#he had the best bond with aegon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coryosbaby · 4 months

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ʟᴜᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴀ ᴍʏ ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

Fandom: ‘House of the Dragon’

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister! Reader

Synopsis: You seek solace with your brother in his chambers after a humiliating incident with Aegon.

Content warning . mild mentions of misogyny and rape, canon-typical incest, nsfw. 18+, MDNI

Your body shakes as you wander the empty halls of the Targaryen castle desperately. Tears stream down your cheeks, your face on fire, as you make your way to your brother Aemond’s chambers.

Thankfully, the guards to his room have been dismissed and so have the servant girls. Your fists rap against the door, once, twice.

When Aemond opens the door, you fall into him.

Your arms wrap around him, your teary eyes burying into his chest. He tenses against your hold, confused, but after a moment his hands rest on your waist and he pulls you into his room. Closing the door behind him, he guides you over to the thick armchair sitting in front of his desk. Your ripped skirts trail across the stoned floor, your eyes red and puffy. Aemond gently pushes you down onto the cushions.

He’s silent, but his eyes are concerned and you hold your face in your hands. He reaches across to his desk and pulls out a handkerchief. His fingers gently grab your chin, and he wipes away your tears. You avoid his gaze as he lets out a heavy sigh.

“What has our brother done now, sweet sister?”

Your bottom lip wobbles as you try to keep from sobbing again.

“He humiliated me,” you say quietly, recalling the events from earlier. “He ripped my c-clothes in front of all of his friends. He called me a—“

You let out a choked sound, tears filling your eyes again at your husband’s cruelty.

“A what?”

“…A whore.”

Your voice cracks. Aemond’s jaw clenches, and his fingers tighten on each side of the armchair.

“Leave him to me.”

He moves to his feet, but your tiny fingers wrap around his much larger ones as you jump up to meet his towering height.

“Please, do not cause conflict with him at this hour. I beg of you.”

He looks at you through narrowed eyes. However close Aemond and his brother are, it doesn’t compare to your shared bond with him. Any ounce of disrespect aimed towards you may as well be directed at Aemond himself.

“Aegon needs to be held accountable,” he says sternly. His hands rest on your waist, and they’re soft. Not angry or violent like his raging thoughts at the given moment. He will always be gentle with you. “I’m sick of his antics. You are not some— some prize. You are the princess. You are to be respected.“

“Aemond,” you cry, your fingers gripping his forearms. “Please. Another night. Not now.”

He wants to ram a sword into his brother’s head delectably slow. But he mustn’t utter those words to you. Instead, he tries his best to stay calm and focus on your current state instead. Your dress— a purple thing with lace at the sleeves— is torn to shreds. Aemond takes note that this is your favorite dress. He will go to the seamstress tomorrow to have it remade from completely new fabrics, and then he will wring his brother’s neck with the old ones.

But for now, with you, he will be soft, gentle— he knows you like him best this way.

His thumb brushes against your neck, and he mumbles softly.

“You left your night dress in your chambers, sweetling.”

Heat flares in your cheeks at your brother’s nickname for you, one that he has called you since you were both teenagers. You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I know.”

“I can have someone fetch them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s alright,” you assure, rubbing soft circles into his wrist. “I would.. would it be okay, if I —“

“Borrowed something of mine?”

You nod, embarrassed, although you’ve slept in Aemond’s clothes many times. Being wrapped up in things of his makes you feel comforted, protected. Safe.

I would let all of these men fuck you if they decided it.

It was something Aegon had uttered drunkenly into your ear as he presented you to his friends, blatantly humiliating you. You swallow down the bile rising in your throat at the thought. How could one be so cruel? How could one treat their sister, their wife, as if she was some object? Some whore?

You shake the thoughts out of your head when Aemond takes hold of your hand and pulls you towards his bed. You don’t take a seat just yet, watching as Aemond disappears for a moment only to reappear with a cream colored sleep shirt in his hands.

“Let’s get you out of this, shall we?”

You nod to him, blushing, and his fingers nimbly slide against your back as he turns you around. He begins to unlace the corset back of your dress, sliding the fabric off of your shoulders and down to the floor. Next comes your underthings— cushion-ey soft fingers trail down your spine as all of it drops off of you, and you’re on fire.

You’ve been naked around Aemond before— this is no different from other times. He’s your your best friend— your big brother, after all, and sleepovers are not new. But regardless, you still quiver with nerves and something else you can’t quite place.

After this, Aemond grasps the sleep shirt and slides it over your head. It drops down to your knees, and his large hands pull your hair out from underneath the neckline.

“There,” he murmurs. “All better.”

You turn around to face him, and for the first time tonight your face twitches into a small, happy smile. Aemond presses a kiss to your head.

“Sleep, little one.”

You slide underneath the covers, piling underneath Aemond’s large comforter. He begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of his shoulders and unbuttoning his pants. Next comes his eye patch— his uttermost insecurity that he feels no shame for when he’s with you and you only. He slips it off and places it on the nightstand. He slides in next to you, clad in his undergarments. He presses into your side and wraps a strong arm around your stomach. You sigh, relaxing and basking in the man’s warmth. Tiredness takes over you, and Aemond presses a kiss to your neck. It’s so utterly soft, his lips pillowy and plump. Your lashes flutter.

“Aemond,” you breathe. “Avy jorrāaelan, lēkia.”

(I love you, brother.)

He pauses, breathing heavily against you. He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You already know that he loves you, too.

Your drowsy body moves of its own accord, and you turn over to face him.

You admire him in the low candlelight. His perfectly tousled hair, the curve of his cheekbones, the turquoise jewel in replacement of his eye. You wonder how different it would’ve been if he had been your betrothed.

Your lips press against his, soft and passionate. It’s the first kiss you’ve ever shared with each other, and Aemond sighs against your lips, finally giving in to your sweetness. His hand finds purchase on your hip, and yours move to his hair. He doesn’t let anyone touch his hair but you.

Shy touches soon give way to the exploration of the each other’s bodies. Your hand trails across his chest, down past his navel. You don’t touch him there— not yet, though the bulge in his underwear makes it incredibly tempting. His fingers travel across your collarbone and skim over your breasts. When you pull away from him, your face is incredibly hot.

“I need you.” you say to him, doe eyes staring up at him. Aemond holds back with a heaving chest and a form of self taught control. He almost gasps for breath as he grips your waist.

“Tell me again.”

It comes out a lot more demanding than expected. He growls it, needy and desperate. You whine, your cunt aching.

“I need you,” you say. “Take me. I am yours.”

He can’t deny you this request. He lifts your leg, places it over his own so your back is pressed against his and you’re still spread out for him. He lifts your his night shirt, exposing your cunt that he had left unclothed. His fingers slide against your swollen clit, making you mewl and clench desperately for him. He rubs slow, deliberate circles, getting you perfectly slick and pliant for his cock. When he’s pleased with how wet you are, he pulls out his thick length. He presses his cockhead against your folds, groaning at the wet heat of you.

“Seven…” He sighs, and can’t help but press into your hole, his cock dribbling precum as he makes his way inside your gummy walls. “Such iā ȳrda, needy riñītsos”

(Such a tight, needy little girl.)

Your mouth drops open, emmiting angelic whimpers and moans as he fills you. He starts slow, deep, moving his hips at a steady pace, savoring the feeling of your hole sucking him in. His balls hit your ass, heavy and filled to the brim with cum that he’s oh so desperate to fuck into you. Your tiny fingers curl against his hip, forcing him to stay inside, to keep you safe and sane. He grunts into your ear, feeds you delicious affections and promises.

“You have such a perfect cunny, sweet sister,” he praises hotly. “You mustn’t worry anymore. I’m going to take care of you,” and then, with a gasp emitting out of him, “You are my light, my darling girl.”

You can’t say anything, only arch against his gentle thrusts and grind against him with affection in your heart. He holds you like you’re made of glass, and he fucks you just the same.

It isn’t long before his fingers find your pearl again, drawing a sob out of you as your orgasm unfurls. It’s strong, nothing like the weak, untouched ones you get from Aegon. No, this is powerful— white hot heat curls up in your tummy, spreads down to your toes, and your ears ring with the force. The sound of you coming undone is what has Aemond reaching his peak thereafter. His hips stutter, his balls draw up tight, and he spills inside you with a loud moan. He rides out his high with your name tumbling from his lips like an adulterated prayer.

When he stills, he makes no move to pull out of you. He lays, breathes against your skin, his platinum blonde locks spilling over your shoulder. Your hand finds his, post orgasm haze taking over your psyche. After a moment, Aemond begins to speak.

“Our brother is a fool, sweet sister.” He mumbles. “He will burn eternally for what he has done to you.”

Your fucked out mind agrees. You smile, basking in the after glow of sex, of Aemond. You press yourself against him and dream of sweet nothings, of a different, familiar husband and children’s feet pattering softly against tile stone.

All the while, Aemond’s seed sits heavily inside your womb and the baby inside you begins to grow.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#aemond targaryen #aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond Targaryen x fem! reader #aemond Targaryen x sister! reader #aemond Targaryen smut #aemond Targaryen fanfic #dom! Aemond Targaryen #sub! reader #Aemond Targaryen blurb #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond house of the dragon #Aegon Targaryen

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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Do you think you could write something where Aegon fingers future sister wife (sister betrothed?) during their lessons with a Maester or Septa 💚💕

Pairing: Aegon ii x Targ!reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: vaginal fingering, dry humping, underage sex stuff, hand-jobs.

