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arabellasleopardcoat · 4 months

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We light the way (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: House Hightower doesn't have dragons. But they have a magic of their own.

Warnings: Canon typical violence and language. Dialogue lifted from the show. Strong!Reader

A/N: I intended to finish the bingo, so I prompted myself: Aemond + witness + friends to lovers.

The magic had always been there. It was in his blood. It had always been. When Aemond was four years old, he had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming in terrible agony. Years later, with greater pains to serve as reference, he would compare it to the loss of his eye.

The wet nurse that tended to him and his siblings had burst into the room to find him clutching his arm to his chest, but was unable to identify what was wrong with him. She had called for help, and soon, the Queen and the Maester had been roused.

“This is most unusual.” The Maester pressed down on the inside of his forearm, and it had felt as if a thousand needles were digging on his skin. Aemond screamed. “I can't see any wound, nor has he have a fever.”

His mother stepped closer, a grim expression on her face. Her eyes were worried.

“Aemond, love. Tell me what's wrong.” She gently cradled his face, examining him frantically.

“Mother, make it stop! Make it stop!”

Alicent's gaze drifted downwards. On Aemond's inner arm, in green ink, there were letters appearing in a pretty, feminine handwriting. Aemond did not know how to read yet, but whatever it said, it was not good. It wasn't normal. Words did not suddenly appear on people's skin.

“Out! Everyone out!” She yelled, so forcefully for the normally polite Queen, that the Maester and the wet nurse scrambled to obey without questioning her decision. When they left, she brushed his hair back from his face and hugged him very tight, until the hurt went away.

Aemond looked down. The letters had stopped appearing on his skin, and now, words in green ink remained.

“What does it say, Mother?”

“Stop hurting my brothers.” Alicent’s face scrunched up, as if about to cry. She took a deep breath.

“Why is it here?” Aemond pointed angrily at his arm. Like any boy of four years old, pain and tiredness made him cranky. “What is going on?”

His mother looked at a loss for words. When he was older, she would tell him she was not too sure how to explain it, and had merely used her own father's version of the tale to make Aemond understand.

“Our family is different, love. Do you remember our words?” She gently scratched his scalp in the way he liked.

“Fire and blood.” Aemond nuzzled his face on her stomach, hiding.

“My words. Grandsire's words.” Her voice held a certain degree of annoyance.

“We light the way.”

“That's correct. We light the way, just as the Seven do for House Hightower.” She gently grabbed Aemond's forearm, and traced the letters. He shivered. “For some of us, the special ones, they light the way towards our destiny.”

“My destiny is hurting someone's brothers?”

“No.” Alicent laughed. “Your destiny is the person who will say those words to you. The words are how you will identify your soulmate. No one else, except us special Hightowers can see them.”

“Not even her?”

“Not even her. But she will have a mark like yours.”

“And she won't be able to see it?”

“No.” Alicent smiled. “You are very lucky, you know? Other Hightowers get less clear marks.”

“What do yours say?”

“I have no words, but a red thread.” And she lifted her finger, showing how a string of wool wrapped around it, and pooled, crimson red, on the floor.

During the coming weeks, Aemond watched. His mother's red thread twisted around hallways and stairs, passing over torches and bathing rooms, like blood flowing down the walls of the Red Keep. His sister, Rhaenyra, held the other end. Aemond realized then that if he wanted his soulmate, he would have to tie her securely to him, for a mark did not ensure anything.

Aegon and Helaena had no marks. Nor did anyone else outside his mother and Rhaenyra.

♧

The first thing Aemond noticed about you, upon meeting you, was that you were loud. You came into the world crying. No, wailing. As he stood near the birthing chamber, by his mother's side, he felt confused.

“Are all babies this loud?” He asked her. Alicent frowned. The cries sounded much more pained than it was normal for a babe, but Aemond did not figure that out until he was older.

His father had ordered that every member of the family had to be present during the birth of Rhaenyra's first babe. On the floor, Helaena was chasing a caterpillar, as Aegon played dragons and knights with one of the guards. His father was silently praying.

Aemond and his mother were sitting by a window, trying to ignore the screams. After enduring almost six hours of Rhaenyra’s agonized sounds, and now hearing the babe, Aemond had come to a decision. He would not have children once he found his woman, for it sounded hurtful to her and if she was meant to be his, then Aemond could not allow any harm to befall her.

“Not always.” Mother answered, with a wince. And then, another wail could be heard, joining yours.

“The Princess has birthed twins!” The midwife announced, joyfully. “A girl and a boy.”

King Viserys stood, clapping.

“Can we see them?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The midwife opened the door a bit further, allowing them to step in. Aemond, curious about the babes, was the first to approach. They were so tiny but…

“Your hair is brown.” He said to one of them, perplexed. Aemond carefully rubbed the babe's hair, trying to get the grime out. Then, he turned towards the midwife, accusingly. “You didn't clean them properly.”

His father's and Rhaenyra's smiles froze.

“She is not dirty.” Rhaenyra said, shortly. “She is like that, and she is perfect.”

Aemond frowned. He wanted to ask his mother how it could be, that the babe had hair different from her parents. But his mother squeezed his hand, harshly, and Aemond understood that she did not want him to ask that.

He looked at the babe. At you. You were rather pretty.

“She is pretty. Though she is tiny. I expect she will grow.” He gave a questioning glance towards Rhaenyra, who looked unsure. She didn't seem to like Aemond's questions, but he was at that age.

The terrible twos had turned into the horrible threes, and the curious fours. Right now, he was just entering the questioning fives. It would be an affliction that would follow him for the rest of his life.

“Of course she will. And you will protect your niece, won't you?” His father ordered, and Aemond nodded solemnly. He would.

Aemond failed to notice then, but on your arm, in childish black letters, the proclamation of the color of your hair was plain to see.

♧

Lady Laena's funeral had put you in a melancholic mood. Just like Jace, you were old enough to see the truth of your parentage and were mourning Ser Harwin. You thought it stupid, having to attend a funeral for a woman that you never met, while your father's charred remains were put to rest at Harrenhall without even his brother's attendance.

If it were you burying one of your brothers, you would have been inconsolable. You didn't understand why Lord Larys wasn't.

Watching Lady Laena's remains go back into the sea made you think of your father, and it was all so sad, you had started crying right along with Baela and Rhaela. Your uncle, Aegon, had laughed at you, commenting on your weakness for crying for a stranger, which only made you sob harder.

It was only natural that you had sought the comfort of your other half during the night. As of late, your mother insisted that Jace and you should be in separated rooms. She had said something about how improper it was, since you were growing older. You had not understood that either.

You had gone to him in the middle of the night, and fell asleep hugging him close. Jace was a source of comfort despite being younger than you. Your mother often said that you had to protect him, being the eldest, but Jace always said that he was going to protect you because he was going to be King.

“Jace, Jace.” A voice interrupted your slumber, and you felt the warmth pulling away. You held it tighter, refusing to let go.

“Jace, wake up. Wake up.” The voice insisted, and you pried your eyes open to see Baela's face staring down at you. The sight confused you, and you squinted at her. She was starting to tear up, and Jace still gave no sign of waking up. You shook him hard.

Jace mumbled something.

“Someone stole Vhagar.” Baela said, more urgently. It prompted your brother to sit up fully, jerking you upwards too.

“What?”

You did not hesitate. You jumped out of bed, put on your slippers and went to wake Luke.

After that, it was chaos. Vhagar's roars could be heard clearly in the distance, and you ran into Aemond slipping inside the castle, fully dressed. You did not need further explanations.

The girls and Aemond traded insults. Then, they were coming at him and they were rolling on the ground. Aemond made mention of your parentage, egging on Jace and Luke. You were too horrified to do anything but scream. You would have done nothing, four against one already seeming unfair without your intervention, if Aemond had not started choking Luke.

“Stop hurting my brothers!” You screamed, launching yourself at him. Then there was a rock, and a dagger, and you had given Luke an opening, and Aemond was screaming in agony.

The sight of his maimed eye made you shriek louder. There was so much blood, and you pressed your hands on it, as you had seen the Kingsguard do when someone was injured. Aemond slapped you, wailing.

“I am trying to help!” You said, stubbornly. Your tiny hands went to grab for his eye again, but Ser Harold was entering and removing you from him. For the first time, you looked down and realized your nightgown was soaked in blood. You started sobbing harder.

You had to be carried back into the hall, nearly catatonic. When your grandfather took in the sight of Aemond and you, he demanded answers. He started to yell, and gesture at the Kingsguards, only frightening you more.

Finally, your mother appeared, and you rushed to her, grabbing fistfuls of her dress with blood soaked hands.

“What happened?” Your mother picked you up, examining you closely. “Why is my daughter not being tended to?” She asked the Maester.

“Luke and Jace are hurt.” You cried.

“Show me.” Your mother said to the boys. Then, she scowled and repeated. “Why are my children not being tended to?”

Queen Alicent laughed. It was an ugly, grating sound.

“Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond complained.

“He attacked Baela.”

“He broke Luke's nose.”

“He stole my mother's dragon!”

Everyone was talking at the same time, making a terrible noise that didn't allow the King's words to carry. Even the Queen was screaming, until…

“He called us bastards!”

“Aemond… I will have the truth of what happened. Now.” Your Grandsire said, creeping towards Aemond. You felt a bit bad for him, being reprimanded by his father after losing his eye.

“What else is there to hear?” Queen Alicent sounded exasperated. “Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.”

You flinched. She sounded so angry. Your hand reached for Luke's, holding him close. You were afraid he might be hurt by the Queen.

“It was a regrettable accident.”

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush.” The Queen pointed at Luke, harshly. You whimpered. “He meant to kill my son.”

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Your mother stepped in front of Luke, Jace and you.

“What insults?” The Queen seemed distracted by something Aemond was muttering to her. They were too far away for you to hear, but by the way his lips moved, you thought it was something similar to “Mine… She… mine.”

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

Queen Alicent was starting to turn very pale. You doubted it was because of your mother's words. It was no secret to anyone that Jace, Luke and you were not Velaryons. You did not look the part. At all. It was no wonder that someone had finally said it to your face.

“What?” Your grandsire's eyes widened. Had he not known? You didn't understand why he was so angry.

“He called us bastards.”

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.” Your mother quickly interjected. Queen Alicent looked about to lose her mind.

“Over an insult?” Alicent sounded odd. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, but she kept arguing. “My son has lost an eye.”

The King started interrogating Aemond, but you were focused on something else. The Queen, despite still defending Aemond, had her eyes fixed on you. At first, you thought she was looking at Luke, but then you realized she was focused on your arm. Or your sleeve. Uncomfortable, you tugged your sleeve down. She was probably looking at the blood in your hands.

Slowly, very slowly, she was creeping closer. Her hand reached forward as if to grab you when Aegon spoke. “We know, Father. Everybody knows. Just look at them.”

More recriminations were to follow. Your mother, noticing Alicent's attention was on you, shoved you back behind her.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” The King proclaimed, loudly. His eyes darted from your uncles towards you and your brothers. Even at such a young age, you could feel something was irreparably broken between your mother and the Queen. Luke and Aemond too had broken their bond beyond repair. “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

Jace looked perplexed, as did Aegon. To them, the request sounded as unreasonable as it did to you, despite their short ages. You knew then you would never be a family again.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. Good will cannot make him whole.” The Queen complained, her brown eyes narrowing.

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.” Your grandsire sounded exhausted.

“No because it’s been taken.” Alicent answered. You shifted in your place, ignoring Jace's hands urging you to stay as you were. You felt dirty, hands and sleeves covered in Aemond's blood. It was sticky and it smelt bad.

“What would you have me do?” The King’s tone was exasperated, but cautious. He could sense there was something else at play, that the Queen would not allow the slight to go unpunished. Aemond, in the corner, was unusually quiet.

You squirmed even more into place. Jace squeezed your hand in warning. The Queen looked like a wolf about to pounce, and it scared you. You feared of what she could do to Luke.

But instead, her eyes darted to you again.

“There is a debt to be paid.” You felt as if her words were being spoken directly to you. “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.

You gave a horrified gasp. Your mother looked ready to gut Alicent. Murmuring broke out across the room, everyone speaking at once. Luke hid between Jace and you.

“My dear wife.”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.” Alicent's eyes were watery with just indignation. She was about to cry out of sheer frustration.

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.”

“If the King will not give me his eye, then I want her daughter. Who will marry Aemond like this? It will mean the loss of his ability with his sword, ladies will not want him.” She spoke hurriedly, as if afraid that if she let anyone get a word in, no one would listen to her. Alicent's voice raised. “I want her betrothed to Aemond. She will return to the Red Keep immediately. I do not want Princess Rhaenyra to find a way to damage that too.”

“My King, surely no one would reject a Prince of the blood.” Your mother said, weakly. Her hand clutched at your shoulder, fisting in your nightgown. You risked a look at your grandsire. He looked thoughtful.

“Ser Criston… Bring me the girl!” The Queen ordered, and Ser Criston took a step towards you. You cowered.

“That will not be necessary.” Your grandsire said. “Girl, come.”

Your brothers cried out. Aemond's face stretched into a satisfied smirk. Aegon looked bored, and your cousins horrified. None of that you took notice, but your mother. She was making a wounded, hurt noise. It sounded much like a wail. Her hand around your shoulder tightened. Daemon leaned in and whispered something to her, making her grip loosen.

“Go.” Daemon said, shoving you slightly. “Go to your Grandsire.”

And so you went. Up close, King Viserys was much more intimidating. There was a certain stench around him, of flesh rotting, that not even the medicine could mask. You lowered your eyes, staring at your slippers.

“Do not be afraid, child.” He gently tilted your chin up with a finger. “Look at me.”

You obeyed. He examined your face curiously. One of his hands grasped your forearm, and he looked at your hands as well. Self-conscious about the dirt and the blood, you made your hands into tiny fists, before relaxing them.

“Why are you covered in blood, but your cousins and brothers are not?”

“I tried to help him, Your Grace.” You answered, truthfully. You had thought you were really helping then. The answer seemed to please him.

“You are a good girl. You wish to help, and you will.” Viserys smiled. He seemed glad to have found the answer to his troubles almost accidentally. “Your marriage with your Uncle will unify both sides of the family. Go with him.”

Without any other choice, you went to stand beside Aemond. His eye was swollen and shut by stitches. He stared at you with his good eye, before his hand shut like a vice around your wrist.

Like your grandsire, Aemond forced your arm up. But instead of examining your hand, he looked at the inside of your forearm. You didn't see anything, but he seemed pleased. He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped your hand clean. Then, he grabbed your other hand and cleaned it too.

“You are mine. Mine, you understand?” He squeezed your wrist, sharply.

You nodded, eyes filling with tears.

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” Aemond said, slipping your hand in his. He looked at Alicent, evenly. “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon.”

“This proceeding is to an end. Whoever questions the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s children again will lose their tongue.”

And then, Queen Alicent was leading you out of the room with her family, a firm hand between your shoulder blades and the looming shade of Ser Criston behind you. You tried to look back, go to your mother, but you only managed to see the desperation on her face as Daemon led her and your siblings out of the room.

She would fight for you. You knew she would. This was only temporary.

♧

Alicent sighed, tiredly. She had just put you to bed on the loveseat inside her rooms. She was too afraid of Rhaenyra whisking you away in the middle of the night to do otherwise. You had taken a long time to settle. Poor thing that you were, you had been crying silently as the maids made you bathe and found you a clean nightgown.

Alicent was sharply reminded of when she was told she would marry the King. She had been afraid too. Terrified, in fact. Back then, Viserys had seemed like such an imposing man, and he had not been kind to her. As the sickness got the better of her, Alicent felt a secret pleasure at seeing him humbled. She actually enjoyed doing her duty and caring for him, if only because she could remind herself he was weak. The cruel man who had hurt her now had started to rely increasingly on her. Her stomach twisted in dark satisfaction. Not so great now, huh?

That was not the point. It was for the best, Alicent tried telling herself. You would be happy with Aemond. This was nothing like her situation. The gods had made Aemond and you perfect for one another. You just had to get used to him first.

Alicent had been older, though. You were a girl not yet flowered. And she had her father at court. Alicent had never wanted to go to him, but she had had the option.

You had no one. And you knew it. You had sobbed quietly into your pillow as Alicent whispered reassurances and rubbed your back. When you had finally calmed down, you had given her big pleading eyes and asked for her to allow you to say goodbye. She had felt as if she was the worst person in Westeros.

“The Hand, Your Grace.” The voice startled her. She looked up to find her father already in the room.

“Say your piece.”

“Now, what piece is that?” Her father raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve conducted myself in a manner… unbefitting my station. I lost composure and made a scene.”

“All true.” But despite his words, Otto sounded amused.

“I disgraced myself.” Alicent went on, unsure of what he was thinking. She disliked that he was so difficult to read. She could never tell if he was about to reprimand her or congratulate her. “But it was necessary. The girl is…”

“I have never seen that side of you, my daughter. I even doubted its existence.” Otto's reply was calm and measured, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

“It was an ugly thing. I regret it.” Separating a mother from her daughter, no matter how wretched the mother was…. You would need Rhaenyra, in the years to come. You would flower, grow, need to be told about heirs and taught womanly things. But Rhaenyra would have never allowed you to come, if Alicent had not forced her hand. She would not understand. She was not a Hightower.

This was best. No matter how lonely you got, you would always have Aemond.

Yet Alicent remembered her own maiden years without a mother, and her heart hurt. You would be lost at court. You were a child. But just as Rhaenyra had not spared Aemond, she could not spare you.

“We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it.” Her father spoke, and it was then she realized they were having two different conversations.

“No, Father. That's not why…” Alicent sighed. Sometimes, it was better that certain things were seen rather than told. “Get up. Come.”

She led him towards where you peacefully slept. Her father remained puzzled.

“Alicent…”

And it was then that you rolled onto your side, showing the inside of your arm. In scraggly, black letters, the insult remained exactly the same as it had been spoken aloud. “Your hair is brown.”

Otto staggered back.

“You see, now?” Alicent asked him, voice wavering. “I had to take her. I had to, Father. Right? She is Aemond's. Rhaenyra already took so much from him, I couldn't let her have her, too.”

“You did the right thing.” Otto squeezed her shoulder, as he bent down to cover you more with the furs. “She is his, yes. But she will also prove invaluable in the years to come.”

“How so? Preventing war?”

“She will sit on the Iron Throne. Why should a man rule, if she was born first?” Her father smirked. “Keep a grip on your passions. And I promise you, in time, you and I together will prevail. What that rogue Aemond has done in winning Vhagar and her to our side… The boy was right. It’s worth a thousand times the price he paid.”

♧

Aemond had found he did not like his soulmate very much. You were shy and easily frightened, and you spent most of your days crying in the corners.

You were little, his mother said. It was normal that you were taking your time to adjust.

This was nothing like Aemond expected. You being his seemed like a great jape. You cried at everything and managed to be more annoying than Aegon. Then, there was the fact of your parentage. Why would he be cursed with a bastard for a soulmate? Had he slighted the Seven in some way?

“Stop crying.” He snapped at you. “You look like a fool.”

You sniffled, quietly. Helaena had invited you to go catching bugs with her, but you had started sobbing when the first caterpillar was placed on your arm. Aemond had to intercede, pulling you aside, but you had only cried harder. If there was something in which you resembled Rhaenyra, it was in the fact that you always made your displeasure known.

The only time you seemed at peace was with a book in your hands. His mother had noticed that particular miracle when one afternoon, upset at Aegon tugging on your dark braids, you had disappeared. Alicent had been frantic, sending servants to turn the Red Keep upside down in your search. She had found you by accident, sitting in the library with a book open on your lap, comically large for your childish body. The attempt at self soothing had been noted and tucked away to ruminate later on.

“Aemond.” His mother said, sharply. He sighed. It wasn't like he tried to scare you on purpose. Just that Aemond was not too sure what to do with you. Girls were not his primary concern, but he supposed you were to be endured.

Later that day, his mother pulled him aside.

“If you treat her cruelly, she will grow to resent you.” He was too young to catch it then, but there was a glimmer in Alicent’s eyes that indicated she spoke out of personal experience. “This is not how you win her over.”

“She is mine, though.” Aemond scowled. There was no need to win you over. His father had already ordered your marriage to him. Not even Princess Rhaenyra could oppose it.

