#the one-eyed conqueror
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Only If For A Night (i/?)
pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader
summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.
warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !
wc: 4,027
series masterlist
my masterlist
pt2
notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).
She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)
She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)
Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)
She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)
Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.
She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)
George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.
Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible.
‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’
“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico.
It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.
“Umm… I- I’m sorry?”
The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful.
“The bus–”
She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude.
She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.
“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her.
“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her.
A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.
“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear.
The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting.
“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin.
“Yes, almost like I've lived through it”
She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid.
The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.”
Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news)
“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?”
She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!
But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away.
“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.
“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist.
Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance.
She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision.
Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.
From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection.
She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)
“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together.
“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile.
The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.
In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies.
In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run.
She ignored it, again.
“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)
She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit.
She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.
Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze.
“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen.
She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore.
She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family.
A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood.
She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have.
Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys)
Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair.
Silver.
Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?”
Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.
Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth.
Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight.
“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.”
Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.”
She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.
Not now. Not ever.
She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so.
“I don’t—”
“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye.
She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.
“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.
She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist.
“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.”
Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…
There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down.
She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.”
Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her.
Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)
Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.
The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)
Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)
It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…
But not to Alyssandra.
Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp.
However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic.
“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.
All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully.
Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic.
“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out.
She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.
But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative.
“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red.
“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe.
She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic.
Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand.
Blood. Her blood.
Run!
“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face.
“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor.
“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…”
She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there.
Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)
“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)
Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.”
She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.”
There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned.
Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.”
Fuck.
“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?”
Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one.
She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass)
“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.”
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#prince aemond#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen#dark aemond x reader#dark aemond targaryen
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#why do i love you so
—alternative title: in death and dreams, i shall love you still | where they dream of you even after you’re gone | a request
CHARACTERS. Al-Haitham, Ayato, Cyno, Diluc, Ei, Kaeya, Kazuha, Shenhe, Wanderer, Xiao; gn! Reader (has mentions of a few characters such as Qiqi on Xiao’s and Diluc on Kaeya’s)
THEMES. major character death (reader); pure angst; hurt/no comfort; bring tissues; mentions of sleepwalking (on Kazuha’s); there is only one fluff here (i think)… find whose is it…
NOTES. i promise not to hold back on this one.
P.S. if you wanna know why xiao’s hurts the most, you’re free to guess ;))
P.P.S. i teared up a bit after writing cyno’s :))
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
“Y/n… is that you?”
XIAO feels his knees weakening and his breath staggering. It couldn’t be… you’re-
He flinches almost in an instant as you finally raise your head, yet instead of meeting your ever-joyous eyes and bright smile that can rival the sun… there you were, glaring at him as if you were throwing daggers his way, a scowl curled on your face–Xiao was far too frozen in shock to realize the dark aura emitting around your body.
“You! It’s you!” even your voice didn’t sound like you.
But he didn’t notice. “Y/n…?”
“Xiao!” you screeched, and he shivers, “I called for you! Where were you?! Where were you, Xiao?!!”
“You killed me! It was because of you!”
“Y/n!” he sits upright, barely noticing the presence around him, catching his breath with eyes stricken wide. What-… A dream?
“Nightmare?” a voice calls out beside him and he whips his head instantly, finding that familiar little girl peering her gaze at him, “Qiqi… carried you here… again…”
He looks away, almost embarrassed–well… he is embarrassed.
He could remember it all. Could remember how your voice called for him that day and how he ignored it for a moment… and for that moment that he spent drowning out in alcohol—one decision that he still questioned this very day… it was just an instance that so happened to have been that day.
How could he do that?
How could he do that to you?
“Here,” the child suddenly catches his attention as she reaches to give him a cloth.. a… handkerchief? He takes it with a confused look but soon realizes…
That a few tears had already escaped his sullen golden eyes.
“I…” he looks at the handkerchief and remembers your face—your voice that would sometimes say “It’s alright to cry, Xiao… I’m here for you. Always.”
His chest tightens up and more tears stream down his face, the Conqueror of Demons is barely able to stop them anymore even if he tried to.
“What am I to do, Y/n…” he mutters, then pursues his lips. You’re not here anymore… he wanted to say.
At least, not how he needs you to be.
But then… maybe this was a sign… a sign for his impending demise, not just to repay his debt and sins… but to fulfill his greed to meet you again.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
Even when he had become a WANDERER, some nightmares of his from before had not vanished.
Especially those with you in it.
“You’re just a dream. You’re not real.”
His word stings, even as he was in his dream self. For a moment, he didn’t know why he had spoken such things, but when he met your eyes, he soon realizes why.
“What do you mean, Kuni?” his imaginary heart would’ve clenched at the tone of your voice, “I am real.”
“No you’re not,” his dream self could barely hold his tongue, he notices. But that was not all.
You were the same. Real or not, you were the same as you were before–a sparkling being that was too innocent for the world, too innocent to be tainted by the Wanderer who was once The Balladeer.
He sighs and looks away, unable to stand the glare of your brightness. Yet he flinches so suddenly when your hands reach out to his cheeks.
Just like how you used to do so.
He internally grimaces at how he leans into your familiar warmth and finds his eyes drawn to yours. He’s not doing this again. You are long gone, you’re not real-
The sound and familiar touch on his lips catch his attention. “What the-?”
You giggled, still holding on to his face and leaning so close.
“So? Was that real or was that not?”
There was a tug in his chest and if he focused on it longer… was there… a beat-
“A heart?” he whispers, mouth coming ajar at the thought.
This… is this real?
“Hm? Of course, you have a heart, Kuni.” He looks at you with wide eyes–he was sure you had uttered those words before… but for an entirely different reason and context.
But… who is he to care now?
In this world where he has a heart, and he has you.
Who is he to care whether it is real or not?
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
SHENHE, ever since she was little, can see ghosts.
Over time, she had learned to ignore them–each and every one of them.
When she had seen you one night, however, she forgot.
She forgot that she can see ghosts and that you would not be here in front of her without being one.
“Y/n?” she reaches out to you, but her hands… slipped right through.
You flashed her a smile before vanishing into thin air, and just as you had faded away, she feels herself gasping for air. She sits up straight and looks around, only to register the realness of her encounter with you–it was all a dream. A nightmare. Or is it really? How can she ever see you as a nightmare?
“Y/n again?” a voice calls out from behind, and she did not have to look to recognize Cloud Retainer’s voice.
Shehnhe looks below, where she could see her reflection in the water beneath her, nodding her head.
“One’s mind is only left troubled when something is left unaccomplished,” Cloud Retainer’s words sink through her skin as Shenhe finds herself looking back at the Adeptus, “perhaps you may find yourself some time to visit an old… friend. What do you say?”
Friend. Shenhe could only ponder over the word in her mind.
Has she ever… treated you as a friend?
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
KAZUHA smiles to himself as he inhales the breeze, then breathes out.
“Today… is a lovely day, isn’t it, dove?”
He talks, particularly to no one, standing on the highest point of the ship. If anyone else had seen him, they would’ve yelled at him to be careful. But now, only one voice echoes in his mind.
“You think so too, dove?” he responds to the wind that passed by him.
But despite this… he felt… out of breath.
“Kazuha! Breathe! Kazuha!”
The voices and calls brought him back to reality, his eyes soon meeting the worried gazes of his fellow sailors and-
“What were you thinking?! Climbing the-” Beidou stops herself and exhales deeply, calming herself before once again looking at him with a serious pair of eyes, “You were… sleepwalking, Kazuha. Again.”
“Ah…” he’s looking down and noticing the necklace on his palms, Beidou’s eyes also dropping to the trinket, heaving out another sigh.
“I know they’re… I know that day is drawing near. So… I want you to rest back at Liyue in the meantime. Do you hear me? We can’t have you falling off like…”
She trails off, and even without her telling the words, he knew. He knew the name, knew the circumstance, knew the meaning that you held in his heart, and on this necklace he now holds dear.
“Thank you…” his voice comes out hoarse, but the message was sent, nonetheless.
So, with the necklace resting close to his heart, he sets off on his own right after Beidou and the others docked with Liyue. And if anyone else had seen him, they would always see him with flowers in his hand and walking the same path every single day.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
KAEYA had endured far too many looks and glances sent his way ever since that day.
“Are you not going to wake him up?” Charles turns over to the man’s brother, who now looks over at Kaeya’s form with disdain and pity lingering in his eyes.
They watch as the man trembles in his sleep, and when Diluc could barely take it anymore, he soon could not help but shake the man awake, which immediately startles Kaeya with a whisper of “Y/n!” slipping out of his mouth.
The name makes everyone who had heard him flinch–ah, that name. That name that he had barely uttered or talked about or reacted towards, now spilling out like an avalanche all because-
“Y/n’s… not here, Kaeya.”
The words may have been harsh–oh, of course, it was, it almost felt like he had been washed over by cold water, buckets and buckets of it, filled with ice cubes. Kaeya could only take them in, as well as cherish the dream he just had… no matter how it leaves a sense of distaste inside of him, as you were now long gone, never coming back, never showing him your pretty smile, or never letting him hear you say his name again.
“Thanks… for waking me up.”
If his brother hadn’t, he would’ve wanted to stay in that dream forever.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
“EI! Look! A bird!” your voice calls her out, a beautiful echo inside her plane.
Wait… why is she here?
The realization dawns upon her but her meeting your eyes soon made her thoughts fade away—you were smiling brightly at her, a small blue bird on your hand as you caress it gently with your other hand’s finger.
“Come on! You can pet him too!” you whispered, audible enough yet gentle enough for the creature not to fly away.
She could not help but follow your voice, her eyes focused on yours–could it be? Had she been dreaming all this time and you…
“Oh no… it flew away…” you frown but soon grin once again when you met her eyes, “Why? Why are you looking at me like that? Missed me?”
She wakes up, her body jolting. Before she could even look around and call out your name, another voice comes.
“Ei, you should wake up.”
She turns around and sees a familiar face, a familiar friend. But not you.
Ei looks away and down to her hands, where a little blue bird had landed on her palm, looking up at her with curiosity, even as she raises a finger to softly caress its head.
“In my dreams…” she mutters, “I can only see them in my dreams.”
The bluebird had flown away, Ei’s eyes following the creature’s figure as it does so until she couldn’t anymore.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
“Y/n!”
DILUC rises from his bed, sweat on his face and trickling on his neck, his brilliant red hair sticking to his pale skin, chest panting for air as his eyes wildly search for his surroundings–in hopes of you, but you were not there.
Neither standing next to the window where you’d usually look up at the stars, the light of the moon on your beautiful face. Nor on the seat next to the bed, where you’d usually sit whenever he was injured, tending to his wounds or looking after him. Nor right beside him on the bed, where you’d whisper sweet nothings next to his ear, urging him to sleep after a nightmare.
But now, you were a part of it–precisely… that day.
Diluc had always been haunted by nightmares.
But never could he have ever imagined them to be with you, and when life had stolen you away from him and your dreams.
Oh, how he wished he could take himself back in time and never get involved with you to whisk you away from danger, but he knew to himself that he couldn’t take back all the precious memories he had with you.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
The General Mahamatra CYNO has and always has been a name that is widely feared by those who had heard of him.
This name, however, served no purpose to him, especially that day.
“Y/n… what are you…” he trails off as he feels your touch on his warm cheeks—“Shhh,” you say, smiling gently at him, the stars right behind you as he lay on the desert sand.
“Sleep, love… I’m here.” you whisper to him, just like when you would tell secrets right next to his ears, or when you’d tell a joke that you needed his approval of. Your other hand caressing his hair, his scalp tingling upon the gentle massage of your fingers.
“Y/n…” he reaches out to touch your face, just as you were touching his, his head still lain on your lap.
“I miss you.”
He says, but despite this, Cyno knows. Of course, he knew.
You weren’t there anymore. And this was just a figment of you in his dreams… oh how he wish to stay, but… the world was waiting for him.
You smiled as if reading his mind.
“Go on, love… I shall be waiting for you right here.”
You said those words, just like how you did that day, when he left you all alone in your abode and when you got attacked by those Mercenaries taking revenge on the General Mahamatra, only to take it out on his spouse.
He smiles, a tear unknowingly falling down one of his eyes, “I know you will.”
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
“Would you care for a dance, my dear?”
AYATO’s eyes glance up at yours through the mirror as you started to discard the comb on your hand to the dresser like you usually would right after combing his hair, offering your now free hand to his with a bright smile.
And he, like any other time, reaches for your hand and turns around to face you. He slots one hand holding yours and one on your waist, and pulls you in to sway with him, his feet moving in synch with yours as he stares into your eyes, almost as if he was competing whether who would break the eye contact first.
Just like that, the world around him zeroes into you and you only, with the silent music playing in his mind and making him move along the rhythm, as gentle and ever so graceful, like swans finding each other amidst the flock and the waters.
Yet every music comes to an end, and every dance does, no matter if there was any music or none.
One second, he was looking right through your orbs, and now, he could only see his own blue eyes, staring right back at the broken mirror right in front of him, the crack tracing right through his face and right through the tear that escaped his eyes.
In an instant, the reality slips back into him and his body deflates, still looking right through his eyes, losing its life all over again.
His eyes flicker open, and for once, he breathes out a sigh of relief.
You still looked better, even in his dreams.
┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘
The table shook as AL-HAITHAM was startled awake, hazy eyes met with others as they turn to his form on the far side of the hall, soon looking away once they had realized they had been caught staring. Once his gaze clears up, he was able to recognize why and how he had gotten to where he was at the moment, yet before he can fully shake off the sleepiness, his mind drifts off to the dream that he just had:
“Haitham, love, don’t you think you should sleep?”
“Sleep well, love, you shouldn’t tire yourself much.”
He felt his chest tighten up, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his lip unconsciously.
How could a dream feel so… real? He questioned, despite not having anyone to answer.
He could still remember the warmth of your hand skimming through his silver hair, pads massaging his scalp every chance they got. Could still remember how his nose had gotten a small whiff of your perfume mixed with your natural scent, how your voice sounded, soothed him as you had whispered right next to his ear, all clear as the light of the day.
“Y/n,” he mumbles your name as he looks down at the book right in front of him. Oh, how you detest it when he overworks himself, especially when he had no need to. He remains in his seat as he lets your voice echo in his mind over and over, hands now formed into fists as the pressure in his chest becomes heavier by the second.
In a matter of seconds, he was dragging himself out of the Akademiya and back to his home.
Back to the same home where he gets dreams of you as well.
p.s. listening to celine dion songs helped me finish this lmao
comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡
taglist on reblogs!
#yaepublishinghouse#genshin x reader#xiao x reader#scaramouche x reader#alhaitham x reader#kazuha x reader#kaeya x reader#ayato x reader#scara x reader#diluc x reader#shenhe x reader#raiden x reader#ei x reader#wanderer x reader#cyno x reader
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Ever since that running aemond pic came out I've been thinking non stop about his thighs so... would you like to write something involving riding aemond's thigh? I have no other wishes and I totally get it if you think that's not enough of a prompt. You can ignore this if you want but I'd love to see what you can come up with!