Lessons are Boring

You’d always been the attentive one during lessons. Maester Ryle oversaw the education of the prince and princesses of House Targaryen for two or three generations. A wrinkled old man with a few thin white hairs on his head, his maester’s robe hung loosely on his body and his chains clinked together when he walked. Due to his bad knees and hips, Maester Ryle often sat during the lessons and pointed at things on his board with a walking stick. This meant, he could hardly see over the other side of the table where the children sat in front of him. This meant, while Aemond, Helaena and you took notes and answered his questions, Aegon’s hand could slide onto your lap without him noticing.

"-The Faith of the Seven and the High Septon have often been at odds with House Targaryen and The Crown as a whole. It was only upon the ascension of King Jaehaerys that these bonds were finally mended,” said the old maester from his seat, “Can any of you tell me how this was achieved? Ah, Prince Aemond, yes.”

“King Jaehaerys refused to reinstate the Swords and Stars of the Faith, and removed the bounties King Maegor put on the heads of Warrior’s Sons and Poor Fellows. He then gave a white cloak to Ser Joffrey Doggett, who’d been part of the band of Warrior’s Sons, and he accepted it,” Aemond told him. “He swore to The Faith that The Crown will always protect and defend them from then on. It has been such ever since.”

“Indeed,” Maester Ryle nodded in approval.

You’d been listening to Maester Ryle go on about the history between their family and the followers of The Seven when a warm hand touched your knee. Looking over, you saw Aegon smirking. You stared down to see his hand sliding up and down your thigh slowly. Due to the tablecloth, Maester Ryle could not see the prince’s hand lifting your skirt inch by inch over your knees. You bit back a gasp as his bare fingertips grazed your flesh, smoothing over the curves and dips. The gentle touch made your toes curl inside your shoes; your thighs tensed at the sudden brush, and a warmth spread between your legs. Fingertips lightly dragging up and down your inner thigh, Aegon waited until you’d bitten your bottom lip to slide further up. The side of his hand pushed right up to your naked sex, he gripped the side tenderly to make you whimper.

“-Now, Queen Alyssa and her husband feared the marriage of Jaehaerys to his sister, Alysanne, might cause-Princess?”

He’d heard her. Damn the man. Aegon snickered softly but you merely stammered, “N-N-Nothing, Maester. Please, go on.” You turned your head and said low as possible, “Aegon…”

“What? This is boring,” he replied, doing the same.

You turned your attention to the lesson, while Aegon’s fingers made their way to your sex once more. His index finger sliding between your folds, his other two fingers kept them open while he used his index finger to tease the pearl they covered. The direct contact and unrelenting friction had you clenching your jaw and doing your best to stay firmly planted in your seat. Helaena, far too busy watching an ant crawl across her book, didn’t notice what was going on. Maester Ryle continued going on about history while Aemond listened and wrote notes. Soon, wetness began pooling there and Aegon took the chance to spread it over your lips and the hood of your clitoris. He let his fingers grind into your entrance, feeling your walls starting to flutter at their touch and making you grip your own book. It reminded you of the other day when you’d slipped your hand into his breeches during a ball, stroking him to completion and sending him into euphoria in a room full of people. You should’ve known he’d try getting back at you. He continued languidly rolling his two fingers around your clit, tracing the edges of the folds and dipping right beneath the nub to make you squeak. Any other time, he’d have you falling apart, especially if he used his tongue which he’d gotten so much better at. But now, you needed to keep yourself together or your mother will be hearing about it.

She still hadn’t forgotten what you’d done on the window ledge.

"-Can any of you tell me which house is closest to the Faith? Princess Y/N, would you care to guess?”

“Yes, dear sister,” Aegon smiled at you, “Which house is it? I forget.”

“Well, dear brother,” you replied without moaning, “It’s House Hightower, our mother’s family.”

“Ah, right. Yes, of course.”

“That is correct. House Hightower has maintained a very healthy relationship with the Faith for many generations…”

You didn’t hear how they maintained that relationship because once Aegon slipped a finger inside you, you nearly let out a moan which you disguised as a cough. His palm continuously rubbing against your clit while his finger pumped into you, you felt every single shiver of pleasure course through you. You wished more than anything you could drag him somewhere private in the library and let him finish you as he should. You already knew everything you needed to know about the various religions of the world and their importance to people. When Aegon added a second finger, you knew you were doomed. The boy had a way of making you weak without trying too hard. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him in return.

He kept the pace slow and almost lazy, withdrawing his fingers slowly and pushing them back in tenderly. He couldn’t go much faster without the old man noticing his arm. It didn’t help that whenever you came close to orgasm, he stopped suddenly. The agony became far too much; the room suddenly felt hot and the need in you became far too ravenous to focus on anything else. Thankfully, the maester ended the lesson after he finished telling you all about The Faith of the Seven. He said they’d all talk about the royal progresses of the Old King and his queen next time. You nodded, and took a cackling Aegon by the hand. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his bed chambers, where you threw him onto his bed. Quickly, you untied his breeches while he worked on unbuttoning the front of your gown. Having access to your breasts, Aegon’s lips latched around them and suckled firmly while you withdrew his cock. You never put him inside, but you enjoyed rubbing your soaked pussy over his length until you both came.

And that’s what you did. You dragged your sex up and down his hard shaft and leaking head while he licked and teased your sensitive nipples. It did not take long for either of you to cum. Your parts exposed to one another and your passion burning hot, you didn’t hold back this time. Clutching the pillows underneath his head, your orgasm hit you hard. Thighs quivering and your body tensing all over, you humped Aegon’s cock until your clit became overstimulated by him. Aegon grabbed your ass and kept you still as he went along with you and came over his stomach. Cheeks red, hair spread over the pillows, and utter satisfaction on his face, Aegon always looked so beautiful after an orgasm. He looked beautiful all the time, even if others thought otherwise. Panting, you rested on top of him for a while, kissing and whispering words of love to one another.

“Thank god Maester Ryle is old and can’t walk,” you said, chuckling, “I’d hate to think of what he’d tell Mother is he’d seen us.”

“The same thing everyone else says,” he put on his best quavering tone as he said, “The young Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N were being rather inappropriate during their lesson this morning, Your Grace. It is behavior unbefitting a noble child. They must be put in proper order right away.”

“That is more or less what he told me.”

Her voice made you both jump apart, and cover yourselves. Your mother stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed and disappointment on her face once again. She stared at you both for a moment, and shame immediately hit you. You truly should’ve conducted yourself in a more proper manner.

“Just because Maester Ryle is old doesn’t mean he is a fool,” she said, sighing. “Tell me you at least didn’t put it in.”

“He didn’t,” you shook your head. “He never does. I don’t let him.”

“Must you two behave this way? Think about the shame it brings on you both.”

“She’ll be my wife one day,” Aegon said, pulling his sheets over his crotch. “They should be happy the prince and princess show a healthy passion for one another. It implies that we’ll produce children….someday….”

Your mother took these words into consideration, “I suppose you’re right…but please, have some decency and do it behind closed doors. I am sick of hearing from everyone about the things they find you two doing. It is not something a mother wishes to hear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Mother.”

You watched her leave, then turned to each other as the door closed. Bursting into a fit of giggles, you both fell back on the bed and shared a soft kiss. “At least she didn’t scream this time,” you noted, letting him kiss down your neck.

“At least there’s that, yes,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. “Take off your dress,” he said, coming back up to kiss you, “I wish to see the rest of you.”

“Did you not just hear our mother?”

“Yes, I heard her say ‘do it behind closed doors’,” he then pointed to the door, “It’s closed and we’re behind it.” He knelt between your legs and lifted your leg. Kissing your inner thigh, he started untying the ribbons holding your stockings, “So, if you’ll indulge me, my sweet princess, I’d like us to spend the day drinking and pleasuring each other in any way we possibly can.”

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right, my prince. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

You slid further down the bed to reach his shirt. Your day was certainly going uphill after a boring lesson.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x yn #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii smut #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction #ty tennant

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buckybarnesb-tch · 5 months

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I am Yours, You are Mine -Aemond T.

This is an A/B/O fic. You have been warned.

Everyone knew, they had always known.

It wasn’t hard to figure out from what I assume, my mothers children are all boys with brown hair and brown eyes, I have white hair and purple eyes. Everyone knew my older brother Jace and my younger brothers Luke and Joffrey were Harwin Strongs children and just like that, everyone knew that I was the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

Laenor hadn’t been able to give my mother a child and I looked nothing like him, Daemon however…I’m told I’m the spitting image of him. So while I am technically a bastard, I’m also full Targaryen, so I was never treated like it. I was born only 5 moons after Aemond was and therefore was raised with him in a way, as we grew up his older brother Aegon and my older brother Jace got close, at least closer than they were to us and Aemond got picked on a lot. He didn’t have a dragon, and while I didn’t either, everyone knew to leave me alone, whether it was because I was a girl or because I was Daemons daughter I don’t know. My father is the only current Targaryen Alpha in the world and that made people so much more terrified of him than they already were.