Besides, you were a bastard. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. You should be grateful Aemond paid you any sort of attention, even if it was negative. When you grew older, and your strong features made themselves even more known, no one would want you.

You were the lucky one. Not him.

“Soulmarks do not ensure anything.” His mother said, her tone turning slightly less patient.

“But father gave her to me.”

His mother looked up, as if begging to the Seven Heavens for fortitude.

“Betrothals and marriages can be annulled by a King.” Aemond frowned. Why would his father change his mind? “Or a Queen.”

“Oh.” Aemond had not considered that possibility. He would have to ensure the two of you were married by the time your mother took the crown. And hopefully, if he could manage, get a babe too. That would be much harder to annul.

“You need to make her want to stay.” His mother had a point there. It was a much simpler solution than what Aemond was concocting. There was only the issue of how. Aemond had no clue what to do with girls, and you cried so much it was off-putting.

“How?”

“Be kind. She is lonely here. She needs a friend.”

He found you crying again the next day. You had scrapped your knee on the dragonpit, after visiting your growing dragon. You were inconsolable, face covered with snot and eyes swollen from so much crying.

Aemond would have scoffed at your weakness, were it not for the lingering memory of his mother’s words.

He fetched water and a clean linen, and kneeled in front of you. Big, teary eyes stared down in confusion. Your dark eyelashes, clumped together with tears, and another reminder of your bastardy, fluttered. You gave a few harsh blinks.

“The King gave me you.” Aemond enunciated, slowly. He wanted to make sure you understood his meaning. “You are mine to guard and protect. And to care for.”

Your dark eyes, pretty for a bastard, widened. You pulled your leg back, but Aemond made sure to hold your knee firmly, and continued tending to your injury.

“Nothing bad will happen to you. I ride Vhagar, the biggest dragon in existence.”

That didn't seem to reassure you much, either. You flinched as if hurt by the thought of Vhagar. Probably scared, remembering exactly how he had won her.

Aemond tried to recall what normal girls liked. Helaena was no use, but of the few times he had crossed paths with his other nieces, he had a lasting impression of romantic gestures and delusions.

“When we are older, we will marry, and I shall be very kind. You will love me very much and you will never be alone again.” Aemond rubbed your kneecap, gently.

Your jaw was hanging open, but you didn't even make a peep. He sighed, exhausted again. You were stubborn, so there was no point in expecting you to… Aemond was unable to finish the train of thought. His mind had gone blank.

Your arms were around him and you were not letting go.

♧

It spirals, after that. You are quiet, the consequence of a childhood spent near Jacaerys, Aegon and Lucerys. They seemed to have much louder voices than you. Yet, at the same time, you are always making yourself known.

Be it a hand curling around his wrist to drag him to the kitchens to try the newest lemon cakes, or a swift tug to his jerkin to get Aemond to pay attention, your feelings are loud and clear.

Aemond has never been particularly playful or fond of the outdoors. He much prefers studying philosophy and history. At two and ten years of age, it is a bit late for him to take part in childish games like monsters and maidens or come-into-my-castle, but you are younger than he by a few years, so he accepts his fate easily enough. You will grow out of it, Aemond muses, and it's not entirely unpleasant to be the one that causes you to shriek in laughter.

Besides, it's not like the two of you only do things that please you. Often, you curl with him near the fire, a book in your hands, while Aemond studies his lessons. Aemond finds your weight against his side comforting, and he feels a vicious sort of pleasure at enjoying something you used to do with your twin.

He might not be able to take Lucery's eye. He might never manage to hurt Jacaerys. But Aemond will take their sister, make no mistake. Soon, the day will come that they visit the Red Keep and something will happen, and you will run to Aemond's arms for comfort. Not theirs. And it will be all the vindication he needs, watching those stupid Strong boys gape at their beloved sister’s preference.

You have been growing well. He is satisfied to notice that you have intelligent eyes and that you take well to your lessons. You curtsy and dance as well as a lady of twice your age, your manners are pleasing, and you know the Seven Pointed Star by heart. Once could almost forget you are a bastard and not a miniature copy of Alicent, with how often you have taken to following her around.

Aemond is not a fool. His grandfather has taken an unusual liking to you, and is frequently imparting lessons. His mother pays you more attention than she does to Helaena. It may be guilt on his mother's part, but his grandsire does not have such qualms. He is no woman. They are grooming you to rule.

“Aemond!” You run towards him, excitedly. “I want to go riding. Can we?”

“I don't know, Princess.” He smirks. One thing he likes about being older than you is the ability to lord his knowledge over you. You get so huffy and pouty, it makes him understand why Aegon enjoyed teasing him so much. He would never be as cruel to you, though. You are too sweet for it. “Can we?”

“You know what I meant!” You scowl at him. Your limbs seem to be vibrating with the force of will it takes not to stomp your foot like a commoner.

“Of course we can. You have a dragon and I do too, we are both very proficient…” Aemond teases, enjoying the way your face scrunches up in displeasure at the knowledge you will have to bend.

“May we!” Your voice raises slightly. “Mean!”

Aemond waits a moment, letting the suspense build. Your lower lip trembles, fighting the urge to pout.

“Please?” You say, brown eyes pleading. It doesn't bother him as it used to, your darker features. Aemond has found there is a certain beauty in your hair and eyes. Besides, Aegon has told him that the women at the Riverlands are much more pretty than those of House Targaryen. If he was not jesting, you would grow into a beautiful woman thanks to your Strong blood.

“Fine. We will go.” He is careful to keep his tone gruff, as if he was doing you some great favor. In truth, Aemond enjoys the activity as much as you do. He has to be careful, with your dragon and you being smaller than Vhagar and him, but it is fun to race you. He even lets you win, sometimes.

Sometimes, though, you win fair and square. It's very troubling. You have started to become distracting, and too often Aemond thinks of how pretty you look with the blue backdrop, riding a dragon like a true Targaryen. It's then that you take advantage and push your dragon further, faster, until you surpass him and Aemond shakes himself out of the spell you cast on him.

He wonders if kissing is as pleasant as Aegon says it is. Your clever mouth looks soft, and Aemond knows you would yield to him easily. He is very curious about how your hair would feel on his hands, and how it would look coming undone from your braids.

A joyful little sound brings him out of his contemplation. You are hiking up your skirts and breaking into a sprint.

“Last one there carries the books for a whole week!”

“Oh, you are on.” And he is running after you, hot on your heels, as if he were a boy once more.

��

Alicent can't sleep. The storm raging outside keeps her awake, pacing. Viserys is getting worse with every day that passes, and she fears she is living on borrowed time.

Will Rhaenyra kill Aegon? Even with the betrothal of Aemond to you, Alicent doubts she will stand down. The letters that have come are few and far in between, getting even more spaced out now that you are happier and Rhaenyra is having Daemon's children.

Jacaerys is the only one who keeps a steady stream of communication with you. Alicent is guilty of reading his letters. She has committed that particular sin various times. Among the tales of your week and the recounting of how much you miss your other half, there are some troubling thoughts. Has mother replaced me? Does she not love me anymore? Will you too forget about me?

He tries being reassuring, but he knows the truth. Just as Alicent does too. Rhaenyra hates being anything but the center of attention. She had been a regular mother to you, but she cannot stand the influence Alicent is having on your life, nor can she tolerate that you are happy with it. If you wrote tales of your unhappiness, of your unwillingness to marry Aemond, Rhaenyra would be loving and supportive. But you are too honest for that.

At first, Alicent had taken to mothering you as a way of atoning for her sins. She had dragged you away from home when you were a child. She had gifted you to Aemond. It had been her fault that her father decided you would sit on the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra was dead.

But now, caring for you comes naturally. You were an easy child. Sweet natured, and starved for affection. You were not like Helaena. Instead, you enjoyed placing ribbons in your hair and trying on new dresses, and you were actually interested when Alicent spoke of the Faith.

Most of all, though, you loved Aemond with all your heart. You followed him everywhere, be it cheering for him in the stands as he trained, or helping him get to his chambers when the pain in his eye turned into a migraine. It made Alicent love you even more.

There were times, though, when your love for Aemond turned problematic. Suspecting tonight was one of those times, Alicent decided to stop her senseless pacing and go check on you.

The guards stationed outside your hallway squirmed in their posts when confronted with the sight of Alicent.

“Let me guess.” She said, tiredly. “The Princess is not in her rooms.”

“No, Your Grace.” One of them said, lowering his head in shame. Alicent fought the urge to scream at their incompetence. How could one girl, barely two and ten, manage to slip past two guards? Alicent loved you like you were her own, but you were just too much like Rhaenyra sometimes.

“Thank you.” Alicent inwardly was cursing up a storm. She knew exactly where you were.

It was not long before she found herself outside Aemond's chambers. This set of guards looked more grim.

“Do not tell me. The Princess is inside.” Alicent asked, flatly. The guards only stepped aside, curtsying to her.

The bed was too small to hold both of you comfortably, so you were laying on your sides. Aemond was not wearing his eye patch, and Alicent thought him asleep. Your head was resting on his shoulder, half squeezed against his arm in a position that could not be comfortable for your neck.

Both of you still had your nightclothes on. Alicent could have danced in relief. She had enough as it was with Aegon to add you two to the list.

“Mother.” Aemond whispered, very quietly. He had you hugged to him, and now that she looked more closely, Alicent could tell he was rubbing your back up and down. She wondered how long he had been standing guard.

“You are five and ten. She has already flowered. This has to stop.” She whisper-shouted.

“I am not going to dishonor her, mother, for the Seven's sake! I am not Aegon.” Aemond whisper-shouted back, being careful not to move you.

“What are you doing, then?” She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at your sleeping form. While it was true that you were entirely dressed, the way Aemond held you lately was less friendly and more of a lover's embrace.

You sighed in your sleep, sweetly, and hid your face against his neck. Both of them went quiet for a few seconds.

Only when you were settled again, Aemond dared to speak.

“The same as always. She was scared. She used to climb in with…”

Alicent rolled her eyes. She had heard the same excuse too many times to count.

“Prince Jacaerys, I know. Just as I have known since you were ten, but neither of you is a child any longer.”

“Mother…”

“What will the maids think come the morrow? The guards? They will see her coming out of your quarters. You can't keep doing this. I have tolerated it far too long.” The guards already knew. Used as they were at keeping their King's secrets, no one had thought to speak yet. They, too, believed it was harmless behavior. But both of you were getting older and Alicent feared the day when Aemond's hands turned from consoling to groping, and your soft little hugs turned into passionate embraces.

“It's entirely innocent, Mother, I swear.” Aemond looks vaguely offended by the thought and Alicent has to steady herself because of the audacity of this child! No, she was surely atoning for all her past deeds with the two of you. Aegon was sent to taunt her with her failures as a mother, and the two of you were destined to remind her of Rhaenyra and her failures as a friend. Thank the Gods Helaena was normal, in comparison.“I wouldn't touch her like that. I don't intend to hurt her.”

Alicent stopped her complaint before it left her mouth. Surprise made her eyes go wide. Then, with her softest voice, she tried to fix this.

“It's… Oh, Aemond. It's not meant to be hurtful.” Poor child. Who had told him intercourse was meant to hurt? Alicent had kept her woes in that area strictly to herself. Aegon and Rhaenyra flaunted loudly that they enjoyed it very much. So why was Aemond so afraid?

“But it hurts you. It hurts Helaena. It hurts the girls Aegon…”

She deflated. So worried had Alicent been about precocious youths, she had never stopped to think about how she had never explained to them what the marital duties were. Painful. Hurtful. Alicent could not deny that. Men did not care for the pleasure of women and were it not for the fact that she had been friends with Rhaenyra once, Alicent would think it hurtful by nature too. It was not meant to be that way, even if she herself had not experienced the pleasure people went on and on about.

Alicent had to reassure Aemond. It was vital that once he married, he produced heirs. His grandsire's plan depended on it. That would not be achieved if he was afraid of touching you. Besides, your situation was different. You were marrying your soulmate. Your other half.

She felt utterly unable to help Aemond realize it was not meant to be hurtful, but magical and blessed by the Gods. Her father was better suited to giving this talk than her. He was the one who had actually married his destined partner.

Sometimes, she wondered if you two were a way for the Seven to fix history. When you did willful, reckless things with no care for your reputation, she could see Rhaenyra running around the Red Keep, despite the different coloring. And when Aemond, dutiful, serious Aemond, got all uppity about the topics and scandalized himself, it was as if looking at herself during the past.

Alicent would never say it out loud, but she liked your coloring. When she looked at you from a certain light, she could pretend you were Rhaenyra and hers. And when Aemond chased you around, long silver hair at his back, she could almost pretend it was the two of them again, racing in the hallways of the Red Keep.

We light the way indeed. The Gods could be very cruel.

No, Alicent thought bitterly, she had lacked the necessary parts to keep her soulmate by her side. Let her father take this one.

“It does. But you will not be rough with her. It will feel pleasant, and that is why it is so dangerous. She will not want you to stop, you will not want to, either.” She keeps her tone reassuring. Aemond looked fully offended now, a fierce scowl on his face. As if he were being accused of a terrible crime.

“Of course I wouldn't be rough with her. She is mine.” He scoffed, all haughty. Alicent fought the urge to laugh. Boys. Always so dramatic. She much preferred mothering Helaena and you than this. It was almost easy in comparison.

“And you are hers?” She teased.

“I am.” Aemond seemed amused by the reference to wedding vows, lips twitching with the urge to smile. He fought it because Gods forbid he let his mother know he thought her witty.

“Good.” Alicent smiled. “Have you kissed?”

“Mother!” Aemond shook his head, turning red as a tomato.“I am waiting for her to be ready. She flowered so recently…”

“That is very kind.” More kindness than she had been afforded by her husband. Aemond must be smitten.

Alicent decides then she will speak to Viserys about expediting the wedding. And get her father to teach the both of you about marital duties. She does not want to risk the both of you siring a bastard. Not on her watch.

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tamayakii · 7 months

Text

Mare's Milk & Cider

warnings: drinking(reader has no specific age), story takes place in "second of his name" during Aegon's II celebrations, canon events basically. pairings: Otto Hightower x reader(can be seen as platonic/romantic), hotd x reader notes: thank you Aaliah, @genshinluvr, she helped me out with the ending!!! Let me know if you'd like to be in a tag list for this fic :) this fic is also paired up with this drawing i made!

“Then it lies with you, to make him see it.” Hobert advised, stepping closer to his younger brother, “Lord Hand” It did not go under Otto’s nose of what his brother was suggesting, reminding him of his own title.

His eyes never leave Hoberts as he considers his brothers' words, “and speaking of growing,” Otto follows Hoberts's moving gaze to the Princess, Angel of The Red Keep, adorned in a headdress with a long silk veil, dragons and stars embroidered in. Face decorated in Velaryon pearls, neck and fingers embellished with the finest green rubies, jades and agate the Hightowers could find.

“The fine lady y/n has grown to be a wondrous young woman, hasn’t she?” Hobert eyes do not hold simple admiration for a young girl grown, they hold more, and they contain something that Otto wants to snuff out with his bare hands.

“She is betrothed?” Hobert asks, looking back at his brother. “A fine woman like that cannot go un-married for long. With her and Rhaenrya combined, I can imagine the king's chambers are filled with betrothal letters.” Otto looks back at the Princess, watching as she plays with her new baby brother, covering her face and pulling her hands away quickly.

“A fine mother she will make as well, Aegon loves her.” The comment almost makes Otto snap, the thought of anyone being her husband or the father to her children makes a fire burst inside him. One Otto cannot explain reasonably, so he stifles it.

“She.. is not betrothed, Brother, I don’t think the King has any interest in marrying her off,” Otto answers, his lips tightening when his brother looks at him with a smirk. A near-knowing one that always made Otto furious since childhood.

“The king, or you?” Hobert quips, smirk widening when Otto’s face scrunches, nostrils flaring and wrinkles deepening. Hobert pats his shoulder as he begins to walk away, satisfied to get under his brother's skin.

No. Lady y/n shall not betrothed. Otto thinks, especially not to the likes of his brother. He watches as she laughs, throwing her head back and hand over her heart. Nothing, nothing could compare to her.

She steps away as the Lannister boy steps in, talking about the stepstones. She treats herself to the glorious spread on the table, picking out ham and grapes, plate barely complete- Otto steps in.

“Please, My Lady, have more” He helps fill her plate, and she shakes her head,

“You’re so sweet, Ser Otto, but i don’t think i can handle it. I am trying to watch my waist.” She responds, in a honey-sweet voice, one that cradles his entire being but her words make him roll his eyes.

“Treat yourself, My lady, we do not wish you to starve on such a good day. Now go ahead; eat before the long journey” Soon Viserys is at her side, like a dragon protecting its kin. All it takes is one look to make Otto step away,

“Come eat.” The king demands, “Fortify yourselves for the journey.” Otto watches her, keeping by her father’s side; Like a lamb to its mother. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him--

☾

The trip to Kingswood is long and cold. Hand intertwined with Rhaenrya’s as you arrive, the loud crowd applauding for the king and new prince’s arrival but Rhaenrya makes no move to depart from the carriage.

“Rhaenrya?” Whispering as you scooch closer to the princess, “They await to see you” Still unmoving, all she does is blink. “Come.” standing up and pulling her along, “We will go together.” You step out of the carriage, with the princess alongside you.

“The Realms Delight herself; Princess Rhaenrya of Dragonstone! Accompanied by Princess y/n, Angel of The Red Keep!!” You squeeze her hand, looking at her. She looks at you with a somber smile, squeezing your hand back.

The roar of the crowd could blow you back, it will never not be jarring to be reminded of your station. A Princess. Not by blood but by word, and who would tell the king no? Who would dare say to King Viserys that his second daughter, whom his own late lady wife believed she had birthed her, cannot be a princess?

The celebrations are grand, the finest cakes and delights, the meat freshly hunted and prepared before your eyes. At your father's request, you stayed by his side, forcing you to leave Rhaenrya.

The glorious tent is filled with laughter and talk, and the smell of wine and cake fills your nose. Looking over to where the pregnant Queen Alicent sits, you realize she has been staring at you. You offer her a smile and she too offers one back.

Settling back into your chair, crossing your hands on your lap as you look above. Looking into the tiny details of the royal tent, the golden threads woven with black.

“Tired, my dragonling?” Viserys looks at you, reaching his free hand to yours- the other holding a goblet of wine. You reach over and hold his hand, As soon as he questions you, a yawn tries to force its way to your throat.

“The ride was tiring and too long for my tastes but--” you look to your father with a reassuring smile, “I shall be okay, After some food and rest, I'll be okay” he smiles back at you before taking another drink from his goblet.

Soon enough you’re offered your own goblet, filled with mare’s milk and honey. Time passes by slowly, you blink once and your father isn’t by your side anymore, It seems no one has noticed you dozed off. You promise yourself you won’t fall asleep but as you close your eyes and your goblet tips in your weak hand; the promise is broken.

“Is that all I am to you? A prize to be proffer about to the great houses?” Rhaenrya's voice makes you jump out of your short slumber, eyes wide like a deer as you begin to process the situation. As Viserys steps towards Rhaenrya, you push yourself out of your seat, setting your goblet down on the table beside you.

“You’re of age, Rhaenrya,” he points out, “and Jason Lannister is an excellent match,” he adds on. Oh. Oh no. Stepping towards the pair they seem not to notice you, there was no smooth way to stop this bickering. The two argue every day at least ever since Queen Aemma passed and especially since Viserys took Alicent to wife.

“He’s arrogant and self-serious” Rhaenrya argued, You wring your hands together anxiously. Watching the two fight as a bystander was like watching two lions fight, watching them as their family felt like two dragons fighting overhead. All that would follow would be the destruction of varying amounts that was left for you to pick up and fix, being both of their shoulders to lean on.

“Well, I thought you might have that in common” Even Lord Lyonel could feel the suffocating air around the two, taking a third step back. Sending you an apologetic look, the face Rhaenrya has is indescribable. Perhaps she wanted to scream at him, or even shocked that he would say such a thing, or maybe she had been at a loss for words.

Otto stalks closer from the sidelines, watching closely. This catches your eye, you try to breathe; knowing he is here comforts you. For nearly three years now, he has been your aid, your comfort and your closest friend- even despite the large age gap. You realize the tent has now fallen silent, and everyone listening in.

