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tamayakii · 2 months

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The Devil watches.

Warnings: Not connected to any episodes of HOTD, but is set after Daemon & Laena marry after Rhaenrya & Laenor do. My timing may be off by a tad, Pairings: No Pairings, it's pretty much Darling on her own. notes: I chose the flowers with purpose, anyone who can guess will get a cookie. Also thank you to my friends for being my beta-readers. Also part two IS in the works!

The Belladonna swayed in the wind, dancing with the butterfly weeds. They were a beautiful sight. A change from the rainy scenery on Dragonstone, it rained like hell on the island. The colder season was here. Your family wrapped themselves in furs and thick leather.

The Velaryons and Targaryens frequently met on Dragonstone because of the marriages between Rhaenrya and Laenor, as well as Daemon and Laena, with Dragonstone and Driftmark being sister islands.

At a slow pace, you traversed the halls of the stone castle, the one that had held many of Targaryen's heirs and ancestors. Since your entrance into the royal family, you dug yourself into research- you wanted them to know you truly did not look down at this chance of a better life.

You learned the history of Old Valyria with your father, Viserys. He believed himself a dreamer, you found, like Daenys the Dreamer- perhaps the reason the Targaryens survived the destruction of Valyria.

With Aemma, you learned of Rhaena Targaryen, Queen of the East and West. Daughter of Alyssa Velaryon and sister to Queen Alysanne, sister-wife to the King Jaehaerys the First. Aemma wanted you to know about her mother, Daella Targaryen.

And you knew, you discovered her meek nature, her fear of gardens, bees, and cats. You acquired all knowledge that could be learned, all knowledge that the Maesters wrote. Even once at a dinner, you asked Ser Corlys what he thought of Daella, who was 3 and 10 at the time of their meeting.

They quickly escorted you to your chambers, with Rhaenrya following closely behind you. It seemed you had upset Aemma and changed the mood of the dinner. Queen Aemma miscarried that night, something that you would place blame on yourself.

Outside, the wind blew through the paneless windows of the halls. The salty taste of the sea sat upon your lips. The thoughts of your late-queen mother made your eyes water, the pain of her death still ever present in your soul. Your veil billowed behind you as the wind blew harder, pulling your fur robes tighter as you descended the staircase. These were the nights when you felt the need to be under the shrouded night, humming the Mother's Hymn, as the darkness seemed endless and the stars never shined. The castle was as silent as ever. Besides nature's song, everyone tucked into their warm beds. Protected by the guards that you’ve come to know as background ambience.

“Gentle mother..” You sang under your breath, letting your fingers feel every grout of the walls that followed the staircase, “font of mercy…” you dragged your voice out as you reached the bottom of the tower, pushing the thick oak doors open.

“Save our sons..” Closing your eyes as you felt the wind caress your face like Mother herself as you sang her hymn, “from war…” stepping into the courtyard, you looked up at the looming castle of Dragonmont.

“We pray.” Your feet step slowly across the gravel, mimicking a dance you once saw. Slowly, you step from the left before taking a long graceful one to the right. “Stay the swords,” you dance yourself through the protective gates of Dragonstone, skipping from one step to the next.

“And stay the arrows.” Your voice trails off as you walk onto the shore, the waves lapping at the sand. You stopped to admire the dark sea, your veil waving in its wind with force. It was as if the sea’s wind washed away your sins.

“Let them know a be-” A large gust of air comes from above, nearly knocking you on your arse. It punches the air out of your lungs. Gasping for air as you looked to the heavens above, but nothing was there except the night sky.

“Better day..” whispering, eyes wide as you stare into the abyss night. You rack your brain for answers. Perhaps it was Ceraxes. If left alone for too long, the blood wyrm was known for its lonely flights. The thought comforted you.

Looking down the long rocky beach, you begin your trek again with caution. You listen to any sound in the night but all there is howling of the wind, trying to comfort yourself with a sigh; you sing once more,

“Gentle mother..” you pause, waiting for an interruption that never comes. “Strength of women,” pulling your robe against you tighter as you round a tight bend in the beach, skipping over rocks to dodge the waves licking your feet.

The sound of rocks tumbling catches your attention, watching as small rocks fall down the cliff side. Looking up to find that the rocks seemed moved on their own, not a lively shape to be seen up top.

‘The wind, perhaps.’ you think to yourself before moving onward.

“Help our daughters through this fray.” You lost yourself in thought as you walked. The Mothers Hymn was of comfort to you. Aemma sang it every time she tucked you in, unable to ignore your pleas to sing it just once more.

The first night you sang the Mother's Hymn without Aemma was after her funeral, Rhaenrya would not sleep, her grief too much for her to bear on her own. You hummed as you brushed the girl's hair with your fingers, whispering the lyrics.

It took an hour until she fell asleep- your voice raw from repeating the Hymn with no breaks.

A cove sat in your path, the sandy path too thin for you to walk, the water becoming more shallow as it flowed into a cave. Finding yourself upon a high rock, enjoying the sea breeze, you were ignorant to the eyes that stared from the cavern.

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,” You wondered about Laena’s adventure to Vhagar, the woman had her eyes set upon the dragon since she learned of its history and location. Vhagar, the last of the conquerors' dragons, was a mighty green beast, but her song was as beautiful as a gentle maiden.

“Teach us all a kinder way.”

The air gets warmer, almost too warm. You start to wonder as you pant about the change of weather. Turning around and looking into the cavern's mouth; you realize why.

A dragon, as dark as the night and as sharp as a blade. Its horns curled around its face, green eyes glowing in the dark. It begins to climb out of the cave, its body seeming never ending. It towers over you with his horrifying size.

Fear gripped your frail heart. You were going to die.

Smoke billows out of the beast's nostrils. Its chest glows with the heat of a thousand fires. Flames tickle your legs as you throw yourself off the rock, gasping as the freezing water below you flee for your life, forgetting the sharp rocks and barnacles tearing at your hands.

Thunderous booms follow you, a song that told you your fate, but the song was not comforting. It was dreadful. It screeched and wavered unceremoniously, and that was the song you would die to.

There was no escape. The breath of the fearsome dragon was hot on your back. Did the beast enjoy this? It could end this chase with one snap of its giant teeth, but it did not.

A light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

A crack within the cliff side, just big enough to hold you.

Tripping over your feet as you dash for it, shoving your body between the jagged stones, it hurts. The sharp edges tore at the front and back of your dress, crying as it dug into your skin. What were you to do?

The dragon paces back and forth, a cry that sounds too much like a chortle leaves its throat. It was laughing.. It was laughing at you.

“Gentle Mother” You sang with fear, trying to comfort yourself, a bit of solace as you sat at death's door. “Font of mercy” voice wavering as you sobbed, you wanted your mother. You wanted Aemma.

“Save our sons from war, we pray- oh gods!!” you sobbed against the stone, begging the gods- all of them, the old and new, for Mercy,.

The dragon had stopped, listening to your voice.

“Stay the swords and stay the arrows-” you realize the dragon has stopped. You look at the opening and see its green eyes watching you as it slowly lays its large body against the sand. Its lips curled once you stopped singing,

“Let them know a better day..”

It snorted, laying its head down. Perhaps it once heard the Mothers Hymn, or maybe it was the own Mother's hand coming down to save you.

“Gentle Mother, strength of women..” Slowly, you begin to sidestep out of the crack. “Help our daughters through this fray.” you can feel its hot breath once more. Fear makes you stop, but memory reminds you of your family.

“Will I have a dragon, Papa?” Viserys held you tight on his lap, the book open wide on your thighs. The man hums with thought before he smiles, kissing your temple.

“A girl as brave as you? Of course you shall have a dragon., I will make sure of it if I must.” His hands rub your sides with love. The thought of him forcing the gods to give you a dragon made you more happy.

Looking up at him with a toothy grin, “Thank you, Papa!!” The rest of the night you discussed dragons. Viserys suggested that once Dreamfyre laid a new hatch, he would give you a dragon egg, but each egg he gave you failed to hatch.

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,”

The dragon chirps softly, a weird noise coming from such a devilish beast.

“Teach us all a kinder way…” The Hymn ends and soothes the dragon., "Do you like that? It's my favorite... is it yours too?" with cautious steps, you finally emerge out of the rocks. The dragon huffs, and the clouds split and the moon shines upon you two.

If you tamed this dragon… perhaps you would feel more Targaryen, maybe you could fly in the skies with Rhaenrya and Daemon.

The dragon sniffs you as you step closer. Your hands touch the scales of its snout and it rips its head back with a grunt. It was still a wild dragon. You almost laughed at yourself. It had tricked you. You were no Targaryen, and it would kill you.

Awaiting the flames hotter than the hells to blanket your body, you waited for the never ending pain with your eyes closed, but it never came. When the wind picked up again, you found yourself opening your eyes once more.

There it was, spreading its wings and taking off with a mighty roar. You watched as the dragon flew further into the mountains,

You had walked along the devil's hand and came unscathed.

With the speed of a hare, you picked your soaked and ripped dress up and ran. Feet ripping up the sand, leaving spits of rocks behind you. Desperate to reach the safety of your chambers within the safety of the castle.

You reached the castle gates, heaving for air, but it did not stop you. Brushing past the confused guards as you blazingly push the doors open to the side tower and running up the stairs,

Your mind came back to the wild dragon, the way it had multiple sets of horns, but its biggest curled in towards his face like a ram. Its eyes were more green than the richest jade, scales so deep black that it could rival Balerion’s skull that resides under the Red Keep.

Shoving your body against your chamber doors, they slam shut. You wheeze for air, the pain pinching your throat as you try to breathe normally. You should’ve been dead ten times over. Slowly, you walk to your bed, shaking as you collapse.

The silk sheets are warm against your slick skin, fingers stretching as they tremble from the cold. Your eyes fall heavy, the distant roar of a dragon seems ever faint as you slip into a deep slumber.

That night, you dream of dragons. It is you who is the dragon. You see flashes of broken eggs and the bodies of baby dragons ripped apart, oddly; you feel no remorse for the creatures but only satiated hunger.

You see the rough choppy waters of the Narrow Sea below as you fly through the dark nights, ships cross in many numbers- You destroy them, roaring with a laugh but you hunger for your own brethren, for the taste and feel of fire and talons.

No longer a dragon, you’re a human once more. A baby within a cradle, your mother Aemma above you, or was she Aemma? Her long white hair and purple eyes entranced you, but as you studied her further; It was not Aemma, but another woman.

Her eyelids were gently dusted with a purple hue, and her lips were glossed to match the same shade of purple. She seemed tired, but she still smiled. Above her was a painted tapestry of dragons, but among the many, only one caught your attention. There it was. The beast swirled and its jaws were wide open with a flurry of green fire escaping its mouth.

The eyes seem so alive and penetrating, as if they're boring into your very being. The green-eyed devil had been watching you for a long time.

Your dreams end before you can look at the woman once more, but you hear her voice,

“Gentle Mother, font of mercy…”

Let me know what you guys think!! Reblogs over likes!!!

#hotd x reader #yandere hotd x reader #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #their angel au #angel of the red keep #Rhaenrya Targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere viserys targaryen #yandere aemma arryn

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sollsmith · 3 months

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Fire in the Flesh

Chapter Seven

Daemon Targaryen x Original Female Character

Words: 5K

Warnings: mentions of abuse/injury, NSFW smut, fingering (f recieving), sex w/o a condom, taking of virginity, blood

Summary:

After five years at war in the Stepstones and the death of his first wife, Daemon Targaryen returns to court embroiling himself, and his niece and heir to the throne Rhaenyra, in chaos and scandal. Daemon’s actions cause Viserys to give him the one thing he has always wanted. A Valyrian bride. Just not the one he had in mind.

“Maybe we should put it up? In a braid?” She had suggested to Rhaenyra when they were deciding what to do with her hair, wanting the relief of it being lifted off her neck. She was uncommonly hot, and Daella was not sure if it was her lack of sleep or the much too hot bath that was run for her this morning by the random handmaid she had been offered by Rhaenyra for the morning.

“I don’t think that will work with the headpiece.” Rhaenyra replied, picking it up to inspect it, twirling it around in her hands, its embroidery casting shards of white light to dance over the walls of the room. “Besides, he will prefer it down.”

“Mm, down it is then.” Daella hums, rubbing lotion into her hands as she sits in the stool in front of the vanity. Rhaenyra comes up behind her, brush in hand, smiling softly, beginning to remove the strips of silk that were braided through Daella’s hair keeping her curls in place.

