#and fuck criston cole too

[dirtytransmasc]

something that breaks my heart, is that when viserys calls Alicent, Aemma, at Driftmark, she doesn't look surprised. she looks offended and saddened by the fact her own husband of at least a decade and a half can't remember her name, that he calls her by his late wife's name. but she didn't look surprised. it's happened before, and by the way she and Criston (though there was the faintest look of murderous intent in that man's eyes, cause he doesn't want to allow that disrespect to come to his Queen) don't really react outside of the discomfort and offence of it, means it probably happens quite a bit, enough for the two of them to react as little as they did.

#I know my girl has a pretty good poker face #she had to in her position #but her lack of surprise felt just a tad too natural #I hate thinking about Viserys calling her Aemma #neither woman deserves that #especially when we see alicent wearing Aemmas robe ehe she was younger #viserys is a sick fuck and im so glad he's dead #alicent hightower #aemma targaryen #criston cole #pro alicent hightower #pro team green #anti viserys i targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon

[lagosbratzdoll]

On Daenerys, Colonisation and Race Discourse within the ASOIAF Fandom

This has been on my mind for a good long while and honestly, as much as I would like to leave discourse in the pits, it has been bugging me intermittently over the past few weeks.

Far too many of you get on here and call people who like the fictional dragon-riding family, neo-Nazis and that sentiment is so prevalent, that white people feel comfortable telling me a black woman that I am a neo-Nazi for rooting for Daenerys Targaryen. I am upholding neo-Nazi power fantasies for wanting to see a little girl live at the end of a story. I am a neo-Nazi for wanting to see the rape survivor have the family she aches for and children with the man (or men) she loves.

Then, those same people go on spiels about how the systemic erasure of those who sing the song of the earth and other old races is not colonialism. That their removal from their home is not displacement but an agreement between two equal parties. The fact that the only place where those who sing the song of the earth exist in the present timeline is north of the wall, surrounded by the bones of their dead, is not a travesty. That the expulsion of the old races from their home isn't that bad and should not be condemned. 

Instead, people argue, completely seriously, that the harm that the First Men and Andals have caused is centuries in the past, so essentially the slate has been wiped clean. The logical leaps that are required to arrive at such a boneheaded conclusion are truly mind-boggling, and those who make such arguments are not good people. 

I am unsure how one could read those books and come away with the impression that the old races do not mourn the loss of their home. I am unsure how one could read The Last of the Giants[1] and Ygritte’s reaction to both the song and Jon’s dismissal of the ethnic cleansing of the giants then believe that the old races and the free folk have moved past their displacement. 

In Westeros, from the Wall to the broken arm of Dorne, they all speak one language despite the fact they are all different ethnicities and they all landed on the shores at different times. That is not the case in Essos, we have been introduced to at least six languages and in A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion notes that the Valyrian spoken in the Free Cities has evolved into nine distinct dialects, and they are well on their way to becoming different languages.

How would a continent as large and diverse as Westeros maintain its hegemony over the people if not for forced assimilation, discriminatory practices and violence? The brutal repression required to keep one house in power for thousands of years is nothing to sniff at. The suppression required to keep the vast majority of Westeros worshipping one (or seven) gods. The systems in place ensure that language does not grow or evolve amongst the highborns at least.

Centuries before Aegon's Landing the maesters were the definitive educational authority and even now centuries after, nothing has changed. The grey rats still decide who learns what and when they learn it. There's one in every highborn home, all correspondence passes through them, they are the healers and the councillors.

The circular logic gets even more blockheaded when you factor in the fact that Daenerys is far from the only white character in the books. She is not the only character who wishes for home. She is not the only character who draws strength from her ancestors, her bloodline and her magical creatures. 

Cersei draws strength from her family’s iconography, and the Stark children (Jon included) all draw strength from their direwolves, their home and their blood. Sansa, Arya and Bran wish to return home and their home was built on the indiscriminate murder and displacement of the indigenous peoples. Their home is built on centuries of rape, murder, exclusionary practices and sexual slavery. 

However, if we give the nonsensical argument that time erases crimes air; the Starks, Lannisters and Tullys are warring to settle personal grievances in the present timeline. As a consequence of that war, thousands (a modest guesstimate) of small folk, minor nobles and even some major ones have been raped, tortured, maimed and killed.

Despite all this, no one writes meta after meta about how Sansa and her siblings must surely die for justice to be had for those who sing the song of the earth, the free folk, the giants and all the old races that fled beyond the wall.  

People write meta about Cersei and how she must die, but those are typically more misogynistic nature. They typically argue that she must die not for the “crime” of being Lannister, but for the “crime” of being Cersei and “ruining” Jamie. 

I would not mind criticisms of Dany and her peace-focused approach to ending slavery because the approach is naïve and she gives the slavers far too much ground. However, she is learning, growing and self-critiquing. At the end of A Dance with Dragons, she has decided to embrace fire and blood, her knight is breaking the false peace which is a necessary step forward.

What I find offensive is people saying that she should have planned better before she abolished slavery. And that the death, violence, and sickness that arises from her quest to eradicate slavery is somehow worse than the death, violence, and sickness that already existed in Slaver’s Bay. 

This argument often downplays the horrific conditions and suffering that exist(ed) under the slave system in Slaver's Bay. Such arguments are often in poor taste and prioritise the lives and comforts of the slavers more than the people they have enslaved.

I would not mind criticisms of Dany if people applied that same critique even-handedly. The same people who believe that Jon and Bran have done much to rectify the evil that their ancestors perpetuated believe that Dany has not done anything to right the wrongs of her ethnic kin. They praise them for the non-existent steps that they have taken, but in the same breath, they condemn Dany for not being able to immediately end the plague that is slavery. 

It is perfectly alright to not like fictional characters, no law requires you to like certain fictional characters over others. However, what is not right is making broad accusations about those who do, it is beyond the pale. It is disgusting, and annoying, and trivialises real-world issues to score cheap points against fictional characters.

Equating the survival of a teenage survivor to the restoration of a fascist house or neo-Nazi power fantasy when such designations do not exist in the world of ice and fire is strange behaviour. Saying that the teenage survivor will eventually be manipulated and raped (again) before ending up dead on her manipulator's blade is also strange behaviour. 

Dismissing the horrors of colonialism, especially when the text shows you that the involved parties are still affected by it, is not normal and often veers into real-world imperialism apologia. While criticism and analysis of characters and their actions are valid and even encouraged, it is essential that we do not resort to sweeping generalisations about other people and that we keep criticisms of characters grounded in the text. 

[1]  

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth

Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they’ve stolen my rivers and hills.

And they’ve built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and long.

#I do not like most of y’all. #Do not call people of colour you do not know neonazis to win points against a fictional character. #It is not my fault that most of your faves are boring and do nothing to drive the plot forward #take it up with george rr martin and stop villifying dany and her (mid) family. #The insistence that we must mind fandom etiqutte is tired as hell too especially because people use it as silencing tools. #“Yes I called you a neonazi but you are the real weirdo for finding my post so really it’s on you that you saw that.” #that’s how y’all sound. #If I see another post that equates enjoying dany to being a neonazi #i will make it everybodys problem. #Took a long break from this fandom because the rancid takes were overshadowing the good takes #and i’ve been back less than a year and the takes are even more rancid than before. #hotd opened an evil door that should’ve remained shut. #Cause why the fuck are there criston cole apologists? Why are there aemond and aegon ii apologists? It is a dark world we live in. #put the last giant at the bottom for my homies who have not read the books which if we're speaking real is more than half of y'all #now that i have gotten this out of my system #it is time to get back to demon slayer #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #asoiaf thoughts #asoiaf nonsense #if you saw the typos in the first version #no you didn't #edited this to add some thoughts I originally put in the tags because I felt it worked better there.

[robbstrck]

the gag is team green not only have the most complex interesting characters but also the best actors on the show to do the job. that's why they're mad!