Most people in the world present as Betas, it’s normal and no one really thinks twice about it, an Alpha however is a blessing from the Gods. He will be stronger, and tougher, and defend your family better than a Beta can, at least that’s what people believe, an Alphas instincts being so much stronger than a Betas, the only presentation stronger still is an Omega, and an Omega is considered a blessing from the mother herself. Presentation happens around puberty but usually you can see certain traits in children to tell if they will be anything other than a Beta, my mother believes I will be an Omega because even with a father like Daemon I’m quiet and sweet, always the most submissive in the room which for a Princess is a good thing.

Aemond and I spent more and more time together as we got older, him being shunned from the group with his older brother and mine, along with Luke who followed them around like a puppy and didn’t mind getting pranked once in a while. Aemond was the smartest of all of them, he enjoyed learning, and training, but most of all, he had no dragon. Neither of our dragon eggs hatched and the both of us bonded over that, and I always tried to make my uncle feel better when they had been particularly cruel, like the day they gave him a pig instead of a dragon. We skipped dinner that night and sat together in the library for hours just talking. He was my best friend, and my closest ally in the world, we made promises to always be there for each other.

The promises of children never seem to last though…even if the children weren’t the ones to break them.

After Joffrey was born mother moved us back to Dragonstone, me kicking and screaming, clinging to my uncle who held me just as tightly until our mothers gave up. We had a small second of hope as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me to him so tightly it almost hurt. That’s when our mothers called for their guards and we were yanked apart harshly and I was carried all the way to the ship that would take us home.

We weren’t apart for long after that, my fathers wife dying in childbirth brought us back together for her funeral. As soon as I saw him I pulled away from Jace and ran to Aemond who held me close and breathed in my scent as I did his, it was a comfort that only we seemed to give each other. I stayed by his side holding his arm while everyone spoke about Laena, saying kind words about a women I barely knew while my “father” stood in the ocean below, crying for the Gods only know how long.

Aegon was with us for some time, watching the maids and being his normal vile self and eventually we were alone, speaking as if no time had passed at all. That moment as we sat on the steps talking would be one I regret for many years to come, watching Aemond as he gazed at Vhagar. I knew my uncle wanted a dragon, more than even I did and I told him he should go, as the sun went down and people filed inside to bed, I encouraged him to mount her while he had the chance. 2 hours later I was awoken to a knight running into my room to check on me and seeing I was in bed and fine. I followed him downstairs to my mothers relief, Luke was bleeding from the nose, Alicent was angry beyond belief and my uncle and best friend sat with a maester stitching his eye up. I moved to his side quickly, taking his hand in my own and holding it tightly, allowing him to squeeze it as he got stitched up and everyone continued screaming. I didn’t care for the politics, I didn’t care for the threats, or insults, only that my favorite person sat beside me maimed and my brothers had done it. I stayed by his side for the rest of the evening, even as the maester gave him milk of the poppy to be able to sleep, snuggling into his chest and feeling his arms around me as he slept soundly and all the while I felt sick to my stomach knowing that what Jace had said to me when I hugged my mother had been completely true… ‘This is all your fault’

I was taken from Aemond’s bed late in the morning, he had awoken to eat and been put back to sleep, all the while clinging to my hand. My mother took us home immediately, we went back to Dragonstone and so did Daemon who quickly married my mother as soon as Laenor passed.

Jace and Luke were quick to blame me for everything, knowing that I had encouraged Aemond to mount Vhagar, maybe if I hadn’t he would still have his eye and I wouldn’t have had to leave again. Maybe Rhaena wouldn’t despise me for “helping to steal her mothers dragon” even if I don’t believe you can have claim to a dragon if it hasn’t chosen you. Jace and Luke spent all their time with Baela and Rhaena and I was left alone, not wanting to be near my brothers to hear about how much they and Aemond despise me, how the only person I had ever truly loved besides my mother wouldn’t even write to me anymore no matter how many times I wrote him apologizing. My mother and father were the only people I ever spoke to anymore, Daemon practically claiming me as his own even if he couldn’t “officially” do that and I learned that being alone is better for everyone, especially once I presented. Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena had all presented as Betas as expected but I was “blessed” to a life as an Omega, suffering through my heats alone in a locked room, only maids to bring me food and try to relieve my pain which never worked.

I was 15 before I was truly blessed with anything in my life, out for a walk by myself, having escaped my guard and stumbling upon a dragon. The Grey Ghost was a name given to a shy, pale dragon, one I never hoped to even get a glimpse of in my life and I suddenly had, his eyes locked on mine as if waiting to see what I would do and so I reached into my bag to get the bread I brought with me and the fish I planned to cook on my little adventure, tossing them to him and watching as he snubbed the bread and ripped the fish apart. I had sat down on a boulder, watching as he ate, assuming this would be the only time I would ever see this elusive creature but it wasn’t. He had laid down to nap after eating and the next day he sat at the same spot as I brought him an even bigger fish. That went on for nearly 2 weeks of me bringing him food and talking to him before he approached me and allowed me to touch him, letting me mount him after that. I kept him away from the pits, away from everyone who only saw him when I went flying, knowing he was just as comfortable around people as I was, which was not at all. I even had all of my riding gear dyed as close to his color as I could, making it truly impossible for anyone, even another dragon rider to find us in a cloud bank. Daemon was impressed, believing it was a useful skill, especially for an Omega to be able to hide like that. Life continued on like that until Corlys’ injury, resulting in all of us needing to return to Kings Landing to fight for Luke’s inheritance. I was less than enthusiastic about going but my mother forced me onto the ship.

In Kings landing once again I was stuck with Jace and Luke as mother and Daemon wanted to go see Grandfather, forcing me to follow them to the training yard that I hadn’t seen since I was a small child. Everyone’s attention was on a fight in the center of the yard and I pushed between Jace and Luke to be able to see, seeing Criston Cole fighting a young man with an eye patch and knowing instantly that it’s Aemond, and that he is winning, dodging the mace repeatedly before his blade was at Cole’s throat and I ducked behind Jace and Luke, catching a very strong Alpha scent as I did and feeling my stomach twist into a knot.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He questioned and I knew they were no where close to as good as he is, he would kill them. They had continued training but not very much and Aemond is clearly quite passionate about it. ‘Niece, lovely to see you again…or smell you I should say, and what a lovely scent it is. Hmm?’ I blushed darkly, not moving from behind my brothers until Jace turned and pushed me to walk back the other way.

‘I would stay close if I were you sister, wouldn’t want to be alone with him, would you?’ Luke teased and I wanted desperately to strangle the cocky little bastard but the last time I had hit him I’d given him a black eye and made him cry like a bitch, mother made sure I knew Omegas should never be violent, especially when they’ve been trained by Daemon and could make a man feel emasculated enough to be murderous.

I sighed, rolling my eyes and following them inside, finding my room as quickly as I could and locking the doors. I sat on the windowsill and stared out over Kings Landing, seeing a dip in the clouds and knowing my dragon had followed us, it was a comfort in case I needed an escape and knowing my family, I definitely will.

I stayed in my room until my mother came to get me, walking all of us together down to the throne room where I stayed as close to my father as I could, feeling men’s eyes on me, flinching from one who leaned in to smell me making my father turn and glare down at him, the man moving to the other end of the room quickly. I held onto his belt as Otto Hightower spoke, feeling eyes on me and knowing Aemond was staring as well. That same Alpha scent was back and my stomach felt like it was quivering as the wonderful smell assaulted me. My attention was only drawn when the doors opened to reveal our grandfather looking rough…half dead honestly as he walked into the room, stumbling up to his throne, Daemon helping him as he dropped his crown and leaving me exposed with no one to hide behind until he came back. I watched on, thoroughly entertained as Vaemond shouted about Luke and Jace being bastards, and actually couldn’t contain my snort as Daemon cut off his head though as expected nothing happened to him and Luke keeps his inheritance.

‘Now, if we’re through with this useless event, I think we can-‘

‘Actually my King, if I may?’ Otto asked, approaching the throne and mumbling something to him quietly.

‘Are you sure? Rhaenyra! Why was I unaware of your daughter presenting as an Omega?’ The King asked and my blood ran cold, Daemon pushing me completely behind him.

‘She was not ready for every noble man in the kingdom to be vying for her hand Father, I was protecting my baby. I apologize if you think I’ve hidden it from you but that was never my intention.’ She explained.

‘My girl, this is wonderful! Otto is right, there’s no need for anyone to look for a husband when we have a perfect Targaryen Alpha right here. Honestly I always did believe Aemond and Y/n would end up marrying, they were so sweet when they were babes.’ I backed away from Daemon, moving around the crowd and moving towards the doors the maids use to get to the kitchen quickly. ‘My son, you will take Y/n as your wife, do you have any objections?’ The King asked and I waited a moment, waiting for him to start yelling, or begging to get out of it…but he didn’t.

‘It will be my honor Father. Thank you.’

‘Well then it is settled, there will be a wedding, right here tomorrow night-‘

‘Tomorrow?!’ My mother exclaimed.

‘I’m a sickly, old man Rhaenyra, I would like to witness their union before I pass on. You can afford me that, can you not?’ He questioned and I knew my mother would cave at that as I got to the door, pushing it open quietly.

‘Father, I would like to request one thing. Since it must be such a quick wedding, I would like to do it in the traditional Valyrian custom.’ Aemond asked and I took pause.

When we were children we discussed just this, we talked about how we would be married one day and I told Aemond that I wanted to do it right, in the old customs. Since the day I learned of the traditional wedding I thought it was beautiful and I wanted it more than anything, Aemond promising me the perfect wedding. The idea that he remembered and even cared enough to request such a thing brought tears to my eyes.