“We could do two braids at the side, keep it out of your face? I have a ruby clip that matches your necklace.” She offers, as Daellas' hair begins to pool around her. She had been letting it grow since the news of her betrothal had reached her and it now reached the top of her waist.

“That would be perfect.” Daella says softly. Rhaenyra watches her clearfully, running the brush lightly through her hair. She turns to Cassana, signalling her to go fetch the clip, before moving to lean in front of Daella, grabbing her hands in her own.

“Marra will come around. Give her some time.” Rhaenyra smiles softly.

“I’m about to do the one thing she does not want me to do.”

“Not by your own choice. She is worried about you, if anything this just shows how much she cares about you.”

Daella does not see anything for a moment, just simply rubs her thumbs along Rhaenyra’s hands. If it wasn’t for Rhaenyra, she would be completely alone. “You and Alicent never made up.” She points out.

“No, but that was a betrayal of her own volition.” Daella watches her tense slightly at the mention of her former friend. Rhaenyra gives her hands a small squeeze before standing and returning to Daella’s hair. “Your situation is very different.”

“Does she have a reason?” Daella can't help but ask one more time.

“For what?”

“To be worried about me?”

Rhaenyra laughs softly, shaking her head. It must be her at least the tenth time had asked this question, in various different forms, with each time getting her the same answer.

“My uncle is a lot of things, cold and cruel among them. But I swear to you, Daemon will not hurt you or cause you any pain.” Rhaenyra catches Daella’s eyes in the mirror. “Besides, he is completely enamoured with you.”

“We haven’t even held a conversation longer than ten words.” It was Daella's turn to laugh now.

“Words don’t mean a whole lot to my uncle.”

Daella legs are weak as she exits the oxcart that has pulled up outside the Dragon Pit. Her father clammers out behind her, waving to the crowds of small folk that have gathered to get a glimpse at their new Princess and bride of the Rogue Prince. He grips the back of her arm tightly.

“Wave, these are your people now.” He hisses. Daella raises her hand, smiling and waving softly. As she looks around, she spots Maelor standing at the foot of the steps. She has to stop herself from screaming and running to him, but does begin her dash towards him, ignoring her fathers demanding wishes to come back to him. She reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck pulling him towards her into a hug.

“I told you that you would abandon me!” She says softly, teasingly.

“I did not abandon you.” Maelor shakes his head, offering her his arm as they run to make their way up the grand steps. “I was spending time with my betrothed. As you were, I heard.” He was smirking.

“Stop it” Daella giggles. “It’s been a nightmare. I only met him three times, two of which were by accident.” She whispers.

“And?”

“He was pleasant enough.” Maelor snorts at this. Daella shoots him a look. “Don’t you start too. I’ve already lost Marra to this nonsense.”

“You haven’t lost her. She spent yesterday evening crying in my chamber.” Daella shakes her head. Maelor pulls them to a stop once they reach the top of the steps. The large wooden doors of the Pit lying wide open, she can hear the people inside chattering amongst themselves, and a familiar figure standing just at the door. “She thinks you're going to have her shipped back to Volantis.”

“So I marry a man she deems cruel and now I am also?” Daella laughs, the notion is so insane to her she doesn’t have time to be offended by it.

“It’s Marra being Marra. Give her time.” Maelor says, his head turning to look over at the figure standing at the door. “You will tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Daella questions.

“If he hurts you.” Maelor whispers. Daella glances towards Daemon who is now watching them, not really listening to Maelor. “Do not let the next chapter of your life be the same as the first.”

“What?” Daella's head whips back to her brother. Maelor is staring at her, eyes glazed with tears.

“Marra told me. Her only chance before she got shipped off to Volantis I guess.” Maelor jokes softly. “You should have told me. I would hav-”

“There is nothing you could have done. He does the same to you. We both did what we could to protect each other from it.”

Maelor nods softly, pulling his sister in for a hug, gently placing a kiss to the side of her head. Daella savours the hug for a moment, before a voice causes them to pull apart.

“Princess? We are ready for you now.” A man in grey robes approaches them. Daella nods at him, before looking back to Maelor. He gives her a soft smile. Daella walks with the man towards the door, her husband to be watching. He is already dressed in his robes. Daella smiles at him as she approaches.

“Hello.” She says stopping in front of him. Daemon looks down at her, taking her in. Her dress was made of thin fabric, the expensive kind only found in rich markets across the Jade Sea. It was flowy and whipped magically in the soft wind. It was cut low, the red fabric sitting on her edge of shoulders, the bodice embroidered with gold swirls and dragons. The bottom of the dress was dipped in black, and gold jewels decorated her wrists, fingers and neck. She was the picture of the perfect Valyrian bride.

“Hello.” He says back, watching as her cheeks burn from his visual assault. The man in the grey robe approaches again, her robes in hand. She moves to allow him to place the robe on her, wrapping it around her before tying the belt and walking away. “Nervous?”

“A little.” Daella breathes, looking into the large pit that currently houses a couple of hundred men and women.

“Don’t be. No one in there matters but you and I.” Daemon says, his hand reaching out to grab the head piece from the robed man. “Let me.”

“That’s a brave thing to say about a room that houses the King.” Daella retorts as Daemon places the gold piece on her head. He laughs gently, leaning back to look at her.

“Vok.” He remarks, turning to face the door fully. Daella follows suit as an older man, dressed in a more extravagant embellished grey robe approaches them from inside the pit.

“ivestragī īlva rhaenagon, kessa.” He states, turning back around, he singles for them to follow him. “Māzigon.”

Daella and Daemon walk along behind the senior dragon keeper into the pit. The room goes quiet as they watch their prince and his to-be wife make their way down the aisle together. Daella can pick up on some confused whispering.

“Have they never seen a Valyrian wedding before?” Daella whispers. Daemon shakes his head. She was shocked. She assumed at least one of their ancestors would have married in this way. As they reach the end of the aisle she finds Maelor, standing with their father. She sees Viserys, sitting, not only with the Hand Lord Strong by his side, but along the Queen. It’s the first time Daella had seen her. She was young, and pretty, just as Marra had said. Her hand was resting on Viserys in a comforting way, and in that moment Daella saw her as older than both herself and Rhaenyra would. He felt a fleeting feeling of sorrow for her.

Her eyes then found Rhaenyra who was smiling brightly at her, Laenor and the Velaryons seated near her. She bows her head at Rhaenyra, before letting her eyes flicker around some more. She could not find her. Did she not show up?

“Behind, second row, to your left.” Daemon whispers, just as they reach the steps. Daella turns her head before she makes her way up to them, locking eyes with Marra. Marra smiles at her, a tight lipped smile.

She climbs the steps onto the platform, the large altar of candles taking up most of the room. She and Daemon stand directly in front of it, turning to face each other. The dragon keeper standing off to their left. He holds his hands up, and the doors of the pit are pulled closed, silence enveloping the room.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vāedroma,” He begins.

Daemon is handed the small piece of dragon glass, he looks at Daella lips, hand reaching up to hold her head in his hands. He lifts the shard to her lips, softly cutting a small slit down the middle of her bottom lip. His thumb runs along her lip, collecting the blood that is slowly beginning to seep from it. His eyes now meet hers, as he lifts his blood covered thumb to her forehead and marks it with fire.

“Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma iārza sīr,”

Daella breathes in as Daemon moves to give her the shard indicating it is now her turn. She takes it from him, her free hand reaching up to grip his chin. She realises that that is the first time she had ever touched him. He has touched her, but she's never had her hands on his body. Unable to stop herself she gently strokes her jaw with her thumb, before raising the dragon glass to his lip. She makes the cut, lighter than she intended, but enough to collect some blood on her thumb, raising it to his forehead, marking him with blood.

“Izulī ampā perzī, Prūmī lanti sēteksi,”

She has to stop herself from correcting the mark as it begins to smudge, pulled from it as Daemon reaches for her free hand to retrieve the dragon glass shard. He turns his left hand palm up and holds it flat, slicing into it, cutting a long line along it. He holds it up, allowing the blood to pool in his palm as he hands the shard back. Daella takes it, softly slipping it into her left hand, holding her right hand just as Daemon had done with his left. It was then she realised how badly she was shaking. She placed the tip of the blade just under her index finger, trying to calm herself before making the cut.

Daella glances over at her father, who is now glaring at her. She is now aware that she is taking a long time. Longer than she should be, but before she breaks eye contact, she feels a hand reach under her flattened hand, grabbing her wrist to keep it still. Her eyes snap to Daemon who nods down at her hand. Daella lets go of the sigh she did not know she was holding, before cutting into her own skin.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozūndesi,”

They move their bloody hands together, fingers wrapping around each other and blood flows to the ground beneath them. The dragon keeper moves forward, taking a piece of cloth and wrapping it around their intertwined hands, before shuffling off again. Daella’s eyes flicker back to Daemons, who are staring right back, a small smile on his lips. One only she can see.

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo”

A cup is placed in front of her, and Daella takes it, raising it to her lips, not taking her eyes off Daemon. She takes a small gulp of the wine that is housed within the cup, before handing it to Daemon. He does the same, raising it to his lips, eyes still trained on her, pulling their bloody hands closer to his chest. His thumb that was not encased in the soaked fabric was slowly rubbing her still exposed knuckles in comfort.

“Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” The dragon keeper finished. That was the Daella’s favourite part of Valyrian weddings. They were short, but intimate in a way she could not explain. She smiles at Daemon, as his eyes flicker down to her lips. Daemon leans towards her, his right hand moving up to finger through her hair and pulling her head towards him. She lets him pull her towards him, head dipping down to meet his lips with hers. Daella leans up into it, eyes closing. It’s the first time she had been kissed. She can hear the crowd that has been watching them begin to clap and cheer, kiss marking the end of the ceremony. She pulls away for a moment, wanting to catch her breath, but Daemon pulls her back for another more intense one this time, his tongue running along her lip, hungry for the blood that still freshly seeped from her lip.

Daemon stops before the wooden door, hanging his head and sighing, collecting himself for a few moments. He had managed to avoid a bedding ceremony by having Rhaenyra sneak Daella out of the hall, before slipping out himself after. While Daemon was not necessarily opposed to bedding ceremonies, in fact he had partaken in a few himself, the thought of other men touching and stripping Daella disturbed him. He could picture it, her innocent eyes welling up with fear and tears as some old fuck from the Crownlands tried to get at her breasts or cunt, and he would refused to have the image shown to him in real time.

Daemon had spent a great deal of time battling with his affection for the girl he barely knew. It confused him deeply. He had assumed he would hate the girl, she would become a second Rhea, in both marriage and fate. But the moment her tear rimmed valyrian eyes had looked up at him in Mellos room mere seven nights ago, he had felt a shift. It wasn’t love, but an odd mix of aggressive lust and possessiveness that he had never felt for anyone before but Rhaenyra, and Daella was permitted. She was all his.

He pushes opening the door, stepping into the chamber, before turning to close it. He debates if he should open it and leave again. He didn’t consummate his first marriage, who will stop him from doing the same with this one? He makes the decision to lock the door and enter further into the chamber, moving towards the wine pitcher and cups sitting on the small table. He pours himself a cup, larger than socially acceptable and downs it.

Daella watches her new husband from the end of the bed. Her hands tucked under her thighs, and she had already indulged in her own cup of wine. He hadn’t even glanced her way.

“How is your hand?” He asks, watching as Daella slipped her still bandaged hand out from under the thigh.

“The bleeding has stopped. Mellos gave me some milk of the poppy to dull the stinging.” Daella answers, turning her hand palm up, showing off the clean white linen. It was her third of the evening, the others all becoming soaked with blood at various points throughout the feast.

“Good. Go easy on the milk.” Daemon instructs. Daella laughs internally at him, the strictness in his tone. Daemon must see this playing out in her head as he speaks again, “I do not jest Daella.”

“I know.” She says softly, smiling at him, going quiet again. Silence permeates the room. Daella takes to looking at the floor. They both know why they are here, what they are expected to do, but neither wants to bring the topic to the surface. After a while of uncomfortable silence, Daemon makes the first move.

“Maiden, I assume?” Daemon clears his throat while asking.

Daella looks back up at him and nods. She’s not sure, but she thinks she can see a flash of pity in his eyes.

“We don’t-”

“No. I want to.” Daella interrupts quickly, not letting him finish what she knows he is about to suggest. Daemon raises his eyebrows at the interruption, setting his cup down.