#and the best music too ahhh #cackling like aemond rn #we never fucking lose! #hotd #house of the dragon #team green #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aegon targaryen #halaena targaryen #ewan mitchell #olivia cooke #rhys ifans #tom glynn carney #phia saban #criston cole #fabien frankel

[nicollekidman]

alicent hightower deciding to fuck shit up and burn it all down because she discovered that not only does the girl she love not love her back but she’s also a liar without a maidenhead… meanwhile the girl in question is daring her uncle to prove his devotion through mass murder as a Test because if she can’t live in his skin she may as well be in control…. frankly it’s a fucking miracle there’s a single person left alive in all of westeros after this

#literally have to log off right this second i feel like i’m #going to throw up #rhea royce you will always be famous #viserys like sorry i’m too busy oozing and rotting can you just get fucking married PLEASE #hotd #criston cole being a fucking loser

[padmesgreene]

i'm an alicent hightower hater first, human second.

#fuck alicent hightower all my homies hate alicent hightower #house of the dragon #team black #hotd #fuck criston cole too #all my homies hate criston cole

[carothehotmess]

Ser Criston really said, “Bury your gays? Say less.”

#sorry is that too soon #hotd #hotd spoilers #hotd ep 5 #house of the dragon #ser criston cole #laenor velaryon #joffrey lonmouth #rip to a legend #bury your gays #fuck criston cole #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones #got

[saltywinteradult]

criston cole, the first and last of his name, king of the dumbasses and the idiots, lord of having zero chill and owner of no savvy whatsoever

#criston you FUCKING IDIOT #criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon spoilers #game of crack #this is a shitpost don't take it too seriously

[cvptainbucky]

no criston wasnt pining after rhaenyra he wasnt obsessed enough to think she'd give up the throne for him, he just knew he'd fucked up the only thing he had (his honor as a white clock -- didnt game of thrones teach us anything about men and honor) and was desperate enough to somehow restore it even if it meant fleeing to get married, killing someone who might call him out, or killing himself

#ser criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd #all this talk of criston being an incel and shit #like yea i agree i dislike him too #but you're all totally missing his actual motivations #which are far more interesting that i fucked that girl once and now im insane

[therhaenys]

Not over the fact Cole is still there with his little bitch face and Harwin was fired for just punching his ass

#seriously 🙄 #hotd #harwin strong you were the best one #hotd spoilers #hotd 1x06 #criston cole go fuck yourself ser #I’d punch him too

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Does Crispy Caca not get that Rhaenyra was on the rebound or....??

Like....she didn’t even want you for YOU, brah

#ser criston cole #criston cole #rhaneyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hbo house of the dragon #like come the fuck on my guy you are thinking way too highly of yourself lmao

[ichorai]

tourney favor ; aemond targaryen (m).

pairing ; aemond targaryen x wife!reader

synopsis ; it was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. but it wasn’t improper by any means. strange, perhaps, but not improper. you glanced back at aemond. he was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched. was he jealous?

wc ; 2.1k

themes ; smut, mild fluff, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; jealous aemond, unprotected sex, breeding kink and brief mentions of pregnancy/children, wall sex, foul language, mentions of violence/murder

a/n ; if this fic sounds familiar, i took some lines from my far-lengthier aemond fic, balance the scales :)

main masterlist.

A grand tourney was held in honor of Jahaerys and Jahaera’s eighth nameday. 

You sat beside Helaena in the high platforms on the elongated arena, hands twisting in your lap. Tourneys usually bored you to no end—watching men hurt themselves over little else than theatrical show and bragging rights was not something you were very keen on. It felt like a waste of time to you, especially because you were already spoken for—you’d much rather be reading, or honing your needlework, or playing with the twins. To your other side was your husband, Aemond, looking equally disinterested in the event. You noticed his long fingers tapping impatiently against his knee, as if he were itching to leave. His older brother Aegon was nowhere to be seen, most likely somewhere in the bowels of the Street of Silk. 

You couldn’t help but feel envious. How come the father of the children the realm was celebrating was off gallivanting through the city, probably sunken into his cups and his whores? He was free to fuck whoever and whenever he wanted. Whilst you had to sit for hours on end beside your beloved husband, with whom you wanted to do nothing more than clamber into his lap and kiss him until the two of you grew dizzy.

Perhaps a large part of your agitation was due to the fact that Aemond had sunken to his knees in your chambers only an hour before, his tongue spelling worship over your drenched core. And you’d been so close, ever so close to falling off the edge—

Until there came a knock on the door, and Criston Cole’s muffled voice echoed through the shut door. He had to urgently speak to Aemond before the tourney, apparently. 

Something akin to a growl caught in his throat as your husband reluctantly drew away from you. You moaned lowly at the loss, sitting up at the edge of the four-poster bed as you watched him wipe your arousal from his chin.

“We’ll resume this tonight,” he had whispered into your flushed ears, before whisking off to speak to Ser Criston.

Seven fucking hells.

It took several moments for you to compose yourself, before you called in one of your handmaidens to help you dress for the tourney. Redo your hairstyle, too, because Aemond had certainly mussed it beyond salvation.

And now, as you fussed with your fingers in the stands, boredly clapping whenever the crowd was, it only came as an utter surprise when you heard your name called out. You sat up straighter, eyes falling from your hands to the riding grounds down below. It didn’t slip past your notice seeing Aemond tense, his fingers curling into a pale fist over his thigh.

A handsome knight donned in black-and-yellow armor stared up at you. You faintly recalled the patterned sigil emblazoned into the shield he was holding—he was of House Darklyn. He had taken off his helmet momentarily, lodged between his waist and his free arm. Gorgeous dark locks spilled over the nape of his neck, only slightly curled. 

The olive green of his eyes gleamed boldly, full lips upturned into a charming smile. “Might I be honored with your favor, my Lady? I can certainly use the luck.” 

Your gaze flickered over to his formidable opponent, a strong and muscular man, shrouded in white. His shield bore a red lion. House Reyne.

It was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. But it wasn’t improper by any means. Strange, perhaps, but not improper. You glanced back at Aemond. He was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched.

Was he jealous?

You could feel the muted arousal roar back to life in your lower abdomen. 

“Of course, Ser,” you called back with a knowing smile in your husband’s direction. You grabbed a ring of woven flowers and tossed it down over the jousting lance. “Be careful.”

Off the Darklyn knight went with your favor swaying by the lance’s handle, the metal grating of his helmet pulled down over his grinning features. You weren’t even sure what his name was.

The joust began just as you sat back down beside Aemond—but you found yourself barely paying attention to what was unfolding, and rather kept your eyes trained on your husband.

“Rather improper of him to ask for your favor,” he commented snidely, voice lowered so only you could hear. “You’re my wife.”

“Perhaps you should be down there, then,” you replied lightly, offering him a cruel smile. You knew well just how little Aemond cared for all the glamor the tourneys offered. “Show them who I belong to.”

Expression hardening to stone, he suddenly gripped your arm with iron-strength, hauling you up out of your seat, despite your half-hearted protests. You wondered if the Darklyn knight would search for you once the tourney was over. You found yourself unsurprised that you couldn’t care less about him.

Especially not with Aemond leading you down the halls of the Keep, twisting several sharp turns before shoving your chamber’s entrance open. Just as quickly as you were yanked inside, the wooden door slammed shut behind you, and you were promptly shoved up against it.

His lips were angry over yours, claiming you, biting you, devouring you completely. You fell slack in his arms, one of your hands resting over his chest, almost as if you were debating between pushing him away or pulling him closer. He swallowed the noises of contentment that slipped from your throat.

“You just couldn’t wait,” he snarled, shoving you against the door harder until he was pressed flush over your body. Jealous Aemond was certainly a sight to behold. “My greedy little wife.”

You preened at his words, arching your back, desperate to reconnect your lips to his. He didn’t put up a fight, allowing you to fight for dominance, claw at his neck and chest in desperation as you kissed him as if he were the very air you needed to breathe. 

Wasting no time, he reached down to yank the bottom of your dress upwards—cursing under his breath at all the damned layers you were wearing—and hurriedly shoved away your shift so he could reach your pulsing cunt. 