‘I don’t see why not, I leave it to my wife and daughter to sort out the details with the bride and groom.’ My mother and the queen? And they want me in the middle of that? Fuck no.

I turned, leaving out the door, quickly running down the corridor and into the kitchens which were busy making dinner, allowing me to run through quickly and out another side door. I just made it to the gardens and down the steps, hiding in the bushes when a guard rushed out after me. ‘Princess! Princess! Your mother demands your presence!’ He shouted, running into the garden while I crept out and down the side of the castle. One good thing about growing up in a castle, you learn how to get around quickly and unseen.

I looked up to the sky, hoping to see my dragon, knowing exactly what he looks like now that I’ve spent so many years by his side and on his back. ‘Come on Ghost! Where are you?’ I questioned, getting down the stairs to the front of the castle, peeking around the corner to see many guards and I quickly moved around the wall and past the gates to the plaines where I knew Vhagar rested by the water. I kept far away from the resting place of the nearly 2 centuries old dragon and whistled, seeing the grayish white color separate from the clouds and dive down towards the ground, landing just ahead of me and just as he nudged his giant head into me in greeting a voice stopped me.

‘Byka Zaldrīzes!’ I froze, knowing only my uncle had ever called me that. He had since we were kids and I was trying to comfort him when he was upset about not having a dragon. My child brain figured, I’m a Targaryen, I can be your dragon and it made him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe. He called me Little Dragon ever since. ‘Where are you going to go?’ He asked, not yelling…not even seeming angry.

‘Home…’

‘Going home already, and I didn’t get a hello or a goodbye. I admit, I had hoped for a different reaction.’ He stepped closer, Ghost growling but not doing anything more as I shushed him to keep him calm. ‘You used to be excited by the prospect of us being married.’ That wonderful Alpha scent came over me again and I could no longer deny that it was him I was smelling, though deep down I knew it was. ‘You can’t even look at me?’ His voice held more emotion now, upset at the idea I couldn’t face him.

‘Please Aemond, please stop this? You don’t want to be married to me, there’s no point in whatever you’re doing…’ I told him, turning to face him and I couldn’t deny how beautiful he is. I had always found him cute but he had become incredibly handsome the past 9 years.

‘You dare tell me what I want? You?! After all of this time?! I have always wanted you Y/n and I always will, nothing will change that apart from you telling me you no longer love me and that my face is too much for you to accept as your Lord Husband.’ My eyes widened and I took an unintentional step forward.

‘Aemond, you are beautiful, you always have been! No scar changes that, and it could certainly not change the way I feel for you-‘

‘Then why do you run from me? Why have you spent 9 years not answering my letters? Why do you find it so hard to look me in the face? Why-‘

‘Because it’s my fault!’ I shouted, unable to take his questions anymore. ‘Because if I hadn’t encouraged you it wouldn’t have happened, no one would have fought, you wouldn’t have lost your eye! It’s my fault! And Jace and Luke, they tell me all the time and I don’t want to hear how much you hate me! I don’t want to hear you lie and tell me I ignored you, I wrote you every day for months! You never responded and I don’t think I can handle hearing how much you hate me Kepa…I can’t…’ the tears were now streaming down my face like crazy and as I reached to wipe them away he grabbed ahold of my wrists, forcing me to look at him.

‘You think I blame you?’ His voice was so soft it actually startled me. ‘Y/n…first of all I never got letters from you and I’m realizing you didn’t receive mine either which I’m assuming was your brothers but Gods Y/n! I have Never blamed you for that night!’ His face was so serious and hard I knew he wasn’t lying.

‘Never?’

‘Not for one second! You are the only one who gave me any kind of comfort, everyone else was either scared or angry, but you just held me. I loved you so much in that moment I thought my heart would explode! Waking up next to you in the morning, in so much pain, but you were there to make me feel better…then you were gone. My Little Dragon was gone and I couldn’t even speak to her, and now I come to find out you’re carrying guilt that has never been yours to hold! Your brother did that, not you, Luke! He chose to pick up that blade and slice my face, not you! And Vhagar was no one’s to claim, she chose me and I chose her, and yes you helped make me feel better about it but I was going to go to her no matter what you said…please let go of that guilt, my Princess?’ I nodded, sniffling as he let go of my arms and used his thumbs to wipe my eyes before leaning close and pressing his lips to mine. ‘You’re mine Byka Zaldrīzes, all mine!’ He swore, kissing me again, harder this time and pulling me flush against his chest. ‘My Little Dragon is going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my perfect little Omega…Fuck you smell amazing!’ He groaned, digging his face into my neck and inhaling deeply.

‘That’s enough!’ A deep voice shouted and Aemond jumped but I knew exactly who it was.

‘Father, you ruin everything.’ I teased and he just smiled as he got closer, Ghost rumbling in irritation at how many people are here now, seemingly willing to deal with my Alpha and that is all. ‘Did you take my letters?’ I asked and he instantly looked confused.

‘What?’

‘The letters I wrote Aemond, and the letters he wrote me, we never got them. Was it you? I am asking you despite the fact that you’re the least likely…I’m going to kill Jace…and Luke.’ I told him and he seemed irritated.

‘If they really did that, then they will be punished, I assure you. However right now, we need to get you back inside and help your mother plan a wedding.’ I hesitated but nodded my head, moving to follow Daemon and he turned to walk away as well just as I pulled away from Aemond and climbed onto Ghost.

‘Y/n, what are you doing?’ He laughed.

‘You think I’m going to mediate our mothers? Not gonna happen, by this time tomorrow we’ll be married or they’ll be dead, but I won’t be in the middle. Bye father!’ I shouted, hearing Ghost rumble. ‘Sovēs!’ I commanded before he leapt into the air and began climbing towards the clouds. ‘You saved my life, you know that?’ He screeched and I snorted. ‘Not really I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been fun…at all.’ We stayed like that, flying contently over the clouds for several minutes before Ghost seemed agitated and I turned to see the shadow of a large dragon above us causing me to push Ghost down before seeing Vhagar behind us, Aemond laughing while Ghost complained. ‘Not Funny Kepa!’ I shouted, diving after him as he turned to land on a nearby island.

‘I like it when you call me that, Princess.’ He told me as we both got our feet back on the ground.

‘Really? I would have thought you would hate it. My father does, it makes him feel Old when my mother uses it.’ I laughed and he just snorted, laying out his jacket for me to sit on so I could be comfortable.

‘He is nearly 20 years older than your mother, of course he hates it. When you say it, it just excites me.’

‘Hmm, well then I will refrain. Wouldn’t want to excite you too much, would we?’ I leaned into his side and he wrapped his arms around me, Vhagar laying down behind us and Ghost wanting to lay his head on my lap but I wouldn’t let him with Aemond here too.

‘I knew you would be a perfect little Omega, I just knew it. So perfect Y/n, and all mine.’ Aemond’s nose trailed through my hair and I loved the feeling.

‘Not yet Kepa, you need to wait to say that until we’re married-‘

‘Are you going to tell me that you belong to someone else, Omega? Because I will remove their organs.’ He threatened. ‘I’m already keeping myself from killing your brothers so save yourself more problems. If any man has dared put their hands on you-‘

‘Aemond!’ I exclaimed, laughing as he went on his tirade. ‘No one has touched me! Jace tried once when I went into heat the first time but I smacked him so hard his ears rang for a week. I love the possessive attitude but no one has touched me.’ I teased him, giggling as he trailed his nose over my scent gland, groaning.

‘Good, because I would’ve killed them. I told you before, you’re all mine Byka Zaldrīzes, Alphas pretty little Omega.’ His lips wrapped around my scent gland, sucking on my neck and making me cry out. ‘Oh, such sweet little sounds you make for me, my good girl.’ He teased, pushing me onto my back and laying over top of me, arm circling my waist. ‘I’ve waited so long to have you under me like this, to have to wait one more day is torture.’

‘You will survive Kepa, no one will keep us apart again…I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.’ I trailed my fingers up his jaw to his cheek and removed his eyepatch, dropping it to the ground and taking his face into my hands, his eyes closing as I held him.

‘Should they try, I will set this whole world on fire my love. No one will dare take you from me again.’ His voice was firm and fiery, every bit the Dragon that he was always meant to be.

As he leant down, I turned my head and let his lips touch my cheek. ‘We’re not yet married Aemond.’

‘Surely you can afford me a kiss, we will be married by this time tomorrow, don’t make me wait to kiss you one moment longer.’ I had to giggle at the way he made it seem like a life or death situation. ‘I had your first when we were only 8, I would have your last before you’re married.’ His fingers trailed over my cheek as I blushed a dark red before I leaned closer and felt his lips on mine. They were soft and warm as he held me close. I touched my fingers softly to the scar under his eye, hating that he had had to suffer so much pain and I couldn’t even be there for him, or even write to him. ‘I am sorry this is the face you must look at for the rest of our marriage, I-‘

I glared up at him and flicked his nose hard before he could finish speaking. ‘You will not speak ill of the man I love that way! Do you hear me? I care very little about a scar, I’m just sorry that I could not stop it.’

‘Little Dragon-‘

‘All this scar shows me is how strong and tough my husband is. It tells me that I will be safe in his arms and bed, and that our children will never know the feeling of danger…I love you Aemond.’ I could see the unshed tears in his eye that I knew he would never let fall and I pressed my lips to his again.