You quickly step to Otto’s side, seeking his silent comfort. You wish you could fix everything, and make everyone happy; even if it left your hands raw and bloody. If you could give your own heart for it; then you’d do it.

“Even I do not exist above tradition and duty, Rhaenrya!!” You cover your ears quickly, eyes wide with fear. Turning your body away from them, you began to feel violently aware of everyone's eyes on your family, some on you but mainly on the spectacle; The King and The Heir fighting on Aegon’s second name day.

When Viserys turns to Otto what he sees makes his flesh burn; You. So very close to Otto but turned away from him- Your father. It makes his blood boil, you should seek comfort from him. Not Ser Otto. You are his daughter. Not Otto’s.

Viserys soon leaves after the news of the white hart, but Otto stays, just for a moment. His gloved hand sitting on your shoulder, a reassuring hold. Your breath is shaky and your chest tight but you still manage to look at him through your eyelashes,

“Breathe, Princess.” He insists, and he maneuvers you towards your seat. Hand traversing to your lower back, “Sit and have some milk.” He gently puts your goblet back in your hand as you seat yourself. Feeble hands grip the handle, eyes drawn to the floor.

Otto tries to find the right words, he has never been a man of comfort. His hand hovers over your dropped head, unbeknownst to you. He sighs and takes his leave, passing his goblet to a maiden.

The day gets longer, Rhaenrya has run off with Criston following behind her. You knew it was against your set rules but you sank into your cups, after whispering to the help to fill your cups with cider but to not tell anyone else.

Your eyelids get heavy again, head tipping back. You love your family, you do. They took you in as a child, they gave you everything even despite the tight rules provided, sometimes… sometimes you wish that you took to a dragon and flew. Flew somewhere, to old Valryia or maybe to the free cities.

Then you’d be free.. but never truly free. Your love ties you down to your loved ones but that is the consequence of loving hard. Looking down into your cup, you swirl your drink. Taking a deep breath you look back to Alicent, she is already looking at you.

You wonder how long she has been staring at you and you tilt your head, she gestures for you to sit next to her. Another sigh leaves your mouth, slowly pushing yourself up.

“oh! princess, here allow me to help!” a maiden comes to your side, you wave her off as you give her the empty goblet. You keep your steps slow so as to not wobble, to others; you looked like you were gliding.

“My Queen.” you address as you sit beside her, Alicent quickly holds your hand closest to her. You are surrounded by the lady wives of many different men along with Larys Strong, the son of Lyonel Strong, the brother of Harwin “Breakbones” Strong.

“This is Viserys’s other daughter, Princess y/n” Remembering to keep your eyes open, you look around with a smile. “Dear y/n, how’s your day? you seem awfully tired.” Alicent asks with concern, one hand on her belly and other on your hand as she leans closer.

“I’m quite fine.” you mumble back, fighting your heavy lids as you nod. “The day is long… but soon we shall dine and turn in for the night.”

The conversations bore you, useless politics, rumors, marriages of lower houses. You wave over another servant with a sigh, already they know what you want. They deliver it, you try to hide the contents from Alicent but she notices.

“Cider?” She whispers tightly, holding the wrist that holds your goblet. Your nose flexes, “You know you cannot handle that.” She states, “a maiden your age shouldn’t even be holding a cup of cider.”

The rest of the ladies converse, and you are unbeknownst to another set of eyes on you. “Please. I will be fine.” you whisper, patting her hand and prying her tiny fingers off.

You take another big swig of your cider, almost finishing it all in one go. Looking over to Larys who has nearly burned holes into your head, nodding at him as a greeting.

“La-Larys.” you slur and he smiles at you, and you return it with a half one. The sudden need for fresh air sits in your lungs, eating you like a snake does a vole. Chugging your drink before shoving it in between the cushions of the seat, you stand up.

“I’m.. gonna go get some fresh air.” You announced, trying to make your way out of the once lovely group of women who now seem like a horde of gossiping vultures.

“Oh!” Lady Redwyne pops, “I heard that the hunters found a fat hog, they should be smoking it just now!”

The thought of watching them gut a pig to smoke makes your stomach turn, “thanks.. Lady Redwyne” You hurry out of the tent, the sun shining upon your skin. The pungent smell of burning meat and spices hits you, quickly turning away and scurrying to the back of the tent- where it was closer to the forest edge.

“ugh…. fuck.” You groan, kicking the dirt below you, the cider sticks to your insides like jam to bread. You ache to be in the comforts of the red keep, painting, or perhaps riding on horseback. You ache for a lot of things. Ache for the motherly hands of Aemma, to feel the embrace of someone you refuse to let yourself say. Perhaps you ache for the unmade.

You stand there, for minutes. Just staring into the bushes and trees, the arrival of the hunting party brings you back. Smoothing down the white lace on your dress, gulping down the fresh forest air; you return to the celebrations.

“Princess?” a feeble voice calls out, you look around and are surprised to see Larys.

“O-oh! Larys.. Larys, you surprised me.” You turn to the man hunched over his walking cane, leaning onto it. “How have you enjoyed my brother's second name day?” you ask, almost swallowing your tongue.

“it has been fine.. not that i can enjoy the most of it.” He moves his twisted foot, something that has dubbed him “The clubfoot” among gossipers. “But to be honest, i think i prefer talking with the maidens.” he adds, “they are far more gentler”

You nod along, eyes flickering over to the hunting party. Dogs held right by handlers, horses snorting and throwing their heads back as their riders dismount.

“But you..” he continues on “seem to be left to your own,” You still and wrong your hands together. Adjusting your stance as you feel yourself leaning, telling yourself to keep yourself together.

“Yes.. but it’s okay, I don't… don’t mind.” You reassure,

“I’m sure the cups of cider helped.” he smirks, knowing, your face flushed. How did he know? noticing your red face he chuckles,

“not to worry, Princess. I shall not tell anyone.” His eyes never leave yours, following your finicky gaze. It makes you uncomfortable, like a child being examined.

“I suppose it’s not-“

“You shall not tell anyone, what?”

you almost jump out of your skin, you turn so quickly that your head may have spun all around. Otto stands tall, chin up. Almost looking down upon Larys,

“Ser Otto” Larys addresses, if Larys was scared, he made no effort to show it. Your heart beats against your chest, “She was telling me a story; about Aegon.” You try to catch up to where Larys was, but he seemed to be a whole book ahead.

“ye… yes!” you stammer over words, “i uh, guess you could say i spoiled him despite Alicent request.” Otto's hard eyes soften when they land on you, it was a siren's song to your intoxicated state.

“The princess should be with the king.” Otto says, he offers you his arm and you reach for it.

“I was keeping the Princess company as she enjoyed the fresh air.” Larys explains, “She felt a bit queasy. I guess the mares' milk may have gone bad.” Otto looks down at your averted gaze, examining your state. Shuffling in your stance, flickering eyelids and subtle swaying.

“I see, I will look into that.” Otto puts his hand over yours, a grip to keep you near- not to comfort. “Come on, Princess.” He tries to walk you back, you step on your own foot as he does so.

“I think the princess would like to enjoy the fresh air longer.” Larys turns slowly, looking dead in Otto's eyes.

“The king has requested her presence” Otto's grip tightens, his nostrils flare. “but you can enjoy the air if you wish. I’m sure you won’t be bothered” Larys watches Otto lead you off into the tent, eyes never leaving you.

Entering the red tent filled with dozens of folk and your father right ahead, your sister is nowhere to be seen. You want to go home, you want to lie in your warm bed with Rhaenrya and wake up to braid each other's hair.

Soon you’re back in your chair, holding Viserys’ hand and Otto to your left. You stare off, taking a deep breath.

You would always be in the jaws of someone bigger, the dragons or the hounds. You’d bare your neck like a lamb, and hope for the dark delicate love.

Entwined in other people’s fate, all you can hope is that the fates bring you peace.

#HOTD x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere hotd x reader #yandre house of the dragon #yandere hord #otto hightower x reader #yandere #Viserys Targaryen x reader #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #Larys Strong x reader #yandere Larys Strong #Yandere Otto Hightower #Yandere viserys targaryen #yandere rhaenrya targaryen

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queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

Bearer of Bad News

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: devastating news reaches your ears from an unlikely messenger.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, OC Aemond, author has a thing for pet names and making hardened men simps for their ladies. not really edited, angst, ambiguous ending because why not. ❗️major season one, episode ten spoilers

"Aemond, please listen to reason, and do not go," you begged your husband as you followed him around your room; hand to your freely-swelling belly firm as if to keep the small babe in place. "Please - I wish I could explain it but I fear for this message you are to carry."

"Hey, hey," Aemond paused in his venture to ready himself for his envoy trip to the Storm Lands; turning to take your hands in his. "Is that what this is about, my sweet? You know you are the love and light of my life," he smirked broadly as if to tease you, "and no Baratheon whore is going to change that. Hmm?"

"Do not remind me of your brother's vile proposal," you sneered, rolling your eyes away from his piercing gaze. "It was disrespectful, at best!"

He chuckled a bit, tugging you in so he could hold your waist. "Come now, my sweet wife. It is just a marriage pact for an alliance. What're the odds I will actually have to marry the broad? Hey?"

"You are not free to marry," you snapped.

"I am honored for the privilege to uphold our ancestral customs. More than one wife is a Targaryen tradition, my pet."

"Aemond."

He smirked deeper, "They are but silly words, my love. Who ever Lord Borros offers will not share my bed, nor affection, but only my name."

"Our name," you reminded, "for I am still your wife. I am carrying your Targaryen child, and you will show me respect."

"Of course, darlin'," he relented with a nod. "I meant no offense."

"And she would share our home, too, is it?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps Aegon will take interest in her."

"Oh, that's cruel."

"I do not know how to satisfy you, my love. Help me out here."

"Go back and refuse your brother because you are married to me, and that is enough!"

"They are just words," he sighed, leaning his forehead to yours as his hand cradled your cheek to keep you close. "Ease yourself, my love, please. 'S not good for the babe."

You huffed lightly, "Does not mean you should carry his message to Lord Borros. Please, Aemond, it storms there all the time and that can be dangerous, do not go. Just - do not leave me alone."

"I will only be gone a single day, my love," he promised with patience, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Long gone was his teasing smirk, seeing and feeling your genuine worry for his wellbeing and deciding it was better to comfort your pregnancy-brain.

Helaena had warned Aemond that once with child, the mind kinda slips, but it is not to be held against the woman for it is just a symptom of creating life in their belly.

"Then will you do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Take Kasta, please."

"Oh, my sweet girl," he chuckled now. "I cannot take your dragon, she is yours, and she still grows. She is not suited for this trip, okay? Worry not, Vhagar will protect and serve me well."

You sighed sadly, "Well, when you've an answer for everything, 'tis a bit hard to be upset."

"You're just worried," he sighed, nodding in understanding. "Hear me, please, my sweet wife. There is nought a thing for you to worry over, there is nothing of concern."

"Well, what if my mother sends an envoy?"

"What if she does?"

"What will you do?"

"Out of respect only for you, I will not engage," he smirked, placating you. "I am eager to return, we might continue to celebrate our child."

"That sounds so strange, my love," you pouted lightly, making him crack a brief smile. "How am I to ensure you are safe? What if I went with you on Kasta?"

"Not a chance in all Seven Hells," he laughed, pecking your forehead twice. "Oh, I love you dearly, my pet, but I am not letting you fly into Storms End - even with a loyal beast like Kasta."

You huffed lightly, "Then take me yourself on Vhagar."

"You are the Princess," he shook his head with a whisper, "and my beloved wife - I will not risk you in any capacity."

"Fine!" You rolled your eyes, pecking his lips before finally pulling back to drop onto the bed - rubbing your swelling belly. "But what if you just didn't go? Hmm? You know?"

"No, pet. Not possible," he answered smoothly, as if he anticipated your words while continuing to ready himself. "What if you were in the Dragon Pit when I returned? So that you might see, as the first, that I am safe and well?"

You thought about it as Aemond pulled leather garb onto his body, smirking at you as he went. "Maybe..."

"Would you like to do my hair, my Princess?" He offered, holding a brush out for you. You snatched it up and grinned to yourself, easing him into a chair before starting on his locks. "Just keep it away from my face, pet. Got a long fly."

"I know how you like it," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his cheek and jaw. "Sit still please." He titled his head back to peck your lips, then settled to allow you to work.

Yet as he did, a hand was never far from you; pinching your hip or lingering near your elbow as you worked. He'd never admit it, but the Prince adore physical touch and often like to express himself through it; relying on most nonverbal communication. When you had his hair secured, you then fixed his eye patch on properly and sighed deeply to yourself, making your husband softly wonder, "What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

"I'll just miss you, I guess," you shrugged. "You truly must go?"

Helaena had also warned Aemond that pregnancy-brain can make some women clingy - though she did not experience it herself.

Prince Aemond sighed as he stood from his chair to hover over you - the damn bean stalk of a man - and held your waist tightly. "I will meet you in the Pit after," he promised. "Be there at sundown, yes?"

"Of course, my Prince," you promised in a whisper, ensuring the words were meant only for him. Trying to prove your love, you told him in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me."

He chuckled, "Oi, hey, watch it, my pretty wife. You know I can hardly resist when you get to talkin' in tongues."

You grinned against his lips, letting him pressing one, two, three more kisses in parting. "Be careful," you whispered, "and please come back to me."

"I will always do what I can to ensure that, sweet wife," he answered just as quietly, nodding sadly. "I must go..."

You sniffled, "All right. Go on, 's all right, love. Be careful in the Storm Lands, it's not named lightly."

Taking one last look at you, Aemond sighed and squeezed your hand, leaving you with his words, "Be in the Pit later."

You nodded, watching him stride towards the door, but something lurched in your stomach. "A-Aemond?" You call, jogging slightly after him. As if anticipating your movements, he turned swiftly and caught you in a tight embrace; letting his hand lock around the back of your neck to keep you steady as his nose pressed into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply to commit your scent to memory.

He sighed, petting over your hair for a moment as you both savored the feeling of one another. When ready, you pulled back with tears shining in your eyes - but willed them not to fall. You knew it was silly to worry over him for a matter such as this, but you felt sickened by his departure, and prayed for his safety.

"No matter what is to come, know that I love you deeply," he swore quietly, petting over your chin with his calloused fingertips; foreheads resting together to keep proximity. "'S all right, it'll be all right, sweetheart."

"Just come home, and I will wish for little else."

He smirked some, "Pregnancy has made you soft, my wife. 'Tis a good look on you."

"Is it?"

"I adore it," he promised with a chuckle. "Now, kiss me, my pretty girl, and I will return by nightfall."

Surging onto your toes, your arms rose to let you hold onto your husbands neck; his lips finding yours in a passionate, frenzied dance. Just before the kiss grew sloppy, Aemond pressed his lips in meaningful, hardened affection - something you physically felt.

He had to pull back or else risk being tempted into staying; petting the side of your face before turning swiftly and slipping out the door. You heard his footsteps retreat down the hall and slowly claimed a seat on your shared bed - that had only just cooled from your warm bodies finding solace and peace in the sheets from the night.

You kept yourself busy for the whole day, trying not to wonder over Aemond's adventures. You took time to sit with Helaena for a bit, visiting with the twins; answering any of the girl's questions about your pregnancy. "You've grown," she cocked her head softly, eyes set on your belly.

"Oh," you smiled a bit, nodding to the newly-crowned Queen, "yes, it seems the babe grew overnight, and only after I could tell the news."

"He's listening," Helaena nodded. "Like he knows."

You chuckled a bit, laying an affectionate hand to your belly to rub slightly. "Yes, I imagine so, sometimes. Though, between you and me," you lowered your tone to lean in, telling her, "I wager it's a girl."

"Really?" Your sister-by-law asked with intrigue. "How special!"

You hummed and nodded, going back to mindless embroidery as the twins played on the floor near your feet. As usual, the Queen stitched a new bug, but you weren't sure of your design because you continued to fall distracted, leaving your pallet a mess of tangled colorful thread. You tried to play it off, but for the rest of the day, you worried for your husband.

Whether pacing the gardens or pacing your bedchambers, you could not remain still as both your back and stomach knotted themself in stress. You could barely be spoken to the whole day, and come the evening meal, your step-mother, the Queen Regent, Alicent Hightower, was reaching for your hand. "Are you alright, dearest girl? You've barely touched your meal this evening."

You nodded stiffly, "Of course I'm alright."

She sighed knowingly, "I did not like it, either, you should know."

"What might that be, Your Grace?"

"Well, for one, Aegon sending Aemond away to parlay with the Baratheons, and offering his hand to any of his daughters."

You sighed, obediently replying, "The King can do as he pleases."

She sighed, muttering, "Not always. I told him he had no right in offering his brother's hand, but he would not hear me. What of Aemond's reaction?"

"To the Prince, Your Grace, they are but pitiful words that he does not mean," you answered, pushing a bit of stewed vegetables around your plate. "To me? They are unjustly cruel and wittingly disrespectful."

She nodded in agreement, "Worry not, dear girl, I will speak to Aegon, and we will design a new strategy for loyalty."

You half-smiled, glancing across the table to the 'King'. You knew your mother was the rightful heir but considering your position amongst the Greens, you wanted to tread as neutrally as possible. Tearing your eyes away from the boy-playing-King, you tried to focus on your meal but how could you when the sun was set in place to sink?

After asking for leave once stomaching three bites of your meal, that Alicent permitted with a soft kiss to your cheek, you stood from the table, gave a short curtsy to the King, nodding to the Queen, and turned on your heel to escape the dining quarters. When alone in your chambers, you were swift to swing a hooded cloak onto your shoulders; hiding your trademark silver locks, and slipping out of the secret passage your room hosted.

Early one night in your marriage, Aemond had shown you - and together, you were pretty sure you had only found half of the Red Keep's secret passages. Yet this was all you needed, jogging through the stronghold to pass onto the darkening street, and head for the Dragon Pit.

Upon arriving, your hair was the only confirmation guards needed to let you pass, and when you got there, Aemond had yet to arrive. With worry, you paced by your dragon's keep and Kasta watched you with curiosity burning in her eyes. She huffed a few times, making you pause to nuzzle her snout - but she grew larger by the day, and it was harder to offer her affectionate cuddles.

She wasn't the size of Vhagar, but something akin to Meleys, or the Red Queen, that had last been seen when smashing the Dragon Pit to shit during Aegon's coronation. The only reason you were bitter about it all was because, for one, you did not think of it, and two, Princess Rhaenys did not take out Alicent and the Greens when she had the chance. You worried not for yourself, for fire cannot kill a dragon, but when the Princess only turned the Red Queen away and soared out of the closing-Pit, you couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed.

Kasta heard it before you did, but a moment after the large, emerald green dragon picked her head up in alarm, you heard the echoing roar of Vhagar returning. Kasta cocked her head and snorted as she stood to her feet, taking only three steps so she stood completely over you protectively.

"It's Vhagar and Aemond, my love," you spoke softly in your Mother's Tongue. "Not to worry."

But the dragon did not back down, and in fact, let steam billow out of her nostrils. Being one of the larger beasts, your dragon was housed with Vhagar and Meleys, but after the Red Queen's departure, Kasta was left alone today... Making you wonder why she was overly protective in that moment.

You tried to chalk it up to you being pregnant and like Aemond, Kasta only wanted to keep you close to ensure your safety. But when your knees buckled some under the tremor of Vhagar's landing, you wondered if you were imagining things, or if the dragon's movements felt much... Shakier.

Kasta growled when you tried to move and with a squeak, you were wrapped in her heaving paw, being drug back under her stoic form. "Kasta!" You reprimanded sharply. "He's my husband, there is no - " But you gasped when Vhagar gave a mighty roar from within the Pit - sand and dirt trembling from the cracked walls from sheer vibration. Kasta raised her head when you took a step back to feel her breast at your head.

When the thundering steps of Vhagar was heard, your dragon bared her teeth in threat - and you suddenly worried for your position. It was obvious tension ran high and if your other-wise very sweet and docile dragon was riled up, you worried she could smell something alarming on Vhagar. But she kept her paw close to you in a cradle, as if to keep you at bay and under her protection.