You asked for this back in June, I'm so sorry for how long this has taken me. I am a shambles of a human being, truly. I hope you've stuck around long enough to see this!
Warnings: Thigh riding, smut, me playing fast and loose with canon.
Word count: ~1.3k
The candle that rests beside her on the reading table burns low as she sits in her and Aemond’s marital chambers. The book that is spread out in front of her, Coming of the Andals, lays unread; her fingers tap anxiously against its pages, as her eyes remain fixed upon the door.
Aemond had been called to a meeting of the Small Council. They both knew why, it has been a long time coming. The injuries that Aegon sustained during the battle of Rook’s Rest have left him bedridden, he is no longer fit to rule, and their grandsire’s capacity for what he can do in his stead has reached its limit. Westeros needs a Targaryen upon the throne, and Aemond is next in line. It is a position she knows that her husband is all too eager to fill.
He ought to be back by now though, it has been hours. The evening grows late, and she has long since sent away her chambermaids, refusing to be readied for bed. She has no desire to sleep until Aemond returns, so she forgoes the comfort of her nightgown, despite longing to unlace the meticulously fastened ribbons that hold her bodice tightly in place against her ribcage.
Tiredness and impatience pluck at her nerves, making her shift irritably in her chair. She startles at a polite rap at the door, if it was Aemond then he would simply walk in, he would not bother to knock. Her brow furrows in confusion as she rises, walking towards the door to open it.
She looks down into the wide eyed anticipation of one of the Keep’s page boys. He clears his throat before speaking.
“Apologies for the disturbance at such a late hour, Princess, Prince Aemond has requested your presence in the throne room.”
She sighs, nodding and bidding the young lad goodnight, before snuffing out the candle and making her way through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards the Great Hall. The walk is long, and she is grateful she has not yet changed into her nightclothes, as the gown she wears does little to keep the chill of the castle air from nipping at her skin. She would feel annoyed at Aemond insisting she come all this way, were it not for the mixture of curiosity and excitement that flutters lightly in her chest.
Pushing open the great oak and bronze doors, her eyes scan the long carpet that stretches the length of the room, up to the high, narrow steps that lead to the raised iron dais. Aemond sits upon the throne. She stands silently as she regards him. His arms rest on either side of the asymmetrical tangle of jagged and twisted blades, long fingers curled around the makeshift armrests.
He is dressed as he was when he had left her earlier that evening; black, leather tunic, black breeches and leather boots, except this time the Conqueror’s crown sits atop his snowy head of hair, the Valyrian steel and rubies gleaming iridescent in the moonlight. He cuts quite the imposing figure as his single eye stares at her impassively.
Slowly, she descends the steps into the Hall, making her way along the carpet, maintaining eye contact with her husband the entire time. His lips quirk, the faintest trace of amusement tugging at their corners as he observes the unhurried pace with which she moves. It is not until she stands before the throne that he bothers to speak.
“It is not polite to keep your King waiting,” he utters quietly.
“Prince Regent,” she corrects him. “And it is not becoming of a King to rouse ladies from their slumber in the middle of the night.”
He huffs through his nose, smirking at her as he leans forward slightly. “You do not appear to be dressed for sleep. I must say, I am disappointed.”
“It is improper for a lady to greet the King in such a state of undress, or is that how you will have all the ladies of the court attend to you?”
“Hmmm. I have not yet decided how I would like you to attend to me. Will you curtsy to me?”
“Never,” she whispers with a playful giggle.
“Such insolence must be met with the King’s justice.”
She takes his hand as he offers it out, gasping as he tugs her forcefully up to him, her knees landing either side of one of his, as she sits against his thigh. Even through her skirts she can feel the unyielding sharpness of the throne beneath them. She steadies herself, placing her hands upon the smooth suppleness of the leather that covers his shoulders.
Aemond grasps her waist with one hand, the other moving to weave itself into her hair, as his eye drinks her in. She allows her gaze to wander to the crown, taking in the way it sinks into the thick silkiness of his hair.
“It suits you,” she says quietly.
“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”
“And is this what has kept you from our bed?”
“I wanted you to see.”
He flexes his thigh, raising his leg to brush against her clothed core and she sucks in a shaky breath, the sensation causing a jolt that makes her throb with want.
“I would have seen…” she retorts with a slight whine, as the hand holding her waist moves to her hip, gripping it tightly and encouraging her to grind against him.
“Not like this,” he hisses, tugging her head back by her hair and mouthing hotly at her neck.
She moans, her nails digging into his shoulders to ground herself, as she fucks herself against his thigh, aided by the occasional bounce and flex of the muscle from Aemond. The ache between her legs is almost unbearable, the gusset of her smallclothes growing sticky with arousal, as the sensation of his lips upon her flesh makes her shudder.
“This moment is just for us,” he mutters, pushing and pulling her more forcefully against him, encouraging her to move faster. “But we shall have many more like it.”
“Gods, Aemond, please,” she whimpers, insides clenching around nothing as the friction against her aching pearl grows more intense.
“I will fuck a babe into you upon this throne,” he snarls, shifting his hand from her hair to pluck harshly at the lacings of her gown, before tugging down her bodice and wrapping his lips around the peak of her breast.
Arching against him, she buries her hands in his hair, keeping him anchored to her chest. The warmth of his scalp and the softness of the tresses between her fingers are oddly juxtaposed with the hardened coolness of the Valyrian steel that crowns Aemond’s head, but she has little time to dwell upon it.
She cants wantonly against Aemond’s leg, the pressure in her lower belly increasing, aided by the swirl of his wet tongue against her sensitive nipple. When it finally yields, she collapses forward against him with a strangled cry of pleasure, a rush of wetness soaking her smallclothes and leaving a damp patch on the area of her husband’s trousers that she rests against. Warmth cascades over her body, making her feel boneless as she pants for breath and Aemond’s lips release her with a wet pop.
He holds her steady, leaning back to look at her, as a cat might regard a mouse it toys with. His hooded eye roves over her glassy eyes, her parted lips, her bare chest, before he lifts a hand to adjust his crown slightly.
“Hmmm. Yes. It makes everything look better.”
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond#aemond targaryen#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#pro aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd#hotd smut#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic#aemond fan fiction#aemond fanfiction#aemond fanfic
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Aemond as Prince Regent 👑
"And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron and ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. "It looks better on me than it ever did on him," the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of King but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent."
#aemond fanart#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#fanart#game of thrones#hotd#hotd art#hotd fanart#house of the dragon#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#aemond#got fanart#hotd aemond#digital painting#character art#house targaryen#prince aemond#aemond targaryen art
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Aegon Targaryen x Reader (Visenya, Rhaenys x Reader)
Summary: 𝘐𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥
Alyssa Stark didn't trust the new self proclaimed king and queens of Westeros. Specially not Aegon. She hated the way he believed himself above anyone else because he rode a dragon. Aegon didn't like Alyssa Stark either, she was too entitled in his opinion. She was polite with him and his sister and never spoke ill about him and his sisters. Not behind them nor with anyone but he knew she did not like him. He could tell.
Now, he didn't really know her, not had he never met her. It could be said the same about Alyssa. How could he know she was like then? And how could she know what he was like? A few lords had said that she would walk away at any given mention of him or his sisters. Aegon thought it might be the fact that she had to become a lady instead of a princess or queen in the future but Alyssa didn't care about status or crowns, she grew up to be a humble woman, perhaps her brothers were not but she was. She was loved by the rich and the poor all the same.
The only daughter of Torrhen Stark, the king who knelt. The young girl had been proud of her father for kneeling instead of endangering their people. She was only eight when it happened. It had been nearly seven years of Aegon's conquest and seven years of being king of the Seven Kingdoms. And she hadn't heard of him. Until he decided he wanted to visit the North, to finally see it for himself. By then, Rhaenys was with child. The first heir of the new king and queen. Visenya had chosen to accompany her brother.
King Torrhen and his family waited for the king. Lady Alyssa was sword training and simply lost track of time. Her mother, was not so pleased as she had explained to the king and queen that their stubborned daughter liked to train with a sword and often looses track of time. And it was no lie.
By the time she realized it was time for the feast, the feast was in full swing. Aegon had never met her, he had only heard that she was a quiet the beauty for a Northern girl. But, as soon as he laid eyes on her it was like falling in love for the first time. Aegon never loved his sisters. He married Visenya out of duty and Rhaneys out of desire. She had this strong beauty to her. It was entrancing, even Visenya would admit she was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. Or rather woman.
Her brother met her half way, explaining the introductions and welcome to her. She made it to the king and queens table. "My king, my queen" she said with a graceful curtsy and a soft voice. "I apologize for not being at your welcoming party. When I train I seem to loose track of time. I hope you take no ill meaning to me not being there" time had passed and she was over the whole conqueror thing and hating Aegon. She had come to the conclusion that this was for the best somehow some way.
The king nodded, being too stunned to speak. Orys, his brother eyed her, she was a pretty little thing. Unmarried too. He could ask for her hand in marriage. Visenya excused the girl who left with a nod. An hour into the celebration, a young lord from the North gave the girl a crown of blue roses. Her favorite. Visenya watched as her brother's eyes followed the girl all night. He watched her laugh, talk and smile. And she had managed to look graceful and more beautiful as she did it.
Alyssa made it over the kings table. Visenya thought she was coming to flirt with her brother as any other noble lady did as he was the king but, to her surprise she came for her. "Will the queen allow me a dance?" she asked stretching out her hand. Visneya was shocked, no one really paid her any attention. Aegon himself was shocked but he was more shocked as her sister smiled and took her hand.
The song was slow at first but as the second passed it became clearer they had to move. Visneya followed her steps and began to dance, allowing her feet to lead her. Most of the night Visenya was sat but near the end, lady Alyssa made sure the queen was sore the next day from all the dancing.
As the days passed, Alyssa and Visneya became friends. Alyssa liked to think they were. Even if it was a small bit of friendship. Visenya was amazed by Alyssa's skills with a sword. And that, made them closer. As her time to retuned to King's Landing neared, Visenya became sad, she was about to leave the only friend she had behind. Orys, had the idea to take her back to King's Landing and have her as a lady in waiting.
Soon enough, the Northern girl bid her goodbye and left for King's Landing. Visenya felt like she had a friend but as always, Rhaneys wanted Alyssa all for herself. Alyssa liked Rhaenys but not as much as Visenya. After helping Rhaenys she would go and find Visenya the two would train and gossip about the latest gossip of the capital. Visenya became pregnant a year after Rhaenys and Alyssa stood by her side every step of the way, she even protected her when assassins tried to kill her, risking her own life to save her queen.
Aegon's infatuation grew since. It was like a magnet. Visenya and Rhaenys watched it happen. Aegon tried everything to woo the girl who always rejected him in a kindly manner. "My king, please. I just wish for you to leave me alone. I am loyal to my friends. Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys" she said as the king had corner her once again. He moved out the way, letting her walk by. Visenya, like Rhaenys gave birth to a boy. And to her fear the maester claimed her unable to bear another child, just like Rhaenys. Visenya cried in Alyssa's arms as Rhaenys had done the year before.
Aegon knew he had to take a new wife. He needed daughters and what better match than Alyssa. The letter reached her father who agreed. Who was he to deny the king? No one. Visenya was angry at her brother but then, she realized this was a good idea. Alyssa would never have to go home and marry a lord who would've taken far away from her. Alyssa herself was angry and shocked at the same time. Why were the Gods so cruel? Why her? Visenya and Rhaenys explained the good outcome. They would never have to be separated ever again. She was ten and six when she married Aegon in the year eight. Then, a year later, she gave birth to a son. Aerion.
Not soon after she gave birth again. This time, a girl. Aegon Targaryen wept tears of joy as did his sisters. Valaena Targaryen, future queen of the seven kingdoms. In the year twelve she gave birth again, this time twins. Lyanna and Lysanne Targaryen future wives or Maegor and Aerion. In the year fifteen her last children were born, Daemion and Dyanna.
Aegon watched from his balcony. He knew his wives loved him but a part of him knew neither Visenya nor Rhaenys would ever love him as much as they loved Alyssa. Alyssa Stark had been a blessing in disguise. She came into their lives at the right time. Rhaenys and Visenya would often say they would have not survive without her. She made sure they made it after knowing they would never have any more children.
Aegon was content that she gave him the children he wanted. The family he always wanted. Rhaenys sat with Visenya as the two watched the children. Aenys was ten, Maegor nine, Aerion eight, Valaena seven, Lyanna and Lysanne five, Daemion and Dyanna two.
Alyssa gave him six children. Four of them daughters. And the king loved his sweet girls so much. As much as he loved their mother. As he watched he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. "What does my king think about?" Alyssa asked. "About how much he loves you. About how much he loves his children. His sisters" he replied as he pulled her in for a hug. "They love you as well" she replied as she laid her head on his chest.
Visenya and Rhaneys looked their way and smiled at them. He knew Alyssa didn't just warm his bed but his sisters too. He didn't care though, she made them happy. The three of them. She didn't just gave him the daughters he always wanted and more. She gave his family the life they all needed to truly be happy. The Targaryen siblings had never known this much peace. And, Alyssa Targaryen brought Dorne to King's Landing. Stating that one of her children's children would marry the heir of Dorne to create and alliance, giving Dorne what they merely wanted. Peace.
#daemon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#house of the dragon x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#jacaerys velaryon x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#helaena targaryen x reader#harwin strong x reader#game of thrones x reader
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Consider: Conqueror!Ghost fucking Princess Reader in her room, Soap chained up in a corner of the room, unable to help as his princess’ virginity is fucked away by this massive man who isn’t being at all gentle. Not even bothering to undress her or stretch her, just yanking her skirt up enough to have access and going right for it.
if i was ever gonna do something with this it would probably be like the first ghoap idea i posted but oh my god. this ask. like im fanning mysef babe
this would hurt guard!johnny soooooo bad :( he's literally dedicated his entire life to protecting the princess, has sworn to never marry, never have any kids, so he can be ready to die protecting her if it ever comes to that
and here comes conqueror!ghost, who slaughters the king and queen and takes the princess for himself. doesn't kill johnny for some reason, but lets him fight for a while :( johnny's bloody and nearly broken trying to protect the princess, and he just keeps getting up and charging at ghost, trying desperately to save you. ghost is literally playing with him, just knocks him to the side with a single blow
johnny waking up chained to the wall with a collar he knows they used for the king's hounds, stuck on his knees staring wide-eyed at the bed, where ghost is splitting his princess open on his cock where she's on her back with her knees pushed up to her ears. and at first ghost is looking down at her, but when johnny jerks forward and the chains rattle ghost's face turns to his, and he just smiles fucking viciously, every tooth showing, as he fucks her harder, hold her jaw wide open so johnny can hear her screams
and for ghost... having this pretty virginal little princess being split in half on his cock is heaven, but turning and looking at the big bloody guard getting his heart broken, knowing everything he's sacrificed is for nothing, that he's not strong enough to have protected his princess from ghost's brutality... it's that devastation that gets him coming inside the princess. pulls her off his cock and forces her to sit up, spreads her legs wide and fucks his come in and out of her with his fingers right in front of johnny's face. grabs her by the jaw and forces her to look, to see the way her guard watches her
johnny snarling and jerking at the chain, nearly choking himself, screaming and shouting every violent threat he can think of and swearing he'll tear ghost apart with his bare hands. and ghost just laughs, slips his cock back into the pretty princess and makes him watch her ride her conqueror's cock
side bar - i love ghost taking the princess' virginity in front of soap, but i also kinda love him forcing johnny to take her virginity. mutual noncon & johnny having to brutalize the one person he swore to protect? maybe ghost fucks johnny at the same time, shows him how to properly fuck since he's never done it before :(
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Missing (Part 5) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]
A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter, my loves! Feedback is always appreciated ❤️
Early that morning, Aemond held a sleeping Jaehaera in his arm, the toddler sleeping on his shoulder as he sat in one of the armchairs in Helaena's chambers.