“He will want proof.” She whispers, looking down to play with lace that frills along her nightgown.

Daemon hums. He refills his cup, takes it with him as he positions himself in the soft plush seat that faces the bed.

“You answer to me now, not him.”

“I know, but he is still my father.” Daella sighs. “You do not know him, what he can be like.”

“I think I’ve made a reasonable assumption.”

Daella does not respond. She knows he knows. Whether he disagrees with him is another question that is currently unanswered. She began playing with the frill of her nightgown again, eyes lingering on her lap, the floor, anything but him.

She can feel it, his gaze, she can almost hear his thoughts. He’s deciding whether he wants to stay or leave. Stays, and he protects her. Leaves, and he abandons her. It feels like an eternity, waiting for him to make up his mind. She hears him lift himself from the seat with a small grunt. She can take her eyes off the floor as she waits for him to make his decision, his shadow coming into frame as he walks towards her. Daella breathes in softly as she feels his hand cup her chin, tilting his head up to look at him.

“What a brave little thing you are, hm.” He whispers, running his thumb along her plump bottom lip. “Do you know how it is done?”

Daella nods, eyes meeting him. She did. Her father had hired a woman from a pleasure house in Volantis before they left for Westeros to instruct the young bride in the "womanly" arts of love. Thankfully the woman had taken pity on her and had only explained how it was done in the kindest way she could.

Daemon is looking down at her, eyes taking in every fraction of her face. Her eyes are lighter than he first remembered them being, her soft cheeks tinged with a light pink blush, lips still rosey with whatever rouge Rhaenyra had applied to her this morning. She is perfect, he thought. He runs his thumb along her lip again, the cut he made earlier in the early process of healing, before softly pushing it into her mouth. Daella's brow furrows slightly in confusion.

“Bībagon.” Daemon instructs. She does as she is told, sucking softly on his thumb. Daella adverts her eyes to the ground, too embarrassed by the action she is doing to look him in the eye. Daemon keeps his eyes trained on her. Her cheeks now a darker pink, her lips glimmering with spit as she sucks his thumb.

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke” He says, using his fingers to tilt her head back up towards him again. Daella opens her eyes, his thumb pressing down on her tongue with just enough pressure to make her gag softly around him. A smirk dances along his lips before pulling away from her.

“Pirtir ilagon.” He instructs once again looming over her. Daella takes a small inhale of breath before allowing her back to hit the bed, legs still dangling off the edge. Her heart pounds in her chest as she waits for his next move. She flinches gently as she feels his hand run along her left thigh, running the expensive lace along his fingers. “Hakogon ziry bē toliot se gundja.”

Daella does as she is told once again, gripping her nightgown at the thighs and starts to pull it up, once halfway up her thighs she leaned up, allowing herself to pull the fabric under her ass and bunching it around her waist. She was bare underneath, the handmaid's Rhaenyra had required to prepare her for this moment, laughed at her when she went to put her underclothes on, giggling as they stated she would not need them. She instinctively begins to cross her legs, wanting to shield herself from him, but his hand catches one of her legs in the moment, pushing it back and wider so she was on full display for him.

“Ñuha dōna riñītsos.” Daemon whispers as his rough hand caresses her thigh that was still gripped in his hand. His hand is removed momentarily to take off his shirt and his hand finds its way back between her legs. His hands ran up and down her thighs, taking his time deciding what he wanted to do next. Daella lies motionless on the bed starting at the ceiling. The maids this morning had whispered all sorts of horrors that can happen in the marriage bed in her ears when the Princess was just far enough away that she would not hear.

It appeared Daemon had made up his mind, Daella letting out a small gasp when she felt his adept fingers slipping between her folds, spreading a slickness that she had not known had gathered there while he pawed her. His large hand moves up to press down on her stomach, making sure that she remains steady. He spreads her folds before dipping one finger into her waiting hole, letting out a pleased grunt at how wet she is for him. Daella’s hands reach to clutch at his arm, letting out a gentle whimper at the feeling of him opening her up.

“Sȳz riña.” He says, leaning over her body, his face coming to meet hers. He is leaning in close, eyes burning into hers, glimmering with mischief. He’s so close that their noses bump together. Daella’s breath hitches as he pumps his finger in and out of her, her back arching slightly and her hips grinding every so softly to meet his hand. It felt good, there was no pain as the handmaids had suggested, only a pleasant pressure that she wanted and needed more off. She moves her head forward to try and kiss him but he pulls away, her lips landing on his jaw.

He inserts another finger. The stretch burns slightly, causing Daella to audibly gasp. Daemon pauses his movements looking at her, the small noise that came from her giving him second thoughts. He begins to slowly remove his soaked fingers, but Daella's chest is heaving as she grabs his arm tighter than before wanting him to stay. So he does, burying his head back into her neck as he curls his fingers, dragging them along apart within her that causes her free hand to lift into his hair and a moan to leave her lips.

She can feel his lips against her shoulder, his slightly parted mouth breathing on her. Her hand runs along his short hair, stroking the silky locks softly. Her other hand finally lets go of the arm that is currently thrusting into her, resting it on his waist, feeling the distorted skin that littered the left side of his body.

Daemon’s thumb moves to her clit, softly rubbing, giving her that extra stimulation that causes the coil in the pit of stomach to tighten. Daella lets out a loud whisper, the hand in his hair clenching the silver strains in her hand pulling gently. Her other hand shoots from his waist, accidentally gripping his still raw shoulder. Daemon hisses at the sension, fingers and thumb working faster, the pain causing him to work faster. The coil within her finally springs free, back arching and toes curling trying to help calm herself down from the sudden burst of pleasure coursing through her.

“Dae-Daem,” Daella squeaks out, unable to finish her words, breathing erratically as Daemon continues to finger her through her orgasm. As he toes uncurl, hand loosening on his locks and back falls back against the bed, coming down from the high, her eyes open and realise her fingers were digging into his raw shoulder. Her hand immediately pulls away from the red skin, eyes widening with worry.

“Sorry, I-” She begins, but Daemon shakes her off, rising to his feet, looming over her once again.

“Shh, I'm fine. Do not worry.” He says as he pulls at his trousers. Daella lifts herself onto her elbows looking at Daemon's hands fiddling with his button. She had been told of the male anatomy, but had yet to see for herself, and was lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Daemon smirked as she watched her eagerly await what was shielded beneath.

He finally undoes the buttons, letting the black cotton drop to the floor and stepping out of them, his cock, thick and hard, bobbing as he does. Daella watches taking it in. She eyes the precum glistening at the tip of his bulbous head, the change of colour from pink tip to this pale veiny shaft, the large balls that hang underneath, nestled between the silver curls of hair. Daemon laughs at her face. It’s not one of lust or fear that he is used to, but sheer fascination.

Daemon says as he kneels on the bed in front of her, Daella wiggling back to ensure he had enough room. She says up on her elbows as she watches him, his hand moving back to her cunt, fingers collecting some of the ever growing wettest on his fingers, before pumping his cock a couple of times with the slicked up hand. Daemon moves forward again, positioning his knees in a way that makes Daella spread her legs a little further, before dragging his cock through her slick pussy, bumping his tip against the bundle of nerves that has her heart pick up once again.

He finally slips himself into her, a guttural moan coming from the back of his throat at the feeling of her warm walls engulfing him. Daella meets his moans as he slowly pushes deeper, with a slight burn of the stretch adding to the pleasure, and eventually, he’s bottoming out inside of her, and Daella’s nails are digging into his back, mindfully keeping them low, afraid of touching his still raw shoulder again.

Daemon thrusts slowly, one of his hands gripping her waist so that the tips of his fingers are digging into her ass. Daella’s mouth is wide open, as is his, lips brushing against one another as the moans come out breathy. His pace is deliberate, wanting to be gentle, but also hit a spot inside her that he knows will never leave her the same, the tip of cock nudging her cervix, making her cry out his name.

“Dārilar- oh gods.” Daemon cuts himself off into a whisper, finally allowing his lips to envelope hers, his hands pulling her hips closer, needing to be deeper in her tight, wet, and warm hole. He feels her walls tighten impossibly around him, and he feels his balls start to tighten along with them. “That’s it, what a perfect little sweetling you are. Taking me so well.”

Daella’s walls flutter at the praise, just on the edge of the coil in her stomach letting go once again. Needing her husband closer, her legs wrap around his waist, the new angle it provides, sending her over the edge, lips locking onto Daemon’s as she does so, muffling the moans that leave her month. Daemon continues to roll his hips, fucking her though her second orgasm of the night, his own high following once her body relaxed, grunting softly has he spills his seed inside her.

Daemon gives Daella a small kiss on the cheek, before slipping his cock from her and lifting himself off the bed.

“You did well.” He says softly, looking down at her. He reaches down to pull her nightdress back down, covering her up once again. Once he has it pulled down, Daella sits up, shuffling herself back to the top of the bed, back against the below. She is still blissed out slightly, but her eyes widen as she notices the streaks of blood on Daemon's cock and in his silver public hair. He hand shooks to pull up her night dress, hand moving to cup her core. She looks down at the milky liquid that leaks from her that is mixed with blood that collected on her fingers.

“It’s normal.” Daemon says he lifts a fabric napkin from the table, wiping her blood and slick from his cock, the blood staining it in light pink. “That’s how they know.”

“Oh!” Daella whispers, noticing the little red stains on the bottom of the bed where she once lay. Daemon walks to the side of the bed, taking the napkin on the clean side and slips it between her legs, wiping gently collecting his seed and blood.

He throws the bloodied napkin on the floor at the bottom of the bed, before reaching for his trousers and pulling them on. He picks up his shirt before turning to Daella who was watching him wide eyed in bed, hand still between her legs.

“Maids will be in to retrieve the sheets in the morning. They will most likely wake you. Get some rest, bath first thing in the morning.” Daemon informs her as he pulls on his shirt. He is leaving her. She wants to beg him to stay, but she knows it is common in Westeros for husband and wife to have different sleeping chambers. She nods at him. He smiles, a tight lipped one, before turning to leave.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys”

Authors Note:

Please enjoy these beast of a chapter from me as an apology for it taking so long!

For the masterlist to this series and all my other fics click here!

Tag List: @ajthefujoshi @hangmanscoming @papichulo120627

You can add yourself to my taglist here!

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #matt smith #a fire in the flesh #daemon targaryen x original female character #fire in the flesh

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aegonx · 6 months

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Aemma was the fifth child of Lord Rodrik Arryn, and the only one by his second wife, Princess Daella Targaryen, herself the daughter of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and his sister-wife Alysanne Targaryen. Aemma's mother died in childbed. Aemma had four elder half-siblings from her father's first marriage, including her half-sisters Elys and Amanda. Aemma married Prince Viserys Targaryen, her cousin, in 93 AC. Upon her grandfather's death, Aemma became the queen consort of Viserys, who had been chosen as heir to the throne during the Great Council in 101 AC. Aemma became pregnant multiple times in the early years of her marriage. She suffered multiple miscarriages, and gave birth to a son who eventually died in the cradle. In 97 AC, Aemma gave birth to a healthy daughter, Princess Rhaenyra. Aemma and Viserys both adored their only living child. In early 105 AC, Aemma became pregnant once more. Late in the year, she gave birth to a son, Prince Baelon Targaryen. Aemma died during the birth, and her son died a day later.

#bymiranda #house of the dragon #dailyhotdgifs #gameofthronesdaily #hotdedit #aemma arryn #targaryensource #usersili #usergif #preasoiafedit

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yourlocalnetizen · 6 months

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What you're favorite female Targ says about you

(For simplicities sake, I'll only mention the ones who have the last name Targaryen but I'll be skipping out on ones we don't know enough about from Daenerys of Dorne to Egg's daughters.)

Daenys - You hyperfixate on long dead characters who did 1 important thing that changed the history of the world.

Visenya - You want to bed her AND you want to be her at the same time. You heard "dark, sensual, unforgiving" and found it the sexiest description ever. You almost see her as a goddess rather than a person, you practically worship her.

Queen Rhaenys - You love a women with duality. You respect House Targaryen's matriarch for having hobbies, having fun with pretty boys, & burning entire armies. You also hate the Dornish.

Rhaena the Black Bride - Fat chance you aren't straight. You think she should have been Queen regnant (you'd be 100% right) & you're a Maegor & Jaehaerys's anti. You have a soft spot for sexy sad women

Alysanne - You love a girlboss who can manage motherhood & a 9 to 5 job. You also appreciate how she's the only Targaryen who fought for SEVERAL WOMEN's rights, not just her own.

