again, and then again, like a mantra while he defiled you, while he took you against your will in that beach

“Come on, come for me, like the little wanting whore I know you are”, but you were far from it, you were still in pain, and your body reacted accordingly, trying to soothe you, lubricating itself to help you cope. He found your clit, pinching it and rubbing it roughly, too rough to be pleasurable, but it still helped.

Your head fell to the side, looking at the waves, so far yet so close, you wanted to get lost in them, as the rough sway of Aemond against you, you saw the waves coming and going with almost the same speed.

Until he grabbed your jaw and make you look back at him

The unhinged look in his eye, his growls and gasps

You grabbed the wrist of the hand that had you by the neck and you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly, and what you found in them scared you even more

You felt him deep in your belly, your insides were on fire you wanted to throw up, but the salty taste of all the sea water you drank was still present, giving you no reprieved

“Please stop”, you begged one more time, “please uncle, it hurts”

“Shh”, he only shushed you, he leaned in and kissed you, for the very first time, ever

His wet lips were a welcoming distraction, but not even in the kiss you felt relief, feeling only dread, desperation and anger

He bit on your lower lip, apparently the blood of your maidenhead wasn’t enough, he needed to taste it in his mouth too

You thought it was never going to end

Until finally his movements became sloppy, his eye rolled and he grabbed your neck even tighter

You felt him, deep inside you, ropes of his seed filling your womb

You cried even harder, moving more than before

He stood planted deep inside you for endless minutes, looking down at you, analyzing your face, and every expression on it, you only cried softly, your body tight with pain and trauma.

“i have to make sure it takes”, he mocked, and your shrieked shortly, “I told you I was going to give you my bastard”

You looked away from him, barely imagining how it was going to be like to bring shame to the family in that way.

Weak

You had let him do this to you

If only you were stronger

He finally released you, you whispered one more time when he took himself off of you

You felt a thick substance leaking off of you, and you could only imagine what it was

Aemond stood up, as he fixed his pants, you barely could roll to the side, hugging yourself, to look at the waves

You felt dizzy, nauseous, in pain and cold

And if you had something in your stomach you would have throw it out

But you didn’t

You felt his gaze on you again, you tried to ignore him, thinking faintly on how you are going to survive this, how you were going to go back home

To your family

They were going to love you no matter what, you knew this, and if Aemond tried to say the opposite, you were not going to believe him

Aemond didn't move, he only looked at you, the soft, musty wind hit your face, making you whimper in cold, but still, you laid there, unmovable, you could feel him moving, placing his jacket back on him, taking his time, and yet, you didn't move. Then he leaned in, and you tried to squirm away, but he grabbed you easily

“You either come with me, or I leave you here”, he whispered in your ear, you didn't move, you just stayed there, laying in the sand, he came into your frame, as you stared down at the beach. You were not an idiot, if he left you here, it is probable you were not going to make it, you were far away from everything, you had no dragon, another storm was coming

But going with him is unthinkable

Yet you didn't move

You saw his boots walking away from you, and then, they stopped

He looked back at you

You were stubborn

“Your Grace”, greeted the woman shakily, bowing to the Queen. Rhaenyra had unshed tears in her eyes

Daemon barely managed to get her out of her chambers. They had no news of you, and that is what scared them, they assumed the worse

“You are Lady Alyne Felwood, are you not?”, she asked, she did not mind to present herself like this, she hasn't brushed her hair, she hadn't even bathed, she wasn’t wearing her crown, still crying in front of that woman, a woman whose family was of the Stormlands, sworn to House Baratheon

“I am, indeed”

“Are you not sworn to House Baratheon?”, spitted Daemon by her side, looking as imposing now that his sweet wife couldn’t

“I was”, you whispered, “I was a part of the court of House Baratheon, and I was there that day when…”, Rhanyra’s gaze that had been on the table looked up at her, alarmed

“You were there?”, she asked, tears falling freely, the lady barely nodded

“I was”, she whispered, she looked within herself, to tell the tale as softest as she could, she did not want to bring her more pain, “I was there when the princess entered the Hall, unfortunately, Prince Aemond…”, she stopped to see their reaction, Daemon grabbed the pommel of his sword tightly, and Rhanyra whimpered, “had been there for hours when she arrived”

“It was him?”, she asked, Alyne barely nodded

“She made her case to Lord Borros, but one-eye had already made his own, offering his own, or his brother’s Daeron’s hand in marriage”, she said, “Lord Borros mocked the princess when she had nothing of the sort to offer him, and that is when…”, she paused, she might lose her head for this, in a “kill the messenger” situation, but she came her for a reason, “Aemond interrupted”

“What was said?”, asked Daemon impatiently, tired of the pauses

“He said that her brother had a debt to pay, that he wanted her to pay instead”

“What debt?”, she asked

“He said that he wanted a payment of blood”

“He slayed her…?”, cried Rhaenyra, but the lady shook her head

“He said he was going to take her maidenhead, and send you their sheets with her blood in it”, Rhaenyra whimpered, grabbing onto the painted table, “he tried to go to her but lord Borros intervened, he commanded her to be taken back to her dragon, she exited hastily, but so did he…”

“He demanded her maidenhead? And they let him go after her?”, she cried

“The guards on the battlements told Lord Borros that they have heard shouting, laughs and screams, and… a shriek of a Dragon”, Rhaenyra covered her mouth in an attempt to swallow her cries

“my little girl”, she cried, and Daemon hugged her tightly, hiding her face on his chest

“Why?”, asked Daemon, angry at this woman, who brought Rhaenyra sordid details about that day

“I’m a mother to a girl too”, she whispered

Then she was dismissed

“My girl!”, Rhaenyra cried, when they were alone, “my little girl”

“Shhh, my love, we will get her back, whatever it takes”

Taglist!

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