‘I love you Y/n. You are mine, and I am yours. ‘

For everyone who asked me for more Aemond content as well as those who asked for more Alpha/Omega fics.

I hope you liked it, cause I loved writing it!

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

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grcnseer · 2 years

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Surfeit of Thorns ➢ Aegon II Targaryen

synopsis :: As his twin you’d always had strong bond with your older brother Aegon, understanding one another in a way many could not comprehend. However, when the king passes and others push for his right to the iron throne, you’re left wondering if anything was truly as you believed it to be.

pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x twin!Reader

warning(s): targcest, angsty, fem!reader, aegon gets horny when sad, switches galore, SMUT, no beta we die like stannis

note: Here’s my first piece of work for hotd, I truly hope you all enjoy it! I’m still fleshing out the characters so go easy on me. Of course likes, reblogs & comments are always welcome. Requests are currently open so feel free to send a raven!

The chamber door rattled, wood splintering to the point you were worried it would give before it ceased completely. You held your breath and didn’t dare chance moving. Surely he hadn’t given up? It wasn’t in his nature to not get his way. Risking a few steps closer to the door, your ears were ringing as you waited with bated breath.

“Please, sweet sister.” A low whine pierced the silence. “You’re being cruel.”

Heat licked up your spine, urging you forward as you landed a fist against the frame. “I’m being cruel? You left me! After all I’ve done for you— all I’ve given for you, you’re a coward!”

“Unbar the door!” He snapped, tone dropping as he allowed his anger to seep through. “I am king now. I will have it broken down if need be.”

Of course he would.

Aegon had never shown respect for anything. It was foolish to believe yourself any different. You took a deep breath, trying your best to steady your hand as you lifted the lock. There was barely a chance to step away before it shoved open and Aegon rounded on you.

His hands grasped at your waist, fingertips biting so sharp you were sure there would be bruises come morrow. You shoved against his chest despite the urge to succumb to the warmth seeping from him. “You’re drunk.”

“You abandoned me.” He countered, shoving a finger in your face before ripping himself away from you. “And now you’re angry with me? When I’ve done what you’ve wanted all along?"

You were utterly baffled by his statement, shock evedant on your face as you held his gaze. “Pray tell when I have ever abandoned you? This is not what I wanted!”

In all your years you had stood beside your brother. From birth you had been his shadow. He was older by a few moments, but you had been there all the same. You defended him, took blame for him— you would never abandon him. But he had abandoned you.

“You told me to make a decision because you were tired of waiting!” He seethed, arm lashing out and knocking the contents of your vanity to the ground. Jewelry scattered across the stone floor. “Now that I’ve done what you asked you’ve avoided me! You’ve asked mother to consider a betrothal!”

“Aemond told me!” You closed the distance between you, fists clenching at your side, “he told me that he found you hiding, waiting for the chance to slip aboard a ship! That you offered him the iron throne should he let you leave?”

His features twisted with annoyance, whether it was toward Aemond or yourself you couldn’t be sure. “That’s why you’re so angry? I would have come back for you!”

“Stop it.” You scoffed, not bothering to suppress the roll of your eyes. “I know you too well, brother. Or have you forgotten?”

His hands grasped at your face, cupping it between his palms. “Do you truly believe I could leave you behind? That I could leave Sunfyre behind? I would have returned after Aemond was crowned.”

You fought his hold, shaking your head and refusing to meet his gaze as he cooed over you. His grip did not let go. He had always been able to sway your thoughts with sweet words, playing on your hopes and the love you bore him. Aegon was selfish and would always put himself before all else, despite the way he was gently cradling your face.

“Yes, I would have.” He forced you to meet his gaze, “I would have returned for you both and taken you away.”

“It does not matter. You are king now.”

“It does matter!” Aegon pushed forward then, tangling his hand in the hair at the back of your head as he shoved you against the wall. You arched away from the cold stone, hips knocking against his and spurring a deep groan from him. His head dropped to the curve of your neck and lips brushed the sensitive skin as he spoke. “You will recant the betrothal and you will stay here, with me, where you belong.”

“And I will be stuck just as I was before, watching as you get your fill of whores and wine. Listening as mother urges you against them and into bed with your wife.”

“I begged her for you.” He whispered between hot kisses to your jaw. “Told her you were mine to wed, mine to take— mine to fuck.”

“And yet you haven’t.” You hissed, reaching up to wrap a hand around his throat. “Because I refuse to be your whore.”

A smile played at his lips, amusement and arousal dancing in his gaze as he pushed into the contact. You didn’t want him to enjoy it. You wanted him to ache the way you had while watching him take the crown. As any hope of happiness slipped through your fingers.

You shoved him away and crossed the room, grasping the edge of your vanity with your back to him. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he filled the goblet on your bedside table and you cursed yourself for requesting a jug of sweet wine. He slumped in the nearest chair, drinking deeply from his cup.

“You will not leave me.” He mumbled and for a moment you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself. You twisted to face him, exhaustion washing over you in waves at the thought of continuing the argument, only to halt at the gleam in his eyes. “I will not allow it.”

You couldn’t be sure how long you stared at each other. An unspoken debate being held before you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You crossed the space between you, plucking the cup from his grasp and downing the remaining liquid. “I’ve sacrificed every chance I could have had at happiness in hopes that something would change. Waiting for you to whisk me away and when the time came you ran.”

“I will annul my marriage.” It was so sudden, so baffling that you couldn’t help but laugh. A childish pout formed on his lips at the sound.

He lurched forward to snake his arms around your waist and pull you to straddle his lap; albeit clumsily as the chair nearly tipped when you fumbled on top of him. “If I am to say I wish to cast aside my wife and take you, who is to stop me?”

“Our mother and grandfather,” you countered, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. The week that had passed since his coronation gave you the time to accept the harsh reality of what would follow. All dreams of escape were ripped away as the threat of war lurked just outside the keep. “They wish to offer my hand to secure an alliance for the war they started.”

“There would be no war if not for me.” He sneered, pushing up until his chest was pressed to yours. “They will allow us to wed or I will give my crown to Rhaenyra.”

“It is not that simple—”

Any further attempt to dispute his claim was swallowed by his lips. His tongue forced into your mouth as his arms tightened around you, hands fisting your dress as if you would slip away the moment he let go. He held you impossibly and he rolled beneath you so you could feel his hot arousal pressing to your core.

“Aegon—” You spoke against his lips, only to be caught off by a rough jolt of his hips.

“Tell me what to do.” He begged, voice raising in pitch as he clung to you. “Please, don’t leave me— I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t go.”

Tears welled in your eyes as he dipped to bury his head in your chest, hopelessness returning with a vengeance as you laced your arms around his neck. For years you had danced around your feelings for Aegon, despite his never-ending attempts to claim you as his.

You couldn’t get past the guilt of allowing him in while your sister sat just as miserable in their marriage. It wouldn’t be fair and in your eyes, she deserved the world, let alone that sacrifice on your behalf.

“I know no other way. You must believe that I have searched.” You couldn’t hold the bitter laugh that broke through your words. “We should have left after that damned dinner.”

A hush fell over the room and the finality of your tone sank into his bones. A tremble rolled along his spine, hips rocking up to grind his hardening length against you and he let out a guttural moan. You gasped at the friction, arousal wracking your frame and you gripped the nape of his neck. “Aegon, we can’t.”

You resented the whine that lingered in your tone.

“We can.” He insisted, craning back to catch your mouth with his own. “If you are requesting leave then this,” he slotted himself fully against your wet heat, “will be your price. You’re going to come on my cock and when your husband takes that sweet cunt of yours it will be all you think of.”

You didn’t miss the way his lips curled at the mention of your undecided husband and the slick between your thighs increased at the possessive glint in his eyes. It would be easier to push away from him at that moment. To spare yourself the future torment of longing for a man that would never be within reach. Yet your mouth crashed against his in a heavy kiss, licking at the seam of his lips to request entrance that he eagerly allowed.

Aegon’s hands pawed at you desperately, letting you explore his mouth. His tongue slid along yours, using his grasp on your hips to urge you into rhythm. “Fuck, I want those lips wrapped around my cock.”

The thought sends a flush of excitement through you, hands finding their way around his neck as you angled him to meet your gaze. “You don’t deserve my mouth on your cock.” His pupils were blown wide as you tightened your grip, only stopping when he let out a soft moan. “You’ll finish like this or you leave the way you are.”

You didn’t give him much time to think about it, increasing the pressure of your hips until his name slid past your lips. He let out a soft whimper, head dropping back against the chair. Tension hung heavy in the air as a line that had been drawn so long ago was crossed.

Aegon had first kissed you after the celebration of your sixteenth name day. He had gotten last in his cups and caused a scene. Your mother had found you in the corridor, attempting to smuggle him away from her wrath with linked fingers and a harsh tug. His lip was bloodied by the time you arrived at his chambers and after you dabbed it away he asked if you loved him.

You had been shocked by the question, of course you loved him, why else would you bother with his antics? Then he closed the space between, hissing at the sting of his lip but not breaking away.

His betrothal to Helaena was announced soon after.

“Lift your skirts at least,” he begged, palming at your thighs in an attempt to move the heavy fabric. “Please, I need to touch you.”