His daughter always slept so soundly around him, the thought bringing a ghost of a smile to his lips.
Little Jaehaerys slept peacefully in his cot and Aemond gave the boy a fond glance before returning to the book he was reading in his free hand.
Even as his eye scanned the pages of the book, Aemond could not comprehend a single word. Too preoccupied by thoughts of you.
When you had given him the kiss that healed him in the cave, you had awakened something in the one-eyed Prince. If he closed his eye and let his mind drift, he could still feel the warmth of your full lips upon his, your almost mystical powers tingling against his flesh. Even the gentle touch of your hands reminded him of the spring sunlight underneath the weirwood tree where the two of you had spent so many seasons together…
"You seem distracted, ever since you've arrived from Storm's End," came Helaena's soft, dreamy voice, the observation accurate as ever.
"Hmm," Aemond agreed.
In the hours since you had departed from Storm's End, you were present in the forefront of his mind. The snowy haired prince spent his moments recalling every single detail of you, every single memory of you that he held.
How fond his father and mother had been of you. How you argued with Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys when they took their teasing too far. How intently you spent your time studying, your brows furrowing with concentration as you studied the arts of healing and different tongues spoken in Westeros and beyond. How he'd often find you sitting with a book under the weirwood tree, and how your eyes would light up when you'd see that it was him who had interrupted your solitude.
How hurt you had been when he turned his anger on you that night in Driftmark, tears shining in your doe-eyes as he pushed you aside for claiming Vhagar's strength as his own. All you had ever done was loved him and in return, he had hurt you and cast you aside.
Aemond's thoughts then shifted from memories of your childhood to the present.
What a strong-willed and accomplished woman you had grown up into, maturing into a woman so beautiful that any man in Westeros would be fortunate to have you. How well you had honed and controlled your powers, how you had even become a dragon rider and a woman trained in combat as well.
You were nothing like his sister, the mother of his children, who occupied herself with her bugs, her needlework, her dreams and her babies.
Had you never left, perhaps Aemond would have asked for your hand in marriage upon growing a little older, upon gaining a little maturity. Upon seeing and appreciating you for who you truly were. Perhaps the child, now sleeping in his arms, would have been yours and his…
His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Ser Arryk who stepped through the door of Helaena's chambers.
"I apologise for the interruption My Queen, My Prince. The King requests your presence in the Throne Room. Urgently," the knight of the Kingsguard and Aegon's close friend spoke.
Aemond frowned. Strange. Aegon was never an early riser, too inebriated from his drinking and whoring the night before to make it to the Small Council meetings before late afternoon.
"Both of us?" Helaena asked Ser Arryk, gesturing for her handmaiden to take Jaehaera, who was still sleeping, from Aemond's arms.
"Yes, My Queen."
Helaena looked at Aemond with concern, rising to her feet nevertheless and following the knight.
Aemond walked a few steps behind her, letting her lead the way to the Throne Room.
King Aegon sat atop the Iron Throne, holding what looked like two pieces of crumpled parchment in his hands, the black and gold doublet and the crown of Aegon The Conqueror he wore giving him a look of authority.
The Throne Room was empty, save for the presence of a handful of the gold cloaks of the City Watch and the white cloaked Kingsguard. And Queen Mother Alicent Hightower and her father, Hand of the King, Otto Hightower.
Upon seeing his sister-wife and brother enter the Throne Room, King Aegon's face morphed from seriousness to absolutely seething with rage.
"Your Grace, must you do this?" Queen Mother Alicent asked her eldest son, worry laced in her voice, her expression one of utter distress, who held up a hand to silence her.
"I've been a pawn in your scheming long enough, Mother," the King stated. "This is something I wish to find out for myself."
Turning to Aemond and Helaena, the King tossed his brother one of the pieced of parchment he held. "Something interesting arrived by raven at dawn."
Hastily, Aemond smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper, reading its contents at which he slowly felt the blood drain off his face. The broken white wax seal contained no sigil, the penmanship unrecognisable to the one-eyed scholar.
When he looked at Helaena, Aemond could see that she had grown white as a sheet. Cowering at his side, having read the letter with her own eyes.
Trying carefully to conceal the dread that he felt in his heart, the King's younger brother opened his mouth to speak.
But the King interjected him. "Do you deny these charges?"
"My King," Otto Hightower began. "We mustn't let such base calumnies create divide within the house of the Conqueror-"
"Do shut up, Grandfather," Aegon hissed. "I am addressing my siblings, not you. You need to hold your tongue given how useless you've been with securing Princess Rhaenyra's surrender at Dragonstone."
Otto Hightower stared at the King with baleful eyes but gratefully remained silent.
As did the rest of the hall.
"You both don't even have the decency to deny these charges? Shall I assume them as truth, then?" Aegon asked.
"These are blatant lies, Aegon," Aemond said, finding his voice. "Filthy rumours started by enemies to create friction amongst us. We remain ever loyal to you. I've secured House Baratheon for you with my betrothal and-"
"You know, it amuses me that you mention House Baratheon," the King said, leaning back in his seat and drawing out the second piece of parchment, shaking it angrily in his hand. "I received a raven from Borros Baratheon this morning. He has clearly stated that he refuses to ally himself with a Prince who's reputation is sullied by rumours of adultery and fathering of bastards. According to him, your betrothal to his precious Cassandra is now at an end, Aemond. And he is CONSIDERING SWEARING ALLEGIANCE TO RHAENYRA'S FACTION!" the King bellowed, his voice echoing through the Throne Room, sending Aemond's blood run cold. "Perhaps this 'lie' does have some merit to it after all."
"Who- How many?" Aemond gaped.
"The Riverlands, The Vale and the Reach have allied themselves with the Blacks, having received similar letters in the last few hours," King Aegon said, running a hand across his face wearily. "Dorne and the North are currently considering generous terms from Princess Rhaenyra. So, I ask you both once again, is this all a lie?"
Helaena remained silent at Aemond's side, unable to speak a word. While the one eyed Prince looked up at his brother, stunned into silence.
The silence stretched out for a few long and unbearable moments, while Aemond pondered who could have done this?
"Fine," Aegon spoke. "Have it your way. Kingsguard, hold the Queen confined in the Tower of the Hand until my command. Take the twins with her."
Ser Arryk stepped up beside Helaena who had now begun to weep. She threw her arms around Aemond in tears, clinging to him almost desperately while he stood shocked. "Aemond, please, stop them…" she sobbed.
"The remedy is obscured in frost, enwreathed in darkened flames, Aemond! The remedy is obscured in frost, enwreathed in darkened flames!" she cried, and he could only wonder at the meaning of her words.
Before Aemond could ask her what her words meant, Helaena was being pried forcefully away from him by Ser Arryk who guided her out of the Throne Room as her cries turned to wails.
"My King," Otto Hightower said, an urgency finding its way into his voice. "You cannot hold your Queen captive!"
At this, Aegon laughed ruefully. "For as long as I remember, I've been nothing but a bargaining tool in your machinations. Less a grandchild and more a stepping stone on your way to the top of the social ladder of Westeros. I have endured the verbal and physical abuse you and Mother meted out, forever listening and acquiescing to your demands. No more. I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms and my command is that Aemond Targaryen be exiled from the Crownlands. Indefinitely."
Aegon turned his rage toward his brother, his voice turning cold. "Before the day of my coronation, I begged you to let me escape to the Free Cities. You were the one who was always going to be better than me at being King, you said. I never wanted to marry Helaena. I only wanted to spar with my nephews and was content with my childish pranks on you, Aemond. I never wished to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms. But the crown of the Conqueror now rests on my head and you have committed treason against your King. I refuse to be humiliated any further by my own kin," he said. "Consider yourself grateful that I am sparing your life from a public execution. I am sparing you from lifelong duty on The Wall with the Night's Watch. You will surrender your wretched dragon to the dragonkeepers and make your leave from King's Landing within an hour. Never to return."
"Aegon, please! Have mercy!" Queen Mother Alicent pleaded, tears running down her own face as she watched the men of the City Watch drag her second son away from the Throne Room.
The sound of her cries echoing through the halls was the last thing Aemond remembered before the doors to the Throne Room were shut in his face.
You sat at the Painted Table in the Great Hall of Dragonstone, with Jacaerys beside you while you waited with Lucerys, Rhaena and Baela for the Queen Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and the rest of the Lords and knights on the island to begin the council session.
Jace could see the worry on your face, his hand gently grazing your own in a gesture of reassurance. When you looked at him, he gave you a comforting smile. It will be alright, sweet one, you could almost hear him say.
It was the sound of approaching footsteps that drew you to your feet, Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon smiling, positively smiling, as they walked into the room followed by their knights and lords.
"We have received ravens this morning from the Vale, the Reach and the Riverlands. Lords from major and minor houses swearing allegiance to our side," the Queen informed you all, beaming.
Exhaling the breath you did not realise you were holding, you looked at Jace, who was now smiling openly at you, making a smile break out upon your own lips.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, freshly returned from the Stepstones having recovered from his bout of fever then took over the council.
Briefing you all about his plan to place blockades on The Gullet with his fleet, obstructing the main pathway of trade and commerce to Westeros: The Narrow Sea.
The whole council heartily agreed with the plan, Princess Rhaenys proposing that she would patrol The Gullet herself, starting that very same day, upon the back of her dragon, Meleys.
It was when Prince Daemon brought up the topic of bringing House Stark to Queen Rhaenyra's cause that you saw Maester Gerardys rush into the room with a message.
He handed it to Prince Daemon, before giving you and Jacaerys a rather significant look and taking his own seat at the table.
Reading the piece of parchment in his hand, you could see joy sparkling in Prince Daemon's eyes as he let out a victorious laugh.
"My spies in King's Landing have just informed me that Aegon the cunt has exiled his own brother, Aemond, while imprisoning his sister-wife Helaena and her children in the Tower of the Hand," he said. "He has also sacked Otto Hightower as Hand of the King, replacing him with Criston Cole."
You looked at the map on the Painted Table, trying to avoid anyone's eyes, trying to make sense of what you were feeling. It was a tumult of emotions, ranging from triumph and vindication to a hint of sadness.
The sadness you felt was for Helaena's children, for being discriminated against on the account of their bastardy. You had no love left for Helaena herself, your heart being too resentful after hearing the confirmation that she had borne Aemond's children. You knew that deep down, it was no fault of hers, but you just felt so bitter about her relationship with him.
Jacaerys gave your hand a squeeze, seeming to sense exactly what you felt and you found yourself looking up at him with a small, restrained smile.
"This war's trajectory has been drastically altered, my Lords and Ladies," Prince Daemon said, calling for an end to the meeting.
Just as you were about to exit the hall, you heard Queen Rhaenyra call out to you and Jacaerys.
You could feel your heart thundering in your chest as you made your way back to the table. Had you been found out?
"Cregan Stark, the Wolf of the North, is a man closer to your ages than mine," the Queen said. "Jacaerys, you will depart on dragonback to treat with the Lord. And you shall accompany him to Winterfell, my dear," she said, turning to you.
"Me?" you asked, flabbergasted.
"Yes, dear one. You," the Queen asserted, reaching out to take your hands in hers. "I am not doing the mistake of sending my son without you, as I had done with Lucerys. If it weren't for you, he would be…" she trailed off and you understood exactly what she meant.
"You honour me, My Queen," you said, grasping her own hands with yours. "But I have no royal blood-"
"In the past few days, you have behaved more like royalty than anyone. You have demonstrated how instrumental you are to our side in this war. Not only did you rescue my Luke from sure death, you helped secure the allegiances of so many houses all at once," she said, giving you a knowing smile.
"I- How did you…?" you stuttered, giving Jace an accusing stare but he held up his own hands in surrender as if to say that it wasn't me.
"It was Maester Gerardys, who informed me what you had done," the Queen replied.
"On both occasions, at Storm's End and by writing those letters, you acted without the leave of your Queen," Prince Daemon said, smiling impishly at you. "Your sense of rebellion, your determination to do what is right is something I deeply admire, little one."
"My Prince, I-"
"You remind me of myself, dearest," Queen Rhaenyra said fondly. "Once upon a time, I, too, flew here to Dragonstone, without the permission of my father, the King Viserys, to retrieve a dragon's egg that my now lord husband had stolen."
"Hey!" Prince Daemon chuckled, acting like he was hurt by his wife's words.
"You've proven yourself worthy at every test, my dear. And I'm sure Jace will appreciate your company in the cold and hard North," the Queen said.
"Thank you, My Queen," you could only manage to speak, still trying to come to terms with the consequences of your actions as you left the Great Hall with Jacaerys.
You were in your chambers, restlessly fretting over which dresses and gowns you must take along with you to Winterfell.
Accustomed to the warm and pleasant weather at King's Landing and Dragonstone, you were hardly equipped to deal with the harsh Northern cold.
Also playing in your mind was the news of Aemond's exile. You had not believed Aegon of being capable of it, truth be told. But he had, in fact, exiled his younger brother while keeping his dragon, Vhagar.
Where would Aemond go now? He was effectively homeless, a traitor declared by the King himself. What was he going to do next? He had no lands or holdings of his own, the King must have ensured to strip those away, too. His betrothal with the Baratheon girl was ended. He was separated from Helaena and his children. Surely this would cause a great deal of anger in him, but how would he retaliate? Would he find out that it was you who had written those-
A knock on the door interrupted your relentless train of thought, and when you asked the person to enter, expecting your handmaiden to return with the cloaks and gloves you had asked her to fetch, you found Jacaerys walking in instead.