"Aemond?" You called when you heard someone grunt and pant from down the way; the echo of the Pit proving useful in this moment.

"Love? That you?"

You tried to step out, but Kasta growled and slammed her arm in front of you to prevent your departure. "Oh, Kasta! Not now!"

But you only earned a threatening growl in return.

"What's happening?" Aemond's voice called, his body appearing at the mouth of your dragon's alcove - taking a step back when her large, emerald head whipped around to glower at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked you, cautious of the dragon growling at him. "The baby?"

"Baby's fine, but I was hoping you could tell me what was wrong," you sighed, stroking over your dragon's hide of her inner arm. "Kasta went on the defense the moment she heard Vhagar. Why would that be, husband?"

But you didn't expect Aemond to stiffen, lifting his gaze up and away from you.

"Aemond?" You wondered gently, trying to steer his attention towards you from behind your dragon's arm. "My love, are you all right? What's happened?" The term of endearment from your desperate lips made your husband flinch, turning away from you in full, and making you snap, "Aemond Targaryen, you tell me what's happened - now!"

Kasta gave a guttural growl when your temper spiked. It made your long, silver haired husband pause. When he turned to look at you again, you could see the few tears falling down his cheeks and knew it was not beads of water dripping from his still-sopping hair. Your dragon stepped out when you did, keeping her body between you both and Vhagar - something you noticed acutely.

"Did something happen with Vhagar, my love? Are you injured?" You asked as you finally approached him, but Aemond uncharacteristically flinched away from your hands as you tried to reach for him. "What's this? What's happened? Are you hurt?"

"I..." He took a breath, tears brimming in his violet eye to fall helplessly down his pale, sunken cheek. "I did not mean for it to happen, love..."

"Okay," you nodded patiently. "So, there was an accident?"

"In a way," he relented, breathing out tautly before leaning to a wall and sliding down it - the look of despair and dejection etched on his face. You slowly approached him. "When I tell you what has happened, I will lose you, too. You will leave, and I will be unable to stop you - but you've got to know how bloody sorry I am."

"Aemond," you sighed. "You're starting to frighten me, my love. What's happened? Please tell me, are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt... But you said so long as I returned here, to you, you could not ask for anything else, right?" He asked breathlessly, watching you nod as you slowly lowered yourself beside him; facing him so you could watch his face. "Does that still stand... If I've made a terrible mistake that will effect you, too?"

You sighed, "All right. Hey," you nodded, reaching for his trembling, freezing cold hand, "you can do a lot in this lifetime, Aemond Targaryen, but very little will shake the foundation of love that we have. What has happened that's so bad, hmm?"

He whispered, "Might've... Potentially started the war..."

You sighed sadly, sat in the sand, "Oh, Aemond... C'mon, love, you were just to carry a message to Lord Baratheon."

"I know."

"So, how is it you potentially started the war? Hmm?" You shuffled closer to him, trying not to let your heart shrivel from the way he visibly recoiled. "The hell's going on? This isn't like you - we're a team, Aemond. Why're you shutting me out? See - this is in part why I wanted to go, then you'd have no need to explain anything."

He nodded mutely, taking a staggering breath in that worried you more. Aemond didn't often show regret, but here, before you now, it was obvious the young Prince was drowning in it.

"Aemond, please, you're worrying me, my love," you whispered, trying to warm his hands in yours. But still, he could not meet your eyes, and his hands were deadly limp.

"I don't know where to start," his voice crackled into a whisper.

"From the beginning, please," you nodded, readjusting slightly to better look at him. "Sweetheart, just take your time, but please, do not shut me out. I cannot help you if I do not know what plagues you."

In a broken whisper, he admitted, "Once I tell you, you won't think to call me sweetheart - or sweet anything, again. Gods," he breathed, chuckled without humor, "I did not think I would miss something so much but the idea of never hearing you call me a pet name again sends my stomach to my feet."

"My Lord husband is a sweet man," you slowly reached for his face, caressing his jaw so he looked at you, "though perhaps only I get the pleasure of bearing witness to it," you whispered in return, letting your thumb caress his skin. "I will be the judge of what name befits him, for I am the one calling him. But I will need to know what startles him so. I will need to know so I can try to help him through his grief."

He blinked a few times, but your image became blurred as emotion coated his throat, "Please, just... Do not leave me after you know."

Though Aemond might not have felt true, gut-wrenching guilt over what had become of the young Prince Luke, he feared telling you, and feared what would happen once you knew. He knew that he could not, nor would he want to, stop you from fleeing the capital. And after today, the least he could do is assist smuggling you out. The very idea made his stomach clench; where he once planned a future with you and your child, now, his mind flashed with the idea of helping you get back to your mother.

Speaking of, he was jarred into reality by your voice asking, "Did you kill my mother?"

"No," he spoke swiftly.

"Then there is little to worry over," you sighed. "Less you killed my little brothers, then, that is... Different...?" You trailed off when his head hit the wall behind him, restraining the emotion from his face as he kept his head tilted to the side in an effort to avoid you. "Aemond? Hey, look at me, please... Please, Aemond, did something happen? Has something happened to my brothers?"

His hands trembled in yours, his throat croaking, "Yes."

You had to pause, trying to keep a level head. "All right, well, is that the accident you speak of?"

"It is..."

"This is... The accident you caused that's potentially started the war?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Answer me, Aemond, please. Is this the accident you speak of that has caused the start of the war? Speak plainly."

Your husband paused to swallow thickly, finally admitting, "Yes. I-It is, my love."

You let out a staggering breath that refused to ease itself. You felt panic overwhelming your chest as worst case scenarios played themselves out in your mind, vaguely feeling Aemond reaching for you as panic took over. His words were muffled seemingly beneath water, leaving you staggering for rational thought and breath. Yet none would come to you - could come to you. Your husband had managed control of your weeping form, turning to switch places; leaving you pressed to the wall as he tried to coach you through your interrupted-breathing.

When the initial shock wore off, your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, demanding, "What happened? What did you do? Please, please, Aemond, you're the - you're the only one. The only one who knows the truth. Please, tell me in full, and tell me in truth - what happened to my brothers?"

He nodded, whispering, "It's not going to be easy to hear, my love."

"I need to," you argued, tugging the sleeve of his squeaky-wet leather jerkin. "Tell me, please, I deserve to know. W-What has become of my baby brothers, Aemond? Please tell me! I have a right!"

He nodded, eye tinged red from emotion, admitting, "I arrived in Storms End before your mother's envoy. I brought the King's words but then came reports of another dragon heading in our direction... So, we waited," he swallowed thickly.

"Who was it? Who did my mother send?"

He sighed, "Luke."

"Gods," you whispered, nodding as you sniffled. "So, Luke arrives, and what?"

"I let my anger get the best of me, pet..."

= Storms End // hours prior =

"Where's the bloody Maester!?" Lord Borros demanded, glaring to his court as a man bowed and rushed away to retrieve the one man who could read Rhaenyra's letter.

Aemond did not lift his murderous gaze from Prince Luke's form, making the 14-year-old boy wrap his fist around the hilt of his sword. The Maester jogged into the courtroom, and yet, the Prince did not lift his violet eye from the boy; standing curiously beside a woman with dark hair - assuring the Prince this was one of Borros Baratheon's daughters. Luke found this curious, knowing Aemond was married to his white-haired sister... So, why was he found in low conversation with the pretty Lady Baratheon?

The Maester read the Black Queen Rhaenyra's words, glancing at Luke, before bending at the waist to mutter to Lord Borros the letter's contents. When the words registered, the Baratheon Lord was snarling, "'Remind' me of my father's oath." Thunder rumbled around them. "King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact." He looked pointedly to Aemond and his daughter, making Prince Luke's jaw clench. The Lord leaned forward on his 'throne', snarling, "If I do as your mother bids..." His head turned to regard the remaining three daughters left lined up, "Which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord... I am not free to marry. I am already betrothed, and by all accounts, Prince Aemond is married to my sister, the Princess Y/N Velaryon."

"She's a Targaryen Princess now, boy, and you should know," Aemond smirked from across the hall, "that taking more than one wife is an honored familial custom."

Borros continued before any more retaliation could be spat, noting to Luke, "So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your Mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Aemond found the response rather poised, decently poetic.

Luke decided to take the diplomatic route and respond, "I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord."

Aemond smirked at the response, watching the kid turn to depart the Storm's End hall - but could not resist the confrontation, and called, "Wait..." And when Luke turned, Aemond continued, "My Lord Strong." He watched for a baited reaction, and when Luke turned with anger marring his young features, stalking forward again, Aemond could not hold his tongue any longer. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

The boy steeled his feet, understanding that he was being baited now. "I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

"A fight would be little challenge," Aemond taunted. "No," he decided, lips quirked in a smirk. Then, he reached to palm his eye patch off, revealing the gleaming sapphire he used as replacement, "I want you to put out your eye." He paused a moment to stare at the boy, who looked startled from the reveal, then continuing, "As payment for mine." When Luke appeared purely startled, Aemond finished, "One will serve."

He pulled his dagger from his belt and tossed it towards the Prince; letting it clatter to the stone floor in an ominous echo.

"I would not blind you, the only curtesy I would extend on behalf of my sweet wife," Aemond spoke levelly, a clap of thunder punctuating his words. The look of fear over Luke's face was enough to make his blood sing, but still, it wasn't all he wanted, so, he told the boy after tisking his tongue, "Plan to make a gift of it to my mother."

You fucking Mama's boy, Luke raged in his head.

"No," he decided to speak instead, his voice firm in refusal despite the want to crack from pressure.

Aemond spoke over the rumblings of the storm that raged outside, "Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Lord Borros demanded, seeing the challenge brew to a knew height - and fearing for the rumors surrounding the One Eyed Prince. He knew the other rumors surrounding the loss of his eye, but while many circulated, each had to do with the Princess Rhaenyra's two dark-haired sons.

The tension was nearly tangible.

Something in Aemond snapped, crackled, and popped out of his heart - sending him surging forward as he cried, "Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!"

He stooped expertly to snatch up his dagger, standing tall as Luke armed himself with his sword, and the Lord of Storms End rose from his chair, shouting, "Not in my hall!" Only then did Aemond come to a halt, giving Luke a real up-close look at the damage he inflicted as a small child, in defense of his brother and cousins. "The boy came as an envoy!" Borros reminded them all. "I'll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon." Thunder clapped, lightning flashed. "Now."

When the four knights who escorted him into the hall moved into action, Luke sheathed his sword, offered his uncle one last stale look, and departed the hall - with another glance over his shoulder as he went. Aemond let his lips pull into a smirk, and his fingers deftly flipped his branded dagger back into its sheath at his hip.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

"All right," you sighed, sitting with Aemond beside you, hip on hip, thigh against thigh, and his arm laid over the seam of your legs and let both of yours hold his. "So, you lost your temper and threatened the boy. Hardly material that would start battles."

"I didn't get to the worst part..."

You sighed, "Does it explain the dragon's odd behavior?"

"I think," he whispered, pressing his lips over your forehead. "I don't think I can tell you more."

"You're going to have to," you sighed. "Though, by the pain it causes you, Gods, do I wish anyone else could explain it. But you know what really happened, my love. I need the truth of the matter."

"You'll get it," he promised, "I just need a moment... Where you don't hate me in full."

"Aemond," you tisked in worry. "Please stop making that assumption. I need the truth, I need the details - you're owed fair judgement. And now, unless Vhagar decides to start talking, only you can tell me. Borros won't, and I imagine the dragons are involved - or Kasta would not be so defensive."

He nodded mutely, leaning in to inhale the top of your head. "I'm truly sorry... Let me start there. A-And it wasn't my intention to hurt anyone, I only wanted t-to frighten the boy. I could not have my revenge for myself, but I wasn't satisfied in it all."

"Might I say something?"

He nodded, glancing at you once before fearing for the intensity behind your eyes. "Your eye, or lack thereof, has never once taken away from you. I know the ridicule you endured, my love, and I am truly sorry for it, and while I cannot undo years of torment and trauma, please understand that I do not find you lacking. I love you, Aemond, with or without your eye."

He sighed and let his hand drift to pull your knees in; letting you lean into his lap in an effort to be closer. "I know neither of us wanted to marry the other initially, but Gods, have I been grateful for it - for you. I need you to know that I do love you, and I am so fucking sorry."

You sighed. "All right, you're sorry, we love each other, we're on the same page. Only... You seem to know what happened, and I cannot help you yet. But for whatever it's worth, while I wish you hadn't, I understand your want for revenge. I am sorry for what my brothers did, and the price you paid."

He sighed against your forehead, "I am sorry for what I did today."

"Let me pass judgement, my love."

With a heavy sigh, Aemond delivered the final, devastating blow. "It was storming profusely - wind, rain, and thunder. The whole lot, making it terrible to see in... Luke had escaped on Arrax but he was tense, flying sporadically, and I know this because Vhagar and I pursued them. I only meant to scare him and give chase, and he was smart enough to dive for the canyons. Vhagar is too big to follow, so, we lost him for a time..."

= Storm Lands // hours prior =

Vhagar stretched her wings to their full span as she and her master flew over the canyon; both searching for the boy riding the terribly small (by comparison), paler dragon. Over the howling winds, sideways rain, and clapping thunder, Aemond called in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

But there was no visibility, and soon, the thick storm clouds swallowed them whole. Aemond still looked from side to side, and perhaps, his dragon had understood his words; because in the next few moments, everything went perfectly wrong. Having used the clouds and raging storm to their advantage, Arrax and Luke had technically been in the clear, but the smaller dragon rebelled first.

Over the winds, Aemond heard Luke shouting in High Valyrian, "No, Arrax!" The next second, a blast of fire shot out from the pale dragon and seared into the neck, jaw, and face of the much larger dragon of war. The challenge was set, and Aemond heard his nephew as they flew away, "No, Arrax! Obey me!"

But Vhagar had accepted the challenge, and there was no controlling the wild beasts. Aemond felt the shift as his dragon roared with her temper flaring, understanding she meant to pursue, and begged her, "NO! No, no, no, no!" The ancient dragon turned, roaring with challenge. "NO, Vhagar! No! Serve me, Vhagar! No!"

The largest dragon known to the Targaryen world then dove off at a sharp angle, ignoring all commands her rider gave; leaving him struggling and dangling from his saddle as the storm swallowed them. In return, Arrax flew upwards with Luke; breaking through the dark clouds to reach the air above the storm, and for a brief moment, found the beauty in the bright sun above the clouds.

He looked around with heaving breath, praying to the Seven that they had evaded and gotten away from Vhagar - just seconds before the legendary beast was breaking out from the storm clouds to cut at another angle. When she did, she was in line with Arrax, and just as the young Prince Luke gave a shriek of fright, the pursing dragon had opened her jaws and swiftly chomped over the entire body of Arrax.

"VHAGAR!" Aemond's voice cracked with pure panic, feeling powerless on his dragon-mount. "No! No!" He muttered between clenched teeth when the truth of reality settled over him. Vhagar gave another bellow into the air, rightening her wings, and letting Aemond glance over her shoulder to spy the last bloody bits of Arrax' wings and tail-tip falling to the ground below.

As his head turned forward, Aemond's eye began to blink rapidly to restrain his immediate panic - fearing for the repercussions of his dragon, and how his loss of control was sure to be his fault.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

Your lungs protested for air as your heart felt like it was snapping in two, body numb as you could not believe the words that reached your ears. You had doubled over to cry into your pulled-in knees, sobbing helplessly as you rocked slightly to try and keep blood pumping. Your mind refused to accept your baby brother was dead and gone, but your mind screamed that your husband had killed him.

Yet you couldn't feel yourself anymore.

All you could understand was pain. Suffocating confusion.

And then, outrage set in.

"Why?" You demanded through your tears. "Why? Why would you fucking do this, Aemond? Oh, my God - what were you thinking!?"

"I do not know," he mourned quietly. "I am so sorry."

"He was a child," you wept, shaking there after when realization sunk in. "O-Oh, my God, I-I'm pregnant - t-the-they will - they will seek revenge through o-our children. Aemond, for all the Gods, wh-what have you done? What has Vhagar done?"

"The worst we can imagine," he admitted, tears streaming down his cheek. "I cannot express my guilt, my wife."

"For what?" You couldn't help but snap. "Because you fear for the rift it will put between us, or because you are truly sorry for the loss of your own nephew?"

Aemond nodded, whispering, "What if it is both?"

You whined and dropped your head back to your knees and arms. Kasta was heard growling when your sobs reached her, but she did not dare move from between you and Vhagar. It was like she could smell Luke's blood on Vhagar's lips and teeth, and she wanted to protect you from the discovery.

But you had begged Aemond to tell you the truth. You wanted to know... He warned you of the pain, and you still pushed.

And now you were left with the knowledge that your husband's dragon had eaten your baby brother. Luke: sweet, sweet Luke who could do no real harm - barring his adrenaline rush years ago when he used his brother's dagger to slash Aemond's eye out.

Barring that, and he was the sweetest boy who could do no harm!

You were confused and mortified, outraged, sad, overwhelmed, but so fucking regretful. Regret for not being there for him longer, and then guilt for leaving your little brothers. Never had you wanted the burden your mother bore, and luckily, after your marriage to Aemond, she focused 100% of her energy into grooming Jace as her heir.

And Luke was to be heir of Driftmark, the next (legitimate) Lord of the Tides! He was to learn to command a ship and once the Sea Snake was able, he'd learn the ways of the seas from the very best. He was a child who had his whole life ahead of him, leaving behind an older sister, unborn niece-or-nephew, young fiancé, older brother... Loving mother, devoted step-father.

All of whom would be devastated by this news.

How cruel this world was, and how cruel the Gods could be.

"Please," Aemond begged softly.

"What am I to do, Aemond?" You demanded, staring back at him with a range of emotion playing across your face. "My baby brother, Aemond, what am I to do?"

He shook his head, offering, "If you wish to leave, I will not stop you. I understand how this must make you feel and I would help you and Kasta get out best I can - "

"Aemond?" You snapped. "Am I to understand that you are to be away with me?"

He shook his head slightly, "Why would you stay?"

You scoffed, "Does my loyalty to you mean nothing? Why do you think I did not join Princess Rhaenys when she escaped? And stood on that fucking platform beside you, while they crowned your traitorous brother? Do you think so little of me?"

"But this is different," he argued, ignoring your insult.

"It is! It's much different! And I am devastated, heartbroken, and I would think my husband would want to support me - "

"Do you even want me, anymore?" He asked, brows crinkled as he wore desperation well.

"I am bound to you for life, I took vows... Whether I like it or not, my place has been, and is now, at your side. Your brother would sooner see me dead if I were to flee now - "

"I would never let him hurt you," Aemond insisted, letting his hand hold your cheek securely. "Should you wish to return to your mother's side, I understand, and at the least, I can make sure you get out of the city."

You let your lips roll between your teeth to bite for a moment, then spoke softly as you reached up to hold his wrist, "I am unsure what to feel or do. In a perfect world, what would you see us do now?"

"I never would've taken Vhagar out after Luke," he spoke, "so that we never would have to be here."

"Well, we cannot change the fact that your dragon disobeyed you, right?" He nodded stiffly. "You did not have control, did you?"

"I swear to all the Gods - Old and New - that I did not have control and that I tried to stop her best I could. Both Arrax and Vhagar broke free of our control, did their own bidding. Arrax only wanted to protect his master, and so did Vhagar after the fire..."

"So," you sniffled, eyes red and puffy to slowly pull his hand down to hold in his lap, "we can place no real blame on you... Save for your foolish and fucking childish pursuit that started all of it," you sighed, leaning back into the wall and closing your eyes. "Your dragon ate my brother, Aemond."

"I know..."

"She... Ate him," you repeated, knowing the words stung but for a moment, you wanted him to hurt as you did. "There is no body for us to burn! Nothing for us to mourn!"

"I know," he whispered again, leaning back to the wall beside you.

"What am I to do?" You begged, tears falling helplessly. "If I leave you now or ever, I will be a traitor to you and your family, but if I weren't to return to my mother's side, I would be branded a traitor to her and her allies. Please, Aemond. I don't know what to do."

He sighed, sniffling, "I do not know... But should you choose to stay, I promise not to abandon you. I wouldn't ever leave your side, I would be the husband who deserves a wife like you. It would be my duty to make sure your life is easier as you bring life into this world."