If you weren’t just as desperate to feel him you would have said no. Instead you pulled until the material was hitched and fell behind the dip of your thighs, exposing them to his hungry gaze. He wasted little time gripping your flesh and arched up to catch you in a sloppy kiss. His hip bucked, spurring a moan from you both.

“Fuck— ‘s not enough, I need more,” Aegon lurched forward, knees hitting the ground as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your breast. Your back was barely cushioned by the rug beneath you and the air was knocked from your lungs. His speed increased, rubbing your clit with deep and desperate thrusts.

“My cock aches for you.” You were both panting, heat filling the room as you flattened your feet and lifted to meet him. A broken moan ripped from his throat and he smack a palm against your bare thigh, “take it— it’s always been yours.”

You took a sharp breath, brow furrowing at his words. Take it. You knocked the arm that was holding him up, using the bow of his elbow as you pushed forward.

He fell to his back, eyes snapping open in surprise as you straddled his lap. The words playing at his lips vanished as you grasped his throat and bent to meet him with a glare. “Don’t lie, it’s unbecoming of a king.”

Aegon laughed and you were quick to cut it off with a squeeze of your fist. He let out a choked moan, hips lifting desperately for relief, but you held steady against him. His hands grasped your hips and before he could take control you fumbled for his wrists.

You never thought there would be a time you were thankful for your twin's weakness. A simple roll of your hips was enough to gain the upper hand and you pinned his arms beside his head. Before he could whine in protest you covered his mouth with your own, teeth knocking as you grinded against him. His tongue pushed past your lips, luring you closer and sucking at your bottom lip until it was red and swollen.

A particularly harsh thrust sent you spiraling, heat filling your chest as you broke away to release a pitched moan. His head dipped between your breast, licking at the skin before biting until he was positive you would be marked by him.

“I love you,” Aegon mumbled between kisses, followed by a whisper of your name as his cock twitched against your cunt. You tangled your hands in his matted silver curls and leaned back until you could see his face. His eyes were glazed, a sheen of tears glistening in the candlelight, and the pure need creasing his features sent a spark of pleasure straight to your core.

The only sounds were shallow breaths and frantic open-mouthed kisses as you chased your highs. You were soaking through his breeches, the material sticking to you both as his length settled between your folds. Synchronized moans bounced off the walls.

“Love me,” he begged breathlessly.

“I do!” You hissed, tugging at his locks while your peak washed over you in waves. White flashed behind your lids, a far-off cry of his name ringing in your ears as you pulse against him.

Aegon’s thrusts were wild, nearly lifting you from the ground until he lost rhythm completely. He growled as he spilled, chest heaving while his cock twitched and jumped between your thighs.

Your head dropped against his shoulder, ghosting kisses against his collarbone until he slumped beneath you. He collapsed to the ground with a laugh, arms snaking around your frame to keep you tucked against him.

“How do you expect me to let you go now, sweet sister?”

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #aegon targaryen smut #hotd.works🕯#oneshots♟#help what is this #shame shame shame #surfeit of thorns verse #sot verse #works

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missglaskin · 14 days

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Yan!Great Bastards/Targs house (Platonic) HCS

Characters-Aegon IV, Naerys, Aemon (mention), Daeron II, Daenerys, Daemon Blackfyre, Shiera, Aegor, Brynden

Note; reader is adopted and female, mostly platonic but some relationships can be interpreted. The timeline is inaccurate/messy

Ever since Aegon brought you to court, many whispers assumed you must have been a bastard of his. Yet there was a lack of any sign that the blood of old Valyria coursed through your veins. It also didn't help that there were whispers claiming you already had a family of your own, adding to the uncertainty surrounding their fate. Still, even with doubt, the lord and ladies accept Aegon's claims.

Aegon has kept you close ever since you arrived at court. He has proven to be a man of envy, despising the thought of anyone else stealing your time and attention from him. Despite his best efforts to keep you to himself, Naerys and Aemon were still able to become quite involved in your life.

You quickly won the favor of Naerys, as she would spend alone time with you at any given chance. It's her who also gave you and Daeron and Daenerys the opportunity to finally meet. With Naerys, you can come to expect that she'll hand you clothes that she herself embroidered and sewed.

With you around, Aegon treats Naerys with a little more decency. Aegon is a man who seeks praise and validation, so noticing your frown and distant demeanor in the way he treats Naerys will hurt him just a little. Unbeknownst to you, it only deepens Daeron and Aemon's attachment to seeing you care for Naerys.

Aemon is the last person Aegon ever wants to see you bond with. There is considerable conflict between the brothers, whether it's believed to be over Naerys or the allegations regarding Daeron's legitimacy. The more Aemon spends his time with you, the more bitterly Aegon feels toward his brother.

Daeron, along with Aemon and Naerys, is possibly the most "normal" out of the family. He treats you with such tenderness and care—it's impossible not to warm up to him. Given that his father brought you to court and paraded you around, you initially assume that Daeron would harbor some resentment. But all Daeron's eyes convey is warmth.

Daeron and you are told to spend most of the day together whenever you could, either playing cyvasse, going for a walk in the gardens, or having dinner together. Aegon didn't give much thought if you chose to carry out your princess responsibilities, but Daeron and Naerys did. They had you be taught how to dance, courtesy, and embroidery while he wasn’t around.

Aemon would always try to accompany you, either walking you to your chambers or through the gardens. He guards you with the same degree of vigilance that he does with Daeron and Naerys, stepping in to help if he notices you in distress. He also permits you to go horseback riding if you choose, as Aegon never lets you.

These are rare moments in between, as Aegon immediately steals you away to his usual spot by his side. As has been said, Aegon was a demanding man. He anticipates your unceasing praise, telling you of something "nice" he has done for Naerys or giving you a gift just to see you smile. It was best for you to pretend he's the favorite of the family.

When Daeron wed Myriah Martell, both of you grew quickly fond of each other. As expected, Aegon did not like the little friendship you developed. When the two soon introduced Baelor (Breakpear) to the court, they made you among the first to hold him. Daeron couldn’t help but smile as he watched you interact with his baby son. Little Baelor was often used as an excuse for Daeron and Myriah to take you away.

While you were very attached to Daeron, he was older (and very busy), so you spent your free time with (Aegon ofc), the ladies of the court and most of all with Daemon and Daenerys. Rumors occasionally circulated that you were spotted in the gardens, showing young Daenerys the lovely view of the flowers with Daemon watching you both from afar.

The tranquil realm Viserys ruled over quickly came to an end when he passed away. Aegon, the fourth of his name, soon sat the throne. The moment the crown was put the crown on his head, the dynamics of the family were entirely shifted. Aegon’s first act was to ensure you were legitimized before the whole court. Giving you the name Targaryen was probably the only time the family came together.

If possible, Aegon’s treatment of his son and brother worsened. Any disputes he had with Aemon led to the king forbidding his brother from ever speaking to you. It wasn’t beneath him to threaten Daeron with the same thing as well.

As king, Aegon publicly had numerous mistresses. Who all knew to get on your good side as Aegon was persuaded by your opinion. It was told how much he liked a mistress by how much he allowed her to interact with you. Falena Stokeworth, Jeyne Lothson, Bethany Bracken, and Sereni of Lys were among the familiar faces. You even bonded with their bastards, which one is compelled to believe is a jab at his son.

The court also knew to get on your side; after all, it wasn’t filled with noble or wise men, but those who flatter and amuse. It’s said that if one made you laugh, it was enough reason for Aegon to gift them land.

Aegon always showered you with gifts, but as king, he made sure you were the best dressed at court. From silks taken from Qarth to being showered with all sorts of jewelry—diamonds, gold, rubies, and pearls. And if you asked for it, he would gladly name hills, mountains, and even castles after you.

Aegon assumed that with all he had done for you, you would always be on his side. So one can imagine his fury when rumors of Naerys’s adultery and Daeron’s legitimacy were whispered among the court, and you took his wife and son’s side. Even more when you seemed to admire his brother for defending the queen’s honor.

It was a tragedy when Aemon’s life was taken when he stepped in between the king and his assassin. His death sent Naerys into grief. And while you were grieving for Aemon, you had to also grieve for Naerys as she soon followed him to her grave. Aegon pretended to comfort you, but secretly, in all his selfishness, he was glad to have some competition taken out.

Daenerys already saw you as her sister, but with her mother’s death, it only made her cling to you far more and made the two of you closer than ever. You did always have a way of cheering her up. In the evenings, either one of you would sneak into each other’s bedchambers just to spend time conversing.

Daenerys loved when you would do her hair, sending away any of her handmaidens to do it instead. Even when you think you did a poor job, Dany was quick to compliment you. She was affectionate in general, embracing you either when she greeted you or when she said her goodbyes.

With Naerys and Aemon dead, Aegon continued spreading the rumors of his son’s illegitimacy, and tried getting you on his side more than once. But it only made him despise his son more seeing your intense loyalty towards him. Made worse with the queen dead, the mistresses were far more bold, pushing their children to get closer to you as a way to gain more favor in court.

Aegor was the first to catch your attention. Even as a child, his protectiveness and possessive were evident to the whole court. If it wasn’t your father pushing away the other children, it was Aegor. In his eyes, Aegor saw you as a sweet thing to be protected, and he was willing to do anything you asked of him.