"All ready to leave?" he asked, brightly, his eyes taking in the mess of clothes in your bedroom.
You chuckled, placing a hand on your forehead. "Well, almost," you sighed closing your eyes to cease your overthinking.
"Hey," the dark haired Prince said, taking a hold of your other hand in both of his. "Are you still worried about Aemond?" he asked, reading you like an open book.
"I am," you admitted. "He attacked Luke with no provocation, despite Luke insisting that he had come to Storm's End as a messenger and not a warrior. What do you think he'll do to me if he finds out that it was my letter that got him exiled?" you asked, concern growing in your urgently whispered words.
"You have nothing to worry about, sweet one," Jace said, tugging you closer until you stood before him, his brown eyes shining with warmth. "You are a dragonrider, a fighter, a healer. You have already proved that you can defend yourself in dire situations."
"But-"
"And I will be by your side," he promised. "My uncle won't harm you unless he goes through me first. I give you my word."
You smiled at his words. Jacaerys always had a way about him that made you feel warm and secure.
Safe.
"I'm also afraid that I'm going to be an utter disaster in Winterfell," you admitted.
At this, Jace openly chortled. "What are you talking about? You will be the delight of Winterfell!" he said, his hand gently sweeping a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "The North will finally have some warmth and light from the radiance of your beauty."
"You flatter me, Jace," you said as colour flushed your cheeks.
"I mean it," he said, before thinking for a moment. "But if Lord Cregan Stark decides to make a move on you, I'll have to kill him."
"Jacaerys!" you exclaimed, before bursting into a fit of laughter along with him.
You'd be fine in Winterfell.
You'd be alright, you were certain.
Almost.
Part 6
#angst#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond x oc#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys x reader
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Fluff alphabet with Xiao
A little sfw alphabet for our favourite Adeptus, no usage of y/n and the reader is gender neutral
Warnings: none just fluffy fluff, because it’s Xiao there is a teeny tiny bit of angst like he’s insecure etc, slight spoilers of Xiao’s story and voicelines, English isn’t my first language so if you see mistakes please tell me
A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)
He likes the way you can calm him, reassure him that he’s doing enough… he likes how you just love him for who he is and don’t judge him for his past and weaknesses. He likes feeling understood
B = Bonding (what's your favorite mutual bonding activity?)
He just melts when he lays his head on your lap and you start tracing his tattoo, feeling his scars etc… just feeling his skin with your soft touch
However, it will take him some time to let you be that intimate with him. (He will flinch the first times you try to caress him, even if you warn him beforehand)
C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)
Xiao will never admit it but he likes to be cradled and held. Please let him rest him on top of you but don’t comment on it or he’ll never do it again…
When you want to be held, he’ll gladly do it, embracing you until you fall asleep in his arms
D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)
Dates with Xiao would be very peaceful and calm in general. Before being in a relationship with you, Xiao knew barely anything about dates, so he was a little nervous at the idea of having some with you. He likes to take you out to stroll in quiet areas of Liyue, where he just holds your hand and enjoys your presence and the scenery
E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)
At the beginning of your relationship, Xiao finds it very difficult to show you how he feels. He has a hard time communicating with his words and prefers to use actions and kind gestures to convey his love. After some time, he gets a little better at expressing his feelings but his love language doesn’t change
F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)
Xiao would not be comfortable at the idea of having a family. He is the protector of Liyue, the Vigilant Yaksha and the Conqueror of Demons, he does not have time for such things. If you take enough time to convince him (you better be immortal lol) he will maybe give it a thought
G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)
Giving you gifts wouldn’t be something regular for him. It’s always unexpected and so meaningful. Xiao doesn’t give you gifts to give you gifts. He shares a part of his soul, it’s like a piece of his dedication towards you. You talked about something you liked to him? He will store this information in a corner of his mind and offer it to you when you already forgot about it
H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)
In public, Xiao will never hold your hands. He’s not a fan of pda and if you just look at him lovingly in front of others he will pass away.
When the both of you are alone though, he likes to touch your hands, feel your palm and fingers with his. It just feels very intimate to him
I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)
He will blame himself. Please reassure him or he’ll never forgive himself… he will make sure you’re alright and patch you up the best he can. He even would go to Bubu pharmacy to see if there is a way to relieve the pain
J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)
Xiao isn’t a prankster (shocking I know) though he appreciates humorous people and will gladly listen to your jokes with a slight smile plastered on his face
K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)
Whatever you do, he will always be a blushing mess afterwards. He is the most comfortable with soft and short kisses where your lips barely touch
When you do kiss him more passionately, he just stops functioning. He will look at you wide-eyed and just won’t say a word, completely flustered
L = Love Confession (how'd they confess to you? how'd you get together?)
I think your relationship just kind of happened. He is the kind of guy to dismiss his feelings towards you until you’re literally hugging him. Afterwards he notices how much effect you have on him and it’s honestly a little scary to him
M = Memory (favorite memory together?)
During the festival season, no one used to pray to him. That’s until you came in his life, and each year, offered incense for him. He said he didn’t care that people wouldn't pray for him but when you did, something felt so special about it. It made his heart flutter and he thinks seeing you being all giddy about it afterwards makes it the best memory of you two. Even if it’s “simple” it means so much more to him
N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)
The mere thought of hurting you on accident makes him sick. What is his karmic debt ended up harming you? What if you saw him in his true form and were so terrified or disgusted by it that you would leave him? These thoughts could easily make Xiao spiral and in these moments he just needs you to reassure him, although he will never ask for any kind of support
O = Obvious (how obvious do they make it that they like you?)
Noticing that Xiao fell for you was quite difficult. He dismissed his own feelings for a long time and hid his emotions towards you even more. The only “clue” would have been that he actually cared for you. He would enjoy spending time with you, unlike with other mortals
P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)
I think pet names are one of the things Xiao doesn’t really understand about humans. You have a name why should he call you something else..? If you insist he’ll call you something like “love” to make you happy
Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)
Xiao doesn’t feel the need to be vocal during your quality time. Just cuddling with you in bed will already make him feel so content without the need to utter a word. It could also be just sitting outside in the evening, silently admiring how the sun goes down in Liyue while his fingers are intertwined with yours
R = Romance (how romantic are they?)
Xiao is romantic in his own way. He doesn’t know much about human love traditions, so he just shows you his loves his own way. It can be by just by discreetly sliding your hand in his (it wasn’t on purpose of course, we all believe you Xiao) or by letting you eat some of his almond Tofu without complaining
S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)
Xiao is not one to discuss about how he feels. He will open up with some a lot of time and tell you about his past, but they are some things that will remain a mystery to you
T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)
Just getting to talk to him was a hassle, imagine getting him to realise that he likes you and that you like him back?! You better be patient because this man will take forever to get in a relationship with you
U = Unique (what makes them unique?)
As an Adeptus, I think Xiao is already pretty unique. He has a few cute quirks that will always make you smile (like eating snow). In a relationship, Xiao would be quite unique too. Since he’s not a human and knows not much about them, he handles his love for you in his own way, clumsily but very sweetly
V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? do they like to show you off?)
Like I said before, Xiao isn’t a pda-fan at all. He would be very proud of building a trusting relationship between you two but he would definitely not show it in public. Not a lot of people would even know that he is in a relationship with someone
W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)
He would be terrified at the thought of loosing you. Xiao probably wouldn’t even let you fight along with him, but if you were to, he would be overprotective give his absolute best.
X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)
Very, very poorly… he just doesn’t get human emotions (he tries his best with you though 🥺). As time goes on, he starts to get used to your habits and gets a grasp of how to deal with your emotions. Be patient with him, he really wants to understand you
Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)
I just imagine him doing his research asking Zhongli on how to correctly propose. Poor guy he is completely panicked at the idea of messing up. Once he’s prepared enough, he will take you to a nice calm spot under the moonlight and get on one knee. He will be so nervous during the whole evening, it would be impossible for you not to notice it.
Z = Zzz (how do they act when they're sleepy? what's it like sharing a bed with them?)
Xiao canonically doesn’t sleep, but if you were to let him rest on your chest while playing with his hair… there would be a slight chance of him dozing off… 🤫
When you’re asleep in your shared bed though, Xiao likes look at you sleeping. He prays he doesn’t come of as a creep, but seing you so peaceful just does something to him
Thank you for reading!
Masterlist
#xiao fluff#xiao fanfic#xiao x reader#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#sfw alphabet#xiao genshin x reader
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part two of dad!daemon headcanon pleaseeee 😭
𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄, 𝐏𝐓𝟐:
pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader
reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!
warnings: fluff, daemon being an awesome dad, more fluff, just pure fluff.
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
It's been five years since you gave birth to your last child.
You and Daemon had a beautiful baby girl, that he decided to name Viserra.
Since her birth, Daemon became even more protective towards you and the children.
He knew his brother wasn't going to live many more years, and Alicent was showing herself to be a threat in the council.
You tried not to worry too much, and also tried to keep him calm.
Daemon spends most of his days teaching sword fighting to his sons — and daughter.
Alyssa always wanted to play with your husband’s legendary sword, Darksister.
On her fifteenth name day celebration, he gave her her own.
"Valyrian steel..." She whispered, her eyes were full of emotion. "Father, I don't know what to say"
"All legendary swords have names. The conqueror had Blackfyre, I have Darksister, your brother Rhaegon named his Devour. What's yours called?"
Alyssa being your husband's daughter, you couldn't think of a different answer;
"Doombringer."
Daemon couldn't be more proud of his little warrior.
But he was also worried about her.
Alyssa finally became of age, and Daemon's brother, King Viserys, thought it would be the best for the house of the dragon to marry one of his sons to her.
Of course it wouldn't be with the second heir to the throne. Aegon was already married to his sister, Helaena.
And, Daeron was in Oldtown, so certainly it wouldn't be to him either.
"What did you say to him?" You asked your husband.
"I said, I'm not marrying my little girl to that psychopath one-eyed son of his!"
"Daemon!"
"What? I don't care if he exiles me for the hundredth time, my daughter is not going to marry that freak! The kid killed cats for fun when he was 12, Y/N!"
Daemon was protective over all his kids, but especially Viserra.
She was the only royal child in the castle, so she didn't really have anyone to play with her.
And like a good father, he didn't mind making her company.
Viserra was curious and a fast learner.
Daemon usually took her for walks on the dragonpit to see Caraxes, but never to rides, because she wasn't fond of heights.
She liked to learn about the dragons but not to be on top of one.
She also loved when Daemon talked to her in high valyrian.
"Do you wanna know something interesting?" He said playfully and she nodded, "The valyrian word for "love" and "need" are the same."
"Really?" She gasped.
"Really." He chuckled, "For example, jorrāelagon ao. Now, what did I say?"
"Love you."
"Yes, but so is "need you". The phrases are the same."
"Jorrāelagon ao" She repeated, hugging Daemon's huge torso.
He loved his girls more than anything, but he'd always remember to pay some attention to his boys too.
At the age of 18, Rhaegon spent most of his time on the westerosi skies, riding his beloved Araxes.
Daemon not only taught his sons sword fighting, but gladly showed them his amazing riding skills.
With the help of his father, Maegon finally found a dragon for himself. He claimed Seasmoke after Laenor's passing.
Both boys shared their father's adventurous spirit, and they loved to be on the air.
"I bet Aemond couldn't do this with that old burden of his!" Shouted Rhaegon, exhibiting his riding tricks.
"Vhagar can't even put herself in the air without falling to pieces!" Maegon mocked.
"I think she's so old that she saw Aemond's hair and thought it was Visenya taking her to conquer Dorne!" Daemon laughed.
His kids were his joy.
a/n: check out part 3 here
#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen imagines#daemon targaryen x oc#house of the dragon imagines#daemon targaryen headcanons#house of the dragon#dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au#dad!daemon targaryen au
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Lips anon! AHHHHH I loved the royal au write 😭 😭 😭 😭
I loved the world building and the inclusion of the other characters!!! Imagine the Princess catching Miguel being playful with a little one and she can't help but get wooed 🤭
Had to be saving drafts every 5 minutes :') but totally Worthed ❤️.
You wished you could have some sort of device to capture the scene before you. The mighty Red Eyed Demon, Conqueror of many lands, King of Arachne, Leader of The elite task force known as Arachne's Society, was holding a toddler as his other hand shook the small toy before the bundle of joy that seemed entranced by it.
Fiery red hair, freckles dashing her face, green lovely big eyes full of wonder, it was a girl. Tiny hands trying to pry the small trinket from his gigantic hand. She had a little outfit just like the rest of the elite.
Her bubbly laughter softened his eyes, a rare sight. And you happened to be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. Carefully and silently you retreated to your chambers with new material to add to your diary.
He was gentle. And seemed good with kids so far. It was two of the things you had described from your ideal type of man in previous pages. You'd add to the list of things he was. A new perspective of him opened for you. Hopefully in a future you would be able to explore it with him.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#💋 anon#atsv miguel#t writes✨#asks and replies#royal au
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Dragon's Bane (part 3) ~ Aemond Targaryen
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader
word count: 1.4k
warnings: language, sensual themes
note: the long-awaited part 3! I think I shall do part 4, I really want to see their wedding! thanks for being patient and for all the love I read every comment I get! hope you enjoy 💚
masterlist
Dowager Queen Alicent’s eyes are wide when Aemond presents you to Aegon in the throne room. Aegon smirks at the sight of you, his eyebrows lifting in amusement.
“How did you manage this, brother?” Aegon asks, his voice full of curiosity.
“Our niece is desperate to wed me,” Aemond announces, causing your neck to whip around towards him. The look in your eye is murderous. There are murmurs throughout the crowd at Aemond’s statement.
“Is this true, niece?” Aegon asks, the crown of the conqueror atop is silver head. His seated position is lazy, limbs spread out across the Iron Throne.
That is my mother’s chair.
Anger courses through your limbs, causing your hands to shake. Aegon frowns.
“Have you taken her tongue, brother?” Aegon asks, “I do not recall her so quiet.”
“That would be unwise,” Aemond says, shifting from one foot to the other. Aegon nods in agreement.
“Ah yes,” he says, biting his lower lip as he observes you, “would be a terrible loss for such a pretty girl.”
You do not trust your voice, contending to glare up at your uncle. Aegon’s smile only grows at your continued silence.
“Kneel before me niece,” he commands, gesturing towards the floor. Your lip curls into a snarl.
Alicent watches you, your unwavering defiance, how your knees shake where you stand. You remind her so much of Rhaenyra it feels as though a fist has wrapped itself around her heart. Aegon tilts his head to the side.
“Kneel before me, and I shall grant what you desire,” Aegon tells you, “you may marry my brother.”
You bite your lip, tasting copper. You refuse to cry. You will not give the greens the satisfaction of seeing the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen cry.
You glance toward Aemond. He is looking straight ahead, and does not meet your eye. Gritting your teeth, you relax your body, letting yourself sink to your knees. You bow your head, avoiding Aegon’s smug grin.