Aerea - You're a rebellious teen who had a rough upbringing. Her death broke you because you know she deserved so much better.

Septa Rhaella - Are you sure your favorite character isn't just Rhaena?

Alyssa - You also want to ride 2 dragons (Meleys & Baelon).

Maegelle - You love a good nun.

Daella - You're want someone to take care of you for your whole life, except unlike Daella, you're not scared, you're just lazy.

Saera - You love a girl who serves cvnt (quite literally). You're the biggest Jaehaerys hater.

Viserra - You're incredibly pretty and incredibly petty. You know how the world hates to see pretty girls winning.

Gael - You probably have a helicopter parent.

Rhaenys the Queen who Never Was - You're a feminist & you love girlbosses. You 100% hate Jaehaerys and you have 0 love for Viserys I who you think she should have been Queen instead of.

Rhaenyra - You're a feminist & you were 100% the favorite child growing up. If you have a step-parent or half-siblings, you definitely hate them.

Helaena - You're probably a show enjoyer first & foremost. You probably simp for Aemond who you ship her with.

Baela - You might be a tomboy but not the "not like other girls" type of tomboy. You probably like at least 1 sport though & you're definitely a girl's girl.

Rhaena of Pentos - You love pretty aesthetics & Barbie was probably you're favorite movie of 2023.

Jaehaera - You hyperfixate on tragic minor characters. Bonus points if you're neurodivergent.

Naerys - You're either a sad catholic girl or you hyperfixate on tragic female chracters.

Daena - You love baddies who don't take anyone's shit. You might have grown up in a toxically religious household.

Septa Rhaena - You think Baelor the Blessed was the best Targ King.

Elaena - You like a woman with a brain.

Queen Rhaella - You hyperfixate on tragic female characters.

Daenerys - You love a bad bitch (affectionate) and you will not apologize. You also genuinely have good taste & hated GoT season 8.

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

TW: This chapter includes depictions of noncon and violence. Reader discretion is advised!

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: The moment you have all been waiting for, the night of the wedding. Please, read the warnings before reading this chapter. Dark!Aemond is here to stay. Not going to lie, I had to smoke a cigarette after writing and editing this... As always, thanks for the love, enjoy <3

Chapter 52: Duty

Septa Daella had told you when you were younger, that once you became of age, you would be married to a fine Lord of the realm.

That your duty to the realm required it, and that you would birth his children, as expected by tradition.

A woman’s duty to her husband could be measured in many ways.

To honour him and obey his word, was what the Septa had drilled into you most fiercely.

To build the home, and support the husband in his ambitions, was another.

To bear his children was an expectation, and a reality in which no wife could escape, unless her womb be barren.

And that is the greatest shame there was.

‘What good was a wife if she did not grow her husbands seed?' The Septa had said.

When you had your first bleed, you were so frightened that you could not leave your bed. You had sat in the white sheets, and looked down at your shift and mattress, stained red with your blood. You had cried fiercely and curled in on yourself, as the sharp cramps pulled through your body.

You had been ten-and-two.

You had expected then, and there that since you had bled, that a marriage would soon be put forth.

Your mother Rhaenyra had come to your chambers at the request of your maids, who could not get you to leave your bed. Upon seeing you, she had sat and held you, letting you cry nonsense into her chest as she brushed your hair with a gentleness that only she possessed.

Rhaenyra had held you against her and promised that she would not send you away, nor would your betrothal come any time soon. She had called for the maids to bring you a warm bath with lavender oil, as well as fresh sheets to change your bed.

She had congratulated you on becoming a woman, and soon enough, your father Daemon had congratulated you too. And suddenly becoming a woman became less scary for you. Rhaenyra taught you of how to tend to yourself during your bleeds, and even reassured you of any questions that you had had.

And as you got older, and watched your siblings be readied to be betrothed, you had more questions. Rhaenyra however, was not who answered your burning inquiries.

Daemon had.

‘A good husband should bring his wife pleasure, not pain. He should kiss the ground she walks upon, and worship her as the God she is.' He had said.

'Are women not the closest beings to gods? Targaryen women even more so. For who else can grow life the way you do?’

‘Marriage can be political, though you can find your pleasures elsewhere. You needn’t suffer a dead marital bed.’ He had encouraged.

Yet despite your mothers reassurance, the Septa’s teachings, and your fathers words, you found that in this moment you could not imagine that Aemond, as your husband, would ever bring you pleasure, nor worship any ground that your feet stepped upon.

Aemond had walked straight to the decanter of wine, pouring himself a full goblet, and sitting upon the armchair where he had been when you first arrived. You followed his movement, picking up the heavy wine and pouring it slowly into your own cup.

You looked down at the deep, red liquid.

It reminded you of blood.

Blood from your first bleed. Blood from when Aemond’s eye had been taken. Blood from your feet, your hands, and side. Blood that you had drawn from him in return.

Blood from your mother.

Blood from your brother.

And blood that Aemond would soon draw from you once again.

Your feet carried you to sit at the chaise, uncomfortable and stiff, perched on the edge of your seat ready to run. But you could not run.

And you wouldn’t.

Anger rolled off of Aemond in waves as he sat, eye locked onto the flames of the fire place, one hand gripping the goblet tightly, whilst the other sat in a fist on the arm of the chair. His shoulders were stiff, and his chest rose and fell shakily.

Aegon’s words at dinner had stoked the fire in Aemond, and he had known that you would bear the brunt of it. One of Septa Daella's lessons rose in your mind.

‘Soothe your husbands worries. Tend to his wounds.’

Pulling the goblet up to your lips you drank deeply, feeling the sharp burn of the spiced wine pooling in your empty stomach, the glow of alcohol having slowly bloomed within.

You watched him empty his goblet.

You need to calm him. To soothe him.

For yourself.

Standing, you placed your wine down on the table before you, as you slowly walked towards him, cautious to not startle him or crowd him, lest he come at you like a boar.

As you got closer, you could see the scowl on Aemond’s face.

His lips were pulled tightly into a familiar line, and his brows were so deeply furrowed, that his scar wrinkled upon the stretch of his face.

Aemond snapped his head towards you at your slow approach, and you found your hands curling into small fists, as if to protect yourself, at your front.

“Would you like some more wine, husband?” The word felt foreign on your tongue.

Husband.

It felt heavy, and held a sour aftertaste.

Aemond watched you closely, eye roaming your body, stopping on your closed hands before his eye slid back to your face.

You held your breath.

The silence in the room was so uncomfortable, you shifted on your feet as he continued to observe you with scrutiny. You were about to move back to sit in your seat in silence, and drain the rest of your cup and the decanter back at the wall, when he wordlessly raised his goblet towards you, eye back on the fire.

Pulling the cup from his hand a little more roughly than you should have, you moved towards the side of the room to fill it up for him. You took your time filling it, looking down at the cup as your stared at your hands, bandage wrapped tightly around one.

“Why ask if you’re not going to do it.” Came the snarky voice behind you.

You clenched your jaw, back still facing him, before you snatched the cup from the table, wine almost spilling over the lip, as you walked back towards him, holding it out expectantly.

Aemond watched you the entire way, and smirked up at you, not taking his goblet from your hand.

Your teeth ground down against each other as he still did not move to take the cup from you. And so you turned on your heel, placing the wine heavily on the table in front you both, as you moved to the side of the room to grab the decanter, filling up your cup to the brim.

“Gīda ilagon, zaldrītsos.” (Calm down, little dragon.) Aemond purred, reaching forward to grasp his goblet, drinking as he watched you.

By now the wine had settled strongly in your stomach, coursing through your veins. You felt the familiar heat of alcohol rise in your cheeks and in your chest, as you leant back looking into the fire. Aemond let out a small humming laugh as he drank, anger still radiating from him despite his teasing.

“You’ve been exceptionally quiet this evening. I expected more from you.” He mused, eye back on the flames.

Irritated, you took an angry gulp of wine, fingers fidgeting in your lap.

Do not let him goad you.

“Are you feeling well, wife?” He asked boredly.

Do not let him goad you.

“Quite well, thank you, husband.” You said back flatly.

A hum came in response.

Aemond pulled his goblet up to his lips, drinking. It seemed the both of you were using alcohol to ease the rising tension that was slowly building.

And soon, it would explode.

“I wonder what he would think of this.” Aemond mused, and you let your eyes slide to him.

You breathed heavily.

“Who?”

But you already knew the answer.

That familiar, sickly smirk curled up his face, and although Aemond had not let his gaze leave the fire in front of you, he knew he had you.

You had taken the bait.

“Lucerys.” He purred, sipping his drink.

You felt your heart begin to race as you breathed raggedly in your seat.

You fucking bastard.

You shoved the goblet to your lips, draining the rest of your cup, before sharply leaning forward to fill it up again, eyes locked onto his form.

One large leg came to rest atop the other, the wine in his hand swirling.

“Wonder what your Strong boy would have thought about you being wed to me. Do you think he would cry? Or try to take my other eye?” He mused.

“Don’t speak about him.” You said lowly, struggling in vain to contain your seething anger.

“Merely trying to have conversation with my darling wife.” He purred the last word.

Don’t take the bait.

Don’t be stupid.

Be smart.

You stood from your seat sharply, and finally Aemond’s gaze fell on you, looking at you eyebrows raised.

“I am going to retire for the night.” You grit out, turning on your heel as you began to stalk towards the large bed, dread sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach as you looked at it.

“It was a shame he was not there to witness it,” His voice called across the room, “I would have liked to see his face.” He smacked his lips.

You snapped.

Turning on your heel you sneered at him, watching as he looked at you blankly, sipping his wine.

“Fuck you.”

Aemond’s lips twitched.

“How did my other nephew react? The eldest and strongest of boys?” He continued, his anger and amusement rising.

“Disgusted that I would be married to a second son. You, no less. Just as I.” You sneered, chest rising and falling sharply.

He set you alight.

He always did this to you.

He always had this way to get under your skin.

Your uncle stood and moved to the side of the fireplace, looking back into the wild flames, before raising his gaze to you, as you stood angrily beside the bed.

“And how do you truly feel?”

How did you feel?

Horrified.

Afraid.

You felt grief. Loneliness.

Uncertainty.

“Nauseated at the thought of being married to a kinslayer.”

“Hm. I am wed to a kinslayer too.”

Daeron.

Your uncle.

His brother.

Aemond stalked towards you.

“You killed my brother.” He said emotionless.

It was haunting.

You sniffed, stiffening your back as you looked at him, long legs slowly approaching you.

“Aegon wanted your head. I convinced him otherwise. You’re alive because of me.” He growled.

He saved you.

For him.

“A fate worse than death, I am certain.” You snipped, hands coming to wrap around your front as he approached you, your legs walking backwards towards the bed.

“You have no idea what he had planned for you. You would not have been put to death quickly.”

You stiffened, locked in fear.

Aemond smiled cruelly at you.

“The King wanted to lock you down in the dungeons again. Make an example of you to the knights of King’s Landing. They would have taken turns with you, you know. After him of course.” He spoke as if it did not bother him.

You felt nausea roll inside you.

“You act as though you aren’t just like him. Like you aren’t worse.” You scoffed.

Aemond stopped, a mere three paces from you.

“You think me the same as Aegon?”

“I know it.” You sneered in fear, like an animal cornered, baring its teeth one last time.

“You think you know what he is truly like?”

You breathed heavily as he looked at your face, watching as you struggled to keep your composure.

“You think I am worse than him? A fate worse than death?” He growled.

“You’re a monster.” You sobbed in anger.

Aemond crowded your space so quickly, you did not even see him move. You felt his breath fan across your face, smell of wine on his tongue.

The man towered over you, heaving as he watched you stay rooted in your spot.

One final act of bravery.

“A monster you wed.”

The slap rang out in the room, and your palm stung sharply.

Aemond’s head was still turned away from you, your hand having clipped the scarred side of his face, red heat beginning to bloom upon his pale skin.

Slowly, he corrected his posture, stiffening himself as he straightened his neck, looking down at you from his nose.

Your chest heaved as you looked at him.

A tide of emotions swelled inside of you.

You had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to.

You were trapped.

Trapped in these chambers with a man you hated most.

Trapped in a Keep full of enemies.

There was no escape.