You nodded as you wrapped an arm around your swelling belly, "I'd really like for our kid to know their father."

Aemond sighed, pausing for a moment before admitting, "I'd like our child to know our love - not the deception my mother and brother show their spouses."

You nodded, leaning into his shoulder, "I'd like that, too."

"I need to ask the impossible of you, my love," he whispered into the top of your head. "And know that I am sorry for the pain it will cause."

You sighed in defeat and snipped, "Just ask it."

"Would you... Would you please stay?"

The silence almost echoed around you both; his question hanging in the air only to be punctuated by a warning growl from Kasta, watching a shifting Vhagar move for her alcove with the intention of rest. Your eyes flashed in the bright torchlight, and Aemond watched as tears filled them to slide silently down your cheeks. Then he turned his head, and caught sight of a splatter of blood on his dragon's lips, chin, and chest. The silence prolonged around her thundering steps.

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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koifish67 · 1 year

Text

Overwatch x GN! Reader adopting a kid part 1

Tw mentions of vomit

(Since solider 76 is CANON gay, his section will have have he/him pronouns for you(

(The baby is a girl)

Mako is a good dad, a great dad even.

You’d think he’d get annoyed easily by the crying of the baby, but he simply will just scoop up the small human and cradle them ever so gently.

His nickname for his baby? “puawai iti” (little flower in the Māori language)

He’ll put his baby on his stomach with a hand on them and omg it so adorable.

You catch him staring at you while holding the baby, he’ll lie if you ask if he was smiling. (He 100% was)

When he’s out and about he has his baby in a sling on him, it has lil pachimari all over it. He also dresses her in a cute pachimari onesie!

Is scared to feed her but after you show him he’s a bit more confident. Does the airplane thing 100%.

Scared but happy, he genuinely is scared that he’ll accidentally hurt his baby by doing something stupid. But happy cause he finally gets to have a kid with you.

Makes baby clothes and it looks cute! Probably goes crazy when he sees baby shoes.

Puts all his dangerous explosive stuff on a very high shelf.

Cant change diapers for the life of him, like he will gag and vomit if he has to, so it’s your job now.

Giggles so much if she farts or burps, he takes videos of it and sends it to you with him giggling in the background.

Dresses her in very funny costumes and onesies.

ROADHOG BABYSITTIER!!!

Hanzo

Omg is so so happy he finally gets to have a kid with you. He always wanted a kid, and a kid with YOU, his dream is coming true.

When he finally gets to see his child, he starts crying and hugging you and his new baby girl.

Dresses his baby in cute little dresses! He found a cute dragon onesie and is obsessed with it.

Calls her “my little dragon”

Is a pro at feeding, changing diapers, calming her down, and making her laugh.

He spoils her so much that her room is engulfed with stuffed animals, blankets, and the cutest baby bottles.

The dragons love her, they cuddle her all the time.

Mcree

Is super excited, like omg I’m gonna be a father finally!

Dresses her in a lil cowboy hat sometimes it’s so cute, its brown with little bees on it. Has her own little cow boy boots to.

Feeds her like a pro!

Does that thing where she’ll toss her in the hair and catch her, gently of course.

If he’s out and about he has a baby carrier with horses all over it.

Doesn’t smoke when she’s with him, refuses it and will never do it. He actually stops a lot and rarely does in the future.

Has pictures of her and you in his hat, takes it out to show it off to his teammates.

“Look at my amazing husband/wife/partner and our baby!”

Calls her “my little cowgirl”

Doomfist

Very excited! He’s gonna be a dad! It makes him so happy to have a baby with you.

“I cant be evil today I’m to busy being a dad”

I’m sorry but he’s really bad at matching her outfits, but she’s dressed so it doesn’t really matter.

So gentle to her, he treats her like the most breakable glass in the world.

Lots of plushes, so many omg.

He makes her dance, like he does that thing where he moves her arms and legs to make her dance and it’s adorable.

Her first words are “dada” and he starts fucking sobbing.

Solider 76

OMG HES FINALLY A FUCKING DAD! He crys in your chest when that happens

Loves taking her around everywhere in a stroller, especially at the park when he’s on his daily run.

“Where’s the wife today?”

“My HUSBAND is at home making lunch.”

Mercy babysits for you

Stricks me as the guy who builds everything, like he built her crib, a shelf, her diaper changing paper.

Has 20 books on parenting, and asks Ana a lot of questions to.

Starts crying when she touches his face and giggles, his heart is all warm and fuzzy.

Goes to check ups with mercy with her

Dilf

Starts crying when she says her first words.

#gay fanfiction #mlm blog #overwatch #overwatch x male reader #overwatch x reader #junkrat #junkrat x reader #mlm fanfic #overwatch x you #roadhog x reader #doomfist x reader #doomfist #roadhog #hanzo x reader #Hanzo #mcree x reader #cole cassidy

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yandere-wishes · 8 months

Text

𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤

Summary: Freminet is desperate to take you diving with him. You are rather reluctant.

Author's note: Me: I should give reader a geo vision to depict her love of dry land and earth as opposed to water.

Also Me: Give her a hydro vision, make her fear the power she wields. Make her vision represent how powerless she feels. Give her a hydro vision.

Warnings: Reader and Freminet are 18+ (NO NSFW), Reader is sad, sea monsters, angst (if you squint), do not read if you are aquaphobic, thalassophobic, scared of water in general. Written by an aquaphobic,

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

Freminet's eyes shot open, his body weightless in the waters' gentle current. The sea has always murmured fairytales to Freminet. Tales of dragons and mermaids. Stories carried by the current from every corner of the Teyvat. Sometimes they tend to lull him to sleep much like his late mother's lullaby.

Although lately -as if the sea truly knows every secret Freminet harbors within his cold heart- the fairytales have shifted focus. The ocean no longer sings of brave knights who vanquish dragons or mermaids who fend their homes of evil. Instead, it whispers tales of true love. Anecdotes of princes and princesses who reunite, who fall in love, who live and die in each other's arms. Each story has Freminet's mind racing back to you.

People never ask about the sun's rays under the rolling tides of the sea.

Never ask about the reefs that cradle one's body akin to a protective crib.

Instead, they ask about treasure, about pearls, and crystals. About the diamonds and rubies from sunken treasures. They ask how the ocean can make them rich, how they can steal what she's laid claim to.

But can't treasure also be found on land? It's a question Freminet can't help but ponder. Can't treasure be found between Fontaine's bustling crowd, during the early morning rush or the afternoon spectacles? Can't it be hidden between produce stalls and restaurant lounges?

He knows it can be. For he sees it every day.

What is a treasure, if not a rare item unclaimed?

What is a treasure if not beauty that lies hidden on both land and sea?

What is a treasure of not a girl, a lover, an ally?

What is a treasure if not the hydro wielder he sees every day from his bedroom window?

But you don't see it the same, now do you?

Despite his reserved and timid nature, Freminet has unfortunately built up quite a reputation for himself. 'The Master Diver Of Fontaine' they call him. A name he holds absolutely no regard for. Yet it does very little to ward off all manner of people from pestering him for his expertise. Adventures, tourists, treasure seekers, all who wish to unravel the depths of the sea come to him. And he turns down every single one. Or rather he gets Lyney and Lynette to do it for him.

But you're different, you're special in his eyes. Your warm smile melts the accumulated frost from around his heart. It had taken many months before Freminet had approached you. Blushing and stumbling as he rubbed the back of his neck. Awkward in every sense of the word. You had merely laughed and reached out to grasp his hand with yours. Frost leaked from his digits, melding with the water that always danced at the tip of your fingers. Hydro and Cyro mix chaining you together. Freminet had all but dragged you back home to get Lyney to unfreeze the two of you.

Amusing, how much a disastrous first meeting had left you wanting to see more of him. Funny how every night before he closes his eyes he feels your hand molded within his.

"Please, I swear it's not that bad" He's at it again, begging, pleading. Imploring you to come see his world. The world beneath Fonatine, his secret fairytale world where you can be the princess and he can be your prince. But you refuse again and again. "Freminet I've already told you no. Please stop asking it's getting irritating." He's tried to reason with you, although his stuttering and shyness aren't persuading in the least. He's all but practically dragged you to the shore.

That's why, one day when Freminet resurfaces he's shocked to see you sitting by the shore. Shoes discarded to the side as you sit just out of reach of the tide. The water's cold today, almost saddened, and the waves tumble over themselves apathetically. Freminet stares at you, at your beauty. How you all but radiate so close to his hidden paradise. He watches as you gaze upon the waters. He dares not to ask what you see. What you ponder on doing.

"I see you." You say, in a cheerful voice that matches not your face. For a heartbeat, Freminet wonders if he's the cause of your cheerfulness, if seeing him makes you as happy as you do to him. He steps onto the shore. The water droplets cling to him like stardust, as if begging him to return to the serenity of the ocean. He sits next to you on the beach, head spinning from being underwater for all so long. When he looks at you all he sees is sunken treasure. Another marvel to add beauty to his blue world. He's all so desperate to keep you away from others who'll steal your beauty for every wrong reason. To him you are perfect. He fights the urge to trace sea-stars on your arms, to relish in your warmth.

You lay your head on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under your weight. "I hate the ocean Freminet. And the sea, and the lakes and the rivers. All of it I hate all of it.". He's quiet for a minute, mind racing to try and find an answer. "But..what about your vision? It's hydro isn't it." You pause, anger dancing across your face "I HATE it" you spite, "That useless vision is the cruelest joke the Archons ever decided to play on me. I've tried to get rid of it, even tossed it into the ocean from whence it came. But somehow, it always finds its back to me." Anger laces your voice, bitter and forlorn. It makes Freminet jolt, also fearing when people raise their voices.

The moon takes over the sun. As the two of you refuse to leave your seats. You paint him sea monsters and fanged beasts with your words. Tell him how they breach the surface for pleasure and for pain. You spin together double-headed leviathans breaching the surface to prey on unsuspecting Violetgold Angler Gulls. Tell him about how once, back when you'd been young and naive you had let some older kids trick you into going to the deep end of the water. You tell him what it's like to draw, what it's like to feel weightless in endless darkness. Freminet doesn't comment, although it all sounds rather enjoyable to him. He wonders if his perception of the depths has become warped.

It's only when you decide to leave that Freminet gets an idea. Wicked maybe, but he's always been a selfish boy. Harboring greed within his heart as a secondary shield. He grabs your wrist and in a moment of unblaces, plunges you both into the very waters you fear.

They're a scream, silent as it's washed under the raring tide. Freminet feels the terror and betrayal radiating off your form. You may hate him now. But that's okay, he'll show you the beauties of his world. A haven you can both escape to. Away from greedy people who wish you nothing but harm. Maybe it's because everyone he's loved has left him, maybe it's because losing you feels worse than death, maybe it's because he's finally found someone to fill the void in his heart. But he won't let you go. Not now not ever.

You feel like a doll. Helplessly submerged in vastness. Freminet's body clings to yours like a second skin. Stiffly pinning your arms to your side. Your lungs are on fire and you swear you see an array of giants moving in the dark corners. You want to scream, to fight. But you can't your impolized by fear. This is it you think, as something strange swims past you. This is where you will die.

There's something large swimming up to you. Something murky and dark whose sharp teeth shimmer in the stray rays of moonlight that have made their way down here. You see a dorsal fin, almost as sharp as the teeth. There's something else behind you, larger, with sharp scales that into your back. You feel its teeth sliding against your back as the first predator closes in. There's a noise, grotesque in nature, before you lose all sense in your left arm. You scream into the void, and move vigorously in Freminet's grasp, desperately trying to convey your fear. But he doesn't move. In all likeliness, he's mostly dead you think. The monsters got to him too. You shut your eyes tightly awaiting your demise...

There's a soft glow that lulls you into opening your eyes. Your body feels cold and wet. As your heart hammers at your ribcage, desperate to escape and flee. You feel something soft on your lips, something equally cold. Your eyes trace the glow of Freminet's face as he traps you in an extensive kiss. It's calming, despite the unspeakable thing he just did, you're just happy he's alive. That you're alive. "I love..." he mutters when he finally breaks the kiss. You look at him dazed, high on your fear, on your relief. The world spins stuck between fantasy and reality. Your fingers trace the sides of his cheek as he nuzzles into your touch.

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

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dollfaced-erin · 9 months

Note

do you mean like requested scenarios in dragon's cradle? i do have one in mind though

cuz i was thinking what if dan jia (yes we going for the past setting) who likes to make use of her tail at it's fullest like poking someone, waving, comforting someone but instead of a back rub using hands, she uses her tail, it's like a third arm without fingers lmao

like imagine seeing the high cloud quintet finally coming home after a long arduous battle with the denizens of abundance and she just ran to dan feng for a hug after seeing him safe and sound but with the addition of her tail also wrapping around him so it's an extra tight hug i think it's just so cute 🥺

though if you do have other plans or dislike this idea you can just ignore this no pressure

sure !! i can do this one !! i dont mind if you want to use the past setting, i can always change dan jia's name to (y/n) because its a scenario, not part of the original plot. plus, it makes it more comfortable for readers !!

This honestly is very interesting for me to read ! Thank you for the suggestion anon !!

So lets get on with it !!

Taglist ! : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading

Reminder ! This is set in the past setting ! But instead of using Dan Jia, I would be using (Y/n) as an easier way for you to immerse yourselves ! I would also be renaming Blade to Yingxing ! But if you want me to change that, i can do that too !

Like Dan Feng, (Y/n) does have her tail which she keeps hidden. but from time to time, she does let it out for funsies ! It was a pretty blue color, like the color of her horns on her head and the fur is the same (h/c) color ! But she prefers to keep it hidden because its hard for her to sit down, and walk without realizing the presence of the darn extra limb. It even drapes to the floor !

Poor (Y/n)'s always so worried when the High Cloud Quintet go out to fight against the Denizens of Abundance. And as she is a healer, she is required to stay back and help with the numerous Cloud Knights that had retreated to seek medical attention from her.

Her worries usually intensifies whenever Jing Yuan comes back from battle, looking horribly injured and scratched up, bleeding here and there. Even for a general, he can still fall in battle, and that worries her alot ! She would push him to lay down on the stretchers she had prepared on the ground as she goes get some ointment.

But when she returns, he lays there perfectly fine, his hands behind his head and that playful and lazy ass smirk on his face. Jing Yuan would tell her the wounds were fake, even getting up and stretching to show her. (Y/n) would grip at her qi pao, trying to contain her anger, with a kind smile on her face when she was seething inside. Though she can hide her emotions from her face, her tail would pop out and give him a good smack in the side to show her annoyance.

Of course, Jing Yuan would merely laugh and apologize to her.

In a similar situation, Dan Feng would return to the battle unscathed. He didn't want to worry his sister unlike that jerk Jing Yuan who loved teasing (Y/n). After a long and arduous battle against the Denizens of Abundance, there was nothing more relaxing then just spending the night, staring at the moon.

Dan Feng would bring (Y/n) along, holding her hand tenderly as he lead her up the grassy hills, finding the perfect spot to admire the moon in silence while the others were wasting themselves away with alcohol. He loved that (Y/n) shared the same interest of watching the moon in silence, as they pointed out constellations of the stars.

They would then begin to talk while sitting up, to remove the sleepiness. It wasn't always that they had time like this, since Dan Feng is a High Elder and is always on the battlefield, while (Y/n) is in the backlines, healing the casualties of war. And as he told her he missed these peaceful and tranquil moments between siblings, he couldn't help but tear up.

(Y/n) would of course be saddened too. This was all stressful for the two of them. Since birth they have been burdened with heavy responsibilities, there was little to no time they had to spend on themselves. It was understandable why Dan Feng would breakdown from time to time.

Her little hands would hold his larger and calloused own, while her tail would gently wipe away Dan Feng's tears and rub at his back, earning a soft giggle from the latter.

During days when he wasn't at war, Yingxing would stay by the fire of the furnace he had installed is his home. He was indeed adept at creating weapons of war, sacrificing day and night as he shaped the weapons tirelessly. He never complained, but rather found his passion in creating such arts.

But whenever he wanted to take it easy, Yingxing would resort to making little things he adored. And that was beautiful little glass art or making accessories out of crystals. He always found them to be beautiful whenever they would shine like rainbows when hit with light from certain angles.

Once, he had invited (Y/n) out to hangout, Yingxing brought a little surprise with him. As she walked out of her home, he held her hand tenderly as he brought her to a beautiful lake, beneath the moonlight. And he surprised her with a bouquet of glass flowers that shone beautifully beneath the soft gaze of the moon, shining in different color.

(Y/n) eyes would immediately widen as she took the bouquet carefully in her hands, as if they were as fragile as glass (which they were, by the way), and set them aside tenderly. Then she would wrap her arms around the short-lived mortal tightly in her arms.

Yingxing would laugh as he looked down at the smaller dragon woman in his arms, wrapping his arms around her form. His aging grey hair began to cascade to the front of his face, obstructing his vision a little.

But Yingxing would closed his eyes and held the dragon lady close in his arms, chuckling, loving the warmth she exuded. The addition to the tail that slithered around his form wrapping him tighter to his beloved.

Outside of war and training, even Jingliu had a life of her own. She was a much more laxed individual. Some would even say she was too relaxed. She would stroll the streets, going on shopping sprees every so often, go cafe hunting, and trying out food. Of course, she would drag along the little princess of the Vidyadhara clan with her.

Jingliu loved bringing her to walk around the Exalting Sanctum. especially when there was a hot sale for dresses and shoes. Every time there was a new opening, or a new sale, Jingliu would be the first out of the five of them to pay a visit with beaming eyes and a large dreamy smile on her lips. She was the trendiest out of all of them, like, even her battle dresses are so elegant !

During the weekends, vendors would open up little stalls around the plaza and leading all around the area, lighting them up with friendly paper lanterns. Children would run around happily and couples would walk around, filling the night market with chatter and laughter, bringing warmth all around. And Jingliu loved bringing (Y/n) around every time they could, just for a little relaxation.

She was relieved that the uptight Imbibator Lunae would allow his little sister to go out for fun with her friend every once in a while, with the same old condition. Never let (Y/n) out of sight. And Jingliu was tired of hearing the same thing over and over again even though she was sure (Y/n) was able to take care of herself pretty well.

With their hands full of purchases from the market, ranging from snacks and delicacies to clothing and accessories, they had no hands free told hold hands in case they got separated. Every so often Jingliu would look next to her, just to make sure (Y/n) was there beside her.

But with the tail wrapped firmly around the sword master's waist, Jingliu had nothing to worry about. She was just looking to admire the soft smile and the gleam of happiness in (Y/n)'s eyes.

Starskiff watching...how she loved to roam the galaxy once more. This was a constant thought of the Foxian with purple hair that laid on the lap of her friend. Baiheng would bring (Y/n) starskiff watching every now and then to unwind, finding the latter's presence to be quite soothing.

Was this the effect of all healers ? To be this warm and nurturing ? Baiheng didn't know. But she did like the feeling of (Y/n)'s hands running through her fluffy purple hair.

Once in a while, Baiheng would even sneak (Y/n) out to bring her starskiff flying. She knew that the grumpy older brother would never let (Y/n) out to play in the sky because as he said, 'It was too dangerous for her ! What if she gets hurt?' she would mimic. And (Y/n) would laugh along, and follow her to the jetty.

All Foxians were a little daring to their short lives compared to Vidyadharas, and Baiheng was no exception !

But one time they snuck out successfully, both of them were already seated in the airship, excited for their little fly in the sky. Baiheng would show her a toothy grin, revealing her sharp canines, excited to bring (Y/n) on a wild ride. They soon landed perfectly after showcasing a number of tricks, yelling in excitement and thrill.

That was, until someone knocked on Baiheng's side of the starskiff, only to be met with the furious eyes of teal.

The two were seated on the wooden floor with Dan Feng lecturing them to no end. Despite their heads bowed in shame, they were actually trying to hide the happy smiles on their faces. No one could remove them of those gleeful smiles as they experienced the endeavors in the blue sky.

The wagging of Baiheng's fluffy purple tail and the constant slithering of (Y/n)'s own did nothing to cover up for them. Dan Feng just sighed in return, finding it futile to reason with the two girls in front of him.