“A pretty sight, I’m sure my brother shall enjoy it,” Aegon says, glancing towards Aemond. Aemond leans forward, nodding at Aegon’s words. He glances at you only then, watching the blush blooming on your cheeks. Aemond is sure this is due to the anger you are holding inside of you, threatening to spill over. The blood of the dragon is strong indeed.
“Surely, we need to keep her under watch,” Otto Hightower says. He stands next to his daughter, watching you kneel.
“A black cell is certainly no place for my niece,” Aegon says, pouting, “much less so my brother’s wife.”
“She shall stay in my chambers,” Aemond drolls, walking over to you. You let your eyes move from their spot on the floor, sliding up towards his face. Aemond holds a hand out to you, his face revealing none of the emotions he feels. Though he cannot help the thrill that runs through him, the stiffening of his cock, at the sight of you on your knees before him, glassy-eyed and full of rage.
It ignites a feeling of desire inside of him he did not deem possible.
You reach up and take his hand, rising to your feet.
“Keep Prince Aemond doors heavily guarded,” Otto commands a goldcloak who stands near him, “and what of her dragon?”
“What about her?” you snap, breaking your silence. Otto’s eyes meet yours but Aegon breaks into applause.
“She speaks!” he says merrily, clasping his hands together. You feel your hands curl into fists.
“Confine the beast to the dragonpit,” Alicent says, fiddling with her fingers. You’ve seen your mother perform similar compulsions, twisting the rings that adorn her fingers. It sends a sharp pain piercing through your heart.
“Come,” Aemond says, wrapping a hand around your forearm, “let us return to our chambers.”
Aemond begins to lead you from the throne room, Aegon chuckling darkly behind you.
“Do not do anything I wouldn’t do, brother,” he says, sending a shiver down your spine. Aemond keeps his hand on your arm the entirety of the walk back to his chambers. Your chambers. Your prison cell.
Two goldcloaks trail behind you and position themselves outside of Aemond’s doors, closing them behind you both. You turn to face him.
“That served no purpose,” you snap, irritated beyond belief.
Aemond presses a finger to your lips, silencing you.
“The walls have ears,” he murmurs. The goldcloaks are right outside. He ushers you through the antechamber, deeping into his bedchamber away from listening ears.
“We received approval to wed,” Aemond says, pouring a glass of wine, “that serves quite a purpose, if I recall our previous conversation.”
Your mouth twists into a frown.
“When shall we be wed?”
Aemond shrugs at the question.
“Aegon is always in the mood for a feast,” he says, taking a sip from his cup, “soon, I would believe.”
He motions to the furniture around the room.
“You are free to make yourself comfortable,” he says. You remain standing. He shrugs, dropping his frame onto a chair.
“We need a plan,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He lifts a brow at you.
“We have a plan,” he tells you, taking another sip from his chalice, “we are to marry.”
You scoff at him.
“And then what?” you ask, incredulously.
“Surely your mother has explained what lies in the marriage be-” he begins before you wave his hand to shush him.
“I know what happens,” you grumble, cheeks flushing. Not that you planned on actually doing any actual marital duties with Aemond. But the thought sent fire coursing through you.
“We need not abide by any of that,” you snap at him. Aemond wets his lips before rising from his chair. He walks over to you, standing face to face.
“There shall be a wedding,” he murmurs, moving a strand of dark hair from your face, “there shall be a bedding.”
Your stomach churns with nerves. You gaze up at him. Your mother had explained what lies within the marriage bed, an idea that sent fear shooting through you once you were in the presence of your previous betrothed, Cregan Stark. The idea of laying beneath a man as he had his way with you sent terror racing through you veins.
But standing in front of Aemond, something different pooled in your stomach at the thought. Something warm, curling inside of you. Desire.
Aemond kept his hand on a strand of your hair, running the dark lock through his fingers. His violet eye met yours.
Suddenly, you wondered if he felt it too. Through the hatred and disdain, did desire for you reside in him as well? You felt your stomach sour as you gazed upon him. Luke.
How could you think these things, feel these things about your brother’s murderer? You pull away from him, tearing your gaze from his, and walk towards the fireplace.
“Does that frighten you?” Aemond asks.
“What?”
“The thought of our bedding,” he tells you. You shake your head.
“We shall do our duty,” you tell him, watching a muscle in his jaw clench. His eye rakes over your body, as though seeing through the gown you wear. It is one of Helaena’s, a pale blue. Aemond enjoys the color on you.
“Aemond?” you call, and Aemond blinks his eye back toward your face. Your lips are parted, cheeks flushed. Aemond hums in response.
“Come here,” you beckon. Aemond does what he is told, before you once more in a few strides. The heat from the fire kisses your cheeks, the golden light dancing in your dark eyes. Aemond feels bewitched as he looks upon you.
“I would like to try something,” you whisper and he nods, a look of confusion on his face.
You lean forward slightly and Aemond recoils, as prepared for you to strike him. Your eyes widen, the blush on your cheeks darkening. You look towards his lips and he realizes what you wanted.
Slowly, Aemond leans down towards you, and you reach up behind his neck to assist him with connecting his mouth to yours. Your hand tangles itself in his silver locks, grasping at the nape of his neck. Aemond’s mouth is gentle, he kisses you softly. He wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer and angling his head to deepen the kiss. When you feel the smooth muscle of his tongue enter your mouth, your lower stomach erupts in butterflies.
A content noise leaves your lips as Aemond’s other hand pushes against your lower back. You continue kissing, silhouetted by the fire roaring beside you. You finally pull away, staying closely wrapped around Aemond, breathing in each other’s breath.
“I still hate you,” you murmur against his lips. Aemond’s lips curl into a smirk.
“I hate you right back.”
taglist: @bellaisasleep, @the-phantom-of-arda, @polireader, @savinasavers, @maylaysia109, @tempt-ress, @m00n5t0n3, @writemeoutofreality @krispold @lonadane, @happinessinthebeing
#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond x strong!reader#aemond x velaryon!reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond fic#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x strong!reader#aemond targaryen x fem!reader
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already broken | aem. targaryen
Description: Aemond is troubled after the loss of his family. In which, you offer your company and end up falling in love with him.
Warning: Teen
Author's Note: Totally a parallel to Thomas Shelby because I love that man. If you love this fic, feel free to visit the main fic. This fic contains spoilers for cyip.
coaxed you into paradise v2.
Aemond could never forget the look on his wife's face the day that her body was discovered. Pale skin with even paler lips. Body half rotten by the sea - and eyes that would never open again. Princess Alyssa Strong was dead, and her mother cried for atonement.
"You rarely speak nowadays, my prince." you opened your mouth to speak while folding his linen coverings. You've been his handmaiden since his childhood years - a friendship was beginning to form between the both of you - that was before Alyssa.
A putrid girl with an ill face.
She inherited her mother's petulance and jealousy. She could hardly stand any young maiden around her husband - always protective of what was hers. "There's not much to speak about." he turned to look at you, seeing those doe eyes engulf his whole being.
"Mayhaps spending time with the Queen will do you good, my lord." you tried to assure, seeing nothing but sorrow behind his purple eye. Blood and Cheese may have chosen to steal his son - but Aemond was the one truly murdered. Within a single turn of the moon, his life was ruined - his reputation scorned.
He did not reply after that.
He took a sip of his tea - and went straight to bed.
The following day - while you were walking along Kingslanding's crypts. You were able to see a ghost of the One Eyed Prince. His hands were behind his back, staring at the statue - seemingly looking for his son's eyes behind them.
"My prince," you bowed seeing that he noticed your presence.
"My lady, come sit with me." he patted the empty space beside him. He rarely tolerated the presence of his own family. It was a surprise to see him welcome you with open arms.
You did not argue with him. You gathered your gowns and sat beside him - as the youngest daughter of a minor house, you were taught to obey your superiors - to give the royals what they demanded.
"It's been months since the light of Prince Aelor has shone on the red keep." you kept the conversation light, opting to praise his deceased son instead of pondering on what could've happened. "It is the price of war, my lady." he responded cordially.
The hole in his heart yet to mend.
"King Aegon will surely bring the executors to justice." your eyebrows merged into each other, fearing war. The soldiers may boast their glory but women feared war - god knows what happens to little girls in the middle of warfare. Nothing good.
Reduced to nothing but a spoil of war.
"We brought it upon ourselves. The war shouldn't have been started. Rhaenyra is the rightful Queen, but it does not matter. Aegon the Conqueror was not the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." he breathed, and you turned to look behind you - ensuring that no one was able to listen in your conversation.
"You will let the murderers stay free?" you inquired.
"For now." he responded.
"Blood and Cheese were sent by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen." you opened your mouth to speak. A letter was in your hands - a letter that came from Rhaena Targaryen - suing for justice over her half-sister.
Aemond could feel his entire world collapse. The same people that vowed to protect his wife and son were the ones that aided and abetted to their murders. "How does Lady Rhaena know this?" his eye narrowed, trying to understand why Rhaena (of all people) wanted to tell the absolute truth.
"She says; and I quote: the truth has been haunting me. Not even my father knows and I fear of what he'll do when he does. I heard the Queen talk a few fortnights ago, but I never believed that her target would be Alyssa." you read the letter, carefully searching for signs of disproval in his body.
Then suddenly, without any reluctance - he throws the glass of wine on his hand angrily. Allowing it to shatter into a million pieces. He mellowed in his grief - allowed himself to be weak - but now that the executioners were placed on the block, he wanted to swing his sword. Rhaenyra might've been the rightful Queen - and his brother may have usurped her - but it wouldn't save her against his fury.
"Leave me." he says in a calm tone.
Allowing his anger to grow by a thousandfold.
Aemond agreed to meet Saera in the fields of Harrenhal. Provided that none of them attack each other. "I did not expect for you to surrender, brother." her voice came out like a whisper.
Of all the times that his sister spent in the red-keep, he'd always remember her melodious voice - her soft pale skin and the red-black fabric that she'd always wear in council meetings. The sister in front of him was different. Colder - a stranger.
"I'm not here to surrender, sister." he responded in a tone that made sister sound like bitch or cunt. "Haven't you already done enough? You've taken my daughter and my grandson." her eyes narrowed, her loyal husband beside her and playing with his Dark Sister.
"I've not taken her - I only came here to tell you the truth." he scoffed, sensing that he wouldn't come out of his battle unscathed if he wasted any of their time. "What truth?" Daemon inquired.
"Of Aelor's murderer." Aemond announced in a bitter tone. This betrayal would cut deeper than any wound in Saera's body. "The Queen that you chafe your knees to, is she as innocent as she seems?" he responded vaguely, feeling Vhagar roar behind him.
"What is your proof, brother?" Saera's voice mellowed. Rhaenyra was the thickest of her blood. Both Aemma and Viserys combined. "Ask Rhaena," he turned to look at Daemon - before boarding Vhagar and leaving the sacred kingdom.
When Aemond arrived in the Dragonpit - you were the first to greet him. His only friend in Kingslanding. The handmaiden that has helped him all these years. "How did she react?" you asked, knowing that Saera could be dangerous when angry.
He ignores your question again - taking a step forward and allowing his fury to communicate words that could not be said. "Is she angry?" you added - and his pupils dilated.
He had angry eyes.
"My prince, I apologize if I overstep -"
"Draw me a bath." he commanded, before walking past you.
It was tiresome attempting to get into the good graces of Aemond Targaryen - but you reassured yourself. It was the only way that you'd stay safe in the Capital - seeing that your father aligned himself with Rhaenyra and her white hand.
Another sigh escaped your mouth; and you settle the lavender petals on the Prince's bath. Despite having rough hands, he enjoyed things that were of feminine tastes. "The bath is ready, my prince." you kept your eyes on the floor. "Stay with me." he said with reluctance.
And that was the moment that you fell into a deep - deep emotion with him. You could remember everything vividly - you leaned into his bath, combing through his matted locks - until your lips were planted on each other - mumbling curses and apologies.
"This will break you, my prince." you pulled away from his soft lips, and he gives you a smile (that best resembles a grimace, because everyone knows that he's lost the ability to smile again.)
"Already broken, my lady."
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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (X): Long Live.
Imagine you are transported to the past… instants before the legendary battle between Aemond and his uncle Daemon Targaryen occurs. What will you do? Part I.
Warnings: drama, angst, smut—fluff; loosely based on “Outlander”.
Warnings 2: alternative universe concerning the end of “GOT”’s season 8 where Daenerys lives and Jon Snow never killed her, with a more modern take.
Warnings 3: long post.
***
• Current days.
With the war coming to an end and the recent coronation of Queen Daenerys, your life has finally returned to what it used to be… before the threat of the Others, when you were forced to flee from Winterfell to go down South and live with your uncle and aunt all the whilst the rest of your family decided to move to Sunspear, in Dorne.
You start a new life at King’s Landing, taking a course at the Westerosi University, making new friends and even finding a few dates for yourself.
“We should definitely head to Aegon’s Hill”, your friend Margaery says. “There’s a very mystical place, abandoned after the Usurper fell”, she adds in reference to Cersei Lannister’s death by treason.
You hesitate, but what’s there to lose? Security has been restored thanks to the joint efforts of Queen Daenerys and her King Consort, Jaehaerys II after years of civil war plus the madness coming from the north.
“We should celebrate there”, another friend named Lyna adds.
And that is how it all begins. But who could tell what was going to happen?
*
In the first hours of the morning next you, already dressed in red, black stripes pants and a white, winter like blouse, get your fundamental things in your backpack with an adventure feeling you cannot get rid off.
“And here we go”, you mumble to yourself after getting some coffee.
You hear the sound of a “beeeee”, and you know it’s Margery on the car. You wave a quick goodbye from your aunt and uncle before dropping into it.
“Don’t get yourself too late at home!”, you hear your aunt yelling over her shoulder.
You laugh quietly before yelling back:
“When have I ever failed you?”
And so you are driven all the way to Aegon’s hill, singing a random song seconded by your girl friends.
“I feel so excited about going there”, you, usually the quiet one, find yourself chatty this morning. Is the coffee the cause of it? Maybe. “I was reading about it and rumour has it there are a few enchantments surrounding the stone blocks that remain still.”
“You can’t honestly believe this shit”, Lyna reclines back the backseat and gives you a look. “It’s all mythical. Stories tell us that that hill received the Conqueror’s name because that was where he flew with the great Balerion.”
“But before his arrival there used to be the spot of ancient religions that turned such spot one very meaningful for their practices and all. Aegon himself kept it, aware of its importance”, you honestly don’t know what’s with you, but part of you likes the mysterious aura that place has.
“There is also a legend dated from the days of the Blackfyre rebellion that if you are not careful enough you can be tossed into the past”, says Margaery.
“How past that is, one wonders”, Lyna muses, eventually taking in the idea.
“That depends. The three eyed crow could tell… but it’s been said the man was killed by the Night King.”