You were drenched. Warm and wet and fuck, he couldn’t wait a moment longer—

Sensing this, you made quick work of his trousers, yanking them downwards before moving up to pop off his tunic’s buttons. A startled, pleasured cry—verging on a hysterical sob—tore from your lungs and rattled across the chambers when he suddenly thrusted two long fingers into you, his thumb working quick circles over your sensitive clit. You’d already been denied an orgasm once, and you found a litany of breathless pleas erupting from your lips, as if it were just second nature.

“Please, Aemond, please—” You choked on whatever else you had to say, eyes rolling back as your orgasm slammed into you far too soon for your liking. Heavy and all-consuming. 

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, more, you’d always want more of your husband.

“Aemond, please, I need you inside,” you croaked, letting out a sigh when he drew a few tender kisses to your forehead. A glimpse of the softer side of your husband, scarcely shown unless it was with you. You loved him like this, but you wanted—no, you needed—him to lose all abandon with you. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I’ll ask the Darklyn knight,” you growled with a serrated tone.

Aemond drew away from you, violet eye ablaze. Was it fury or was it possessiveness written so plainly over his features? Perhaps both. “What did you say?” he whispered, a hand suddenly surging up to grip your jaw.

“I said,” you huffed, staring at him with a challenging quirk of your brows, “I’ll ask another man to fuck me. If my husband won’t do so, that is.”

Silence on Aemond was scarier than anything. You wished he would speak, or scream, or call you filthy names. But no, he… he was observing you. Calculating. Like a cat would a mouse. 

Or a dragon would its kill.

With one fluid motion, he drew his length into his hand—long and hard and angrily weeping with beads of pearly precum. The other hand abruptly flipped you around with surprising strength, crowding you against the wall beside the door so your back faced him. You moaned out his name when he pushed your dress up over your hips and dragged his tip over your drenched core.

“Please,” you begged, bracing yourself against the wall and jutting your hips back. If you could hear yourself over the buzzing in your ears, you’d be absolutely mortified at how delirious you sounded.

In one quick motion, he sheathed himself into you. Your warm, pulsating cunt was gripping him like a vice, eliciting a shuddering groan from his lungs. You mirrored his reaction, squeezing your eyes shut and holding onto him for dear life as he began to pound into you with no restraint. The lewd noises ricocheting in the room made your cheeks heat up until your entire face felt like it had been set aflame. With each snap of his hips into yours, you found yourself crying his name like a mantra, his hands bruising over your waist, pulling you back into him.

You were blubbering incoherently, begging for more. You just about lost it when one of his hands disappeared from your waist—only to roll over your aching clit with quick circles. A sob broke past your lips and you clenched hard around his length, feeling every hot inch of him buried deep inside you. His pace staggered with the sudden shift and he groaned out a curse, followed by your name.

“Who did you want to fuck?” he bit out, slightly breathless, words dripping with venom. “What’s his name?”

“I—” You hiccupped a cry with a particularly loud thrust. “Oh, fuck, Aemond!”

“Right,” he hissed, bending forward to bite down on your strained neck. “I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. Not pretty boys in silly costumes—mmph—not daft knights who lose tourneys. Me.”

The last word was ground out when your cunt spasmed around his girth once more, and you wailed out his name as your orgasm rolled over you. It was a wonder nobody had barged in to see if there was someone being murdered. 

“Perhaps I’d have to get you all round and swollen with my child. Show them who you belong to. Who fucked you this good. Would you like that, sweet wife?” 

“Yes, yes, Aemond, I need—I need you to come inside. Please, I need you to stuff me full.”

You reached behind you to blindly grapple for his arm and he briefly shifted the angle and began pounding into you even harder. His cock hit your sweet spot just right, and you saw stars swimming over your vision. 

A near animalistic noise tore through Aemond’s chest when you tightened around him one last time, your warm cunt fluttering around his cock. His rhythm faltered. What drove him over the edge was when he glanced down and saw the thick ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his cock. Gods, you were… beyond perfect.

With a staggered rasp of your name, he thrust into you thrice more before he spilled his seed deep in you, thick spurts of white coating your slick walls.

Heavy pants filled the room. You barely registered his lips kissing along your bare shoulder, where your dress had slipped in the midst of your heated frenzy. 

Slow, he eased himself out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured against your skin, smoothing his hands over your waist. “Are you alright?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, because no words would come to you at the moment.

He laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before gently urging you towards the bed. 

“Get some rest, wife,” he told you, laying you onto the plush mattress and dipping down to kiss your forehead. He regarded you with raw adoration folded over his expression. Though, it was quick to melt into a thunderous one with his next sentence. “I have a certain knight to exchange words with.”

If you hadn’t been so high off your orgasms and exhausted with the new-found urge to sleep the whole night away, you would’ve realized that Aemond was likely going to commit manslaughter over something as trivial as a tourney favor. But you hadn’t thought about it much, not in your sex-addled haze, and promptly fell asleep with only the dream of silver-haired babes with wonderful purple eyes to accompany you. 

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd x reader

[dirtytransmasc]

my guilty pleasure is affectionately using all of TB insults for the greens in positive ways.

like I use insults for the kids the same way an older sibling affectionately calls their siblings the stupidest shit that they came up with years ago and never dropped. I affectionately call Aemond, 'almond' if he's being... himself, lovingly.

I use 'alicunt' like a fucking hype name, cause she is serving count constantly and I love her for that.

'crispin' is the hardest to repurpose, as it's easily the lamest, but every one and a while it finds its time and place.

it feels like a gotcha and it doesn't bother anyone (except sometimes TB's fragile egos)

#calling aemond almond rrslly does bring joy to my day #he just feels like a little brother I need to fuck with from a distsnce cause he could probably kill me but its too funny not to do #please tell me someone relates to that #to any of this really #I just like stealing their bsd insults and turning them into horrible nicknames like I do to my actual family #hotd #pro team green #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #criston cole #I need TB to give me more god awful nicknames #cause its always *those* fans who come uo with the nost juvenile shit that makes me giggle #house of the dragon

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

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HOTD masterlist

#prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon house of the dragon #house of the dragon daemon #house of the dragon daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #hotd daemon targaryen #daemon hotd #daemon targaryen hotd #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine

[nena-la-fresa]

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 4|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Smut with Plot | Pregnancy | Soft Aemond | Biting | P in V | Light Choking | Oral F Receiving | Tiny bit of a Violent Dream | A bit of angst

Word Count: 4052

A/N: Hasn't been proof read yet. Sorry this one is a long one but I wanted to end it here. Ik i wouldn't be able to commit to a longer story. So imma stop it here before I fuck it up. I also plan on writing some one shots of Aemond and some of Michael Gavey cuz I have a small obsession with this man at the moment.

No matter how many times you had visited the godswoods in the Red Keep you had not seen a single vision. You had kneeled there for hours, yet nothing. You prayed to them, hoping they had not abandoned you. This gift they had kissed upon you had been taken for what felt like a month. You hoped this would not be the end of your life and your families. Even if it was the end you kept praying. 

“M’lady please.” Your maid begged you once again as she had an hour ago. 

“Mira, you do not need to stay. I’ll do another hour.” 

“M’lady please. You’ll catch a cold, you’re drenched. We need to warm you up.” 

You finally opened your eyes, you looked down and noticed the smell of the water beneath your knees. The way your loose hairs had stuck onto your neck and face, and the way the water had tickled your cheek as it ran down. Now out of your trance you heard heavy footsteps approaching you and Mira. 

Ser Criston Cole had appeared, with a blank expression on his face he spoke, “The queen would like to speak to you.” 

You sighed before getting up, “Thank you Ser Criston Cole. Let me change and then I shall meet with her.” 

“Now” He had hardly spoken. 

Taken aback by his tone, “Are those in her words or your?” 

“The matter is urgent. She would like to speak now.” 

“Alright.” You rolled your eyes before attempting to pat off the dirt that had clung to your dress. 

In a hushed hiss voice Mira spoke, “M’lady you sat there in the rain for hours. A simple pat would not take it out.” 

You said nothing but a quiet sorry. She was right to be upset though.