End note : THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE ! i honestly dont mind if you guys want a past setting, present setting without the fights, modern day AU, or separate scenarios ! just specify them, and I'll try my best to fulfil your requests !

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badgirl411 · 2 years

Text

The Enemy PART 1: (Aemond Targaryen x Reader FANFIC)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader

Summary: Inseparable as children, torn apart by war as adults. The lovers go from friends to lover to enemies to it’s complicated. Battling emotions and each other here is their story.

Warnings: violence, swearing, suggested sexual content, incestuous relationship uncle x niece

Author’s Note: UNEDITED, Minors DNI 18+ story. Hello friends, I have had a busy day and this motherfucker has been on my mind for weeks so please enjoy! Part 2 will hopefully be written soon.

As a child, even then you knew Aemond would always have your heart. From the days in the dragon pit to the lessons about the realm’s history you were always by one another’s side, simply inseparable. Anyone could see you were both absolutely enamoured with one another, destined to be bound for eternity.

Until that was the feud between your families ignited, the small council has been plotting to install his elder brother, Aegon, on the throne usurping the rightful heir your mother Rhaenyra. A couple destined to be bound now torn apart by families scheming and relationships burning. You now stood on opposite sides of a war which never should have been started in the first place.

Every day the distance, both physically and emotionally, between you and Aemond cut you deeper. Each morning tears would fall from your eyes; he was always the first thought on your mind and the last image you seen. The grief was consuming you, it ached to be torn from him, you had to find an outlet. Needed to find a way to channel your grief into something, you threw yourself into combat training and bonding with your dragon Arvir.

Every waking moment you had a blade in your hand, grief and pain fuelling your journey. That grief and pain turned to fury and a bloodthirst. Your pain had deepened crystalizing into something far more dangerous, revenge. Every strike of your blade against the target you imagined someone else feeling your fury, your pain.

Exhausted from a day of constant duelling and dragon riding, you found yourself at the bottom of a tankard of wine. Alone and drunk you sat in your bed chamber, rage burning the pit of your stomach, screaming you hurl the tankard across the room. Sobbing into the space of the room you clutch at your chest cradling your hands.

“How can he stand by their side, after everything we have through together.” you speak into the empty room “How could he fucking leave me. Empty promises Aemond, you said you would always stand by my side...LIAR! FUCKING COWARD.” It’s not as if he can hear you, realising you must sound insane you wipe the tears from your eyes steeling your face into a cold hard stare once more.

You go to bed that night asleep before your head hits the pillow exhausted from the variety of emotions you have felt throughout the course of the day.

Lying in bed you are furiously tossing and turning, a cold sweat covering your body. Glimpses of his tall muscular frame and long locks flash before your eyes, his voice ghostly speaking intelligible words. You find yourself in your chambers in your dream still lying-in bed eyes closed writhing as his voice grows in volume. A cold palm slams over your mouth the sting of a blade at your throat, eyes flying open in shock he towers over you hurt painted across his features.

He laughs dryly. “A coward you say? I'm a fucking coward. Well, if I am the coward my love then what the fuck does that make you. You were the one who walked away, I say walked what I mean is FUCKING RAN! You were supposed to be my forever Y/N.” His grip on your face borderline bruising.

After that you are awake for the remainder of the evening, the hour of the nightingale comes around as the black sky is kissed with the light of the morning.

Slipping out of bed you dress quietly and head for the drawing room not even sure why you are heading there. Arriving at your destination you run your hands over the map of Westeros, ever groove and etch cold to the touch. Your mind is racing, thoughts of him ravaging your tired head.

“Could you not sleep my sweet girl.” Your mother startles you with her sudden presence. Jumping in your place from the sudden burst of reality.

“Mother... I’m sorry did I wake you?” hands slightly trembling and eyes lightly tinged with tiredness and tears.

“No no of course not my darling, whatever is the matter.” she reaches for your trembling hands pulling you into an embrace. Her finger slowly run through your hair soothing you.

“He visited me in my dream last eve, he calls me a coward for choosing my side and leaving him. How can he say such a thing when his family plots to put his drunken idiot of a brother on the throne. He had every chance to choose the right side and he still put his ego and his fucking family above all else.” your words are laced with venom the mention of his family leaving a sour taste on your tongue.

“Sweet girl, I hope in time he sees sense. Until then you are braver and stronger and wiser than you know. My little warrior.” Her palms embrace your face as she presses a kiss on your forehead.

“Why are you awake at this hour yourself Mother?” you lean back from her questioning.

She blinks, looking away hesitantly. “I received word from a raven Lord Vaemond is on his way to Kings Landing to stake his claim to your brothers place in Driftmark. He intends to contest Lucerys’s claim, our presence has been requested in the capital my sweet girl. I’m sorry.” She looks at you mournfully feeling your anguish at the prospect of seeing your lost love.

Several days later you and your family arrive in the capital, Arvir and the other dragons roam near the keep by the shore. Sometime later in the day you arrive in the Castle, the place which was once your home. It is unrecognisable to you now, empty and cold no longer filled with the happiness it once held. Your mother grips your hand tightly reassuring you everything was going to be alright; you are greeted by Ser Harrold. Walking through the keep your mother and Ser Harrold proclaim they have a few things to discuss privately and tell you where your chambers for the night are.

Anxiety riddles your entire being at the thought of seeing Aemond again after all the turmoil and betrayal that has happened between both families.

All the things you were feeling you would not wish this on another person, it was eating away at you slowly like a flesh-eating disease. For comfort your hand grazes the blade hanging from your belt that hangs around your hip, reaching the section of the castle where your room resides you sigh knowing you are one step closer to complete and utter isolation.

Your steps grow quicker, greater in anticipation when you round the corner of the stone hall.

But you are slammed against the cold and damp stone wall your back singing in pain from the impact. There’s a large hand wrapped in your hair that’s yanked your head back throat bared, the kiss of a blade against your throat. A knee knocks your legs apart so the figure can slot themself closer to your body.

You laugh dryly at the figure in the dark knowing instantly its Aemond who has you pinned against the castle wall.

Spitting in disgust your voice drips with venom “Hiding in the dark, coward.”

Aemond digs the blade in deeper at your boldness. “Fuck you Y/N!” His breath fans across your face, his lips just a whisper from your own.

Your eyes trace the scar across his eye, mind betraying you by thinking of his dangerous beauty.

His lips a hair’s breadth from yours breathing you in. He is furious and bloodthirsty, hurt and confused, horny and love drunk all in the same heartbeat. He can’t decide if he wants you dead or if he wants to fuck you. And you are much the same too dizzy with emotion to process that he is here right in front of you.

“I am going to make you regret leaving me, my love” he snarls biting your bottom lip.

#aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #my fanfiction

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 6 months

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✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v, teasing, oral sex, use of petnames for reader/you, breeding k!nk related dirty talk, semi public foreplay, marking, oral sex. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt thirteen - creampie / breeding kink

character | fandom - rockstar!eddie munson | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, groupie turned girlfriend & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.4k

tagging -< taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . you and Eddie have reconnected after the one night stand that brought you together years before. bonding with his daughter has made him realize just how much he wants to be a father and he can't think of anybody else he wants to have his kids.. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1996

You smile softly to yourself as you pause in the door to Rosie’s bedroom to find Eddie seated on the floor, Rosie seated between his legs as Eddie tries -and fails, at French-braiding her hair, the landline phone cradled between his neck and shoulder.

❝ I’m doing that, Emerson. It’s not workin. Hold on..❞ he turns his attention back to Rosie’s braid and swears to himself as he shakes his head. It’s crooked again and he was trying so hard to get it just right for her. He laughs as he starts to talk to Gareth again, ❝I was trying to braid Rosie’s hair for her. Can’t get it right. Poor kid has my hair, man. It’s too fuckin thick t’ do anything with.❞ Eddie’s statement is enough to make you giggle softly as you step into the room.

Eddie’s face lights up and he ends the call with Gareth, pulling himself off the floor to make his way over to you. Rosie is squeezing your legs, talking non-stop about how she spent the whole day with daddy and he taught her how to play some game called Dungeons and Dragons.

Eddie chuckles, scooping up the 5 year old as he gives her a peck on her freckled nose. ❝ Your ma was a nerd, sweetheart, she doesn’t know what that is.❞ -and he’s teasing, you know it. You pout a little and give his chest a light smack. Then you smirk. ❝ Since you think I’m so nerdy, Munson..❞ you dig around in the pocket of your leather jacket -his leather jacket, and find the tickets you stopped by the theater in town to pick up, ❝ Then I guess that means you don’t wanna go see Scream with me and the baby bat..❞

❝ Daaaaddy, you hafta say yes. I’ve been waitin a thousand years t’ see it. Please?❞ your daughter is looking up at Eddie, giving him those big begging eyes. Eddie pretends to think it over, both of you know damn well he’d never turn down a horror movie or your daughter’s begging.

❝ Are we sure she should see this, sweetheart?❞ Eddie’s just being a shit now, you laugh softly and Eddie rubs his chin as he continues, ❝ I mean.. This is Wes Craven. It’s gonna be a blood bath.❞

You laugh. ❝ Yeah but it’s also not real. Our daughter’s smart, she knows that.❞ you step up into Eddie a little more, your hand finding purchase in the front of his old Hellfire t-shirt. He’s distracted, staring down at your hand. You clear your throat, ❝ I bumped into Nancy earlier… Apparently, Will is taking both of Rosie’s best friends to see it.. With Mike.❞

Rosie’s really begging now.

Eddie pouts and pretends to be upset. ❝ I thought we talked about this, sweetheart. You were gonna marry daddy, remember? Now you wanna go see a movie with those dumb boys?❞ but Rosie is insisting. She pretends to gag when Eddie mentions the fact that she may or may not have just a little crush on little Johnny Byers or Argie, his best friend.

❝ Eww, daddy! I really meant it, they’re my friends. And if I don’t see it now, Argie’s a blab. He’s just gonna spoil th’ endin.. Pretty please? With cherries an’ chocolate?❞

Eddie snickers. ❝ Yeah, that tracks for him. Okay, alright.. What are we waiting on, huh? Let’s go see Scream.❞

As Rosie runs off to find her favorite jeans and change, you melt against Eddie and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing against his in a long and deep kiss. His hands wander,settling on your ass.

❝ Dungeons and Dragons, babe?❞ you pout at him just a little when the kiss breaks a few seconds later. You’re honestly not upset, you’re just teasing him a little. Watching them together always makes you happy but lately.. Lately, watching him with Rosie has your biological clock ticking all over again. And earlier, when you were talking to one of the girls at work, she mentioned the fact that she thought she might be pregnant. And naturally, that got you daydreaming about another little mini Eddie running around. It made you stop and think too.

Everyone is always asking when you and Eddie will have more -and you do want another kid but honestly, you’ve been afraid to bring up the subject because things are still so new. The two of you only just reconnected. And there were definitely more than a few hiccups, - considering that you had no way to tell him about Rosie until last year, when your paths crossed again for the first time since 1988- and you’re just trying to enjoy everything the way it is.

Besides, you think to yourself as you hug against Eddie and breathe in the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of those cheap cigarettes he still smokes, what if Eddie doesn’t want another? Am I really willing to mess up everything between the two of you? I’m in love with him and I just found him, I just got him back..

Eddie pulls away to look down at you and snickers at the dazed look on your face as he gets you looking up at him. ❝ What’s got you so spaced out, huh?❞

He doesn’t say it but.. He hopes that maybe it’s the same thing he’s spent a lot of time thinking about lately. At first, he thought it was regret, longing to see what he missed out on when you were carrying Rosie. But then, while you were snuggled up in the bed reading The Shining to her, as he stood in the doorway watching the two of you, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wants more kids. He wants you to be their mom. He wants a big family and he doesn’t want Rosie to be an only child like he grew up. He wants her to have the actual younger siblings that he formed Hellfire specifically to find for himself back in high school.

The problem is, he’s afraid that bringing it up now, that’s going to be too soon. And he’s driving himself crazy over it because the harder he tries not to bring it up, the more he almost does.

He almost blurted it out this morning over breakfast. Twice.

You’re the one laughing now, cupping his stubble lined jaw to get him looking down at you. You’re biting your lip as you stare up at him. Every cell in your body is dying to say something, to bring up the subject and see how he takes it but you’re also a little scared.

❝ N-nothing.. I wasn’t the only one spaced out, Munson.❞ you mumble, swallowing hard as you melt into him just a little more. ❝ Where were you at just now, hm?❞ you’re turning the whole thing around on him because you know if you don’t, you will blurt it out.

He chuckles, a ringed hand caressing your face before kissing your forehead. ❝ You’re spacing me out, woman.. If we’re gonna go see this movie..❞ he drops his voice to a husky whisper, ❝ you might want t’ go get ready.. Before I change my mind and take you to bed..❞

You whimper quietly as he drags his tongue around the shell of your ear. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off of him and make your way down into the bedroom you’re both sharing to change.

Eddie takes several shaky breaths and leans against the wall. ❝ Emerson doesn’t know what he’s talkin about. It’s not like I can just blurt out the fact that I wanna knock her up, that I think she’s even more sexy when she’s pregnant and I wanna have more kids, there’s a time and place t’ say that shit..❞

Laughter from the doorway of Rosie’s bedroom has Eddie wanting to disappear into the floor. Rosie’s looking up at him, big doe eyes shining in mischief. She pushes the door closed behind her quietly.

Eddie tries to act as if she probably didn’t just hear every single word he said. ❝ You uh.. We all ready now, baby bat?❞

Rosie nods. After a little digging, she finds the pair of Vans she’s currently always wearing, red and black. She holds them out to Eddie. Eddie goes down on one knee, slipping the shoes onto her feet, pretending that they’re a glass slipper, making a fuss when the shoe fits her foot perfectly. She throws her arms around his neck and he breathes in the sweet and clean smell of his little girl. Every time he thinks he can’t possibly love her more, he’s proven wrong.

Even when she’s being every bit as hard-headed as he is.

The hug breaks and Rosie giggles. ❝ I wished for a little brother on my birthday candle… Remember when you were askin me what I wished for?❞ Rosie goes quiet. She’s fiddling with the sleeve edges on her favorite black longsleeve. It’s a Corroded Coffin shirt from the last music festival Eddie tagged you and Rosie along to before Corroded Coffin finally declared they were done, they were retiring to go out on a high note.

Eddie lightly grips his little girl’s jaw. ❝ You did, huh?❞ he asks. Rosie nods quietly. Drops her gaze and shuffles her feet against the bedroom floor. ❝ It’s just.. I’m glad you’re my daddy and I love mama but.. I don’t have anybody t’ play with when Argie and Johnny are being stupid.❞

Eddie nods. Fluffing at his daughter’s hair as he chuckles. ❝ Well, it was a birthday wish. Those do have a lotta power, baby bat.❞

Rosie smiles and throws her arms around him again, you step into the room just in time to watch the little moment. To have overheard the little conversation between father and daughter. Eddie’s reaction was so vague that you’re not sure whether it’s a good idea to tell him Rosie isn’t the only one who wants Rosie to have a baby brother or sister.. You study the two for a few seconds and laugh. ❝ Okay, you two conspiring against me already?❞ you joke and Eddie smirks. ❝ Maybe we were, babe.❞

❝ I’m gonna go play with my Legos in th’ living room. Can I watch MTV?❞ Rosie asks. Both of you nod and Rosie goes into the living room to play. This leaves you both alone together in some thick tension.

At first, neither of you seems willing to shatter it. But Eddie can’t take it a second longer and this results in him, exploding in a passionate rant as he paces the bedroom until you think he’ll pace a hole right through the floor.

You choke on air when you hear him say that while he thinks you’re sexy, he thinks you’d be even sexier if he knocked you up but then he throws up his hands and swears in frustration because he didn’t mean for that to be the first thing he blurted out in regards to having another kid, wanting a small army of kids with you. You’re stunned. Jaw dropped, eyes wide as you watch him have his little rant and stay quiet because you’re still frantically trying to process.

❝ And I just… I never thought me, I.. Eddie Munson, would be sayin this shit. T’ anybody. Ever. But damn it,❞ Eddie trails off, going quiet as he takes a few deep breaths, ❝ I can’t even look at you lately without imagining you pregnant. All our kids rushing around the house, chaos every morning.. I want this and if you don’t..❞ but you cut off his words by climbing into his lap as you cup his face with both hands and kiss him until you feel his mind starting to quiet down, his hands roaming all over your body. When he squeezes your ass and rocks you right over the way he’s strained almost painfully against the faded jeans he’s wearing, you whine against the shell of his ear, ❝ You’re not playing very fair right now, Eddie..❞ and he just chuckles. You lean into his ear, melting against him as you mutter softly, ❝ I want all of that too.. You were saying you want to fuck a baby into me later, I didn’t hear you wrong.. Right?❞

He growls quietly. Groaning as you bare down against the way his cock is hard enough to push against the zipper of his jeans. He nips at your neck roughly and his hands settle on your ass, squeezing. He’s guiding you back and forth over his lap and you whine, nipping at the way the tip of his spider tattoo just barely peeks out over the neckline of his t-shirt. ❝ That feel like a misunderstandin’, sweetheart?❞ he asks quietly as he stares up at you. You bite your lip and whine, the friction you were getting has slowed down drastically and you want it back. You’re desperate to get it back.

❝ How soon?❞ he asks a few seconds later. Your hand fists the front of his shirt and you pull him against you, your mouth just barely grazing against his as you laugh softly. ❝ Tonight. I.. I wanna start trying tonight.❞

❝Fuck.❞ he groans out as you rock yourself against the way he’s strained at his jeans all over again. His breath catches in his throat and he grabs your ass roughly just to slow you down because if he doesn’t, he’s going to make a mess of himself right here, right now. He leans into you and nips at your neck after he’s nosed some hair out of his way. ❝ It’s a date, sweetheart. Think you’ll be able t’ keep your hands off me ‘til then?❞ and the gleam in his eye tells you that this is a challenge.

That you’re in for it, Eddie is going to do everything in his power to make you cave…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･｡ﾟ ───

It’s just getting to the part where Billy’s about to reveal the truth to Sidney when you feel the cool metal of Eddie’s rings against the inside of your thigh. You can feel your entire body as it heats up. You shoot him a little pout and some side-eye, but he smirks. Slips his hand off your thigh to grab himself some popcorn after he mumbles ❝The bucket is in your lap, woman.. You expect me to control myself?❞ and pouts right back.

Rosie is sitting in the row right in front of you both with her friends, their eyes glued to the screen, a hand paused midway to her mouth to take a bite of popcorn she hasn’t taken in over three minutes.

Eddie’s hand creeps higher, a finger dragging ever-so-slowly right up your center. He chuckles when you squirm and shift around just a little in your seat. As his finger drags over you again, your legs clamp together, holding his hand between your thighs.

Your ears feel like they’re on fire. Eddie bites his lip when the two of you lock eyes, two long fingers pushing the soaked fabric to the side as they make contact with your bare cunt. You shiver before you can stop yourself. Shoot Eddie a dirty look and nod to an usher that’s just wandered in, flashlight in hand.

Eddie leans into you, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he whispers quietly, ❝Fuck.❞ breathing heavily as he raises the fingers he just had buried in your dripping cunt to his lips, licking them clean as he holds your gaze. You bite back a whine and he leans back into you, whispering quietly, ❝I can’t fuckin wait to fill up your pretty little pussy when we get back home, babe..❞ as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his lap, letting you palm at the way he’s strained through his jeans. You bite back another whine, helpless.

❝Eddie.❞ you whine, helpless. Soaked through in seconds. He chuckles. Your hand ghosts over the bulge strained against black jeans and he bites his bottom lip. Both of you glance at the seat in front of you to make sure Rosie is okay. She’s arguing with Argie in a hushed tone about who the killer is, throwing her hand in his face when he insists a second time that it has to be Randy. She thinks it’s Billy, Sidney Prescott’s boyfriend.