You tilt your head as if pondering what the girls are talking about.
“I still can’t believe he died during the war”, you muse out loud.
“He sacrificed for the realm. Apparently he always knew that.”
No one dares to say anything. The Great War is still a sensitive topic to many and your group isn’t an exception to it. Eventually, however, you manage to get to the hill.
It’s large and surrounded by very ancient stones indeed. The beauty in its mysticism makes all the more alluring to you. Something so captivating calls you and, distracted, as if you have been hypnotized, you attend it.
In baby steps you walk, ignoring the bubbling of your friends. A soft hymn, as if played by a harp, is heard.
“Do you hear this, girls?”, you turn at them, missing the mist that rises from nowhere.
But they seem unable to hear you. You try to reach them, especially when the sound of an earthquake scares the hell out of you. You grip tightly the stone, or try to, but it’s when everything spins and you scream.
When your friends turn at you, you are no longer there.
***
• Days of War
I said remember this moment in the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in stands went wild…
A thunder scratches through the black clouds, roaring it violently. It only announces bad omens. Men paint the soil with their blood in red all the whilst dragons rip skies in cursed fighting.
As it starts to rain, Aemond Targaryen prepares to fight his bitter enemy, confident that he will bring victory to his side. Rhaenyra has been suffering with many losses, betrayals, no one believes her cause anymore.
Dressed in dark green leather, he doesn’t mind the rain that soaks his long silver hair. A twisted, evil smirk is seen as he rests his hand over his sword sheath.
“And here we go, Vhagar”, he mumbles when climbing Aegon’s hill where his dragon, the legendary beast that followed Balerion and Meraxes in the conquest of Westeros many moons ago, awaits.
But it’s precisely when seeing Vhagar agitated and spitting fire that has Aemond startled. What could be the cause of its state? He is ready to run to it when he sees… you.
A scared woman in what he judges to be in her mid 20’s has just tumbled before him. Dressing in strange clothes, your hair is soaked and you shake. You are bloody scared, he can tell, and in other circumstances he’d shoo you away.
However, you not only possess strange objects he’d never seen, but something else that captures his attention. And when you see who’s the man that stands right before you… you remember your history lessons.
And you scream.
Right before you pass out.
“What the fuck?”, Aemond breathes heavily, wide eyed gazing at you. Part of him tells to leave you there, but another cannot. Curiosity takes the best so he forgets the battle for now and carries you with him. “Vhagar, it appears we are delaying the freaking encounter this day. For now.”
Not in the best of the moods, he is, however, intrigued by you. As he flies with you to his secretive spot—away from Alys, he keeps it in mind—, he wonders about your whereabouts and why you dress such unusual clothing. And what’s this object you carry behind your back? A product of witchcraft perhaps?
He narrows his eyes, suspiciously so. But in the midst of this long term war, one thing is for sure: you have brought him back the inquisitiveness that he’s long lost…
***
When you open your eyes, it takes you a few minutes to realize where you are… and when realizing that your clothes are changed, you are forced to acknowledge that whatever happened the day before was not a dream.
You begin to panic when you see your surroundings. You are in a large, comfortable bed with lamb skin made blankets over your frame. The furniture is not as modern as the one your aunt has in her household.
You swallow hard, scanning still your eyes s modest desk, and a simple window. All of this makes you miss the discreet presence of Lord Aemond, who’d been watching you from the side of the chamber you haven’t noticed yet.
“I wonder the cause behind your astonishment”, his husky voice breaks the silence in such a powerful way that you nearly jump out of the bed, which makes the prince amused.
Never before had you stood a royal before, even if this man is not the kindest of his station. You force yourself to remember your history lessons and behave in the most natural way possible.
Therefore you stand and dip into what you judge a careful curtsy. Aemond’s eyebrows are raised, arms folded. But he is no fool.
“You are not from here”, he continues. “Who are you? A very weird spy sent by my dear sister to distract me?”
In other circumstances you’d have laughed out loud. But you are too frightened to do that. Aemond sees you are shaking, a clear sign of fear.
“Well? Has the cat eaten your tongue, my lady?”, he sighs heavily, not the most patient of men.
“I… No, lord. I am not”, never before you’ve been thankful for learning the ways of nobility, aware few of the etiquette has altered in the course of centuries. “I… I am not your sister’s partisan.”
Aemond can tell you speak the truth, but he approaches you, shortening the distance between you two. Then he shows you your backpack and all the things there are still inside.
“What are these then? Are you a witch, lady? Has my sister bought you so you could use such witchcraft against us, against me?”
Part of you finds ridiculous how this is going. Another is trying not to laugh at the face of danger. The reasonable self there is still in you prevails by masking your sentiments, reminding that you need to conquer this man’s trust if you want to go back home.
“If I tell you, lord, you will not believe me”, you opt for the truth. If the prince has long decided to burn you, then what does it matter?
Aemond is surprised by the moment you lift your eyes. Something about your gaze shakes his heart, as if bringing the tempest within. He ignores the shiver that now runs over his spine.
“Try me”, he commmands you to.
“I must have your word that you shall not burn me.”
The prince side smirks at you.
“Do I have the reputation of slaying ladies or sending them to death? Believe me, my lady, my mistress has been associated with dark magic and here I stand.”
Without thinking twice, though, the following words roll out of your tongue:
“But you are renowned as the kinslayer. That speaks for itself.” It’s only then you know you’ve angered the prince. Shit. “I’m sorry, lord.”
“You are my prisoner”, Aemond snaps back at you. “Bear in mind you need my favour if you have any love for your life.”
Your eyes are puddled with tears. Once too proud, you slide to your knees and beg him for your life.
“Lord, I’ve been a victim of witchcraft. I’ve been casted here, that is the truth and only truth. I come from the future and there is where I belong. I’ve never meant to stay in your way. I beg you to spare me, we have no cause for otherwise.”
Aemond’s good eye is slightly wide. He can tell, being a good observer, that you are not lying even if his reason cannot conceive it. On the other hand, what surprises him more is the way you are begging him. He’d taken you as a proud woman. The scene now disconcerts him.
“I must depart. I am needed and…”
You know you should not meddle in the past, aware of the consequences. This is a bad reputed prince, the chronicles helped making you dislike him greatly. However, you depend on him in going back to Aegon’s Hill. Therefore…
“Don’t go. You will die.”
Aemond’s eyebrows raise epically.
“What? Listen to me, young lady. Whomever you may be, sent by my sister or not, you shall better hold your tongue.”
Oh this couldn’t go any worse, could it? You sigh heavily.
“And then what? I need you, lord, to find my way back home. If you die today, I’ll be stuck in here for good.”
“Perhaps then I should have left you to Alys.”
“No!”, something about your cry scares the untamed prince. “Lord, please. I…”
A moment of silence. Neither could believe in what is going right before their eyes. You, stuck in the middle of another war; him, in the presence of what he judges to be a product of witchcraft.
“How should I address my lady?” Aemond opts to begin again.
And when you soften, so does he.
“Y/N, lord.”
“Y/N, I am Aemond Targaryen. Looks like there’s so much to catch on…”
To change the fate of Westeros, he stays.
***
The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age.
Aemond’s good eye studies you as you eat like you haven’t been fed for ages. Your hair is still hanging lose behind your back and you are still wearing a pair of delicate earrings he’d never seen before, but all else makes you look like a woman of his own times.
“So the enchantments of Aegon’s Hill are true”, he muses, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his wine.
“They are, lord.”
“But never heard of a case where they had… succeeded, in fact.” He tilts his head. “What proof can you give me you are actually from there?”
“My objects aren’t proof enough?”
This silences the prince for now.
“I do not think wise to meddle in these events”, you say in turn. “Lord knows what that’d be like for my own days.”
Aemond is intrigued as he watches you pale. Then curiosity knocks his pride out.
“What’s like? The future?”
You wonder if you should tell him. As if he reads you, Aemond adds:
“Eventually I die. I am not asking you how. But your days, lady, I want to know. How better are they from mine?”
Sadness sparks behind your y/c eyes, a sight that inspires sympathy on him.
“Worse, I dare say. I was first raised in a long civil war. And then… another came, worse still. I really have no words to put it.”
“I cannot conceive a war worst than civil war”, says Aemond. “But another civil war bled Westeros?”
“Yes”, you try not to speak too much.
“Fuck”, Aemond grumbles under his breath. “All of this… for nothing?”
Not knowing what to say, you choose silence. And not knowing how to react, Aemond breathes in frustration. He decides to leave you.
And you end up that evening alone. But early next morning, Aemond, too intrigued with your presence to remember to fight his enemies, paces anxiously around the castle. He must know, he needs to know. And when waiting becomes unbearable, you show up.
Dressed in a blue velvet gown, you look properly like a lady of these times even though you cannot mask well your discomfort. Aemond’s own thoughts disappear before the sight of you, feeling so lost, so… out of place.
“My lady”, he doesn’t admit how taken aback he is by your beauty. “I pray you have slept better this night.”
“Not really, I’m afraid”, and your red eyes are a clear sign of how you actually spent your night. Aemond frowns at that, preoccupied. “I shall make my mission taking you home… after the battle that awaits me.”
You should not care, but you feel disconcerted by his presence. The way he looks at you says all.
“I cannot convince you otherwise”, you sigh. “Can you at least leave me at Aegon’s Hill, though?”
A request that defies your sanity, you know well. One that poses your boldly despair very clear. But you are now a survivor struggling to live in such a strange world.
However, Aemond is not willing to let go easily of you. Inspired by mixed feelings, he says:
“You are my prisoner now, remember? I shall keep your secret”, he approaches you slow, shortening the distance between the two of you. “Just tell me how to beat my uncle, how to win this war.”
“Oh Lords”, you find support in the wall. “What kind of question is that? In one moment you…”
“Just tell me!”, Aemond cuts you, rather impatiently.
“I cannot! Lord, if I do, the world I know my disappear.”
He realizes the dilemma you are. Confused by all of this mess, Aemond hesitates.
“Just stay here until I come back.”
Without waiting for any response, there he leaves you, but not to fight Daemon Targaryen. Not now. And you weep because this is all you can do for now.
***
You try to leave the castle, disguised as a peasant, but your plan comes to fail when Aemond comes back and from above, he spots a strange figure running through the woods.
Now here you are, a prisoner again. This time the prince is in a better mood.
“You are really trying to get away of me. In other circumstances, I’d be mad at you for this bluntness”, he muses, offering you wine as you sit in front of the fireplace.
You shoot him a glare, not saying anything.
“What am I to you but a toy so you can play?” Desperation hits a different tone and before you know you burst into tears, swiping away his mug smirk.
After a while, Aemond comes to his senses. He reluctantly takes your hand and when both of you see fingers intertwining, a different heat seems to rise.
“I lament profoundly to cause you pain, lady Y/N”, says he. “But this is who I am. Shouldn’t you know that?”
“I believed in other men’s judgement where you are concerned, but now…”
“Now what?”, he asks, somewhat anxious.
“Now I know in the hard way we should be better than be led by prejudices.”
Aemond leans back in his chair, thoughtful. You realize he doesn’t let go of your hand.
“Wise words, lady Y/N.” And then he muses. “I died, didn’t I? We lost this war, didn’t we?”
You avoid his gaze, opting for silence. But your silence screams unspoken words that reach the Prince’s heart. And he sighs, in between melancholy and resignation.
***
The following days you are not entitled as the lord Aemond’s prisoner any longer. Showing some colours in the horizon, hope stands as he presents you as the illegitimate daughter of some nobleman loyal to the green house who’d been deceased in the previous battles.
With a more convincing background, you are better instructed by maids of his trust in the manners of the times. Soon, you are offered a place to serve Queen Helaena.
It’s when you remember that droll tragedy.
“Oh no!”
Aemond raises his eye at you.
“What makes you deny this privilege any lady would kill to earn?”
You blush.
“I mean to say…”, you struggle with words, “I am unfit for such a position.”
“Allow me to disagree with you”, Aemond smiles and suddenly the view pleases your heart very much. “There shall be a ball on behalf of my sister’s birthday this weekend.”
“Will we dance?”, you blurt it out before you realize.
Aemond’s cheeks go pink at your spontaneity.
“Dance, you say”, he muses thoughtfully. “I am no dancer, my lady.”
“We are performers in life. Therefore anyone can be a dancer.”
“Quite a wit you possess”, says he in reluctant admittance. “Very well. If it pleases my lady…”
One smile is enough to turn tables.
“It does.”
And a new fate is sealed.
***
“It doesn’t feel like you are an outsider”, so mumbles Aemond to you alone as you two dance amidst courtiers.
It’s a sweet melody, cheerful somewhat in its beat, certainly bringing many presents a smile on their faces. The Dowager Queen looks pleased and delighted, entertained by her twins. One look at them and you are remembered by the upcoming events.
Oh, the burden of knowing too much. You swallow the bitter thought as you dance with the rogue prince. Earlier the Queen, who had welcomed you in the merriest of the moods, had said no one but a traveler could bring a man as her brother to dance. Her remark, not taken seriously by many, did manage to leave you uncomfortable. After all, you forgot that she had the Targaryen ability of possessing dreams.
“How come?”, you inquire, and it doesn’t take long before your gaze meets his.
He doesn’t strike you as the villain.
“You fit here just fine”, Aemond whispers in response.
As you twirl, hands barely touching his, you feel you are about to fall right into the trap.
“Do you think so?” And then you flash him a mischievous smirk. “Who’d ever thought we could get along?”
“Who, indeed?”
And then the dance comes to an end. Aemond takes your hand and bows, as you curtsy. But when he presses his lips against your skin, your heart races.
It appears you found your hero, after all.
***
Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made” and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered…
It’s late night. Aemond’s thoughts are only on the strange woman who was tossed out of time and space to go straight to the core of the civil war that will be known in posterity as dance of dragons.
He’s been so captivated that he’s long forsaken Mistress Rivers and his obsession in defeating his sworn enemy, his own uncle Daemon Targaryen. Therefore he decides to go after you. Covered by the shadows of night with only the guidance of faint candlelights, he soon finds your bedchambers.
There is hesitation at first. His own thoughts are confused, his heart hammers in silent agony. There is half hope, half atonement in his heart beat.
Nevertheless, he came too far to stop now. So he knocks at long last.
There is no answer at first. And then…
“My lord Aemond”, you are surprised to find him on the other side of the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Despite the admonishment in your words, he can tell there is amusement in your eyes.
“Aye. But I couldn’t find myself able to sleep. And neither could you.”
A faint blush paints your cheeks, earning him his typical smirk.
“I wonder if the same thought has been the cause of our restless nights”, he begins, eyeing you up and down, much to your discomfort.
Dressed in your long white nightgown with your hair down in your back, you look as ethereal as your background. There is beauty, but there is also something unknown in your aura. There is a connection between you two.