You had gotten looks from almost everyone as you walked down the corridors to the Queens chambers. You had excused Mira as you and Cole had entered the room. As the doors opened Alicent had turned around, her eyes widened. 

“My gods, what on earth happened to you.” She grabbed a blanket nearby and walked over to you to wrap you with it. 

“Forgive me your grace. I was praying in the godswoods and had not noticed the rain.” You pause and cling onto the warmth. “I was going to change but Ser Criston Cole said it was urgent.” 

In the corner of your eye you could see him glare at you. “The matter was urgent but you could have changed.” She began to pull you towards the fire to warm up. “I’ll keep it short then.” 

As you both were seated she handed you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry for the bluntness but, have you bleed?” 

Your hands stopped, it took you a moment to process. It had been a month, a month of praying to the gods of the old. A month of sitting there and not a single moment had you realized you never bleed. An entire month, you had never been late, your cycle was always on time, maybe a few days late but never a month. “I” You paused, “No, I haven't. Not since before the wedding.” 

With a bit of remorse on Alicents face, she gave a half smile. That look you had was one she knew all too well. “That’s wonderful. It’s wonderful news, especially news we can give out at Aemonds coronation day.” 

“Oh, yes, his coronation day.” The events that had taken your wedding day came flooding back. “Will you be telling Aemond” 

She nodded, “He should be here soon.” 

Just as the first day he met you, he saw you sitting there. This time by the fire, he watched as the fire had illuminated your face. The way it kissed your features, the way it had made your face glow. Yet this time there was a somber look on your face that you tried to hide with a smile. 

“Hello Husband. We seem to keep meeting this way.” There was an ache in his heart as you went back to calling him Husband. He loved the way you called him by his name. Yet he knew it was his own fault. He had pulled back from you, not because he despised you. But because he despised himself. How could he touch you, not after what he did, not after what he did to his flesh and blood with his own hands. The situation with Aegon was different than Lucerys, with Lucerys it was out of his control. But with Aegon, it was by will. Not only that but for another reason he could not even dare think of it in fear it may come true. 

Alicent could feel the tension, she spoke to try and break it. “Aemond, please sit. I’d like to speak to both of you.” 

He nodded his head and proceeded to sit next to you on the sofa. 

“I was telling Y/n that your coronation day was coming soon. Your grandsire has arranged everything and things have been prepared accordingly. As for your coronation day, we will first check with the maester, but if our assumptions are correct, we will announce the celebration of your first child.” 

You could feel his hard gaze on you as fidgeted with your fingers. Was he mad? Was he upset that you had gotten pregnant so fast? Did he now feel even more tied to you? Did he resent you for this? Like always thoughts had flooded your mind. Without the sight it was impossible to make decisions or to pass judgment on him. You felt vulnerable, you had never felt like this before. You had always been two steps ahead of any suitor or any man in general. But now here you are, a wolf in the den of a dragon. What were you to a dragon? Nothing really. Your sight was all you had to feel in control, and now with it gone you truly felt what other women felt. Powerless. 

“I see.” Aemond had spoken. “Thank you mother. I hope that in time you will be able to guide my lady wife in her responsibilities as the new Queen.” 

She nodded, “Yes of course. And your grandsire will speak to you of your responsibilities as well.” 

“Was there anything else?” 

“No, that was all. You both may take your leave.” Alicent stood up. 

Both you and Aemond had as well, as you all headed towards the door Alicent spoke for the last time, “Congratulations. You both have done well.” You and Aemond nodded. 

Just as you think you both walk in opposite directions Aemond places his hand on your lower back. You look up at him, yet he does not look at you. He began to guide you towards his chambers. When he noticed some maids passing by he asked them to draw a bath in his chambers. They obliged. 

By the time you both had reached the room the bath had already been drawn. He excused the maids. He led you to the front of the tubs, from behind he began to untie your gown. You looked over your shoulder and pulled away. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Stand still.” His voice stern. Yet he continued to speak, “Do you know how idiotic it was to stay in the rain? You could have gotten sick.” 

You spoke lightly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Clearly.” 

He helped you into the tub after he had removed your dress and let down your hair. As you laid back in the tub he began to wash your hair. 

“The realm can not afford to lose its heir.” 

You had rolled your eyes, “Yes husband, as I am simply a child maker. And my life does not matter.” 

He lightly pulled on your hair causing you to glare back at him. “I wasn’t finished.” He had grabbed your chin lightly so that you wouldn’t look away. “While the realm can not afford it. I could not afford to lose you.”

Your eyes looked away from his, “Oh and is that why you have avoided me for a month?” 

“Yes.” You scoffed at his remark. 

“My uncle is still alive. We killed his children and his wife, what do you think he’d do if he found out I have grown fond of you. That I have a weakness for you, and now our child. He would burn you alive. Cut you in half, torture you, feed you to caraxes. What would I do if that happened?” 

“Kill him and remarry.” 

“You think that coldly of me?”  

“I have heard rumors that you were with a woman before me. What would stop you from doing the same? You are clearly loyal to your mother and if she wished you to remarry for the sake of the realm you would. I am nothing but a pawn in your family's game. I have done my duty and if I die then that is in the fate of the gods.” 

He was taken aback by your willingness to die. He had noticed a shift in your behavior for a while. The past month he had watched you from a distance, always seeing you praying in the godswood. It was all you did, he had to send maids to come and bring you food whenever you noticed you being there for more than an hour. 

“You have the sight. You are not just a pawn. Clearly my grandsire saw it as something.” 

“Yet I do not have the sight! The gods have clearly punished me! I have not had a single vision or dream since I got here. I have nothing, I am nothing.” 

“You are not nothing. You are my wife. You are to be queen.” 

Tears began to well up, “But I can not just be that. My whole life I have been a greenseer. How could I have that taken from me?” 

“Would you like to go back for a few days?” 

“Where?” 

“Home. To Winterfell.” 

“No, it’s too far. Your coronation is soon, riding there would take months.” 

“Not by dragon's back.” 

“Dragon’s back?” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“I’ve never been on a dragon. Let alone see one up close.” You shook your head. 

“It would only be for four days.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Were you not listening to me, my lady wife?” He teased. 

“No.” 

“I could never replace you. You are now everything to me” He had leaned in closer. 

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek, “That is why I am being nice.” 

His lips moving closer to your lips. His kisses were intoxicating, no matter if you were angry at him. No matter if he had ignored you. Ever since that day he first kissed you, you had become addicted to it regardless of your feelings. 

“You can’t leave me again. You can’t shut me out. I can’t be here alone. I can’t do this without you.” Your eyes clouded with lust, with caving for his affection. 

“Alright.” He smirked lightly. 

“Promise?” 

He chuckled, “I promise.” 

His lips touched yours. The kiss was sloppy, desperate. You turned around to face him, pulling him closer. Through the kiss you began to help him undress. As he got in the water he pulled you onto his lap. His hands on your waist to hold you up right while your hand drifts down his chest. 

You found his cock already hard, it twitched at your touch. You gripped it tightly causing him to hiss. Your lips leave his as you travel down to his neck. As you suck on his neck you begin to pump his cock causing him to grunt lightly. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes closed as his head leaned back. The look of him like that caused your body to feel on fire. You bit his chest lightly, a groan left his lips. 

Unwilling to wait anymore you aligned him to your cunt. Rubbing him against your lower lips.

“Fuck” His hand moving from your waist to his cock.

But before he could grab himself you stopped his hand. This caused him to open his eyes and look up at you. He watched as you guided his hands from your stomach, passed your breast to reach your throat. That was when you sank down onto his cock, taking all of him. You let out a light moan feeling his warmth. 

He watched as you arched your back and began to move your hips. He lightly squeezed his hand causing your breath to hitch. All he could do was watch, watch as your perfectly shaped tits bounded with the rhythm of you bouncing on his cock. He hadn’t seen you clearly the first time you had sex. But now, he could clearly see you. The candles that surrounded the tub had illuminated you perfectly. The way your hair clung to your neck, the way the water dripped down your face. It made you look ethereal. Too delicate for him to touch, he was afraid that he would break you. 