After you’ve made sure Rosie isn’t too scared, Eddie turns his attention back to teasing you. Bucking himself up into you as you continue to clumsily palm at the bulge in his jeans. His head falls back against the seat and he bites back the urge to groan as you drag a finger over the zipper of his jeans slowly. He leans into you to whisper ❝Fuck, sweetheart.. All this teasin me is only gonna get you in real trouble.❞ against the shell of your ear. You lean into him to mumble back quietly, ❝Oh? Maybe I like the sound of that, Eddie. Maybe that’s what I want.❞

The movie is coming to an end. Rosie’s triumphant outburst from the seat in front of you when the killers reveal themselves -and Johnny Byers arguing with Argie about her being right all along, is accompanied by snickering from Will, Mike and Jane. As the lights begin to come on, you pout a little to yourself but you pull your hand away from Eddie’s lap. You don’t even mind that you both missed huge parts of the movie, your heart is racing as the two of you file out of your row and wait by the door leading out of the theater room for Rosie and her friends to come out so the two of you can take Rosie home.

❝Can’t wait to get you home, sweetheart.❞ Eddie laughs quietly as he scoops up Rosie when she starts to yawn and then slips his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side closer. You look up at him and bite your lip suggestively, squeaking just a little when Eddie’s hand wanders down, giving your ass a little squeeze.

As Rosie drifts off to sleep in the backseat of your car, Eddie takes a hand off the steering wheel and skims it right up the inside of your thighs, growling before he can stop himself when he feels just how much slicker your thighs have gotten. You slip your hand into his lap and he bucks against it as you palm at the way he’s hard enough to break through his jeans and only getting harder. You’re five minutes away from home but it might as well be five thousand years and it feels like the drive is only getting longer.

Eddie’s fingers brush past the soaked barrier of your panties and bury inside of you and you give the inside of his thigh a squeeze as you just barely gasp. ❝Almost time, sweetheart..❞ he chuckles quietly as he turns down the street you live on..

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･｡ﾟ ───

You’ve both just finished tucking Rosie into bed. Eddie turns on Rosie’s Scooby Doo nightlight and tucks her favorite stuffed animal into bed with her. As the two of you step out into the hallway, your back meets the closed door with a soft thud as Eddie’s restraint vanishes in a split second. His hands are all over you, finally settling on your ass as he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around him and he rocks himself into you, making you whine.

❝Ready for bed, sweetheart?❞ he asks the question in a breathy whisper as he nips his way down your neck. You whimper and rub yourself against him, needy. His mouth finds yours as he carries you down the hallway, navigating forgotten toys, a box or two from his old apartment in California and other obstacles that crowd the hallway with ease. He kicks the bedroom door open carefully and steps inside with you. Clothing that litters the top of the dresser is swept off and he sits you down in the space he’s just made, eyes gleaming as the kiss breaks, a strand of saliva between your mouths keeping you connected. You’re rocking against him and moaning out his name, shaky hands tugging the old Hellfire t-shirt up over his head as he strips off your crop top and slips his finger beneath the back of your bra, unhooking the clasps with ease and speed.

The clothing settles in a pile on the floor and he leans into you, pushing you up against the wall behind the dresser, his mouth moving down your body. He pauses at your belly button to stare up at you, tugging down your panties. You reach out and work the jeans and boxers he’s wearing down and he steps out of them, kicking them to the side. That cute little denim mini skirt you’ve been wearing is pushed up to your hips as Eddie gets caught up in the moment and decides that he can’t wait another second, he has to taste you now. He sinks down in front of you, your legs settling over his shoulder as his mouth moves up the soft dough of your thighs, licking clean the mess he’s made. Your hands tug at his hair and grip the edge of the dresser as he pushes your legs apart a little better and buries his tongue and three fingers inside your drippy cunt. Groaning as the taste of you fills his mouth. ❝C’mon, princess.. Pull harder.❞ he moans out against your sex, fingers pumping into you as his tongue swirls. You rock yourself towards his mouth and he chuckles. ❝Thatta girl.. Gettin’ nice and wet for me..❞

You can feel your orgasm building, prepared to wreck you and you tug his hair a little harder. Eddie pauses and you pout. He stares up at the way you’re about to come completely apart for him and bites his lip, ❝You’re gonna be so fuckin cute all knocked up, princess.❞ he mutters quietly and you whine, begging for him. ❝Eddie,❞ you plead, ❝I-I.. I need you now.❞

❝Not until you give me what y’ know I want, princess.❞ Eddie’s permission to get off needs no further explanation and your orgasm rips through you, soaking his tongue and fingers as he growls quietly, the taste of you filling his mouth. He raises up again, his mouth conquering your mouth as he ruts into you while scooping you off the dresser to toss you gently onto the bed. He follows suit, your bodies tangled.

Touching. Biting. Kissing. He’s marked you up, hickies and bite marks litter your skin from neck to cunt, there are even a few sore bruises lining up the inside of your thighs.

He lines his cock up with your throbbing cunt, dragging the head down your center. When you shiver because it feels so good, he chuckles against your ear. ❝I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. You gonna be a good girl and take it f’ me?❞ his voice is sex, gravel and velvet all in one as he asks the question. It’s so different than the sweet things he usually says that you’re whimpering, begging him to do it, to take you already.

He thrusts into you slow. It’s an agonizing pace and you can feel every single inch, every vein that runs through his thick cock as he pushes into you. His hips beat against yours hard enough to bruise and he’s got you caged in beneath his body, his mouth all over you. You meet every one of his thrusts eagerly and when he comes to a stop, you whine about it.

❝You feel so fuckin good, sweetheart. Your pussy clenches around me so fuckin tight.❞ Eddie growls out, ❝Can’t wait t’ fill you up.❞ as he fucks into you slower. At one point, he has to reach out an arm and push the headboard against the wall so it’ll stop banging at it. But the way you squeeze him feels so good and you’re so wet that a minute or two later, he’s fucking at you faster and he’s used his grip on your hip for leverage, angling your hips upward just a little, bottoming out. You’re seeing stars as another orgasm builds, stopped at the brink every single time Eddie feels you tense and dig your nails in his back.

❝Fuck, princess. –ah shit, I can’t..❞ he groans out against your neck, ❝I’m gonna cum, shit. You feel too good, sweetheart.❞ and you whine, begging for it. It’s so hot that Eddie’s thrusts speed up, fucking into you faster and deeper, hips stammering as his orgasm shatters through and biting at your neck as this prompts you to pull him even deeper inside by wrapping your legs around his waist. His forehead finds your own as his thrusts slow down and he presses soft little kisses against your mouth and cheeks. ❝I love you.❞ is said in unison, the two of you laughing softly in the dark about it because if there’s one thing you’re both good at it’s doing everything perfectly right BUT.. completely backwards.

Eddie’s still fucking into you, slow and steady. ❝Don’t wanna stop, princess. Your pussy feels sooo fucking good wrapped around my cock.❞

When he’s finally finished fucking the seed that leaked out back into you, he rolls the two of you so that you’re on top. You’re both yawning now, sleepy kisses are landing against each other’s skin as he removes one of his hands from your ass to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across. ❝Wanna go t’ sleep just like this.❞

❝Me too, baby. I love the way you feel inside me.❞ you drawl, sleep making you stumble over words, making your voice all dreamy as the two of you drift off…

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴʟʏ #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.#( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #( ᴍɪɴɪ sᴇʀɪᴇs ; ᴘᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴛᴡᴏ )

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lifehunted · 5 months

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Maybe there was an ending out there where Darda could've succeeded. Killed Marika himself, taken up the mantle of the Frenzied Lord. Burned it all down, every bit of it, this disgusting and loathesome world that his family had set into ruin. Finally brought everything toward unity and peace within the ashes, if nothing more.

But this was not that ending, and he had not won. Darda was here, in the evergaol set for he and he alone, the true hero of this story sneering over him.

A watchful eye was kept steeled upon him- the single and sole eye left between the two of them, laughably enough. Keziah was armed, as he was no fool, but his sword was not drawn. He knows full well that Darda no longer has anything left to lose, nothing to gain in overpowering him.

"Ranni sure was generous enough to make a place for you. There's worse places to spend the rest of eternity than these gaols, that's for sure."

Darda's scorched eye sockets scrunched at the corners. Bemusement? Ridicule? Perhaps cynical disgust, or a mix of all this. He doesn't really give a shit about Keziah, but Ranni has always been more than enough conniving trouble. Before he can manage some comment toward this end, though, Keziah finally draws his weapon- no, it's a different one, a sword he's never seen the man wield before.

There's a distinct, holy glow to it. An odd, unmistakeable thrum of power. Keziah turns the blade over in his dragon-clawed hands, admiring it himself.

"... This is all that's left of Radagon. Marika too. But... I have no use for it, I think."

The glowing blade is tossed onto the grass before Darda, thumping where it lay. The larger man tilts his head toward the sound, instinctive, and after a moment he reaches for it.

... It's warm. Alive. No, perhaps that's just the hum of latent power, still coursing through the sword-corpse. A sorry state for Radagon, that's for sure. But again, it's still...

His mother. The god, the woman. The stranger he'd never known. Is this truly all that's left of such a legendary being?

....

Carefully, the sword is pulled toward himself. Cradled into his arms. A laugh, hoarse and mirthless, finally escapes him.

"And you're just giving it to me? After all this? My, you are a bleeding heart, aren't you. Gifting your ferocious prisoner a god-sword."

Keziah shrugs, roll of the shoulders. The smile he bears is also without warmth.

"You've got no reason to use it. Even if you manage to escape, there's nothing left. You've lost." And... well. He sure won't voice it. But as much as he detests this man, for almost ripping away what little Keziah himself has left. He does pity him, too. Can't say his intentions were altruistic, but at the least... he sympathizes.

....

And besides. It's terribly difficult for a man to kill himself, imprisoned, without at least some sharp manner of instrument.

"You will never leave here again, for as long as you live. Perhaps even past that. The very least I can offer is to return the body of your mother to you."

Darda sneers, lips pulling back until teeth bared. But he does, indeed, hold the weapon closer. His only company, it seems. What a shame.

"... Ranni's full of shit. She doesn't know the way ahead any more than the rest of us. A right shame."

Keziah rolls his eye. Unperturbed, he steps back, and begins to turn away. One single wave of a hand.

"Enjoy the rest of your sorry life, Darda. The good thing about almost everyone dead, at least, is there'll be almost no one to miss you."

His form fizzles out of the confines of the gaol, and he disappears. There's only the faint rumbling of the prison's magic, now. Darda sinks against the grass, cold and unwelcoming.

"... Ha. Hahaha. Well... good a time as any to catch up, isn't it? Mother."

The sword is silent.

#art #writing #darda #keziah #elden ring oc #dances ive been wanting to get this done for weeks now

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noxsoulmate · 8 months

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💞 Of Lizards, Love & Laundry 💞

🦎 Carlos Reyes and the Journey of Becoming a Lizard Papa 🦎

Ship: Tarlos | Fandom: 911 Lone Star Author: noxsoulmate | Artist: paxdracona Read on ao3 | View art on ao3

Chapters: 1-3/9 | Word Count: 4309 | Rating: Mature | Warnings/Tags: canon compliant, Lou II is the Houdini of Lizards, how Lou II makes his Papa love him, a story told in 7+2 parts, Carlos is so done, but TK knows how to condition his man, sex and spicy food, bribery, fluff, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, fluff and humor, Carlos loves TK, so he puts up with the reptile in their loft, until he starts to love the little monster as well

Inspired by @paxdracona's amazing art

Created for the @911reversebang

Summary:

“TK, your lizard got out. Again.”

Lou II might just be the Houdini of lizards, an escape artist par excellence – but he’s also TK’s emotional support lizard, so how could Carlos not start to like the little monster? It certainly has nothing to do with TK’s ways of bribery or attempts at conditioning him, and more with the fact that Lou II is just… growing on him. Even if that means loads and loads of extra laundry.

OR: Carlos Reyes and the Journey of Becoming a Lizard Papa, told in 7+2 parts

🦎 Read on ao3 🦎

💞 and please leave lots of love on the wonderful art on ao3 💞

I cannot thank @paxdracona enough for this wonderful collaboration 🥰 It started out as a simple "okay, I think I have enough ideas to make this a short 5+1 fic" and then became so much more, thanks to cute Bearded Dragon videos, funny Insta posts, lots of talking and laughing and plotting, and just the generally amazing art Pax created for every little snippet I sent her way. Pax, this was a delight and I would collaborate with you again each and every single time 🦎 (also, we should both adopt a beardie now...)

Sneak peek and more art under the cut:

one

Carlos will forever deny the high-pitched scream that leaves him the moment he opens the drawer to pull out a fresh pair of socks. What he won’t deny though, is the fact that his soul definitely left his body in that moment.

He can already hear footsteps running towards the bedroom, his fiancé’s worried, “Babe?!?” echoing around the loft – and still, he can’t stop himself from putting his emotions into one frustrated yell of, “TK!!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” TK calls back, skidding to a halt in the doorway, using the door frame to stop his sprint. “What happened? What? Are you hurt?!”

Carlos tries not to explode at him, he truly does, so he simply glares at him with all the rage he feels and points to the drawer, pressing out through clenched teeth, “Your monster got free.”

TK, in all honesty, seems to light up as he steps over to the dresser and reaches into the drawer. “Oh, hey baby, hi. There you are. Hi.”

Something about that comment strikes Carlos as odd and he sucks in a deep breath, frustration rising, when he realizes what it is. “You knew he was out?”

At least TK has the decency to look sheepish while cradling the little monster to his chest. “He might’ve gotten away while I cleaned his terrarium earlier today.”

Carlos lets that information sink in for a moment, remembering how overly excited TK greeted him about half an hour ago when Carlos got home from his shift. How he seemed slightly breathless and waved it away as just being done with some workout but still had declined to share the shower with Carlos, claiming some tidying up he wanted to do.

That lying little…

“And you didn’t tell me?” Carlos accuses to which TK almost reflexively replies, “I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“TK!”

And, yeah, that argument sounds eerily familiar.

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to think about the fact that he walked around the loft – mainly the bathroom and bedroom – naked while this little monster was running around. Or, worse yet, getting all his germs over Carlos’ clothes.

He points a finger at TK, giving him his strongest Officer Reyes glare. “It’s your turn to do the laundry and every single one of my socks will be in that machine, do you hear me?”

“Of course,” TK promises right away. “I’ll just… wash everything in that dresser, okay?”

💞🦎 Continue on ao3 🦎💞

Noxy’s Tagging List:

@detective-giggles, @sgirl18, @firstprince-history-huh, @beautifulhigh, @rangergurlgleek1211, @shadesofdeviant, @actuallysara, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @welcometololaland, @wtfuckevenknows, @lightningboltreader, @meditating-honey-badger, @just-inside-her, @alidravana, @morganaspendragonss, @bonheur-cafe, @heartstringsduet, @ravens-words, @lire-casander, @otter-love-asl, @ramblingdisaster73, @first-kanaphan, @xtltokio, @buckybarnesalways, @mangacat201, @catanisspicy, @lemonlyman-dotcom

#tarlos #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #noxy writes #7+2 fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #Lou II #lou the second #canon compliant #with amazing art #amazing art included in the fic

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owlespresso · 6 months

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dream-eater. jing yuan/reader.

Tags: AU, spice beneath the cut, f!reader

A fluffy white stray has been coming up to your door these past few months, pawing at the old wood and meowing loud enough to wake the neighbors. As the sear of summer winds down into the cool, at-ease autumn temperatures you've been waiting for.

You've never seen the little beast, before, and your neighbors don't have any such animal. Not that you're aware of. Uncollared, unnamed, but its surprisingly clean and surprisingly well-mannered–howling for your attention aside.

It's polite enough for you to take it in. Get it collared and given all the appropriate shots and even give it a name—Mimi, you decided before being told that the cat is male. You kept the name. It's not like the cat has any concept of gender.

He yowls at approximately 9 pm every night until you acquiesce and climb into bed with him, where he tucks himself up against your side. You sleep easier, this way.

Though, maybe the cooling temperatures also help. You can cozy up underneath a few blankets and let the rolling of the winds soothe you to sleep.

And in the sweet velvet of sleep do you find the softest and most sanguine dreams you could possibly imagine, the kind that make you tingle with pleasure from head to toe, pressed into pillowy covers and cotton blankets which seemingly move with a will of their own. Long fingers caress your thighs and soft lips brush coo dulcet praises against the round of your hip. All this at the hands of a man whose face you can never quite make out, who only appears in those few, fleeting moments before you snap awake.

Tonight is one such night. It is you and him and everything is at the edges of your vision, blurry like watercolor. All that's concrete is the warm weight of him on top of you, the silk of his lips wand'ring the open hearth of your body.

"Who are you?" you muster the strength to ask, shaking fingers pulling through his thick, hoarfrost locks.

"You're clever. I'm sure you can figure it out, " he says, and laughs at the way your face crinkles with indignant. He shoves his cheek into your inner thigh, nuzzling up against you like a contented cat. Mirth is written across soft, handsome features. His eyes burn bright gold, low-lidded and downturned. Ash white lashes fan out against cut cheeks. Bow lips cradled by his sharp jaw. This is the first time you've ever seen his face, you realize, and he is devastatingly beautiful. "...Or maybe not. Would you like a hint?" He asks, each word murmured against your skin. Your thighs twitch around his broad shoulders, one of your calves settled against a wide back

"Forget it," you mumble, shutting your eyes to escape that prying gaze. He looks as keen as Mimi does during dinnertime, staring with a hunterly, single-minded focus.

"Come, now," he goads, long fingers drumming staccato atop your knee. "Of all the games we've played, this should be the simplest."

"The fact that you want this so bad makes me regret asking," you huff, gently pressing your ankle into his side. He shifts, moving so swift you hardly realize he's reached back until his hand has curled around your ankle. Your breath hitches as his gaze bores into your open face, roams across your splayed body. He pulls, dragging you towards him, bottom lifted from the mattress with a frankly embarrassing, high pitched yelp.

"Ah. A gesture of good will is needed, then. How about... my name?" he asks, presses a kiss to your ankle. His throbbing cock rests up against the back of your thigh, thicker and longer than you had dared imagine. Fear and arousal make a heady cocktail, making it difficult to think, let alone answer his question. "Now where did all of that fight go? Is that all it really takes to smother your fire?"

You want to reply, want to breathe your complaints at him like dragon's breath. But you cannot. You're paralyzed beneath him, lips sealed and body gone limp for reasons beyond your comprehension. The most you do is let out a reedy little sound, shaking on the sheets like a frightened kitten.

"Well. Since I seemed to have robbed you of your faculties, I think it's only right that I give you my name." He says in exaggerated contemplation. Both of his hands cook under the crook of your knees, holding you open, leaving you bare and exposed. In this moment, you feel more meal than human, more prey than paramour. And it makes you squeeze around nothing, hot rush of humiliation throbbing between your thighs.

"Something to cry, later, at the very least." He continues, ignorant of your plight—or perhaps revealing in it. He swoops down, chest pressed to heaving chest. His hot tongue rasp over your earlobe, startlingly rough—sandpapery, even. "I am Jing Yu—"

You startle awake, covered in cold sweat. Your room is colored in the bluish grey shades of pre-dawn. Your blankets are pooled around your waist, skin cool where your shirt had ridden up overnight. Most prominent of all is the awful throbbing between your legs—frustration sent to a boil. You huff, and plop back down, eyes shutting. Absentmindedly, you reach down and gently comb your fingers through Mimi's fur, the warm weight of him a comforting anchor, curled into your side.

#jing yuan #jing yuan/reader #hsr/reader #honkai star rail/reader #oz write

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year

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lunch is served!

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,”

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, they have a daughter, and reader still can’t cook (sorry)

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

Hi I’m back, I did not forget about this I swear!!! Anyway I’m gonna go in with the usual spiel, requests for this are always open, and leave a comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) I’ll sort out links iab because mobile is being mean to me lol

When little Jingmei is fast asleep on her father’s lap after succumbing to a nap she’ll later deny the existence of, you often try to find topics to entertain Zhongli with as he waits patiently for his daughter to wake up. When you’re not around, he’ll pick up a book, or take a nap himself, but he takes great pleasure in talking to you like this.

When you open your mouth to start a new topic, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him. And you do, nuzzling yourself into his chest, and pretending that you don’t notice the subtle sigh of content he lets out.

“Li,” you start, relaxing into him fully. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Zhongli chuckles. “I am almost certain that this is some kind of trick.”

“It is not.” You scowl. “Am I not allowed to ask why my husband loves me?”