And you, on the other hand, are more than familiar with the rules of those days you are now inserted. However, are you able to resist this man?
You wait, though. Maybe you’ve figured this out in the wrong way?
“Your silence mortifies me, lady”, Aemond sighs impatiently. “Is this not evidence enough of how I came to love you?”
Your eyes go wide and you almost drop the candle you’ve been holding.
“Aemond… I am hardly the most appropriate woman for you.”
“Titles and lands are nothing for me”, he responds anxiously.
It’s when he takes your free hand into his, locking fingers at last. To feel his warm skin against yours, colder by comparison, gives goosebumps and small shocks as a result. You fear that you are about to lose your control.
“Aemond…”
He steps forward, saying nothing until he closes the door behind him and puts the candle somewhere safe. Only then he holds you against him and finally kisses you like you’ve never been kissed.
And indeed you have never experienced the firm grasp of a man, the decisions of one confident who knows what he wants. You could have never imagined that one of the kind exists and could desire you this much.
Worse perhaps is to discover how long you’ve been dreaming about this. As his lips clash into yours, your morals die unheard. You let him reclaim you, shuddering under his intense grip, his burning touch.
Before you could do anything, though, Aemond lies you on your bed, lifting your skirts to your waist and then…
“Oh, Lord!”, you whimper out loud. “Aemond…!”
This is certainly the best experience you’ve had. And so easily your legs get heavy, that heat comes down your belly and you… burn.
You want to pull him over you, but the messy prince flashes you a side smirk, dropping by your side.
“Do you honestly believe I shall deflower my lady in a most ungallant manner?”, he chuckles as he watches you frown in frustration.
You raise your eyebrows. You hesitate in whether telling him about your previous experiences. Unwise it may be to be honest, but worse is to ignore your conscience’s voice.
“My prince, as much as I appreciate your kindness and respect to me…”
He furrows his eyebrows.
“In my days these matters have changed significantly”, and then you are quick to add. “It doesn’t mean I’ve had plenty of others, though.”
You give up justifying yourself when you watch Aemond struggle with comprehending your point. Eventually, however, he cedes the battle and says:
“I am not an example of morality, I suppose. Even so I stand what I said.”
Your face lightens up.
“You cannot honestly mean…”
“…that I intend to espouse you?”, Aemond scoffs. “Of course I do. It’s a better way to protect you, by the way. These are trying times, my lady.”
That being said, you cuddle onto him, forgetting completely there is a bloody civil war outside and that you are not studying the period anymore, but living it at its fullest.
***
It is often remarked how to achieve peace one must be prepared for war. And in war, few are familiar with good sense.
Whatever are your thoughts about it, your first taste of tragedy comes in the form of revenge. You are just going back from a stroll outdoors at the gardens when screams get at you.
As you rush to the indoors, you are prevented by Aemond.
“You should be better left out of this. Let me resolve it.”
“No”, you protest. “Aemond, I…”
But he isn’t listening. He leaves you there, as if you are a ghost haunting the castle. Your eyes start to get teary as you realize what part all of this is about.
You cover your ears as the screams continue endlessly, echoing in a kind of pain that you’ve been familiar once. The sounds awake old traumas, opening wounds long thought to be healed.
You can’t stay in there. Useless you feel, therefore you motion outdoors. All you do is walk. Perhaps this is the better time to go to Aegon’s Hill. You want to go home, you don’t want to spend any more time there…
However, once you do, you are prevented from doing so by Aemond. The rogue prince, paled with angst, is perplexed at the thought of you gone. Despaired, he comes after you, thankfully not needing to reach Vhagar for that purpose.
“I cannot stay here”, you tell him, body shaking in evident signs of trauma. “Please, take me home.”
“Y/N…”
“Please! I don’t belong here, Aemond!”
“Yes, you do. You belong with me”, he cups your cheeks and then reading your eyes, he denudes your soul, almost if by chance he has a glimpse of the future through you. “Whatever happened there… and whatever happened here are not who you are. Listen to me, Y/N. It’s you and I against the world. I am honestly sorry these are the circumstances we are now in, but we must be brave.”
There are so many words but none leaves your mouth. Aemond embraces you, rocking you in his arms.
“You already knew what was going to happen”, he is not asking a question. “But this is not the reaction one might’ve expected. You are also a survivor… of war. Bloody seven hells, Y/N. I’m very sorry, my lady.”
You melt in his embrace, sobbing as the nightmare of leaving everything behind in the midst of panic and fear strikes you again. You’ve never seen yourself as a survivor, until now.
“Come inside”, he asks you gently. “Don’t go now. Please.”
Never before he was seen vulnerable, but then again so are you. It had been a while since your wounds were so crudely open, left to bleed in such a painful manner. You’d think you overcame it, but not entirely as you’d like to believe.
Here you are, however, comforted by this character whom you were taught to hate all thanks to the chroniclers that registered his bad deeds. Although he may have done such, and you won’t find excuse for his bad reputation, he’s so much more than that, than words written by thirds.
He’s your prince. He’s your hero and you shall not think anymore of it.
***
After these dark days are gone, sun rises in paradise again. Aemond invites you to fly Vhagar with him.
The decision comes after Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon are put off the show for now. The greens hold victory for now, and even you forget the upcoming events.
“I cannot fly her!”, you shake at the thought. “Do you want to see me dead?”
Aemond laughs heartily and the sound of it melts your heart and soothes your mind. He twirls you around him before holding you against his chest.
“Do you trust in me so little that I’d let you slip so easily?”
You giggle.
“I am just not a brave woman you might expect me to be”, so you say, drowning in that good purple eye.
“Oh, dearest. You are a lot braver than you’d judge.”
Saying so, he kisses you on the lips, and you save his taste as you gladly return it.
I said remember this feeling. I passed the pictures around of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now. We are the kings and the queens. You traded your baseball cap for a crown
You cast him a long loving glance as the prince holds your hand, giving you side smirk before leading the way to Vhagar. This ancient beast, a companion to the Westerosi conquest two other Valyrian dragons, seems to read you the moment your gazes meet.
A sight too frightening to behold, one you’ve seen before the moment you were tossed in this time and space. You recollect the fear that shook your bones and froze your reason and this seems to happen again.
“Don’t be afraid. She knows you are with me”, says Aemond in a nonchalant manner.
You nod your head, but Aemond feels your body shaking. He gently pulls you against him and in a matter of seconds you are suddenly mounting that legendary creature.
“Holy cow!”, you scream.
The silver haired prince laughs quietly, before whispering the words in Valyrian to Vhagar start to fly.
“Calm down, love. Don’t be fearful, it’s worse if you do.”
“I am no dragon rider, Aemond”, you snap at him, eyes going wide as Vhagar begins to rise higher, flying in an incredible speed—fast enough according to your judgement and lack of experience where dragons are concerned, not entirely fast when comparing Vhagar to younger dragons like Caraxes, for example.
But all Aemond does is laugh away your fears. He takes your hands, holding them as he shows he’s commanding the situation. Despite your fears, the adrenaline comes at it and so suddenly you are flying higher than getting an airplane to Dorne.
“AEMOND!”
The silver haired finds adorable the way you trust him, holding onto him as if your life depends on him. But he knows you are overcoming a fear of heights and this only grows his admiration of you.
Eventually though, as if Vhagar is sensing your fear, she slows down and only then she settles in a pace that doesn’t fight you. It’s when you risk patting her back, stroking your delicate fingers over the asperity of the creature’s skin.
“Remember this feeling”, he whispers in your ear. “This is what freedom is like. This is what it means to never let anyone hold the reins of your life.”
“I see the lights of Westeros shining for us”, you don’t even know what you are thinking, but these words seem to make sense for you.
“They are”, Aemond spots the fire pits in towers where orange flames wipe away the fog that instaure that evening. “But you shine the brighter, my dear.”
You blush violently at his words. Never before you felt so loved and understood. Slightly turning your head, and locking gazes with him, you tell this silver haired prince open words regarding your heart.
“I love you, Aemond. Truthfully, I do. I only shine brighter because of you.”
His wide gaze shows no emotion, perhaps skeptical about the genuine feeling you put in them. But Aemond knows you are sincere and this moves him more than he admits.
Locking his arms around you, he kisses you before saying:
“I love you.”
And this is enough for you.
***
You are married in secrecy to a man whom history despises being the kinslayed. His vices are listed perpetually in dust parchments, used as propaganda to disperse any honesty there might’ve colored the shades of the green party that ruled Westeros for a short period of time.
But you see his virtues that no chronicler bothered to see and those overcome the former in a colorful prism of human being.
Daeron Targaryen, his younger brother, is the only witness of the ceremony.
“Welcome to the family, my lady Y/N. In other circumstances, this would be a merry and most favorable occasion.”
“My brother, this matters little. I appreciate the warm wishes, though, and I bet better days are about to come.”
Aemond is pleased to see how well you and his family get along. When one lives history, easily it is to forget it. And so it goes.
When you are taken to his privy chambers, who’d think this was when history is about to change?
“You look so beautiful. Astonishingly so.”
“You make sparks fly”, you smile at him, taken by handsomeness, hands stroking his long silver hair before holding his face. “I adore you, my prince.”
It starts slowly. Your tongue pairs perfectly with his, in one same passionate rhythm. Only then impatience rises when the heat begins to burn.
Your hands start to undress him, automatically moving down to his leather pants.
“Let me show you my devotion”, you break the kiss to whisper in his ear.
Aemond hisses under his breath, eyes closed as he already reacts to your caresses. Your lips leave traces of warm kisses from his neck to his shoulders, going down to his belly and then… you kneel to say your prayers.
*
But he is now devouring you like a hungry man, starving for your soul. His lips on your nipples do wonderfulness. You roll your eyes, moaning softly as your hands play with his hair.
When his skillful fingers find way to your core, you know you are lost. Aemond smirks at how loud you can be, this arousing him further.
“Hmm, my darling”, he raises to meet your mouth, clashing it in a fervent kiss, therefore muffling your lustful cries.
And right as you come undone, he doesn’t wait any longer. Sliding right inside you, you open your eyes, somewhat pleasantly surprised by his intensity.
“Aemond!”
He could not tell whether you are moaning or complaining.
“Yes?”, he groans as starts to move inside you.
“You… are… so… fucking good!”
The prince laughs at your cursing.
“My lady, watch your tongue”, says he in such a malicious way that you feel you could come undone right now.
“Aemond, you devil”, you whimper, legs locked as you begin to move as one.
He smiles down at you, holding your hands above your head. As you kiss, you meet a heavenly bliss.
***
War, however, comes back in unsafe and soundly steps. You, merged in domestic happiness, allowed yourself to forget that in great delights await greater sorrows.
Thirty days after your marriage, to your surprise you find yourself conceived. You want to tell him in the ways your prince likes: flying Vhagar. By now you and this ancient beast have somehow gotten used to each other’s presence.
“May we fly together this evening, husband?”, you ask him, trying not to sound too eager.
Aemond somehow senses you are different. But he cannot tell what exactly is.
“For someone who feared Vhagar, you’ve become quite a dragonrider.”
This day you are breaking fast with your husband’s family, now pleasantly aware of your secret matrimony, notwithstanding Ser Otto’s initial disapproval.
You giggle quietly.
“That is what marrying to you means, is it not?”
Aemond laughs quietly.
“Why, my darling, I could never refuse you anything.”
“Just be mindful you two”, muses the Dowager Queen Alicent, distracted. “It’s cloudy today.”
***
May these memories break our fall. Will you take a moment? Promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever. But if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday when they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name. Tell them how the crowds went wild. Tell them how I hope they shine…
How could you know what was about to happen then? You are excited to share the news, believing this is the best scenario you could’ve pictured.
Dressed in proper robes, you follow Aemond excitedly and when greeting Aemond with your characteristically sweetness, he snorts and says:
“Who could’ve known we’d come to this? You turned my dragon war in domesticated dog, Y/N.”
You roll your eyes at his teasing.
“Don’t be silly, Aemond. She needs love and caring like every animal”, you smile. “As well as respect.”
“I wonder at times if you are real.”
You turn your head slightly at him as you two prepare to ride.
“Why wouldn’t I be, my love? You are my husband, or am I mistaken? Have you been with Mistress Rivers ag…”
He interrupts you by kissing you passionately. And right there Vhagar roars through the air. You feel as if you’ve been electrified. And the look in your face awakes the best of him.
“I love you, woman.”
But every happiness dies when skies grow darker and Vhagar’s roar sounds different. Aemond frowns his eyebrows.
“Shit. There’s something wrong”, he is quickly alert.
You, focused in telling him about your state, begin to grow afflicted when remembering that that battle between him and Daemon Targaryen didn’t happen the way it should.
You interfered.
Fuck.
“Aemond, honey…”
Wind blows colder, it announces storm. He begins to drive Vhagar lower, flying higher as darkness sweeps away the last rays of light. You try not to panic, but by the looks on your prince, you are promptly a victim to it.
“I’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t be here. I messed all.”
“Don’t say that”, Aemond doesn’t have a clue of what you are trying to say, but he is already familiar with your background to prevent your insecurity to meddle in it. “You have been the best thing to happen to me…”
Before you have the time to answer him, a different roar echoes through the thundering clouds.
You know where it comes from. You know the one behind him.
And you are at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“Aemond!”
“Nothing will happen to you, this I swear”, but then he adds, without looking at you. “If, however, something happens to me…”
“Don’t!”
He continues as if you hadn’t protested.
“…never forget how you turned me into a better man. I am unworthy of the Seven Heavens, but I tasted a bit of sacred forgiveness when you loved me. You redeemed me of my sins, my lady, even when I was a miserable. Move on as you should. But never forget me. Or us.”
“Aemond!”, you cry because you remember the result of this battle, and worse is now the effect of his words. “I love you!”
There is so much to be said, but you cannot. Time steals you from him. As Aemond and Daemon faces each other, the prince tries to find a way to save you.
However, no dragon flees from battle. But because Caraxes is faster, it soon attacks Vhagar. It’s right here that, above Aegon’s hill, every shadow eclipses the sun.
It’s right here that in midst of it all, you fall. It happens too fast. Aemond is trying to fly away, but Vhagar doesn’t obey him again. It soon responds Daemon’s Caraxes offense with another.
But when Vhagar gets bitten in the neck, the ancient dragon loses balance for a moment and right here a storm wind knocks you out.
Aemond screams, trying to save you, but you refuse to be saved. You are still in tears, judging to see him attacked by Daemon when the spells of time engulf you.
‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder…’
To be continue…
#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#house targaryen#prince Aemond Targaryen#lord Aemond Targaryen#lord Aemond#aemond targaryen smut#taylor swift#speak now (taylor’s version)#long live
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Fire and Storm
Summary: As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.