But your whispers of his name tempted him. He needed more. He sat up, moving you with him. Once he had you both in a comfortable position he lifted you up. He carried you over to the bed. He had placed you on the bed and told you to get in the center. He then told you to turn around and bend over. He watched as you hesitated slightly but then did what he told you to do. Your forearms resting on the bed as your ass stuck up in a position that gave him a view of everything. You felt vulnerable, especially as he had not made a sound. This caused you to look back at him. You just saw him standing there looking at you, his cock just as hard as he had begun to stock it at the sight he was blessed with. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name again. 

Just with his name he had moved closer to you. You felt the shift in the bed, you felt his hands making their way to your hips once more. His cock aligning with your cunt, he had rubbed himself against you smearing his juices against your wet cunt. It didn’t take long before he filled you up. He groaned at the feeling of your warm cunt, it pulled him in and held onto him tight as he pulled back and forth. 

His pace began to speed up and the sounds of your sweet moans. Each trust is getting harder and hitting the right spots. You felt him pull you back to him, your back against his chest as he continued to fuck you. He moved the hair from your neck, his lips sucking gently on your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your cunt tightening around him more. That last squeeze was enough to tip him over the edge. He came, his cum overflowing out of your cunt as he pulled out. 

He watched as his cum dripped from your cunt to the bed. You felt a shift in the bed again. You felt something between your legs. Before you knew it his lips were against your cunt. He lapped at your dripping cunt. His groan vibrated against your lower lips. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

You sat up and watched him, his eyes closed as you would grind down on his face. You moaned as you felt his tongue slip between your folds. As you gripped his hair you watched as he opened his eyes. He stared back at you, sucking hard on your clit. You felt a tingling sensation pass through your whole body. Your knees felt weak, Aemond could feel it too. Once you had come down from your high, you got off him. 

Your back now against the bed. You took a moment to collect your thoughts. He was in you just seconds ago but you missed the feeling of him filling you up. But he wouldn’t let you rest, not yet. 

“I’m not done. Not yet. I need you, in every possible way.” Aemond leaned down and kissed your lips as he entered you again. 

Your moans and the sound of the bed creaking could be heard throughout the halls. The whispers of your marriage not being consummated during your period of silence with each other would be silence. 

Morning came quickly, the sun was now shining as the storm had passed. You awoke to the sound of the birds singing and to the feeling of an arm wrapped around you. You opened your eyes and looked down. Aemond had done the decency to cover you both after you had knocked out. But what made your heart flutter was the placement of his hand on your stomach. You didn’t know if he placed his hand there intentionally or just by coincidence. Either way it made you feel secure. Not just for you but for this child.

You placed your hand on his, he was warm. You didn’t understand how he could always be so warm, especially with how cold he looked. You tried to remove his hand to get up but he pulled you back into him. 

“Are you planning to run away so early, wife?” Aemond nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

You smiled and turned around in his arms, “No dear husband. I plan on getting ready so that we may go to Winterfell.” 

“Everything is ready. We just need to get out of bed.” Aemond kept his eyes closed and ran his fingers up and down your arm. 

“How do you know it’s all ready? We only spoke of it last night.” 

“Earlier this morning, your maid had come in to wake you. I told her of our plans and asked her to get help setting everything up.” 

“I see.” You paused, “So then why are we still in bed?” 

“Because my dear wife. After all your nagging yesterday, you looked so beautiful sleeping. I could not dare wake you.” 

Aemond opened his eyes to find you glaring at him. He kissed your forehead, “After all that yesterday, you still find ways to upset me?” 

“How could I not?” He smirked before placing a kiss on your lips. 

After an hour or two you both had finally got ready. He had taken you to where Vhagar was, and there you stood. The giant stood before you, the air it had realized from its nose blew your hair slightly. Aemond pulled you closer, he placed your hand on Vhagar. He spoke in High Valyrian, and it seemed to have called the dragon down. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ride with you?” 

“Yes. You’ll just sit in front of me.” 

The trip was long, but not as long as you had spent in the carriage. You felt the cold breeze hit you. The smell of open air, of the woods you had always remembered. Once Vhagar had landed you were greeted with your fathers men. They were taken by surprise and led you both to your father. You had explained everything to him, and how you would only be there for a bit so that you could be back in time for Aemonds coronation. With that he let you go, but requested an audience with Aemond. There you were taken to the godswood. It felt different, different than the one in the Red Keep. You kneeled in front of the tree and began to pray.

After what felt like hours there had been footsteps behind you. Turning you noticed Aemond heading towards you. You watched as he took in the woods. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” You got up and headed towards him. 

He nodded his head and reached up to touch one of the red leaves, “I didn’t expect it to look exactly like the one back home.” 

“They all look the same. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” 

“Have you finished?” He looked back at you.

You smile at him, “Yes. I feel much better now.” 

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead before turning around to walk back. He stopped when he noticed you weren’t by his side. 

“What is it?” 

“After your coronation. Do you think we could come back?” 

“What for?” 

“Well ever since I was a little girl I always wanted to get married here in the godswoods. And I know we already had our wedding. But-” You looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. “I’d really love to get married to the man I have grown to admire here.” 

Aemond walked back over to you, “If that is what my Queen wants, then I shall give it to her.” 

All you could do was smile at him. Yes your relationship was not ideal, this was not how you had expected it. Especially with him ignoring you, but now, now that you both promised. You both came to an understanding you felt like you could really build something with him. Clearly there was attraction, but you could be more than that. And his openness towards it was all you needed. 

Later in the day at dinner you had felt nauseous and excused yourself to your room. Aemond was going to go with you but you told him to enjoy himself and to keep talking if he wanted to. And he did. He found the environment less hostile as the one back at Kings Landing. Time had passed and without wanting to disturb your sleep, Aemond slept in a separate room. The night had continued yet Aemond could not stop tossing in his sleep. 

He was stuck, as if someone was holding him back. He watched as Daemon pulled you by your hair. You hold your swollen belly to protect your child, your face red and bloody. 

“Nephew, you started this war but I will end it. A wife for a wife.” Daemon pressed the dagger against your cheek, nicking it. 

“Aemond.” Your cries out before all he could hear were your screams. 

Daemon moved the dagger to your eyes, gouging out one after the other. Your tears mixed with the blood that ran down your eyes. Your screams had continued until they had felt real. 

Aemond jolted awake and yet he still heard your screams. His mind scattering, he ran out of the room to find yours. He flung open the door, your screams got louder. He was met with the sight of you, sitting up in bed. Your hands covering your eyes as if you had felt the pain. The pain he had dreamt of. He ran to you and touched your arm. But you had begun to hit him, trying to push him away. 

“Y/n. It’s me. It’s just me.” He waited until you calmed down to see it was really him. He watched as your tears ran down your face. The tears were overflowing, you let out a sob and whispered you were sorry. He shook his head and told you it was fine. 

He had pulled you into him. He had never hugged you so tightly before, he didn’t even know you were capable of that much strength. 

“I had a dream. Your uncle he-” 

“I know. I saw it. You don’t have to say it.” 

Your sobs hadn’t stopped. You both stayed there for more than an hour. Aemond had set you back, and hugged you tightly in hopes to calm you down. It was working, but it did nothing to calm him down. It was all he could think of. Your screams, it made his entire body ache. He was stuck, he felt helpless.

But it was true, he had started this war. He was the cause, he didn’t deserve happiness and his uncle knew it. Just when he found it, just when he found someone who understood him. Daemon would take her from him. He knew if he didn’t find Daemon this would eventually be their fate. It would be your fate. And it killed him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you died. Not after all this. He knew this would not end not while Daemon was still alive. 

#xreader #x reader #hotd aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #smut

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Exhibitionism, infidelity, Aegon’s a dick in this one but it’s bc he’s Insecure, voyeur-ish, oral f!receiving, Criston Lives To Serve Women, one-sided feelings, doggy-style, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, it Appears Mr. Cole is being Used but nah she wants to crawl inside his armor, BI AEGON RIGHTS!!!!