He was easily jealous and bitter of anyone taking your attention away from him. Whether it’s your lady friends, to which Aegor stands in the corner glaring at them, or Daenerys, who’s having some tea time with you. Worst of all, his anger was all directed towards Daeron to which Aegor had to hold himself from lunging at the prince whenever Daeron took you away from Aegor.

Though there’s no bigger rival to Aegon until Brynden comes into the picture. Between the half-brothers, there’s no familiarity. Not only do their houses hold a long rivalry that passes generations but Aegor’s mother was passed over by Brynden’s.

Aegon allowed you not only to know Melissa Blackwood but also to become familiar with her three children: Myra, Gwenys, and Brynden. Aegor hated how Brynden seemed to easily catch your attention. You didn’t notice the way Brynden slowly inserted himself into your little friend group with his sisters. And when you add Shiera to the mix, Aegor only grew to loathe Brynden more.

As said, while Aegor is more aggressive and demanding, Brynden is much more subtle. He has a way of getting you to open up to him, and he is a great listener, remembering every little bit. Brynden also seems to have a knack for noticing the little details from your rings to your headpieces.

But like Aegor, Brynden is also a jealous man. You have no idea how many he has sent away, whispering doubts into your ears about the "suspicious" acts of your lady friends. Even as a child, Brynden had a way of pulling the strings and somehow he knew all there was to know.

Shiera takes any opportunity to steal you away, locking arms as she guides you away when the two half-brothers are at each other’s throats. She would spend many hours with you if she could, listening to your sweet voice. One of her favorite things to do is get you ready for feasts in your chambers; she is fond of ivory and lace and incorporates it into your style as well.

Though none of Aegon’s bastards are closer to you than Daemon Waters. You would usually catch him in the corner of your eye, and you didn’t mind his company with how nicely he treated you. Giving you advice when needed, complimenting your dress, or gently tucking anything in place.

He was your father’s (second) favorite, and it’s evident in how he allowed Daemon the privilege to become closer to you. History remembers all too well when he handed Daemon ‘Blackfyre,’ but what history doesn’t know is that it secretly made Daemon feel as if he’s more worthy of your attention.

As expected from an Heir, Daeron resided in Dragonstone for a few years. He promised to exchange ravens and he kept to his word. As much as Daeron missed you terribly and desired nothing more than to bring you along, he knew his father’s answer.

The more Aegon sat on the throne, the more your seat was right to next to it; a little throne of your own, one made comfortable instead of his. It was the last years that made Aegon actually never leave your side, not even Daemon could interact all that much with you.

When Aegon’s reign ended, he demanded you to be on his side as spent his last moments on his deathbed. And it made you a witness to his last decree: legitimizing all his great bastards; a last spite against Daeron.

Upon learning of his father’s death, you and Daeron reunited once more, a happy moment instantly overshadowed by the realization that Daeron must do his supposed duty, crowning himself with you as his witness. He spent his time repairing all the damage his father did. Daeron would go as far as to include you in the council, and like his father, would look forward to your advice, but unlike his father, he can choose to make his own decisions.

Daenerys being sent off to Dorne was upsetting for both of you. You both promised to exchange letters and gifts. Dany would send letters detailing her time in Dorne, how she grew fond of the place and the people, but that she missed home and, most of all, she missed you. Daeron made promises to have you visit her, but secretly the two of you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Daemon and the rest of the bastards being legitimized was an incident that made everyone hold their breath; they all knew the consequences of doing such a thing. But for now, it seemed as if not much had changed. Daemon took the name ‘Blackfyre’, and he and the rest were strangely treated well by Daeron and allowed at court.

With Aegon no longer around, they were all allowed to spend time that they could not have. A secret among everyone was that it was a relief Aegon’s passed. Daeron, of course, had more authority than anyone else, but he strangely did not hold his father’s intense possessiveness and jealousy, and the same went for Myriah, who treated you so well and convinced her husband to give you some freedom.

It meant you were permitted to be entertained in court as much as you wanted. Dancing with the other lords and ladies even if it led Daemon and Shiera taking all of your time.

You were also permitted the freedom to attend many dramatic performances and the jousting where many men competed for your hand. But something that Daeron and all the others agreed on: was that you were off limits.

While Daemon sat well in court, it was Aegor who whispered things to his ear. Aegon’s intense envy and bitterness never dissipated; if anything, he found himself resenting Daeron more and more over the years. He thought while the king presented smiles and courtesy when taking you away, he assumed the king was a fox behind a sheep’s clothing wanting you all to himself.

And we can assume the resentment never stopped towards Brynden. Not only did he take the woman he loved, Aegor is forced to share you with the man he hates more than anything. Brynden gives him passing looks that Aegor knows all too well what it means. But a sight that makes him clenches his fists is watching you read with Shiera and Brynden, sitting too closely between the two of them.

Family dinners, while on the surface seem nice, all the servants and the guards could feel the tensions rising. You are obviously seated next to the king, or at times seated next to Myriah. They all exchange pleasantries, but one can notice the glare Aegor gives when Brynden speaks to you, how Shiera and Daemon tend to only seek you out in conversations. How the rest tense when you compliment or thank one of them.

And while everything seems pleasant at the moment, it no longer does when Daemon Blackfyre announces himself as the rightful king with Aegor on his side. When Daeron has you locked in your chambers or has guards watching your every move for your safety, but most of all to ensure you are not taken under his nose.

Shiera and Brynden who take Daeron’s side reassure they all want the best for you. There is a war brewing between the family and everyone is well aware you are stuck in the middle.

#yandere asoiaf #yandere game of thrones #yandere hotd #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #asoiaf x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #hotd x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert #brynden rivers x reader #aegor rivers x reader #daemon blackfyre x reader #shiera seastar x reader #daeron ii targaryen x reader #yandere x reader

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arcielee · 9 months

Text

And you told me I should concentrate.

Summary: Aemond makes a mistake. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2050 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, definite voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: Here is part 2 of Only if for a night. You wanted sad boi Aemond and here he is, wholly confused and just fucking things up 😂 Thank you to my beta reader @f4ll-for-you, you always help me to give the best version of our baby girl Aegon. 💜 lēkia is brother Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @bucknastysbabe

His sister had once said that it was fate to crave what is given to another, but for Aemond, it was a dull ache that reverberated within his ribs as he dragged Aegon to the Iron Throne.

Aemond was first and foremost dutiful, his steadfast devotion extended to his brother and his crown, and it led his steps towards the confrontation on the Sept steps. But it was now a distant memory, along with the initial hesitation he had felt, as he was pleased that Aegon not just carried their ancestral crown as a decoration, but showed pride, thriving with his kingship.

He had no qualms to follow through with the expected betrothal that had been made, as your dowry had allowed them their victory. But Aemond could not help the relief that washed over when you had been formally introduced; you were poised, you were beautiful, and you had no compulsion to fill the air with incessant chatter, as he often found the other ladies of the court always were compelled to droll on.

It truly seemed to be a favorable match; you were not blatantly besotted with your intended–as Aemond knew this to be expected, Targaryen or not, he was always aware of the scar that burned across his features–but you were courteous, and he admired the touch of pink to your cheeks whenever his attention was solely on you.

The ceremony had been modest and you seemed grateful with how he threw the crowd that crowed for proof of your maidenhead from the chambers. It left you alone with your new husband and the unease that filled the air between.

Aemond was aware of your slight tremor, and he was mindful of every noise that spilled from your rosy lips, his hands were gentle to touch, guided by your soft sounds. With the proof of your purity spilled on the linen, and before he had left, he called for your handmaidens to have a warm bath drawn to help the ache between your thighs.

His dutiful nature followed into his role as lord husband, though perhaps not in a romantic sense, but he would escort you to break fast with his siblings and mother, or he would suggest a stroll in the gardens of the Red Keep if the weather allowed it. Aemond was also certain to allow your time apart, allowing you to keep the company of your handmaidens, but also he would come in the evenings to do what was expected of a man and wife.

But despite the time spent together outside of the marital chambers, there still tarried a trepidation in his bones. You were still reserved, the very embodiment of the perfect lady wife, but he was almost uneasy with how you responded to his touch, to his kiss. Aemond had hoped against hope that you would eventually bloom in response, but you seemed content to remain encased within your petals.

So Aemond sought advice from his sister Helaena, as he knew she allowed him a candid honesty and he could trust whatever insight she had to offer. She had always been a resounding comfort for him, something that began with his dismemberment when she faithfully visited him as he healed.

Their bond was something that knitted tightly in the marrow of their bones, something that naturally gave into an intimacy they shared when she first married Aegon. At first, resentment boiled beneath as Aemond watched how his brother disrespected his lady wife, how he was lost in his whores of Fleabottom and neglected fulfilling his marital duties.

This was when Helaena noticed how his gaze lingered and she called in her singsong voice, “it is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another.”

It was a thrill, her touch both familiar and unfamiliar, something that stirred a warmth in his lower abdomen, curling at the base of his spine. “The blood of the dragon must thrive,” she had whispered against his lips.

There was a sense of pride with how his legacy showed in the features of Jaehaerys’ that sharpened as he grew, and in the silk, silver texture of Jaehaera’s tresses, as well as the shade of lavender in the wide eyes of Maelor.

But this had not been his intention when he came to her that night, though he found it was too easy to fall back into her warm curves and embrace; her lyrical hymn that was coy to coax him–may the gods forgive him, but Aemond relished in being desired again.