Dance of the Empire inspired one shot.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister! reader, mentioned Aegon II Targaryen x Lannister! reader
Note: Hi my dearies, I’m so sorry I haven’t been active in the last month. Transitioning from Montreal to Toronto has been a lot to handle. But the good news is that I got elected as student council vp in my new school🤪. Here is a one shot inspired by my first fic Dance of the Empire (a bit spoiler). I will be back writing all the three fics and will try to update weekly. Thank you all for sticking with me❤️❤️❤️
Warnings: major character death
Tagging my friends :) @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @boundlessfantasy @vhagarswar @purple-writer8 @valeska-fics @lexi-anastasia @f4ll-for-you
Within the chilling walls of the seat of House Baratheon, the hearth held a flame that danced rebelliously, threatening to bite those misfortunate enough to find themselves in proximity. Torrential water poured mercilessly from the sky while the wind howled ruthlessly. Sealed by the solid bricks of the castle, the flames, fragile compared to the frightful storm yet unpredictable and dangerous in nature, continued to consume silently.
The silver haired prince sat calmly by the scorching heat, his long fingers brushing against each other. It had been two days since the Lord of Storm’s End pledged allegiance to the prince’s elder brother, called by some the Usurper, in return for a marriage pact between the prince and one of the lord’s daughters. Amidst the looming threat of a deadly civil war, every second counted, but his delay was calculated. Aemond had been waiting silently and patiently for his nephew's arrival, much like a flame waiting to devour its fuel.
A servant knocked by the door, bowed and announced the news. Without a word, he arose from the chair and paced through the solemn hall of the castle with stately ease. The effortless regality exuded from his presence was as if he was on his way of being coronated. A sharp curl appeared on the corner of his thin lips as he recalled his drunken and debauched brother , expecting the Conqueror’s Crown on his head like an infant. With each step Aemond took, he felt himself drawing nearer to his desires: power and her.
Aemond Targaryen wanted everything and was ready to steal, scheme and slaughter.
Unlike his half sister Rhaenyra, the named heir of the late King Viserys, or his brother Aegon, born with the title of the first born son, Aemond Targaryen's life was a battle, a relentless one against a seemingly inescapable destiny of becoming another insignificant Targaryen royal, riding an ordinary dragon, holding a hollow position in court, accompanied by a mediocre noble woman, doomed to be forgotten in history.
However, when his mother suggested betrothing him to the eldest daughter of Tyland Lannister, he was taken aback. Could he, the overlooked second son, really be promised the "Beauty of Casterly Rock" and an alliance with the house guarding mountains of gold? Promises were a strange to the One-Eyed Prince, as he had always been a taker, much like he had claimed the largest dragon in the world. The fleeting memories of the golden lady of emerald eyes all appeared to him a cruel jest. The tender moments of her smiles were overshadowed by her anguished cries upon learning that she had been bartered off to Aemond’s elder brother Aegon, who would rather bury himself between the legs of harlots of the Flea Bottom.
Contained fury blazed in his chest as Aemond watched the young Lucerys Velaryon, his bastard nephew, who had taken his eye eight years ago.
Lucerys conveyed with a trembling voice Rhaenyra’s message to the Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond paid no attention to the words coming out of his mouth. His one violet eye burnt a hole in the quivering messenger. His throat throbbed with thirst for retribution as the flashes of scarlet and black that had blinded his eye when Lucerys’ blade had cut through his flesh.
This rage was tainted with despair, for what he truly desired was taken by his own kin and given to his brother. He soon realized he had nothing left to lose.
With that, as the Lord of Storm’s End dismissed the Velaryon impatiently, the prince’s shadowy figure also disappeared in the hall as he watched Lucerys mounting his pathetic and minuscule dragon Arrax while the storm still raged on.
Soon, the monstrous Vhagar hovered over the young dragon. The lightning tearing through the black sky and roaring of thunder were music to Aemond Targaryen’s ears, as if the gods were in awe of this spectacle of terror. In the face of raw power commanded by the largest dragon of the world, neither Lucerys, Rhaenyra, Aegon, nor even the games of thrones stood a chance. Aemond was the second son who inherits nothing he doesn’t seize for himself. Addicted to the intoxicating scent of the lioness of Casterly Rock and the adrenaline rushing in his veins from being on top of the world, Aemond whispered to the green beast, “Ipradagon.”
Eat
Scarlet blurs flashed before him, followed by a haunting dragon squeal echoed before him with no one but him to bear witness to the gruesome bloodshed. While others might see flesh and dragon bones plummeting from the sky, Aemond saw a vision of the Conqueror’s Crown landing on his head. While his mother, the Dowager Queen, sought to suppress the war, Aemond stroked the anger bubbling in Rhaenyra. And what better way than slaying her favourite son?
War were precisely what he craved; for war breeds to fear, fear spawns to chaos, and chaos is a ladder.
As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.
All his life, he had been but a sword wielded at another’s will. At that moment, Aemond Targaryen became the master of his own terror, and the realm would watch a second son rise to rule the continent.
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond the kinslayer#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond x reader#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#lucerys velaryon#asoiaf
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“Charles and Diana’s first child, the heir to the British throne, was born on June 21, 1982, and the Hussars of the Royal Horse Artillery fired the traditional forty-one gun salute in honor of the new Prince. The blond, blue-eyed boy was called ‘Baby Wales’ for seven days until his parents stopped fighting over his name. ‘We’re having a little argument about what to call him,’ Charles admitted to reporters. The couple eventually settled on William Arthur Philip Louis in honor of William the Conqueror, the legendary King Arthur, the Duke of Edinburgh, and Louis, Lord Mountbatten.”
The Royals by Kitty Kelley
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CHARACTER/S: Xiao [He/Him]
PROMPT/GENRE: Getting Caught Masturbating/NSFW
ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP: Friends/Mutual Pining
REQUESTED BY: N/A
WORD COUNT: 1.6k
//TW:
- Reader is written as afab/fem-bodied but referred to as They/Them; First time sex; Xiao is a virgin, you can’t tell me otherwise; Soft smut; Reader is implied to be the Traveler but does not have to be Lumine or Aether; Praise; Creampie; Biting; Subtle Voice Kink?; slightly possessive behavior; hair pulling; Xiao might be a little out of character?
DISCLAIMER: This is smut written by a minor; DNI if that makes you uncomfortable
SUMMARY: The situation at hand was almost unbelievable. The Conqueror of Demons sat between their thighs, his cock buried inside their cunt. Something they could only dream of within their dirty fantasies. But it was real. And who were they to complain?
AO3: His Name
Y/n had always been careful. Teyvat was a dangerous and unusual world, after all. Being careful was the most they could do to survive in this place. And having strong allies wouldn’t hurt, right?
That was exactly what they’d thought when they chose to befriend the Conqueror of Demons, Adeptus Xiao. Having him close seemed like a good move, and so they agreed to call his name if they ever needed help. Little did they know just how much trouble it would land them. And it all started when Y/n began developing feelings for the Adeptus.
But how could they not? Everything about Adeptus Xiao was… perfect. Those golden eyes, that soft teal hair, his strong figure, his voice, his subtle way of showing he cared, that rare smile– everything about him made Y/n’s heart race. But they could never tell him that. Xiao was an Adeptus, the Vigilant Yaksha, the Conqueror of Demons! Why would he ever fall for a simple mortal such as Y/n?
Y/n firmly believed they had little to no chance with Xiao. But one night… everything changed within a single breeze.
Everything started on a simple, cloudless night. The cool breeze flowing gently through Y/n’s open window. They laid on their bed, staring up at the ceiling as sleep refused to take hold. Rather, their mind seemed to drift towards a particular Adeptus; one that seemingly occupied their every thought as of late. As their mind drifted further and further, indulging in their dirtiest of fantasies regarding the Vigilant Yaksha; Y/n’s hand trailed further along with it. Their hand slipped beneath the waistband of their pajama bottoms, slipping them off along with their underwear before they began to rub their fingers against their sensitivity.
Y/n’s eyes closed as their skin began to heat up, pleasure pooling within their abdomen as their hand moved. They tried to suppress any noise, but a single sound slipped out– the one sound they shouldn’t have slipped out– “Ngh… Xiao…” Y/n moaned. Within a moment, a particularly strong breeze filtered into Y/n’s room. With its departure, a strong presence stood in place. And soon, dread filled Y/n as they opened their eyes and saw what– or who– had entered their room.
At the foot of their bed, there he was. The man their fantasies had been about, the man they’d been infatuated with for weeks now. Xiao. He was staring at them, wide-eyed. A deep blush on his face as he stood, arms crossed, completely speechless. Embarrassment flooded Y/n’s chest as they scrambled to grab their blanket, covering their partial nudity from Xiao’s view. But it was much too late, he had already seen– and heard– exactly what they’d been doing.
“Y/n. What is the meaning of this?” He questioned, his voice giving nothing away. Was he angry? Disgusted? Y/n couldn’t tell. They cast their gaze aside, unable to look at his uncertain gaze a moment longer. “I… It’s–” “Do you truly think of me this way?” Xiao asked. “W-What?! No! I– I” Y/n stuttered, their face heating up from embarrassment as they stared down at their blanket. Failing to notice the intrigue and slightly amused smile playing at Xiao’s expression. “Oh? So you do not have feelings for me? You just happened to moan my name while pleasuring yourself?”
“What?!” Y/n muttered, whipping their head up to meet Xiao’s gaze. It almost felt like a trick question. If they were to admit their feelings, would he ridicule them? Or if they were to deny it– what would happen then? Y/n took a deep breath, attempting to calm their nerves. “I.. I do… have feelings for you,” they whispered. Xiao blinked; he had not expected them to admit it so… easily. He turned his head to the side, attempting to hide the bashful look on his face, “...Is that so?” he mumbled, his tone curt.
“Mmhm…” Y/n gave in response. “Well… Then I suppose I should give you what you want,” Xiao suddenly said. “Wha–” before Y/n could question further, they felt a dip in the mattress. When they looked up, Xiao was sitting right in front of them. His gloved hand caressing the side of their face as his golden eyes flickered between their [color] gaze and their lips, silently asking for permission. They were tempted to give in, but– “X-Xiao…? What’re you doing?” they asked.
Xiao sighed, “Isn’t it obvious? You called my name and admitted to having feelings for me. As the focus of your… fantasies, shouldn’t I indulge you?” Y/n blinked in surprise, “You… what?” “I have feelings for you as well. Now, do you want me to make love to you or not?” he clarified, staring directly at them. It all felt so sudden. Xiao not only returned their feelings, but was willing to indulge them? Was this not a dream?
“Well?” Xiao prompted, impatience flashing in his gaze, “Do you want it or not?” Y/n felt their skin flush with heat once more as they thought over Xiao’s words. “I… I do. I want you, Xiao.” they admitted. A smile formed on his lips as he removed the blanket from covering their lower half, grabbing their thighs and bringing their legs to rest against his hips. “Then, can I kiss you now?” Xiao asked, running a gloved hand up Y/n’s inner thigh as the other pressed into the mattress, holding himself up.
With a small nod, Y/n breathed a sigh of satisfaction as Xiao pressed his lips to theirs. It was soft and just perfect. For so long, they’d imagined this moment with him. And finally– it was happening. Xiao was the one to break the kiss, trailing down to press biting kisses and leave bruises to decorate the skin on Y/n’s neck. Small gasps and whimpers fell from their lips; filling Xiao’s chest with a sense of satisfying pride. He pulled back and stared at the marks he’d left before pulling off Y/n’s shirt and biting down on their shoulder. A gasp of pain came from them as Xiao licked at the mark he’d left, a quiet yet possessive growl in his chest.
He pulled back once more, smiling at the marks he’d left. “Good,” he murmured, kissing Y/n once more, “You look so pretty like this… Covered in marks that show my claim…” he whispered. “Mm… Xiao… please… I want you so badly…” they whimpered, tugging at his clothing. Xiao chuckled, standing from the bed and stripping off all his clothing without question. He returned to the same position he was before, but this time, he slipped a finger inside Y/n’s entrance. Giving a small blink of surprise as he began to slowly thrust it in and out, “Wow… You’re already so wet,” he mumbled.
Y/n flushed with embarrassment, wrapping their arms around Xiao’s neck and hiding their face against his shoulder. Small pleads fell in hushed whispers from their lips. They were desperate. They wanted him, but they knew they had to wait. Rushing would only lead to their own discomfort, no matter how badly they wanted his cock inside right at that moment. Xiao slipped a second finger inside their cunt, his motions speeding up ever so slightly upon hearing the moan that came from Y/n’s lips; a breath of encouragement.
Y/n panted against Xiao’s shoulder, their hand moving to tug on his teal locks as pleasure built up, causing a groan to sound in his throat. Xiao’s fingers increased in pace as he slipped a third one inside. “Xiao– Xiao, please… Please just fuck me,” Y/n pleaded, their impatience taking over. Something snapped within Xiao. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips to lick Y/n’s arousal off. Without waiting another moment, Xiao aligned his cock with Y/n’s entrance and slowly pushed in.
He tried to keep his movements as gentle as possible; though there was still some discomfort. Once his hips flushed with theirs, he stilled; pressing gentle kisses along Y/n’s collarbone. “Xiao… Xiao… mm… please… Please move,” they begged. Though there was still some hesitancy on Xiao’s part, primarily due to not wanting to hurt them, he began to slowly rock his hips against theirs. His cock slowly sliding in and out of Y/n’s cunt. Tiny hints of pleasure building up at the warmth shared between them.
The situation at hand was almost unbelievable. The Conqueror of Demons sat between their thighs, his cock buried inside their cunt. Something they could only dream of within their dirty fantasies. But it was real. And who were they to complain? “Xiao… mhm… please, faster,” they begged. He obliged, his pace gradually increasing until his hips were snapping harshly against theirs. Y/n gripped the sheets, whimpers and moans spilling from their lips as the knot in their abdomen grew stronger and stronger.
“F-Fuck… You’re tight,” Xiao moaned, heavy breaths falling from his lips as his skin seemed to glisten in moonlight. “Ngh! X-Xiao! I’m… ugh…” The tightness in Y/n abdomen coiled harder and harder, causing their pussy to tighten around Xiao’s cock as he fucked into them. Suddenly, the coil snapped. Their orgasm washed over them as their release coated Xiao; walls fluttering around his cock as he continued thrusting his hips through their orgasm. His own followed afterwards, white spurts painting their insides.
It had all felt so sudden– but it was an impulsivity that Y/n had enjoyed. Xiao slowly pulled out; stifling a moan at his post-release sensitivity as he did so. He laid down next to Y/n on the bed, moving them so that they rested their head atop his chest. With a hand gently running along their back, Xiao brought their hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against their palm. “Go to sleep now. I’ll take care of you in the morning,” he promised.
With little to no argument, Y/n drifted off to sleep. Comforted by Xiao’s warmth within their slumbers.
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#genshin impact#genshin#genshin xiao#adeptus xiao#xiao x reader#xiao#smut#genshin smut#genshin xiao smut#xiao smut
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