A/N: This was alternately labeled ‘Mr. Criston dicks down’

Criston dragged Aegon’s limp form into the bed, carelessly throwing the stinking wretch into the fine bedding. Once again picked up from a night out, the knight had received a tip from a gold cloak that your idiot husband was getting fucked with the curtains opened, the blonde’s loud moans and pink prick on display for all to see on the Street of Silk.

Aegon mumbled and rolled on his side, covering his face with a pillow, snoring within seconds. You could still see the slick stains on the seat of his ass and frowned. He’d take cocks before he drank enough to take you. You held your arms around your robed waist and murmured, “Thank you Ser.” You couldn’t bear laying back down beside him. Misery wafted off you in waves.

Criston remained silent, presence looming, warm leather sliding along the bared crook of your neck. The brunette thumbed at the rigid muscles at the base of your skull— always drawn tight. You feebly moaned, falling back into his intimate embrace. His other hand possessively splayed across your waist to your stomach, fingertips tightening just-so.

The knight murmured, “He’s so much easier like this. I can feel you relaxing already.”

Your shoulders were unbearably tense. Criston moved his other hand to clamp down on your tender muscles. It was a pleasant feeling, warm pressure aided by softened leather. His familiar scent engulfed you, the man nosing at your hair and inhaling.

Lulled from your lover’s warm hands and presence you whispered, “He dishonors me. My entire family.” Criston dug the heels of his palms into your muscles, earning another helpless moan. The knight growled, “I know sweetling. I know”, his grip tightened, “I thought about leaving the sot and taking you in this bed all night. He’s like a poison vine, crawling atop everything, leaving it’s mark.”

You turned up to look at Criston’s thinned lips, thick brows furrowed and dark eyes boring into Aegon. You reached up to caress a stubbled cheek, soften his raging frustrations. He let out a deep breath, the leather vice on your body loosening.

Cautiously you turned further, now facing your dear knight. He looked upset still, swearing, “He has no shame. No cares. Fucking fool, as much as I cared and loved for the boy.” Now your smaller hands held his tanned face, catching those dark orbs, immediately softening upon your gaze.

“Do not fret Criston, you’ve eased the burn, burdened what you did not have to. I’m blessed to have you in my arms.

The brunette swallowed thickly, emotions welling. He croaked, “I’d never not stand against who dishonors the future queen. All of those limping lordlings can attest to that. I’m blessed further to have you, Princess. I’ll take your burdens until I leave this world.”

He leant down to take your lips, gentle and kind. Your palms snuck up into his pretty curls, lightly tugging and scratching his scalp. Criston sighed against your breath, tongues dancing in an experienced form. His big hands made slow circles from your waist, hips, to ass. The white knight kneaded at the softer flesh, groaning your name.

Only the sound of Aegon’s drunken snoring intertwined with your heightening breath and soft sighs of pleasure. You asked against his moist lips, eyes fervent, “Take me, I need you love.” Dark brown sought your own, Criston’s eyes moving to and fro. He eyed the defiled Aegon and nodded briskly.

“If he awakes, this could go very wrong my princess,” he murmured with a worried gaze.

“If he awakes I hope he feels dishonored as I have been. He’d probably think it was a dream.”

The blonde actually had no clue. He was too self-absorbed, laughed off the japes about the white knight over his wife, under the bed. Aegon would laugh, “I think the sot still burns over my cunt sister, how tragic. The bastards might’ve been his.” He’d eye you, lips pouting, body stiff, “Afraid you and the ‘Realms Delight’ have little in common. I think he likes a little fire.”

Criston physically flipped you out of the horrid memory. Your upper body was pinned to the bed, eyes gazing up at those bite-swollen lips and messy white hair. You wanted him to hurt, just as you and your lover had. Turning your head to face the Dornishman you undid the robe and lay bare to his gaze now, always undone by the look of reverence.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful, let me have a taste first? Please princess?,” he begged, eyes shiny and wide, desperation pitching his voice. You nodded assent, mouth falling open as his perfect lips kissed your rapidly swelling cunt. He moaned into you, gloves carelessly tossed by now, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin.

He gripped at your thighs while lapping up to that precious bundle, stubble scraping against delicate skin. You writhed backwards, crying out softly and grabbing a handful of thick curls. “C-Criston, oh, ha!”

He’d slipped two big fingers inside a now-weeping cunt, wet mouth suckling at your button. The man had to hold a hip to keep you down, shaking apart at the seams. You were whimpering and yanking at his hair, cunny shivering and twitching around Criston’s crooked fingers— lazily beckoning your orgasm to make its way down.

He shoved a third finger in and flicked the hood of your bud, once, twice, then in rapid succession with an expert tongue. Now you didn’t even hold back the wail, finishing messily on your lover’s face. He groaned and lapped, purring little praises, big hands still kneading trembling flesh. You wanted more, now, let your dear Criston consume you.

He huffed a laugh when you slowly hiked a leg up, then another, exposing your puffy core to him. Criston breathed against your skin, a lilt to his tone, “Are you needy sweetling? Need my cock while your fool husband is sleeping in the same bed?” He snickered while getting up to loosen his breeches and some outer armor.

“I wonder if he’s even moved? I had a better view than you, my princess.”

You sneered over your shoulder, “Lucky you, hm?”

Criston grinned as he eased one knee onto the bed, hand guiding his heavy cock forward. You whined again, the blunt tip practically a tease. Reaching backwards with a grunt you pulled his hips flush to your ass. There was a dull slap, your cry of ecstasy, Criston’s winded ‘fuck!’

He smacked your ass and growled, “Not needy, ravenous,” he pressed his warm body to your back, “absolutely ravenous.” You nodded in jerks, skin erupting into a sweat, goosebumps up and down your bared skin. Criston’s sculpted lips kissed and mouthed against your nape, winding your hair around his left hand.

You stuttered weakly, “C-come on my l-love, s’full.”

He grinned against your skin, shoving his lean hips forward. The knight murmured in a teasing lilt, “Mhm dove? Feel how much I desire you? How you drive me insane? I’ll ruin you for any other— including that one.”

He punctuated the end of the sentence with a pointed thrust, jerking your head upwards to stare at Aegon’s puffy face. He was still out, twitching a bit. You mewled, “You already have, take me- take me!” Keeping tanned skin plastered to your own, he fucked you rough and quick.

You had no time to adjust— grunts and cries forced out by his ever-moving cock. The brunette’s right hand held your waist, crooking your back for a better angle. He still had your head facing Aegon, gloating in the debauchery in front of your husband’s face.

You bucked back onto the familiar girth, whining your white knight’s name. He didn’t let up, abusing your already sensitive cunt. Although still were a bit tender from earlier, the burn was exquisite. Your hands wrenched in the bedspread were ordered by your lover to grope at your tits, play around with an overused clit.

He panted into your ear, “Such a good sweetling, s-sucking me in, keep it up.”

You turned to meet his lips, sloppily mashing your mouth against his. Criston whined deep in in his chest, opening up to drag his tongue across yours. It was a messy affair, the pair of you too busy chanting litanies of sweet names between swears. His hips began to drag into disjointed little grinds, Criston’s pretty eyes scrunching tight.

He begged against your drooling lips, “C’mon- haaah- c’mon.” He helplessly gasped and jerked into your tightening cunt. You nodded, eyes lidded and hazy, promising, “I’m right there, oh my love, my sweetheart.” Reaching up to caress his stubbled cheek you looked forward. Criston was whining softly against your face with his eyes closed and mouth agape, so lovely, the picture of erotic pleasure.

Aegon’s violet eyes were a different story. They were open in shock, staring dead on. His plush lips opened, closed, opened— gaping like a fish. At that moment Criston struck gold and you seized with a high cry, wailing your lover’s name. The orgasm that hit you was extra sweet layered with self-satisfaction.

Criston stuttered, “O-oh gods, gods, fuckyesyesyes, I’m coming for you, yes!” He shoved his face into the crook of your neck, pretty nose mashed into your skin as he moaned long and whorish. You gasped, grinning, cooing, “That’s it my love, fill me up, yes, good boy.”