“You are, provided you don’t start a row when I give you my answer.” Zhongli’s hand trails up to your hair, gently massaging circles in your scalp.

If Zhongli really had to think about why he loves you, he’d probably struggle to quantify it. He’s been in love before, of course, but the way he feels with you is somewhat different. Perhaps it was initially your determination that drew him to you, or it could be your positivity, or the fact you brightened the days of all who were near you. But more than anything, it’s the fact that being with you feels like home. You’re his treasure—a gem he’s spent millennia searching for, and now he has you and he knows you love him as much as he does, he’s at peace. But expressing that in a few simple words will only lend itself to misunderstandings and you accusing him of using filler and metaphors to get away with not answering his question.

“I know my question wasn’t that hard.” You tease, prodding him slightly. His body is somewhat firmer when he’s in his half dragon form, yet at the same time, his touch envelops you in warmth and comfort. He tilts his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile.

“It was, my dear. How do you expect me to translate years of affection into one sentence?”

“I expect you to do it with enthusiasm.” You joke lightly. Jingmei stirs ever so slightly, muttering to herself as she adjusts herself, her tiny rounded horns digging into your thigh. “If I asked her why she loved me, she would answer immediately.”

“Jingmei would say it’s because you feed her.”

“And that is a perfectly valid and acceptable answer.”

“For an infant. I know you well enough to know you would not accept that from me.”

It’s true, you would not accept that from him. You expect his millennia on Teyvat to grant him the vocabulary necessary to express his love. But at the same time, seated the way you are, you can feel that he cares. It’s in the way he cradles you head to his chest, the way he strokes Jingmei’s hair with contented pride, the way his breathing slows as he savours the moment he’s sharing with you. Yes, you’d love for him to bullet point everything that's led him to this moment, but what’s to point in that?

“I changed my mind. Don’t say anything.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll probably just make me cry, and then Jingmei will wake up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love.” He chuckles. His laugh almost rumbles through him, stirring your daughter slightly. You pout, as if to complain, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t want her waking up any other way. But then her head drops and she falls back asleep again, whispering softly to herself.

“I do wonder what she dreams about,” Zhongli marvels.

“Probably food. On that note, I’ll make lunch.” As you stand to leave, Zhongli’s hand wraps around yours.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Pretending your cooking is edible is an arduous affair. Let’s wait for Jingmei to wake up and then we can make something together.”

“You insult me.”

Despite the fact that your honour has been attacked, you wait for your daughter to wake up before tackling the matter of making lunch. At the mere mention of making food, Jingmei disappears up to her room, decking herself out in a chef’s outfit she’d gotten from Xiangling for her birthday.

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,” Zhongli jokes, helping her onto her stool so she can reach the kitchen counter.

“I am a good cook, Daddy. Promise.” She shoots back, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I believe you. Your father is just a big meanie.” You pull her into a hug, smothering her face and cheeks with kisses until she’s falling apart with giggles. “We should leave him here to make the food and play with your toys instead as punishment.”

“Let’s go!” Jingmei turns away from the counters and grabs your hand as she runs upstairs.

“You two are such cheats.” Zhongli complains quietly as he turns to the stove. His words fall on deaf ears as you’re already too far away to hear him.

#tswzhongliflufftober #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #fanfiction #zhongli fanfic #zhongli flufftober #flufftober #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin fan fiction #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact

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bittersweetarts · 1 year

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Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 15)

Aemond Targaryen x You – Chapter 1

Word count: 3673 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: This is the last chapter of this story.

Note: To set the tone, I recommend putting Yes to Heaven by Lana Del Rey on loop.

Chapter 15: Absolution

It was only after the birth of your first child, a lively fair-haired girl named Aerys, that you gathered the courage to ask something from Aemond, something that had been weighing heavy on your mind since the two of you met.

“Aemond, my love.”

Your voice echoes in your shared quarters. You set down a letter sent from your sister, Lauryn, which you just finished reading, and pick up the small figure that you had left by the window. Smiling, you cross over to him, seating yourself on the arm of his chair. Aerys was soundly asleep in her cradle, with her dragon egg, graciously gifted on her birth day by Helaena, as she had promised to you on your wedding day.

As you speak, Aemond looks up from his parchment, tilting his head to face you, returning your smile. Normally you do not disturb him when he is busy with his duties, but you had decided that you could not wait until he was done, and that you must ask him now. You have tried to countless times before, but always cower, failing to ask the questions that have plagued your mind for so many moons now.

In your hands, you played with a small wooden carving of a dragon, one which Aemond had gifted to you in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Before the two of you were betrothed, you had misplaced it, but you recently found it in one of your old pouches and were happy to have recovered it again. Taking hold of one of his hands, you place the wooden figure into his palm, and he chuckles in amusement, before pulling you onto his lap. You are dressed in a thin nightgown and flush at the feeling of his covered groin against you.

“Aegon used to mock me for caring about you, did you know?”

Your brows furrow at his assertion, and you tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. Pulling you in closer, Aemond pressed his lips against your jaw, tender and warm, before continuing.

“… He could not understand why, and when he had realised the extent of my obsession, he told me to either just fuck you or to fuck a whore that looks like you. I could not even fathom doing that, so instead, I spent my free time scouring for things that you might like. I was desperate to have you simply acknowledge me, and I would have emptied the royal treasury to do so.”

Aemond professed in a low tone, and you flushed at his admission. You agreed with Aegon, in that you still could not understand why Aemond had initially been attracted to you, for you considered yourself plain and uninteresting.

“You did not have to.” You softly respond, intertwining your fingers into the palm that held the wood figure, his touch rough and callous. Aemond shook his head, but did not get the opportunity to say anything, as you continued.

“This is my favourite gift from you.”

Bringing your face closer to his, you watch him closely as he examines the figure, tracing its carvings, as well as your fingers.

“You do not like the jewels or dresses that I gift you?” Aemond says, frowning as he put aside the wooden dragon on the desk, opting to play with the ruby necklace hanging on your chest instead, another gift from what felt like a life time ago. You laugh in response, feeling like he misunderstood you.

“Of course not. I love it the most because it makes me think of you. I used to stare at it for hours, memorising every curve and cut. It could not replace you, but it brought me some comfort in your absence.” You admit, helplessly honest, and this softens the one-eye Prince’s expression.

When you finish, Aemond gently takes hold of your hips, holding you firmly in place, while bridging the gap between the two of you. As he does, Aemond presses his warm lips onto yours, and you smile against the kiss, before pulling away and letting out a deep breath.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask nervously, staring down at his chest. You did not know how else to approach the subject and were trying to muster all of your courage.

“Anything.” Aemond says, tenderly grasping your chin, tilting your head up to face him. You are silent for a moment as you stare at him, but force yourself to speak. Gently bringing a hand to his face, you trace the scars around his sapphire, and he shivers under your cool touch. You take another deep breath before speaking.

“Tell me about Lucerys Velaryon.”

As your voice echoes throughout the room, Aemond freezes completely, his stare vacant and empty. You feel your heart ache at the sight of this, but you remain unrelenting. Taking hold of his face with both of your hands, you look at Aemond as you repeat yourself.

“Tell me about Lucerys Velaryon. Please.”

Aemond snaps out of his trance as you ask again, and shakes his head repeatedly, remaining speechless. You wonder whether you are pushing him to far, because after all, this was something the two of you had never spoken about before, not directly at least. But you need to know, and now that you had started asking about it, you could not get yourself to stop.

You needed to know. You needed to know why Aemond had slayed his nephew, a boy who was only four and ten, a boy who was blood of his own. You needed to know Aemond’s side of the story. You loved him and accepted him as he is, but you could not go on another day, not knowing how and why it had happened.

“Anything. You said anything, Aemond.”

The one-eyed Prince’s gaze sharpened at your assertion, feeling hurt by how his words were being thrown back at him by someone he cared for so deeply. Pulling away from you, and lifting you off him, Aemond pushed his chair back and hoisted himself out of his seat, turning his back to you. Your heart races as you watch him, waiting for him to say something. It is deathly silent until he finally does.

“That is not a question.” He says simply.

You think on his response, and decide to continue, despite being afraid. You walk up to him and take hold of his hands, but keep your gaze to the ground. Your voice is meek when you ask again, your throat dry.

“How did Lucerys Velaryon die?”

“I killed him.” Aemond states the obvious, and he wipes away a tear that escapes onto your cheek unknowingly. Kinslaying was after all once of the most egregious sins imaginable, and you cannot help but feel worried for him, because no sin goes unpunished in life, or at least that is what you believe.

“Tell me how.” You continue relentlessly. You initially expect Aemond to get angry with you, or to throw a fit. He does not, and instead remains calm, almost emotionless, as though this was something he had buried so deep within himself that he could not dig out anymore.

“You do not want to know.” He says lowly, still devoid of emotion.

“Tell me as it was. Tell me what had happened, truthfully. It will not change the way I feel. Nothing can.”

“That is not true.” He says, his voice now cracking. For a moment, you want to give up, to forget about it all and pretend that you never started this conversation. You did not want to hurt him, to see any pain in his expression. But you hold your ground and continue.

“It is true. I love you, you know that I do. You are my family, your family is my family, and you are Aerys’s father. I accept you as you are, but I need to know. I cannot go on another day not knowing what happened.”

Sighing in defeat, Aemond wrapped his arms around you and embraced you. You wait for him to begin speak, and it takes some time. Aemond first begins trailing wet kisses across your face, before pulling you closer to the bed, and kissing you softly, before finally speaking.

“I was nine and ten, eager to prove my worth. My brother had become King and I was not even the spare in the war. I had the largest dragon in the world, intellect and skill, and the confidence of all those around me, but that was not enough. I was not enough.” Aemond’s voice cracked, but remained silent, watching him as he continued.

“You know this part already. I was sent to Storm’s End to secure Lord Baratheon’s fealty, and I did as I was told.”

By promising to wed one of his daughters. You knew that well, and you still felt guilty about how everything proceeded after. You had lost most of your family by wedding Prince Aemond, as your House was sworn to serve House Baratheon, and your union was still not accepted by your brother, Tommen, who was Head now that your father had passed. You remained quiet as Aemond continued.

“My nephew, Lucerys, was also sent to Storm’s End, at his mother’s bidding. I did not like my half-sister nor her son, not since the bastard had stolen my eye. An eye for Vaghar was a fair exchange, and I think that I would have let it go, but the night that it happened, no one cared or tried to protect me. No one but my mother.”

As Aemond spoke, his speech began to become disjointed, it was difficult for you to keep up with his story.

“… It all happened so quickly. One moment I was trying to get my nephew to take out his eye – I wanted to gift it to my mother, and for Rhaenyra to understand that she was not heir the Iron Throne.”

As Aemond’s breathing became more rapid, you understood that he was now becoming more frenzied. You tried to calm him down, by wrapping your arms around him, but failed to, as his voice grew louder and his eye began to water. The two of you were stood near your bed, and he proceeded to seat himself on the edge, lowering his head while doing so.

“I was on Vaghar, chasing him, trying to scare him, and I felt like a God. I felt powerful, like I was something, and it was everything to me, because I was so used to feeling like nothing. But very quickly, this feeling was gone. I had killed him, my nephew. Vaghar had gnashed into the boy and his dragon. I did not mean to, and I did not even realise what was happening until it had happened, and I tried to get Vaghar to stop before, but I failed to. I was stupid, and I wrongly believed that we Targaryens controlled dragons. It is untrue.”

Aemond had closed his eye and was crying now. This was the first time you had ever seen him doing so. He tried to conceal his emotion by shielding his face with his hands, which dug roughly against his scalp.

As he did, you got on your knees, and began kissing his damp cheek, wiping away the tears that escaped. You knew that you were hurting him by asking him about this, but you had to know. You had anticipated cruelty from Aemond, to hear that he had murdered his kin in cold blood, but instead, you were met with admission. Instead, you were the cruel one, forcing your husband to relive a difficult memory. You knew that you were being selfish and resolved to apologise for this after.

“And you have never told anyone.” You stated simply. If he had told someone, he would not be perceived as the wayward Prince, known for his cruelty. Aemond shook his head in response.

“No, I could not. If I told anyone that it was an accident, I would still be a kinslayer, but a foolish one at the eyes of everyone. If I admitted my weakness, I would have forfeited not only my life, but that of my family. I could not.” Aemond finished, opening his eye to look at you, his voice quiet and child-like.

In a way, you felt like you always knew, or at least had a suspicion. All believed the one-eyed Prince to be cruel, that he was menacing and heartless, and he had done more so to encourage it, and you believed it at first. But you realised that he was the very opposite. Aemond Targaryen, underneath it all, was particularly sensitive to the feelings of others, more so than many, perceiving of everything around him. Even now, as Aerys began to turn in her cradle and wake, letting out a quiet cry, he wordlessly pulled himself away from you, and lifted your girl, rocking her back to sleep.

You sat in bed as you watched the man you love calm your babe back to sleep. You noticed how he avoided looking at you as he did so, turning his back to you, which only made you feel worse for forcing him to tell you about something so painful.

As Aerys fell back asleep, and Aemond placed her back into her cradle, you silently approached him, and wrapped your arms around him. Reluctantly, Aemond did the same, wrapping his hard arms around you, holding you tightly, as though he intended to never let you go.

Perhaps because the loss incurred during the war was devastating for most, all was relatively peaceful in the Realm, or at least in your little corner in the Realm. Whenever King Aegon sent Aemond off to handle matters with Vaghar, he would be gone for no longer than a few days. In the time he would be gone, you would be so preoccupied with taking care of your children, that his brief absences were not difficult to bear, and he would never fail to make up for lost time when he returned.

You found yourself with child, or rather children, once more following the birth of Aerys. With an easy birth, you had given life to two small boys, Daegor and Aerion Targaryen, who took after their father completely in appearance, except for their eyes, which they got from you.

Older than her brothers, Aerys would ecstatically play with them every day, and proclaimed them to be the best brothers in the world. Though nights were often sleepless with the boys, Aemond would always stay awake, helping you with Daegor and Aerion. The difficulty was that when one babe finally calmed down, the other would begin throwing a fit, causing the other to cry as well, and it became an endless cycle. Unlike you though, Aemond never lost his patience with the boys, and that inspired you to do better as well.

For their first name day, King Aegon declared that there should be a celebration for Daegor and Aerion, and so, you all found yourself in Kingswood on one fine Spring day. Oddly, Aegon had grown to become fond of Aerys, who was spirited and very opinionated, unafraid of being bold in front of her uncle despite his post. So, when one evening, during supper, she had asked the King that they all go hunting, in celebration of Aerion and Daegor’s first name day, the King affirmed that they all would.

Hunting did not interest you, so you found yourself in a grand tent with the Queens and Princess Jaehaera, drinking tea while chatting with them about both everything and nothing. Was the Triarchy alliance between the Free Cities, Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh, doomed to fail? Would Aerys’s dragon egg ever hatch, or would she have to claim a dragon just as her father had? Who from the hunting party would return with the best catch? Queen Alicent would jest that it would Aerys, despite her lack of training, meanwhile Helaena wistfully hoped that they come empty-handed. Princess Jaehaera on the other hand, reluctantly opined that it would probably be one of her uncles, given that they were most skilled.

You were very fond of the Princess Jaehaera, and hoped that Aerys would come to be as wonderful as her as she aged. Jaehaera had grown to become an introspective young woman. Unlike her twin, she often concealed her emotions, but made for excellent company, as she always had an interesting and wise perspective on matters. However, her nature was rather solitary, and she remained mostly detached from the ladies Queen Alicent had called to court for her. This was why it brought you lots of joy whenever Prince Daeron and your brother visited, for they were the only people who brought out her spirit, and with them, you could find the Princess laughing and dancing.

Steffon, now stationed as a knight at Old Town, was visiting King’s Landing, with Prince Daeron, the pair now very close friends. Your brother’s visits have become increasingly frequent over the years, and this brought you a lot of joy, as you loved your brother dearly, and he always brought along news about your family. Most recently, the last of your younger sisters, Taliya, had been betrothed to Lord Tully’s eldest son, and Steffon had reassured you that you would definitely be invited to their wedding, as House Tully would never disrespect House Targaryen. His reassurance brought a lot of relief, and you hoped for a raven to carry an invitation to arrive.

Steffon and Prince Daeron, along with the King, Aemond and some white cloaks went hunting with the children (except for your small boys, who slept soundly with you). The Queens, Princess Jaehaera and you were still in the company of some knights, which included Ser Landor, who you trusted with your life.

It was only near sunset that the hunting party returned, and as they approached your tent, from a distance, you saw Aemond and Prince Jaehaerys, a boy grown now, carrying a stag.

“Mother! Mother!” You heard your girl and see a head of pale hair sprinting towards you, dressed in dark hunting attire. Trailing behind her was Prince Maelor, who watched the girl devoutly. Wherever the lively Aerys was found, the stoic Maelor would be quietly trailing behind, ready to defend her against anyone willing do her harm.

You sometimes would jest to Aemond that they might follow Targaryen tradition, but Aemond would swiftly dismiss this, stating that Aerys was still a child, and the two of you had many years before you would even need to speak about betrothing her to anyone at all. You enjoyed riling him up like this and found that it was easy to do when discussing your girl’s future.

“Go ahead, I will be here with Aerion and Daegor.” Alicent asserted, placing her hand onto your forearm. Smiling, you thank her and briskly walk towards the hunting party, meeting your girl midway.

“Mother – You should have seen how many hares uncle Steffon caught!” Aerys ranted excitedly as you embraced her. You did not worry about her being out in the forest, not when she had so many loved ones looking out for her.

“I killed two more than he did! This is just blatant favoritism now, and I deeply resent it, my niece.” Daeron huffed, walking up towards the two of you, as you let Aerys go.

“Oh shut it. You are just jealous that you are not her favourite uncle.” Steffon boasted cheerfully, throwing an arm around Daeron before greeting you. “Sister.”

“Brother.” You nod back, smiling. Daeron was now sulking, his eyes narrow, glaring at Steffon.

“If anyone is my favourite, it is uncle Aegon. He gives me gifts much more than you do.” Aerys retorted back, her arms cross and her smile devious. You shake your head at her callousness, not understanding how you had managed to raise a daughter so haughty.

“Tell me, brother. What is it like to lose?” Aegon speaks loudly, walking slower that the rest. Immediately, Daeron pulls out of Steffon’s grip, and you are about to intercede and tell off Aerys for causing unnecessary conflict, until you feel strong arms wrap around you and lips press against your ear.

“Missed me?” Aemond lowly whispered into your ear needily. You craved his touch whenever he was away, even if for a few hours, but now, you try to escape his grasp, as he was warm and sweaty.

“You reek!” You exclaim, trying to pull out of his embrace, but he only traps you further, laughing as you try to squirm away.

From a distance, you hear more laughs, and you realise that everyone else has walked ahead towards the tent, probably starving for food and wine. You could see your brother, Steffon shakes his head as he walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. Yielding to Aemond, you sigh and twist yourself to face Aemond, who is staring at you affectionately.

The sun was bleeding now, its blushing light spreading everywhere, and it glowed against the stray hairs that hung around Aemond’s face. You reached up to push them away, before gently placing the palm of your hand against his jaw. His skin was still damp with sweat, but you did not mind all that much anymore. The last breath of Spring flowed before you finally broke the silence between the two of you, beaming at him.

“Dance with me.”

Aemond endearingly smiles back at you as he responds. “There is no music.”

“It does not matter. Dance with me.”

You persist, bringing your hands to his, once again attempting to pull out of his grasp. But Aemond does not let you go, and instead brings his hands to your waist, still holding you closely, whilst beginning to sway. You follow his lead, and move along with him, setting your head down on his chest. And the two of you stay like this, swaying together, for a very long time.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoyed the last chapter! Music by Hozier, Lana Del Rey and Tamino inspired this entire plot, and I wanted the story to end with the same blissful feeling that their music invokes. It is nowhere near cannon, but I choose to live in my delusions and pretend that things ended a little more happily for some of my favourite war criminals. Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate all the kind comments and support I have received along the way.

If you liked Little Lamb, you might like my new story, which you can find on my profile. It is going be much longer, and I am posting new chapters every Wednesday, to help tide us over until the next season of House of the Dragon comes out. Happy Holidays, and Merry Christmas to those that celebrate!

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