Aemond took another step forward, chest brushing against yours and you instinctually stepped back. He took another, then another. You retreated, trying to create distance between the both of you, until the soft plush of the mattress hit the back of your knees.

He loomed over you.

“Get away from me.” You warned, voice shaking.

The One-Eyed Prince smiled down at you.

You rose your hand once more to slap him, but his own caught your wrist, squeezing painfully.

You cried out.

“Try it again. See what will happen.”

“Let go of me!”

You desperately tried to yank your hand out of his grip as he sneered down at you, lips twitching into a smirk. His grip did not falter, and instead tightened, causing pain to shoot up your arm.

Your other hand flew up in instinct, and hit him on the other cheek. Not a strong hit, but one to cause a sting. A pathetic display of a warning.

A minuscule piece of proof that you would always fight back.

Aemond’s smirk only deepened, hand shooting out to grip your throat roughly as he pushed you backwards, down onto the bed. His fingers dug painfully into the flesh, and cut off your air supply.

You wriggled in his hold, desperately trying to claw out of his grip as he straddled you, other hand coming down to wrap itself around your neck. He squeezed and you saw stars begin to appear in your eyes, his soft hair brushing against the sides of your face as he hovered above you.

And then his hands loosened, and you sucked in a breath, but not before one large palm roughly reached down and began to hike the skirt of your dress up your body.

Dread pooled into your stomach and you find yourself thrashing against him.

“No!” You grunted, trying to drag your nails down his face, his other hand leaving your throat to catch both of your wrists in his, painfully pushing them onto the bed above your head.

Your legs kicked out as you struggled against him, the dress being roughly pulled up, shift going with it, before your bare core was revealed to the room.

Aemond’s eye left your face to gaze down at you, as you struggled against his hand, tears pricking in your eyes. His lips pursed and a low hum rumbled in his chest.

Large, rough fingertips pushed meanly against your heat, rubbing through your folds before dipping inside of you without preparation, and you felt the biting stretch of his fingers.

Tears fell from your eyes.

This was it.

It was real now.

Your husband roughly fucked his fingers into your heat, stinging pain rippling through you as you desperately tried to wriggle away from him. He kept you trapped beneath him with no way out.

Aemond jammed his fingers inside of you, a sharp cry leaving your lips before pulling them out, hand moving to the front of his breeches as he began to untie the laces hurriedly, pulling at the string.

You thrashed beneath him, trying to rip your hands away from his grip as you watched in horror as his hard length was slowly revealed from the confines of his pants. The tip angry and red, leaking pre cum.

“You think I’m a monster?” He purred, shoving his legs between yours roughly, grip bruising your wrists.

“You think I am my brother?” He sneered from above, heat from his body surrounding you.

“Aemond, stop. Please, stop.” You begged, sob working its way up your throat.

Aemond hummed as he held his length in his hand.

You had never seen it before.

It was long and thick, and veins protruded down the length whilst beads of pre-cum began to leak from his tip. He pulled his hand up and down his cock roughly, before beginning to settle between your hips.

“No!” You cried out, trying to wriggle away from him as he descended towards your heat, but it was no use.

You felt a sharp pain as Aemond forced his way inside of you dryly, splitting you open upon his cock, as he pushed himself roughly to the hilt. The tip painfully kissed at your cervix and you cried out loudly.

Your uncle looked down at your face as he slowly pulled out, watching as you winced in pain and tried to pull away.

It was unlike anything you had felt before. It seared through you, curling into your gut, nausea rising into your throat. You felt so full, so fit to burst, ripping from his intrusion, and all you could do was cry, and whimper, and try to wriggle away from it.

Aemond looked down to where you were joined, revelling in the blood that streaked his length and began to leak onto the white sheets below. He pulled out slowly, letting you feel each and every vein of his cock, before he roughly shoved back inside, head of his shaft beating painfully against the end of your core.

“Aem, please, stop.” You sobbed, eyes scrunched up in pain as you cried.

Aem.

You had not called him that in a long time.

You felt his hips stutter, but before you could find any relief, he began to rut into you sharply, more aggressively than before, his thrusts pushing your body up the bed as you cried loudly into the chambers.

Each stroke felt like hell, and he did not relent, no matter how much you begged. Aemond grunted from above you, hand letting go of your wrists to grasp onto your hip.

Disgust and fear curled up inside you, so all that you could do was pull your hands to push at his chest and cry whilst your uncle had his way with you, roughly taking your maidenhead.

Your first time, taken so violently.

Without love, or care.

No pleasure was given to you as Aemond sought out his own high. His eye only leaving your face to gaze at his length disappearing inside of you with every thrust.

You cried brokenly, letting your head lay to the side, voice becoming hoarse. You felt yourself cramp as the older man continued to beat against the sensitive end of your core.

It was agony.

Just as the Septa had said.

She had told you it would be painful, unpleasurable, but a burden you would have to bear.

His fingers bruised your hips as he sat up on his knees, pulling you against him as you squeaked, dragging you down the bed as if you were weightless, before he continued his assault on your body. Using you for his own pleasure, pushing his cock as deep as it could go.

Aemond's hair was dishevelled, and face concentrated, brows furrowed in anger as he thrust into you wildly. The room was filled with the sounds of his flesh meeting yours, and the cries and whimpers that left your lips.

His good eye was wild, pupil blown wide in the dark of the room so that it almost looked black, whilst the sapphire orb glinted sinisterly in what little light there was of the chambers.

“Gods, please.” You hiccupped, begging for it to end.

Begging for him to finish, for the pain to stop.

But it would not.

Aemond shifted, sitting back on his heels as he held your hips in his lap, the new angle causing you to cry out as he thrusted up into your heat, grunting from the force he was using.

It caused a tingle to spread across your lower stomach.

It horrified you.

“No.” You whimpered, and pushed at his stomach, as he did it again, feeling your cunt clench around him.

Aemond moaned above you, setting a faster pace as his cock dug painfully into the soft, spongey spot within your walls.

“No. No.” You babbled, cheeks wet with tears, voice hoarse from crying.

Your hands weakly pushed against him, nails digging into his pale skin to stop him, to push him away, but he kept on, slapping your hands away from him as if you were a fly.

Your husband's thumb came down between your bodies and pressed against your bundle of nerves. Painful pleasure rose in your body as he roughly rubbed against you, trying to get you to reach your peak with him.

“Aem, stop. Please, Aem. Uncle, please.” You begged, trying to move away, but his grip did not falter, instead increasing the pace of his thumb against your bud.

A familiar coil began to wind itself inside of you.

The chambers were filled with the sounds of your whimpers and cries, Aemond’s soft moans, and the sound of his cock burying itself into your now wet heat.

A long moan flittered past his lips and you felt yourself clench out of instinct.

His pace began to falter, cock sliding in and out of you almost messily, as his thumb pressed sharply against you, pulling painful pleasure from within. Aemond's breaths came out in sharp puffs and grunts as he continued his assault.

He shifted, leaning his body back over you, hair surrounding your face like a veil, as he rutted into you desperately.

“Take it.” He moaned, his pace beginning to falter, thumb swirling around your swollen bud roughly.

"No. No. Aem stop, no. Stop." You cried out.

But it only seemed to spur him on, feeling your core begin to tighten around him, and so he pressed and swirled his thumb against you harder and faster, his eye never leaving your face as you stared up at him in horror.

You sobbed loudly as you felt the coil inside of you snap.

Your back arched from the bed as a painful climax washed over you.

“That’s it.” He cooed.

“Please.” You cried, trying to push him away from you, as you clenched around him, pleasure ripping through you cruelly without mercy.

Aemond's lips came down to press against your neck, teeth lightly grazing the skin.

You sobbed loudly as he continued to piston himself into you, your walls gripping him tightly as he began to lose himself in pleasure. Aemond chased his peak until finally he slowed, pushing into you raggedly as he moaned loudly into the humid air of the chambers, his cum spilling inside you.

“Fuck.” He moaned above you, hips stuttering as he continued to thrust into you languidly, feeling a new wetness within you as you laid stiffly beneath him.

In shock.

In disgust.

In horror.

You could feel his cock twitching inside of you as his spend continued to come out in hot ropes, movements causing it to leak out from within you and onto the soiled sheets below.

Another broken sob escaped your lips when Aemond finally stilled above you, feeling you cry beneath him. He looked down at you, eye half lidded, mouth slightly agape.

Aemond had just raped you.

He raped you.

Your uncle.

Your husband.

Someone you had once loved.

Someone who had once been your friend.

Someone who had killed your brother.

You felt nausea begin to rise in your throat as he slowly pulled out, sharp pain strumming in your core and an odd emptiness settling in, before he rolled lazily onto the bed beside you, his gaze on the ceiling.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sobbed brokenly, ragged breaths spilling from your lips as you tried to calm yourself to no avail. Your eyes looked above you to the ceiling, and you gagged, feeling bile rise up your throat.

You were in agony. Every breath you took caused pain to rise up your body, and a different pain settled in your heart, causing it to clench. You felt defiled. Dirty.

Broken.

You tried to steady your breathing, to stop the sobs that flew from your lips as you began to hyperventilate, but you found that his presence beside you could not allow you to relax.

To distract yourself, you attempted to concentrate on the roof.

It was a different ceiling to yours back in Dragonstone. Much different to the one that used to be yours, here, in the Keep. But even as you tried to distract yourself from what had just happened, you could still feel him inside of you.

Leaking from you.

And with every throbbing breath you took, you found you could breath less, and less.

Breath in. Breath out.

Pain throbbed from your centre as you laid there, trying to steady your breathing. You could feel his eye on you, feel the way the bed dipped beneath his weight beside you. And even see him in your periphery.

You turned onto your side, facing away from him, curling into yourself in an attempt to self soothe. But it didn't work. Silent cries caused your body to shake, and shudder in the bed beside him. Your skin erupting in goosebumps as you felt his heated gaze on your back.

Was this to be your every waking moment now? To be raped by him? To be defiled? To be used for his pleasure?

To be tormented by them all, and find no solace in your chambers?

You did not move from your position on the bed, terrified of stirring him again, curled up and gripping your sides as tears fell from your eyes and onto the pillow below your head.

You could feel the wet of your blood and his release, thick on your thighs, and below you on the mattress. You were in agony as you laid there, terrified to move or to speak. Unable to do either even if you had wanted to.

You could still feel his weight on top of you, the way he felt inside of you. You could see his face as he looked down at you whilst he thrusted harshly into your core. You could feel the bruising sting of his grip on your hips and wrists.

It was like it never stopped.

“Y/n.”

His voice was so quiet, so different to what it had just been as he whispered your name.

You tensed, heart beginning to race faster. You gripped your sides tighter, shoulders rising around your neck as you held your breath. You stiffened, and waited.

Waited for the next blow of pain.

Waited for the next moment of his defilement.

His torture.

His cruelty.

And then he uttered the name he had called you as a child.

A nickname.

Something you had not heard in so many years. A name in which he had called you in moments of fondness, or play, and you could not stop the loud sob that flew from your lips as you heard it.

That name felt so tainted now.

You clutched onto yourself tighter, gash in your hand strumming as you tucked three fingers into it, trying to distract yourself from the pain between your legs.

Aemond breathed in a loud breath of air, as though he was to talk to you again.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the soft graze of a hand came to touch your shoulder and your found yourself flinch away from it, a terrified sob falling from your lips as you curled into yourself tighter, tucking your knees against your chest in an attempt to protect yourself.

A feeble attempt.

The room felt still and the air felt stuffy. And all you could do was cry in the bed you would now call your own, beside your husband, that you would be tied to for some time.

Tears fell from your eyes until you could cry no more, and you found that all you could do was stare blankly at the wall beside you.

You could hear the Septa’s voice in your head.

“To satisfy your husband, is your duty. It is not always an enjoyable one, but it is needed.”

The Septa would be proud.

You laid on your side and stared blankly at the wall, feeling a wave of numbness begin to cover you.

It was nice to not feel. To not think. To not be present in a moment like that.

Aemond did not make another attempt to touch you, nor did he try to talk to you. He simply laid beside you, also not moving, as you felt the heat of his gaze.

You laid on your side, not stirring, nor crying, or sobbing, not knowing for how long. Even if you did try, any movement you made caused sharp pain to ripple from between your thighs. And so it was best to lay still, and let the tide suck you in.

You felt the wave rise within you, its dark tendrils caressing your body as you relaxed into its hold.

These waters were familiar. These waters would be kind to you.