Aegon’s plush lips wobbled, his face blotchy with something. Did he really expect you to cry and wait for his attention all this time? The knight beside and inside you came to, lashes fluttering. He laughed, “You’re dreaming princeling, go back to sleep.”

The blonde croaked, “But she’s mine.” He was dumbfounded, still drunk out of his mind. Tears gathered in those Valyrian eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at Criston’s ploy. Purring with satisfaction you added, “Roll over fool, you’ll wake up with a pounding head and a wife that doesn’t fuck your Kingsguard. Although she dreams of it.”

Aegon looked lost and sad but did so, rolling over and away from you two. Criston laid a possessive peck on your cheekbone, snickering, “Didn’t think he’d get all weepy about it.” You shrugged and replied, “Good. If he wasn’t such a brat I wouldn’t play this off. Need you too much.”

The brunette grinned easily, nosing against you. He rasped, “True. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up dove.” He slid out with a hiss and the pair of you got quickly dressed— lest Aegon awaken again. You sent off the sweet knight with one more kiss, him escorting you to your separate chambers for the night. You wouldn’t sleep next to the drunk sot.

“Would you fuck Cole if you had the chance?,” Aegon asked abruptly during breakfast. It was just the two of you, the prince requesting a private audience. You raised a brow while nibbling on cheese, humming, “Why would you ask that? I’m sworn to you.”

He frowned, sagging into his chair, eyes rimmed and red. He muttered, “Had a strange dream, you were fucking Cole in our bed last night.” You laughed, a sudden burst. The prince hissed, “It wasn’t a joke, nor very pleasant. He’s a dumb dog, loyal to whoever throws a bone.”

You replied, “He’s merely chivalrous. Pretty face. Shame he’s common-born.” Aegon scoffed, biting into his meal.

“You’ll have no one but me,” he stated.

“Of course, husband dearest. You do love to remind me of that,” you said absently.

Aegon leveled you with a look, an attempt to intimidate. All you saw was fear. The prince’s crippling fear of being alone. Oh. It felt so good. You hoped next time he doesn’t fully wake up.

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[wordbreaker]

The Taming of the Dragon, 1 ✷ Aemond Targaryen

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen / F!OC

SUMMARY: One evening, Aemong, in dire need of clearing his head, catches a Dragonkeeper on the beach tending to Vhagar. The Queen of Dragons doesn't seem bothered by the stranger's presence. Quite the opposite. Aemond is immediately intrigued. Even more so when he discovers that the stranger is a girl who comes from the North and bears the name Snow.

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         Aemond Targaryen was on the verge of going mad. Everyone around him, from his mother to his grandfather and even his failing father, had only one word on their lips: Rhaenyra. His half-sister, who lived in Dragonstone, haunted the Red Keep. Her ghost wandered the corridors and manifested itself on their lips. He no longer wanted to hear that cursed name, which brought with it bad omens and curses.

“She'll do anything to usurp the throne! Even if she knows Aegon is the rightful heir!’ Alicent Hightower shouted.

Her brown curls bounced with every step she took. Her incessant to-ing and fro-ing along the Small Council’s table was making his head spin.

His mother had summoned him—as if Aegon wasn't the first son—to this secret meeting where her, his grandfather Otto, Criston Cole and Larys Strong would discuss stratagems, politics, and manipulations: three things he had started to loath. His love for his mother and his sense of duty had kept him from leaving the minute she made that request.

His expression revealed his true opinion of this ridiculous spectacle which he was watching with a distracted eye. He had stopped listening a long time ago and was waiting patiently—as was expected of him—to be dismissed. These discussions had a way of boring him. They went round in circles, nothing more than paraphrases of a previous meeting. A constant déjà-vu fuelled by obsession and a thirst for power.

“Viserys will come round,” her father reassured her.

The Queen laughed, a mundane, almost inelegant, gesture that was incongruous with her status. Rhaenyra had the gift of unearthing his mother’s inner ugliness. She could turn the most important woman in Westeros into the common little girl full of rage she had once been.

“She has his favour. She is the favourite child! He won't change his mind, not even about his first son!”

And what a son! Unsurprisingly, Aegon was nowhere to be seen today. His brother had never taken to politics. He was probably busy fucking some whore in the Silk Alley or some maid in his rooms, happy to let Aemond take over the responsibilities he left vacant.

Although it pained him to admit it, Aegon was the first son and he belonged on the Iron Throne. Aemond would much rather see his brother sit there than his whore of a half-sister. Aegon wasn't evil, just a misguided soul that his mother and grandfather would set straight. He was sure of that. Leaving the kingdom in Rhaenyra's palms, on the other hand, was tantamount to condemning the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms. Her reign would only bring calamity.

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ornate ceiling. His fingernails beat against the wooden table as the minutes ticked by. Slowly. Much too slowly. He held back a yawn.

The tone had been raised, words had been shouted, orders, given, and in the midst of all this racket, Aemond felt like screaming. He couldn't care less about Rhaenyra, his uncle, and her brown-haired bastards.

Aemond didn't want to suffer what his birth had spared him—responsibility. The second son was merely the replacement, the forgotten one. He would only appear on stage if Death came too early.

He wanted to be left in peace until then.

A futile desire for someone bearing the Targaryen name. No ancestor of the blood of the Dragon had known peace and he certainly wouldn't be the first.

The sun had been down for at least three hours when Aemond finally escaped from the clutches of his mother and grandfather. He mourned a wasted day and headed for his rooms.

On the way, he came across Aegon, his eyes reddened, and his eyelashes still stuck with sleep. His fist itched. He felt a visceral need to bring it down on his brother’s face. Why wouldn’t he grow up? What would become of Westeros if his grandfather and mother succeeded in making him king? Aegon was an immature fool and Aemond was expected to pick up the pieces. What did he gain by doing so? No recognition, no respect, and certainly not power. He was asked to do it because it was expected of him. An unspoken rule he learned to obey from an early age.

Aemond Targaryen would forever remain the second son, obscured by the shadow of Aegon’s unworthy glory.

“Brother.”

Aegon nodded, but the sly smile on his lips threw off any semblance of politeness. Aemond remained unmoved. He would not play his game, not tonight, although a few insults came to the tip of his tongue. He clenched his jaw.

“I assume the council was as interesting as usual. I'm sorry I couldn't be there but, you understand... A pretty servant was waiting for me. Couldn’t disappoint her, you know?”

Aemond didn't reply. He had not even deigned to leave the castle, not even his rooms. His hands began to shake, and a stabbing pain seized his sapphire eye, as it did every time he was upset. Lazy bastard.

When Aemond was mastering the art of sword fighting, Aegon was swilling whole jugs of wine. When Aegon was thrusting his cock between the thighs of a whore, Aemond was immersing himself in the histories of Old Valyria.

They couldn't have been more different.

Aemond continued towards his chambers, his face tense. Behind him, his brother burst out laughing and tried to talk to him, but he quickened his pace. Tonight, he had no patience for conversation.

Soon, the large wooden doors of his rooms appeared at the end of the corridor. The relief he felt was dulled by a weight in his chest.

At the last moment, Aemond turned around and hurried back. He felt as if he were suffocating within the gigantic walls of the Red Keep. The vast corridors were no longer so. They closed in on him and whispered hissing words. They slipped into his ear and snaked into his mind to unearth his worries. Stories of legitimacy, inheritance, the throne and responsibility—everywhere he went, his duty followed and plagued him.

Aemond needed to see Vhagar. He usually avoided disturbing her in the evening. His dragon was no longer in her prime and slept more than the others. Tonight, he would allow himself to be selfish. The need was too great. He had to clear his head, or he would go mad like many Targaryens before him.

He continued walking until he came to a darkened alcove. Aemond slid his hand over the cold stones. Eyes closed, he savoured the sensation. Click. He pushed open the wall, revealing a long and abandoned corridor.

The secrets of the Red Keep were no longer unknown for him. Aemond had spent his youth wandering up and down the corridors of the building in search of them. The stories said that Maegor the Cruel had beheaded the architects, the masons, the carpenters... all the brains and hands that built this fortress. They took these secrets to their graves, secrets that only the blood of the Dragon could recognise.