You let yourself sink into the depths, letting your weight take you deep down into the murkiness, where the cool water calmed you until your breath evened, and any pain, or feeling left your body.

Movement on the bed jerked you as Aemond abruptly removed himself. You listened to his footsteps move loudly, and swiftly across the room. It sounded muffled, almost like you were truly under water.

And you found you could not rise from the depths you had sunk into willingly.

The sound of the chamber doors opened, and slammed shut, echoing around you.

And then you were alone again, alone as you could be, left to the waters as they swallowed you whole.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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eliaism · 1 month

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song: “nobody” by mitski / daella fc: alexandra dowling, rodrik fc: jonathan rhys meyers, aemma fc: mairi ella challen / painting: “the unequal marriage” by vasili pukirev / quote: fire & blood

Born in 64 AC, Daella Targaryen, the eighth child of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alyssanne Targaryen was born.

At the age of 16, she wed 36-year-old Lord Rodrik Arryn. At age 18, she gave birth to her only child, Aemma Arryn, and died shortly after. Daella’s death devastated Alyssanne, and was thought to be the first hint of the rift between her and the king.

Aemma would eventually suffer a similar fate as her mother. She wed king Viserys I Targaryen at 11 years old and had many miscarriages and stillbirths. She had a son who eventually died in the cradle, before giving birth to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen in 97 AC, but ended up dying during the birth of her son, Baelon in 105 AC, who would die a day after her.

#daella targaryen #daella arryn #rodrik arryn #aemma arryn #aemma targaryen #house targaryen #house arryn #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #fire and blood #f&b #web weaving

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lizzie-queenofmeigas · 14 days

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Fixing Ep. I of House of the Dragon.

Timeline

First we should establish a timeline, which is something the show hasn't really done. Given that they insist in having Rhaenyra and Alicent be friends there are ways to do that. Swap Daella's birth with Vaegon's and have Aemma born a year earlier. Have Rhaenyra be Aemma's first pregnancy instead of the third. That ages her up a bit, making her be born in the year 94 a.C

Have Alicent be a little older than Rhaenyra. Alicent could have been born in 92 a.C and their friendship would stay the same.

Aemma's death should be in 107 .C making Rhaenyra thirteen years old in the first episode and Alicent fifteen.

Laena could be the same age as Alicent and Laenor the same as Rhaenyra, keeping with their book's ages.

Establish the year of the episode. This being put the number at the beginning in the screen.

Scenes

During the Council of 101 the narrator could say "Tragedy claimed both his sons. The choice now was between Rhaenys, the only child of his eldest son and Viserys the eldest child of his second son". And the general audience would understand it perfectly.

During the ride in carriage back to the Keep they could have the smallfolk calling for Rhaenyra and her waving at them and smiling. That way we establish the "Realm's Delight".

Have Aemma mention Rhaenyra's age in their little scene. "You are three and ten, nearly a woman grown" it would fit perfectly.

The next scenes are just fine if the story is done right.

Daemon and Rhaenyra. In the throne room scene they should have more dialogue of the like of. "What have you brought me this time?" This way we establish that Rhaenyra is spoilt by Daemon and her parents.

Viserys and Aemma's scene are just fine if the rest of the show follows this logic. They could mention their relation, however. "Our grandmother had thirteen children, but I don't have her luck". This establishes that Aemma is part of House Targaryen by more than marriage .

Have Rhaenyra and Alicent talk about doing charity during their studying scene, establishing why the smallfolk likes them.

During the small council scene with Daemon Otto could ask him how he knows who was guilty and he could say he has a good relationship with the smallfolk. While I believe in "show, don't tell" this particular thing could show that he spends time with the smallfolk and that they like him.

The Mysaria and Daemon scene could have been pillowtalk. There was no need for a sex scene, but they could show us the after. Have Daemon show his resentment to his brother "I am the reason he wears a crown yet he still has me married to my Bronze Bitch". Doing this we don't only inform the viewers that Daemon is married, but we also establish that Mysaria is important for him and that he trusts her.

Nothing particularly wrong with the tournament scene, just should be less gory because it doesn't make much sense.

During the tournament we could have Rhaenys and Corlys talking like in the show but different. Saying something like "Viserys inheritated our grandparents years of peace and I hope our children do as well" that way we show she is a Targaryen and that she is married to Corlys and have children.

Cole and Daemon's scene is fine.

Aemma's death in itself is also not incoherent, but the show is so if the show wasn't it would be fine.

The funeral scene is fine.

In Alicent's and Otto's scene they could mention Otto's hate for Daemon and the fact that Alicent at fifteen is a woman of age to marry. Something like "You are five and ten, you can't stay a lady-in-waiting for the princess forever"

The "heir for a day" is fine.

During the Daemon and Viserys confrontation we could have again Daemon lashing out against him saying how he helped him. Something like "I am the reason you have that throne! Corlys was preparing his ships to fight for Rhaenys so I raised an army for you! And now you won't even give me an announcement for a marriage our grandmother forced me into!"

The rest of the scenes are fine

Other things

Rhaenys's hair should have been dark, with the quote I mentioned is enough to make the general audience realize she is a Targaryen.

Rhaenyra should have worn more jewellery and more lavender and violet colours.

See HBO? is not that hard!

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys i targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #daemon targaryen #aemma arryn #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #corlys velaryon #mysaria #lady mysaria #anti hbo

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lovedreamer11 · 2 months

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Guys, now we're going to laugh. I've seen some debate online regarding how Jaehaerys would feel about Alicent and Viserys marrying. Some people write quite persistently that Jaehaerys would have approved of such a marriage and in general he loved Alicent like a daughter, and even more than his real daughters.

Firstly, about that Jaehaerys mistook Alicent for his daughter. Jaeherys had senile dementia and he no longer recognized the people around him. Anyone could have been on Alicent place; Jaehaerys still confused someone else with Saera.

Secondly, let's look at marriages among the descendants of Jaehaerys. Initially, he planned to betroth his heir Aemon to Daenerys, and after her death to Alyssa. And he really would have done it if not for Alysanne's intervention. As a result, Jaehaerys approved the marriage of his heir to Lord Baratheon's sister, who was half Velaryon from her mother side. There is no need to write about Baelon and Alyssa. Before Vaegon was sent to the Citadel, Jaehaerys did not consider any other candidates for the role of Vaegon's wife, except for one of his sisters. Daella married Lord Arryn. Of the three young men from Saera's inner circle, two were heirs, and one was a young lord. If the king had never found out what his daughter was doing, he would have allowed Saera to marry one of these young men. Viserra was betrothed to Lord Manderly. Rhaenys married Lord Velaryon, and Viserys's wife was the daughter of Lord Arryn, and she was half Targaryen. Daemon married a woman without Valyrian blood, but Rhea was the only heir to the Runestone and had a large dowry.

And now we are to believe that Jaehaerys would approve of the king's marriage to Alicent, a woman without Valyrian blood, the niece of a lord, the daughter of a landless knight, who are completely dependent on the will of Lord Hightower? Not to mention that Laena Velaryon exists. Great-granddaughter of Jaehaerys, rider of the oldest and largest dragon in the world, daughter of Lord Velaryon, whose mother and brother are also dragonriders. A marriage between Viserys and Laena would unite the bloodlines of Jaehaerys' favorite sons, Aemon and Baelon.

Jaehaerys would never have approved of Viserys' marriage to Alicent, given the fact that the marriage produced a sullen and lustful slacker, a stupid and hot-tempered psychopath (who was a cheap version of Maegor), and a "gentle", "polite" and "daring" terrorist and war criminal.

#team black #anti team green #i mean only the book #not hotd #jaehaerys targaryen #king jaehaerys #asoiaf #fire and blood #Alicent was never a worthy match for a king

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catofoldstones · 2 months

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I once read someone call Alysanne 'fake feminist' and that is so accurate. She was a horrible, horrible mother to her daughters. Of course Jaehaerys was even worse but at least he did not pretend to care about women. If they were the standard for ideal Targaryen couple (lets not forget Jaehaerys reproductively abuses Alysanne in later years) and rulers, then the bar is lower than hell. I read about a random targaryen on a random day and am reminded why thankfully this family is near extinction and is never coming back to power.

I genuinely don’t know why people hail Jaehaerys and Alysanne as this objectively most romantic story ever when it reads like a horror story. Especially for their daughters, and even Alysanne. Every act that Jaehaerys and Alysanne do has an undercurrent of Targ Exceptionalism running through it. In fact, getting married to each other was was not so much an extremely romantic, star crossed lovers situation but more of a blood purity situation.

The way Alysanne matched up her daughters with old lords who already had heirs and had dead wives reeks of - our daughters’ kids will marry back into the family, keeping our blood pure so that no one can challenge the throne. And that is exactly what happened. The disconnect between being outwardly feminist- hiring a female bodyguard and then discontinuing the right of first night and then inwardly pushing your daughters to their inadvertent deaths by not granting them any freedom is very on brand with their philosophy and not at all surprising.

Alysanne clearly holds the “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men” ideal in the way she acts, lives, interacts with everything around her. Women who are not Targaryens can have these “freedoms” of choice, of marrying who they want (with some caveats ofc) outside the family, at a later age, but not her daughters. They’re different. They’re purer. They’re Targaryens. And they have to uphold Targaryen standards.

Do not even get me started on Jaehaerys. Though I do have to slightly disagree with you here, anon. Jaehaerys did pretend to care about women, once, where it really mattered. With Alysanne. He had to make his sister fall in love with him to keep their bloodline within the family. He had already usurped the crown of another sister, he could not let this one go. The mask slipped off of course, with time and age. When he still wanted more kids with Alysanne to have as many “pure” Targaryens as possible and then when he fought with her about Saera and Daella. I would argue he never cared for her beyond what she could give him. He’s a sociopath.

#alysanne targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #fire and blood #f&b #anon asks t #anti house targaryen #btw #queued for later

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Fool Me Once (part 7)

Summary: Time at Dragonstone leads to tense encounters. (Wc: 5k)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader (y’all know the drill tho)

A/N: we are finally in dragonstone! Yay??? Lmao it’s about to get a little bumpy for reader now that she’s in the dragon’s den if you will. But I’m excited to explore team black’s dynamic. Or at least I think the dynamic would be since we really did not get that in the show. Also as our fab five (the nickname I have for fmo reader, Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, and quinton) are separated, I will be going back and forth between dragonstone and king’s landing. So we are gonna get lots of different povs which is fun

Fmo masterlist

But at last, the year of 129 AC would be one of great change for the House of the Dragon. Marked with death, triumph, and long simmering tensions boiling to the surface.

Many say the first turning of the tide was the departure of Prince Aemond Targaryen’s lady wife to Dragonstone… without him at her side. Speculation stirred around why she left; tongues ever wagging in court. Some say that it was an innocent as the young, and sprite Daella Targaryen insisting to see her ancestral home. Others had a more salacious take.

Gossip about a rift in the family swirled. One of the more of the inappropriate rumors was that youngest child of Prince Aemond was not actually his, but instead the illegitimate child of his lady wife and his brother Prince Aegon. Mushroom tells a story of the kind Queen Alicent sending away her good daughter in a fit of rage after finding out the truth. Many disputed this, nonetheless. Some claim the departure to Dragonstone was of Prince Daemon‘s demand. Court alight with the drivel of the Rogue Prince’s sexual proclivities. Talk of him and the Princess taking a special liking to Aemond’s lady wife. In more ways than one.

A more likely explanation came from Setpton Eustace. He emphasizes the smart and cunning nature of the family Aemond’s lady wife came from. Recounting that getting close to Princess Rhaenyra was just one step in a plan to landing marriage prospects for the little princess and princeling. It was said by Eustace that this angered Prince Aemond. His ire towards his sister and her family well documented.

Regardless of why she left, it was clear that family dynamics were bound to change. Whispers of a weakened house beginning to mount across the small folk. One prophet pushed the notion of the House of the Dragon being in grave trouble.

What would come in the follow years could only be explained by the Targaryen house words - Fire and Blood.

Eventually you get used to the smell of Dragonstone. In a way, it is no worse than the one that inhabits the Red Keep; just different. If you think about the smell too much, it makes you long for home. Your real one. The one that is clean, and warm. Nothing like the places you find yourself in now. At least at the Red Keep, you could facilitate a sense of domesticity with redecorating. At the Dragonstone, you are forced to stare at grey walls, and squint through dim lighting no matter how many candles are lit.

The stories you heard of Dragonstone were overflowing with fondness and reverence. Viserys was open about his love for place. You don’t know if it is the lack of Targaryen blood or if it really is just an ugly old castle.

Despite your feelings towards it, Daella had made her peace with everything. She is adaptable in the way most children are, wholly excited to be doing something different while somewhere different. Her interest in dragons only growing stronger. The high Valyrian lessons continuing. It was hard to complain if she was happy. Though her fascination with Daemon makes you pause.

You try not to think too much into it. She is at the age where everyone is interesting, including the new dragon riders around her. He must pick up on your skepticism. The head tilt and wry grin he gives you when you insist on sitting in on anything that involves her.

Quinton sticks to your side with heavy proclivity. The only time you can get away from everyone at Dragonstone was walks on the beach. It was your favorite part of the Island. The salty water of the Blackwater Bay cleared your head.

A close second of places your frequent being the Sept. There was something haunting about it. While the one in the Red Keep and in King’s Landing were grand and open. The one on Dragonstone was closed in. Just you and the statues of the Faith. Many say it is bad luck to stare at the statues of the Stranger for too long. Looking at the face of death apparently bringing bad luck. But all you can do is stare. The masts sculpture looks more animal than man.

You have accepted your fate by now. Those who go against the grain must be prepared for every option. You try to make the Stranger a familiar friend rather than foe. You memorize his face and pray for the day it does not scare you.

Helaena’s ears may be just as good as her eyes. Listening is a special trait, her mother would say.

It was supposed to be helpful. A teasing remark to help Helaena feel more comfortable about her dreams; the ones that her mother will never understand. It only made Helaena feel more isolated. Aegon would roll his eyes at the remark, and Aemond would just look curiously. Like the way she looks at her bugs. Trying to inspect and take in everything while knowing she will never truly know what it means to be them.

But Helaena does see and hear all. With the other personalities that inhabit the Red Keep, her family, it is easy to slip into the background. Easy to observe and wait till she knows what she wants to say. Your introduction into Helaena’s life had forced her to be seen. You weren’t there for anyone else, at least not in the beginning; just for Helaena. She soaked up that attention in a way that makes her crazy sometimes. The spiraling feeling, she got when she first met you reentering while you are away. She is back to being silent… invisible. A little mad.

She wonders if you would ever forgive her if you found out she was the one that brought up the prospect of you marrying Aemond. It was good thought in theory. Helaena saw how anxious you became over your parents’ insistence to start taking marriage offers seriously. At least if you were at the Red Keep, the two of you would be together. You would a part of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms, and mother to dragon riders. It seemed like a no brainer to hint at it to her grandsire, who later convinced her mother.

She could delude herself into thinking it would work.

Daughters always secretly fear becoming their mothers. Following in cycles that feel like they will never be broken. She never felt more like Alicent when she watched you get married. She woke up that morning with the same floaty feeling she gets before a dream, except the dream did not come that day. But feeling lingered the whole day, and into the feast that night.

The dream finally comes years later. Dark hair, green eyes, red lips pulled into an attractive smile. She never told you; she never told anyone about that initial vision. Finding the words for what she sees has always been difficult. Even after moons of experiencing them, she still cannot predict how bad everything can be till it is going to shit in front of her. It makes her extra cautious to speak on them.

Perhaps it would have been better for you to be long away from the Red Keep married to some lord. Helaena likes to think she is better than Aegon and Aemond, and she is in many ways. But one thing they all share is their ability to be selfish when they want something. Love transforms that into an even nastier ordeal.

It is why Helaena is not surprised when Aegon began to follow you around like a kitten that wants its mother. She knew it was a matter of time before Aegon grew painfully attached to someone. Deepest of feelings often sprout from aching, wounds inside.

Though the reciprocation of feelings, whatever they may be on your part, did make Helaena pause. It was too easy to see what everything was in beginning. Men will always bend to the whims of their desires. And being desirable is a trait you wield so simply. But time has passed, masks have been dropped, and now the visions become blurred.

Helaena is not sure of your endgame anymore. She’s not sure even you know. If it was to send her and her siblings into a state of uneasiness, then you had succeeded wonderfully.

One day, she finds Aegon laying flat on his back on the balcony of the room they share. Eyes shut, and limbs laid out like a starfish. It was a rare, blindly sunny day in King’s Landing. The bright lighting only made his bags more pronounce. She was sure he had been laying there since the morning, right after the letter from you came in. The single letter for Helaena. She noticed how Aegon’s face fell.

She doesn’t see Aemond these days. Flashes of hair and leather catching her eye as he goes to his chambers or to the dragon pit. And when he is around, he is short and curt. More distant than normal. A claim she did not think was possible.

Oddly enough, the only person not on edge is their mother. Alicent seems to be floating around. Lighter than Helaena had seen her in years. She knows it is because of her half-sister. Alicent had scurried away, half smile on her face when a letter came for her.

Watching her mother in pain and sadness twisted parts in Helaena that she did know existed. Seeing Alicent happy, even in all its ephemeral glory, was worth taking and pushing down the floaty feeling in Helaena’s head.

She fears the dream will be too late again. Something is coming, and none of them are ready. They never are.

Before you left, Otto had given you a list of things to accomplish while at Dragonstone. Some things more realistic than others.

Get close to Rhaenyra.

You would be lying if you didn’t admit that she was a fascinating figure. A looming presence over everyone at King’s Landing despite never being around.

You have watched Helaena’s face fall when Viserys calls her Rhaenyra. Or notice Aegon’s eyes glaze over when Otto reprimands him about acting like a proper prince. You have helped Aemond remove the sapphire from his eye socket more times than you’d like to. Alicent’s whole demeanor changes at the sound of her name. All paths lead back Viserys’s first born.

And the most interesting part is that you do not think she even notices. It makes sense; of course, a princess and named heir would not fret over being the center of attention. She was born and bred to think she was important. More important than others.

“I thought you would like some water,” you bring out a pitcher to the outdoor area.

Rhaenyra’s head was leaning back against the chair, eyes shut, and one hand on her protruding belly. She opens her eyes softly, deep Iris saturated in calmness. Fresh air was always nice during this stage in the pregnancy. Took the mind off the uncomfortable feeling that begins to mount.

As you sit beside her, you notice the dark speck flying in the distance. Just based off the slightly bigger body of the dragon, you assume it is Jace on Vermax.

“Despite the invitation,” she begins softly. “I was worried about you coming here. Well, more worried about what you may have heard about me.”

Rhaenyra takes a sip of the water, and you notice the slight beads of sweat on her forehead.

“What do you mean Princess?”

Rhaenyra smiles, strained. “I am sure Aemond had mentioned me, mentioned my children in a less than glowing light. He still blames me for their mistake.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Often you felt like people expected you to speak on what happened to Aemond. A traumatic event that happened before your family even came to the Red Keep. While Aegon, Alicent, and Helaena recount the story in distaste and anger on Aemond’s behalf. Rhaenyra seems to brush it off as a moment of bad judgement by her son. The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

“Excuse my bluntness, but Aemond does not speak of you,” it was the truth. He was the one directly changed by whole ordeal, and you could tell by the way he avoided mentioning his sister at all costs.

Rhaenyra nods slowly. She seems not to believe you.

“But I am glad that I am here,” you try to shift the conversation. “Daella enjoys being here as well.”

While Daella had embraced the new scenery, Alaric’s attitude seemed to shift. A normally quiet baby seemingly on the verge of tears at every moment.

“I saw the egg she brought with her; it hasn’t hatched yet?”

The question takes you by surprise. Aemond had been adamant about both kids getting eggs in their cradle, the way he never did. You shake your head no. The deep green egg of Daella’s remained intact.

“I’m sure it will happen soon, or perhaps she will be like her father and claim one,” she says reassuringly. Except you do not need that reassurance. It sounds horrible, but a new dragon is the last thing you want to be worried about right now. But there is a sense that her not having one soon would be some sort of inditement on her.

You have seen the way Rhaena frets over it and have heard about the way Aemond did. You would hate to think your daughter felt like her worth was affected over a dragon. That having an unruly creature on her side will make her more valuable.

“But will it change anything,” you question. “Whether she does or does not any time soon. I know dragons are supposed to symbolize being closer to the Gods but does it really. Especially as a young girl?”

Rhaenyra’s brown furrow, pretty face pulled into deep thought. It is something she has thought about.

“No, I guess not,” she begins to pick at her rings. “At least not for me. I used to think that having Syrax meant that I was special, and because of that I would be valued more. Even compared to certain men in my life. That being named heir meant I would not have to go through certain things. In a way, I did not; my life has been different from other noble women. It will be different from other women. But I am also aware that nothing I do will ever make up for what is between my legs. Having a dragon does not change that for me. It unfortunately will not for Daella.”

Her candidness takes you by surprise. You can tell it is something that haunts her so deeply. For the first time, you feel sad for Rhaenyra. She is trapped in the same cycle you all are. Getting entangled in the same game but being the ones punished for it. The only difference is that she may eventually have the power to change it. If she will be is up for debate.

“It does not change the way the men in your family look at you, even the ones closest to you,” the words tumble out of your mouth. The flood gates that seem to open with Rhaenyra shut quickly.

The slight accusation towards Daemon or Viserys makes her back stiff. You must bite your tongue to say the next thing you are thinking. Even Targaryen women must fear those around them. The system will never be even.

———

Group dinners had become a necessary annoyance while being at Dragonstone. Some nights were you able to eat earlier when the younger kids do. Daella and you locked away in the apartments. But most nights you were all but obligated to entertain the drivel that Daemon and Rhaenyra could come up with.

After your tense conversation with Rhaenyra, you felt even more anxious about breaking bread. If there the tension was noticeable, Daemon did nothing to try and make dinner as peaceful as possible.

“Perhaps our guest can give the girls some advice on married life,” Daemon finally pipes up. Slick smile on his face, as looks around the table. “What to do… what not to do.”

Cunt.

Your eyes drift to Rhaenyra, who sits at his side silent; lilac eyes on the plate in front of her. She seems to do that a lot whenever Daemon takes over a conversation. Either goes along with whatever point Daemon is trying to make or shrinks into herself in the worst way. It is nothing like you have seen from Rhaenyra when she is outside of this dynamic.

“You have been married three times; I am sure you have ample experience to help your daughters.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker up at that, eyeing her husband. The table is silent before Daemon lets out a bark of laughter. Head thrown back as if it is the funniest thing he has ever heard. Rhaena shifts in her seat next to you, clearly uncomfortable by the scene in front of her.

Baela looks pissed, while Jace looks embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Funnily enough, the only person who can meet your eyes is Lucerys. A curious look in his big eyes. A warning in his eyes.

“And wit to match,” Daemon grins, a deep glimmer in his eyes.

It is the same amused look that Daemon gave Aemond at dinner moons ago. Daemon, who wants to be constantly entertained, would find Aemond what said and did, thrilling. Dispute the fact that the targets of Aemond’s ire were now his sons. Men like Daemon never truly settle down, and they never put their needs above others. They seek out the gallant behavior in others that they can no longer drum up themselves.

Aemond is all the youth and virility that comes with Targaryen blood. Daemon would find him compelling. More compelling than he has found a member of his family in a long time.

Rhaenyra has been sobered by motherhood, and the pending passing of the throne. The weight of the world changing the way she looks at everything. Gone is the young girl with little care in the world. Gone is the flush of youth that more than likely endured her to not only Daemon, but to others.

Daemon is someone is who thrives off making everyone else in the room pause. The Rogue Prince who wants all to stop and wonder what his next move will be. To let Daemon catch you on the back foot is a sign of weakness. He talks the way he spars. Fluid yet full of surprises.

Rhaenyra looks at her husband with an incredulous look. Then looks back at you with a scowl.

“I am tired,” she mutters, working her way out of seat slowly. Daemon makes little effort to help his pregnant wife. Jace instead gets up to help. Seeing it as an out - Luke, Baela, and Rhaena all get up as well.

Daemon and you stay seated for a moment. He gives you that same grin you have come accustomed to by now.

“You know I think I might have judged you prematurely.”

You raise a brow in efforts to get him to explain what he means by that, but it never comes. He gets up from the table leaving you alone. Rhaenyra’s frown plays in your head. At least you can see that your marriage is not the only fragile one.

It did not take you long to see something is deeply wrong with Lucerys Velaryon. Every thought you had about him was based on the less than promising things you had heard during your time in the Red Keep. And of course, the constant reminder on Aemond’s face.