After the loss of his eye—thinking of Lucerys Strong made him cringe—Aemond had redoubled his efforts to find them all. These passages had offered him the ideal refuge to escape from the gaze of others during the most difficult period of his life. This tradition had survived.

Aemond didn't even stop in front of Balerion's skull—not when his own dragon, alive on top of it, was waiting for him—and he rushed through the corridors, down some stairs, up others, turned left and then right, down some stairs again until he finally reached a door which he pushed open.

The fresh air whipped across his face. Immediately, all his worries evaporated, although his hands continued to tremble—a vestige of his wrath. He inhaled the smell of the shore, a delicious mixture of salt and air.

Aemond made his way down the stairs and onto the beach. He relished the sensation of walking on the white sand. It crumbled under his leather boots. Aemond found this instability reassuring. Nature could be unstable too. The wind had picked up and was blowing thousands of grains around. These whirlwinds, small storms of matter, calmed him and the proximity of Vhagar finished off the hurricane rising in his heart.

With a slight smile on his lips, he walked over to the dunes where his dragon had taken refuge since he brought her back from Driftmark, eight years ago. A mountain of green scales stood among the other mounds of sand. It moved with every breath. Aemond could almost feel the warmth of her breath, the hardness of her scales, and could already imagine himself riding her, hair blowing in the wind, free in his mind.

His joy was short-lived. The gods did not like to see him happy.

Aemond stopped dead in his tracks. Next to the gigantic figure of Vhagar, a small silhouette stood out. It was fidgeting and tormenting the dragon’s sleep. The short distance between the two made him clench his fists. They were close, far too close. Aemond had forbidden anyone to approach his mount. He had never had to repeat his request before. Who would be foolish enough to approach a sleeping dragon? Those who had risked it were no longer around to tell the tale. They had been burnt to a crisp and their loved ones had had to mourn an unrecognisable pile of ashes.

The stranger must have been unconscious or just mad.

Aemond stomped over to them.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he growled rather than asked.

He knew he was protective of Vhagar. Everyone around him had noticed. He had exchanged her for an eye, and this suffering had only redoubled his murderous impulses: Vhagar was his. Anyone who dared touch her would face his rage.

The latter rose in his chest and accelerated his heartbeat. It coursed through his entire being, leaving no part of his body untouched. His nails dug into the palms of his hands. His muscles quivered, waiting for just one thing—for him to attack.

He stepped forward, ready to confront the stranger, who jumped and turned but did not reply. This silence made him even more furious. Who dared ignore their prince?

Moving a little closer, Aemond recognised the gleaming black armour and scaled helmet of the Dragonkeepers.

A breeze of relief blew over his heart, but it didn't completely calm the agitation that had been building up inside. At least this person knew what they were doing.

Worry and anger gave way to curiosity: what were they doing here? Aemond had never come across a Dragonkeeper outside the pit. They lived there to ensure the well-being of the creatures. Like monks, the pit was their sanctuary, and nothing could keep them from their duties.    

Normally, at least.

He couldn't see their face. Vhagar's massive form cast an equally colossal shadow over their body, which was further darkened by the night. It was only when he was close enough to smell the smoke coming from their uniform that he realised it was a girl and, worse still, that he didn't know her.

The last time he had ventured into the dragonpit, he had been only ten years old and had two eyes. Back when he was still Dragonless-Aemond, the place had seemed unreachable yet idyllic—the embodiment of impossible dreams. Eight years ago, he would have easily been able to name the seventy-seven keepers with the time he spent there. He came every day, waiting for the moment when a dragon would accept him as a rider.

The Dragonkeepers’ faces had clouded over with time, reduced to vague memories that the satisfaction of having claimed Vhagar had swept away. Far too large to fit in the pit, his dragon had made her home on the dunes of King's Landing and, in doing so, had made the dragonpit a bygone era of his childhood.

“State your name. Now.”

She dipped into a clumsy curtsy, perhaps the worst he had ever seen. She almost tripped on air and fell face-first into the sand. He winced. This girl was cruelly lacking in grace. No doubt the keeper’s profession had damaged her manners, which already left a lot to be desired.

"Lucella Snow, yer ‘ighness.”

His eye twitched.

A bastard from the North.

The shamelessness made perfect sense now.

These people were nothing but barbarians, made savages by the cold and their proximity with the Wildlings. They prayed to their strange, faceless gods, remnants of a primitive past, and still clung to superstitions dating back thousands of years which bore witness to their backwardness. Too limited for the political intrigues of the South, they retreated into their icy fortresses and only left them to defend themselves.

Northerners were strange and even the Starks, although not the worst of their species, were no exception to the rule.

Add to that the absence of a father to beat her and train her like a lady, which she could have become with a little effort, and you had the bastard in front of him. She was not unpleasant to look at, Aemond decided. Her pale skin, hidden under the ashes smeared on her cheeks, and the few strands of black hair sticking out of her helmet leaped out at him. If she had been born in wedlock, many suitors would have fought for her hand in marriage.

“And what on earth is a Winterfell bastard doing here?”

“I’m sorry, yer ‘ighness, but I’m afraid ‘am just a bastard frum White ‘arbah.”

Her accent struck Aemond's ears and made him wince. Syllables here and there disappeared as the vowels struggled to make themselves heard properly in this gibberish. Her voice was deep, deeper than his mother's or his sister's—the only women of his life—, and dragonfire smoke had taken the evenness out of her tone, leaving it hoarse.

He didn't like the way she avoided his question or her undeniable lack of politeness. She looked at him with jaded eyes as if he were the one who shouldn't be there. He thought he saw a flame dancing in her amber irises. A strange colour for someone from a Northerner. In these lands, eyes were only blue, grey, or black: bland colours for a land saddened by the blizzard.

“Winterfell... White Harbor... Northern towns all look alike.”

“I suppose yeh won't mind if I call you Velaryon, then? Yeh understand... Valyrians… They’re all th’same.”

His indecency irritated her. A mouth like hers belonged in a dilapidated tavern, not in a place like the Red Keep.

Northerners didn't belong here. They weren't like them.

“What is your concern here?” he asked her again.

Why isn’t Vhagar killing you? he thought.

Next to Snow, the Queen of Dragons looked peaceful. His companion was used to the presence of the keeper of the North, Aemond realised. The thought worried him. How long had this stranger been roaming around his dragon without him knowing?

The bastard pointed her gloved fingertips at a sheep carcass, no doubt ready to be charred by Vhagar, judging by the hungry look on her face. Aemond had not seen it until now.

The presence of this woman was upsetting his plans and troubling his senses.

“I’m bringing her food.”

Her 'r's rolled off her tongue.

“I already feed her.”

“Not enough. Obviously,” Snow retorted without hesitation, pointing to Vhagar's visible ribs. “Age tends t’work up their appetite. Ain’t tha’ right, sweetheart?”

She tenderly stroked the dragon’s muzzle, who let herself be petted under Aemond's hallucinated gaze.

His mount, reduced to a common pet.

His nostrils flared. He abruptly grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Vhagar, ignoring the grimace of pain on the Dragonkeeper’s face. Good. Perhaps she would understand that lurking around his dragon was not without consequences.

Vhagar, the Queen of all dragons, ridden by Visenya, had fought and survived Aegon's Conquest. She embodied the glory of House Targaryen and would not be touched by a commoner. A Northern bastard even less so.

Without a glance at her, he climbed the rope ladder and settled into the saddle.

"Sōvēs," he commanded.

Vhagar, lethargic, took her time shaking her wings before flapping them and taking flight. She sent grains of sand and stones flying. Soon, the beach was nothing more than a pale speck drowned in the thick clouds bathing in the twilight’s silver light. The icy air invigorated him, but he couldn't find the comfort he had come for. His thoughts remained stuck on the Dragonkeeper.

When Vhagar lost altitude for a moment, when the two of them broke through the cloud barrier and the beach was visible once again, Aemond saw that she had not moved and that her eyes were riveted on him.

Aemond didn't understand her expression but decided he didn't give a fuck.

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