The skepticism was right, but not for the reasons you assumed it would be. Luke, at a horribly young age, picked up a knife and did something that even the most morbid and seasoned of warriors would hesitate to do. Something is wrong with him the way something is wrong with Aemond.

There is something invisible holding everyone together, and you are sure that imaginary thing broke in Aemond and Lucerys that night at Driftmark. While Aemond was fine leaving the damage on floor till it crept up on him, Luke seems to be spending his life desperately trying to pick up those pieces. But it won’t happen without true remorse. Healing without an apology is not possible. So now, two broken people exist in constant fear.

It makes him dangerous in a way you did not expect. A flighty, anxious eye taker. The irony.

———

“Harrenhal is said to be a cursed place.”

The voice sends a bit of a chills down Luke’s spine. He turns to see you leaning against the study door, wine in hand. Bright eyes full of mirth. You point to the book in his hand.

“We have that book back at the castle,” you point at the one in his hand, as you walk into the room. “An… interesting read.”

The two of you had not been in the same room alone before; it sends Luke’s brain into overdrive. He has to remind himself that he had no reason to be nervous. You were here as a reprieve, at least that is what his mother said. And he always trusts his mother. Even when she has given them reason not to. Under all the splendor and false hope, he knows she means well.

Baela and Rhaena have fully embraced you being at Dragonstone, and Luke trusts them as well. His brother gets embarrassing moony eyed when you are around. He tries to be respectful of his betrothed, but Baela seems to pay it no mind. In fact, Luke believes she is relieved your presence takes attention away from the decision made at the Red Keep. He understands her apprehension.

But Luke has always followed Jace’s lead; he tries to do the same now with you.

“She is harmless, brother.”

Luke highly doubts that. This family does not toil with the feelings or thoughts of those seen as harmless. Harmless people get crushed under the weight of it all. Those to be feared or micromanaged get invited in. Told to sink or swim.

He wakes up every day and reminds himself he has no reason to be worried about the future. He is a Targaryen. He will not be casted out. He will not be crushed.

You lean over him to get a better view of the book, and he gets a whiff of helichrysum and sage. One hand on the table, the other on the back of his chair. Luke blinks rapidly at the page, not daring to look away from the book.

“Blood mixed into the mortar,” you whisper. “I wonder if the horrors within towers and walls truly haunt the houses who stake claim to it.”

Luke feels like he might throw up.

He finally dared to turn, and he sees the side of your face illuminated by the fire the room. Your face as calm as it is unsettling. Like the silver and red spiders that inhabit Dragonstone. The first time they all came back there, after his mother and Daemon had married, he thinks back to finding one on the lapel of his red suit coat. The scream he let out was blood curdling. He remembers the strange look Daemon gave to him. He gives that look a lot. Perplexed and annoyed.

Luke was sure Daemon disliked him for the same reasons Daemon dislikes a lot of people. He does not live up to the expectations Daemon has. Or maybe Daemon had no expectations, the dissatisfaction lies in Luke showing him exactly what he anticipated

But no man would marry his daughter off to someone he saw no use in…. right?

“I heard you like to draw,” you change the subject easily.

Like nods slowly, feeling embarrassed that Rhaena or her mother probably brought it up to you. They tend to gush about the most minute things to make him feel comfortable.

“I am so envious of people who have artistic talent,” you sigh wistfully. “Maybe you can teach me?”

Being alone with you is the last thing Luke wanted, but even then, he finds himself nodding again a bit entranced by the whole situation happened before him. You smile bright before turning to leave.

Luke lays his head down on the cool table to let out a shaky breath. Gods be good.

When Quinton joined the kingsgaurd, his mother cried.

Full on chest sobs, and hyperventilation. The whole scene was… a lot.

In beginning he was sure it was out of fear, now all of her children were away. Both of her sons, taking of a lifelong oath and her only daughter married and far from her family. It was not till her mother calmed down that he realized it was because she expected grandchildren from them. He had laughed at that being the thing she was most heartbroken about. They had joined the most honored spots in Seven Kingdoms, and the pitter patter of feet is what she wanted.

He never thought about children. He has accepted kids were not going to be a part of his life, for better or for worse. That was until he became your protector.

Life is funny in that way. Never letting someone find solid ground. Once you are sure of something, it will be taken away. Your introduction in his life flipped things upside down. Protecting the family was ironically easier to do what real emotions were not involved. When he did not have to question ever person met with, and how they could harm you.

Now he at a dragon castle, utterly confused. Why would any want to harm you begin with?

“I need my own master of whisperers while here,” you said lowkey as you bounced a babbling Alaric in your arms. “People who have been at Dragonstone for longer than us.”

All Quinton can do is give you a look. You know it well. It says it that really a good idea. You roll your eyes in response.

“Loyalties can be tested and broken, just look at Jayne,” you say sourly. “Not everyone here will be completely loyal to Rhaenyra or Daemon, and perhaps they will know something that can help us. Someone unassuming.”

You make a funny face at Alaric, whispering things in a baby voice at him.

“And I know exactly who can help.”

Your eyes go from Alaric, and they flash to the corner of the large room. A young boy with shaggy blonde hair, and a freckled face stands awkwardly in the corner.

“He is just a boy,” Quinton says confused. You grin at him slyly.

“Exactly,” you go to stand up, shifting Alaric in your arms. “Hold him for me.”

Before he can oppose, you place your child in his arms. Quinton just sat there stiffly. Alaric squirms, and he fears that the crying will start again. He tries to bounce him the way you do but he is sure it is no use. Nothing is compares to the embrace of a mother.

As much as the name gesture warmed him heart, being around kids is something he had to get used to. He often had to remind himself that they were half you.

Half spawn of Aemond, but also half you. The prayer is that the good part you instilled in them will outweigh whatever part their useless father put in them. Plus raising children is hard. His mother used to say that it was like cooking. Sometimes your stew would come out perfect. Other times you would just have grimace and eat through the bad taste. Not the best comparison for a young boy to hear, but he understood.

Quinton looks up to see you laughing at something the young boy said. His big blue eyes staring at you in slight awe. It is clear the young lad doesn’t speak to women outside his mother, the wife of a lord her at Dragonstone, often.

The effect you have on people is easy to see, and lately Quinton sees how quickly you are to use it. He supposes he can’t blame you for exploiting the nature of those around you. He can only hope that the side you show him is the full one.

Daella runs into the great hall area to you, an exhausted maidservant following behind. Daella’s short legs can barely keep up with herself. He watches you pick her up watching amused as she explains something exuberantly. Alaric begins to whine. Big lilac eyes filling with tears. This place disturbs him he thinks.

This place disturbs Quinton too.

———

As sun begins to set on over the mountains and castle, a soft breeze carries in the wind through each crevice and dip.

Inside the dragonmount, a low grumble spreads through the walls. Large tan wings spread out to their full, and withered yellow eyes blink into the darkness. A familiar warmth spreading through the large dragon.

The Bronze Fury feeling a presence he has not in years.

I’ve been seriously slacking on the Taglist so I’m sorry for that but here are people I remembered asking. Sorry if I miss anyone: @voniikg @afro-hispwriter @florent1s @crispmarshmallow @tremendouswolfsaladranch @strawbrryquinn @widemiffyhappy @msmarvel-19 @dc-marvel-girl96 @xkennobi @fanfics4ever @hydrationqueensworld @lyra689 @blazzlynch @httyd-marauders @bregarc @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @mercedesdecorazon @flowerpotmage @bstorn @poisonedsultana @papery-maniac @its-sam-allgood @yu3kkii @hvx @leoramage @neenieweenie @stargaryenx @rey26 @lazypinkpig @blackravena @s0urmarvel @elleclairez @rebelfleur22 @inpraizeof @luvremlu @clora95 @blacpiink @let-love-bleeds-red @iwanttohitmyself @alastorhazbin @kitkat-writes-stuff @carriellie @aloneatpeace @ensolleildelune @landlockedmermaid77

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!oc #prince aemond targaryen

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witchofhimring · 3 months

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Aemond Targaryen x Reader HOTD AU (what if women had the same rights as men?)

In this AU women have the same rights as men which changes the history of Westeros. In this story the reader comes from an island off Westeros and marries into the Targaryen family.

I do not know if I will make a book of this concept by I will make headcanons and one shots. Certain aspects will be changed from the books.

This list includes OC's. The next post about this AU will cover Reader's children and grandchildren.

Queens:

Visenya the Conqueror

Parents: Aerion Targaryen and Valaena Velayon

Spouce(s): Aegon Targaryen

Children: Maegor Targaryen

Reign: 1 AC-44 AC

Birth: 29 AC

Death: 44 AC

Canon changes: Rules in her own right and rides Balerion instead of Vaeghar.

Maegor the Strong

Parents: Visenya Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen

Spouce(s): not decided (I will chose at a further date)

Children: none

Reign: 44 AC- undecided (TBA)

Birth: 12 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is the heir to the Iron Throne. No wars with the faith or nephews. This changes the political landscape of Westeros.

Rhaena the Black Queen

Parents: Aenys Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon

Spouce(s): Aegon Targaryen, Androw Farman

Children: Aerea Targaryen, Rhaella Targaryen

Reign: TBA

Birth: 23 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen in her own right, is Maegor's successor.

Jaehaerys the Old King

Parents: Aenys Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon

Spouce(s): Alysanne Targaryen

Children: Aegon Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen, Aemon Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Alyssa Targaryen, Maegelle Targaryen, Vaegon Targaryen, Daella Targaryen, Saera Targaryen, Viserra Targaryen, Gaemon Targaryen, Vaelerion Targaryen, Gael Targaryen

Reign: TBA-103 AC

Birth: 34 AC

Death: 103 AC

Canon changes: Succeeds his elder sister. Makes Rhaenys his heir.

Rhaenys the First

Parents: Aemon Targaryen, Jocelyn Baratheon

Spouce(s): Corlys Valeryon

Children: Laenor Velaryon, Laena Velaryon

Reign: TBA

Birth: 74 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen

Laenor the Lazy

Parents: Rhaenys Targaryen

Spouce(s): Rhaenyra Targaryen

Children: Jacaerys Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jeoffrey Velarion

Reign: TBA- 120 AC

Birth: 93 AC

Death: 120 AC (presumably)

Canon changes: Becomes King. In the books Laenor is born in 94 AC however as he is the elder sibling in the show I moved up his date of birth to be older than Laena.

Rhaenyra the Dragon

Parents: Viserys Targaryen, Aemma Arryn

Spouce(s): Laenor Valeryon, Daemon Targaryen

Children: Jacaerys Targaryen, Lucerys Targaryen, Jeoffrey Velaryon, Aegon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen

Reign: 120 AC- TBA

Birth: 97 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen by succeeding her husband.

Daemon the Black

Parents: Baelon Targaryen, Alyssa Targaryen

Spouce(s): Laena Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Children: Baela Targaryen, Rhaena Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen

Birth: 81 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is consort of Laena and ruling with his wife.

Jacaerys the First & Baela the Just

Parents: Laenor Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Spouce(s): Baela Targaryen, Agatha Hedrow (OC)

Children: Viserys Targaryen, Vaeserion Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Aelyanna Targaryen, Amara Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen, Edwin Targaryen (all are OC'S)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: 144 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes King, co-rules with Baela. Marries a second time to Agatha Hedrow (OC).

Parents: Daemon Targaryen, Laena Targaryen

Spouce(s): Jacaerys Targaryen

Children: Viserys Targaryen, Vaeserion Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen (all are OC'S)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: 116 AC

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Becomes Queen

Viserys the First (OC)

Parents: Jacaerys Targaryen, Baela Targaryen

Spouce(s): Daenerys Targaryen

Children: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Targaryen, Baela Targaryen (all OC's)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Daenerys the Golden Queen (OC)

Parents: Aemond Targaryen, Y/n Blackhalt

Spouce(s): Viserys the Second

Children: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Targaryen, Baela Targaryen (all OC's)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Daenerys the Golden Queen

Rhaenyra the Second

Parents: Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen

Spouce(s): TBA

Children: A son (more children may be added)

Reign: TBA-TBA

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Female heirs:

Y/n of Blackhalt (the reader)

Parents: TBA

Spouce(s): Aemond Targaryen

Children: Daenerys Targaryen, Vaella Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen ,Elarion Targaryen, Hardin Targaryen, Elara Targaryen, Vissera Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen, Alice Targaryen

Birth: TBA

Death: TBA

Canon changes: Is an OC.

Alys Strong