He knew it was a lustful moment of weakness, and as the post-coital haze lifted, a sense of shame settled over in its place; Aemond had no intention to whore around on his wife, that he wished for her to carry his legitimate child, his legacy, as what was expected, as what was their duty to the realm.

“You just found your confidence again, lēkia,” Helaena remained bare, curled beneath the duvet, and watched as Aemond dressed. “You already know what you must do.”

Aemond knew he had to see you.

In the days that followed, the routine was broken by the bliss that now engulfed you, your tiptoes tumbling on air as you flit throughout the Red Keep. Aemond saw how you glowed, as did anyone who dared to compliment his wife, but he also noticed how the sugared words drew a knowing smirk across the king’s face.

Aegon knew the real reason behind your changed disposition, but played coy to relish in your reactions. It was a childish tease with a sharp pull to your shirts if you passed him by and the tug of fabric jolted through you, a warmth rekindled in your core, or how he would place his palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips almost touched your ear with the soft words, “How lovely you look today,” and that warmth would spill into your features, crimson with his praise.

You were flushed, your eyes bright, and this sweet demeanor was not missed by your husband, but Aemond hoped this meant you would be more receptive to coupling. The thought fluttered through his mind, propelling his steps forward that night as he made his way through one of the many ingresses that weaved the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. He was quiet to enter your room, greeted by the golden flow of the tapers lit, by the sounds that spilled from your bed.

He could not press further, cemented to the cobblestone at the sight.

You were lovely and you were bare, sinking into the mattress with the top of your head towards the end of the bed, towards where your husband was rooted but you were unaware of his presence. Rose hues intimately stained your skin and the peaks of your thighs, your back arching with a mewled cry. Aemond watched your delicate hands reach to comb through the traited silver head of hair that was dipped between your flushed thighs, trembling with your building pleasure, with a hold to anchor him between.

“Aegon, my gods…”

And then Aegon broke for a moment of air, pulling from your grasp and your hands trailed the planes of his chest to his abdomen; his mouth and chin glistened with your pleasure, and his hooded eyes fell to Aemond for a moment.

You did not follow his gaze. “Aegon?”

Aemond felt the blood rush to his cheeks, to his cock, and he took a soft step backwards while Aegon held his steady stare, bringing his fingers to wipe his face and suck lewdly on his digits. “Sweet girl,” he cooed, his gaze dropping to admire your flushed features, “I wish you to come on my cock.”

Before you could protest, his large palms wrapped around your wrists, pulling you towards him. “Do not take your eyes off of me,” his lips pressed to yours, bringing you towards his chest to straddle him, your plush thighs caging his lap. His hot mouth captured your nipple, his tongue tracing your areola with a familiarity that caused you to cry out.

“Aegon, please,” you panted, trying to squirm and feeling his girth against the slick of your cunt. His large palms grasped the softness of your hips, pulling you closer until his arms could wrap around your waist, his lips following the curve of your chest and licking the column of your neck, placing a noisy kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Aegon, you cannot mark me, what if it is seen–?”

“Let them see,” his voice was dark, his hand dipping between and lining the flushed head of his cock to press into your entrance, wet and wanting from your prior peaks of the night. “Let them hear you,” his command was husky.

Pitiful sounds poured from your lips as you lowered onto him, an indescribable fullness as he stretched your velvet walls. Your eyes fluttered into the back of your head, your hands coming to bite into his broad shoulders and hold yourself upright, still flushed against his chest.

Aegon kept his hold on your waist, his palms pressed onto your skin, his lips ghosted the junction of your neck to your shoulder and you giggled from the sensation. “Your king commands you to stop clenching,” he hissed and you felt the hot exhale of his low voice

You giggled again, finding his lips for a kiss, your tongue curling in his mouth to taste him, to taste yourself. “Forgive me, my king,” you whispered, meeting with his eyes, the violet almost completely swallowed by his blown out pupils; your lips curled upwards with the slow roll of your hips against him.

It was his turn for his eyes to disappear into his skull, with a low, guttural groan in response to the pace you set, and the lewds sounds that accompanied the sensual movement. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he dipped his head forward to press his lips against your breast, leaving welts that flushed dark against your skin, his teeth dragging to the other with the same assault of his mouth.

You gasped at the sensation, with how it spilled into your bloodstream, coursing to the ends and fluttering back to the coil that tightened in your lower abdomen. You were slick between, your legs burned with the motion and, as if he could read your mind, did his grip tightened and Aegon met with a relentless pace, his hips rutting upwards into you.

“I will only forgive you,” he was breathless with his unrelenting tempo, “if you come undone.”

“Aegon,” you gasped, the flashes of color that sparked in front of your eyes and the tears that pearled in the corners, “I am so close.”

“Touch yourself,” his voice was thick with the command and your hand pulled away, your fingers trailing his shoulder blade and coming around to follow his collarbone; Aegon dipped his head again, capturing your fingers in his mouth, his tongue wettening the pads before it fell between and pressed against the bloom of bundled nerves above.

Your cries echoed the room, already so close to the precipice and your own touch is what pushed you over with a rush of blood towards your heart and your cunt, the coil bursting within and the pleasure unfurling, pressing against your seams. It was if you were drowning in this sense of bliss, something all-consuming as his thick member pulsed inside your cunt and you clenched in response, a vice, and still so very unaware.

Aegon, however, held you close, his cheeks ruddy and eyes still dark as they looked past and towards Aemond, watching how his neck bobbed when he swallowed before falling another step backwards and disappearing where he came from, the entrance closing quietly behind.

He moved towards his chambers, his palm adjusting the crotch of his slacks, his long gait to remove him. They had not married for love, and he always knew this; it was hopeful–it was foolish to think it could grow beyond the duty that was expected of them.

And as he had done for Aegon, it was returned; in the end, all that mattered was that the blood of the dragon would thrive still.

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#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x reader #aegon x you #and you told me I should concentrate

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bucknastysbabe · 3 months

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now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months

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The dragon has three heads (Viserys x Reader x Daemon)

Summary: It's Viserys first day as King. You and your twin see him off.

A/N: We interrupt my scheduled hate of Viserys to bring you this. I thought it out when writing another request.

Warnings: Daemon x sister!Reader x Viserys to fulfill double penetration. So oral sex and vaginal sex plus Targcest.

Your limbs felt heavy. Your mind was sluggish and soft, still submerged in the waters of sleep. In and out you drifted, cradled gently in someone's arms. There was noise around you, movement. But your eyes remained closed because you knew you were safe.

A ticklish sensation on the sole of your feet made you pull it up, kneeing your pillow. The pillow made a hurt noise, and you scrunched up your face. You were not ready to wake up yet.

Your pillow shook. You looked up, blinking wearily. Daemon's eyes stared down at you. He was fighting laughter. The light inside your shared chambers was hitting him from behind, making his silver hair shine like a halo.

There was another tickle to your soles. You squirmed, and tried to hide under the sheets. You did not want to get up just yet.

“Come on. Up, sleepyheads.” Your brother's hand curled around your ankle, tugging. You whined more, clinging to your twin. “Won't the two of you see me off today?”

Daemon groaned. Now that Viserys was including him in his plans, he did not seem as amused by your plight. You echoed his noise. Viserys remained as cheerful as ever.

“Is that the way to address your King?” He teased, tickling the arch of your foot. You yipped and kicked the sheets away, letting you as naked as the day you were born.

“Thank the Gods that you are cute.” Viserys said, unbearably fond. Daemon stretched as well, fishing for his own compliments. He, too, was naked. “Both of you.”

You finally turned to face Viserys, finding him already dressed for the day. He even had his crown on. The reminder of your triumph made you smile. Though cousin Rhaenys had a stronger claim to the throne, Viserys was a man. A King always trumped a Queen. And you were the lucky woman who was married to him.

“Morning, brother.” You beamed at Viserys. He beamed right back.

Daemon pulled you closer, pressing his erection to your back.

“And what of your twin? Or are measly Princes no longer enough for you?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. Despite his playful words, you could feel Daemon's hesitation. It was Viserys first day as a King, and your first as his Queen. He probably wondered where he fitted in all of that.

During your whole childhood, the three of you had been together. Where Viserys went, Daemon and you followed. He had been the best older brother that anyone could ask for, always looking out for you.

It had been Viserys who had discovered Daemon and you, all those years ago. When the two of you were nothing more than a young girl and boy, fascinated by the differences in your bodies. Viserys had been the one to teach both of you the pleasures you could pull from it.

The three of you had married under the traditions of your house as soon as Daemon and you reached the majority. Three heads for the dragon, just as your banner, and just as Aegon and his two sisters wives.

It was not unheard of, for Targaryens to wed sister and brother. But what was unheard of was for a woman to marry two men. And so, Viserys and you had married under the Faith of the Seven to prevent a scandal. In the eyes of the realm, you were his, and it was only more cemented by your position as his queen.

It must have upset Daemon, but you knew it was the best course of action as to not attract unwanted attention. It had also been your grandfather's condition. The wounds from Maegor's reign were still too fresh in his memory.

To you, of course, it meant nothing. The bond you had with Daemon was even stronger. You were twins. Two halves of the same soul, separated into two bodies. You were never apart, not even when physically separated, for you were the same being.

Viserys gave you a look. You nodded, and turned to kiss Daemon. If he was in need of reassurances, you were going to give them to him.

You gave Daemon a slow, passionate kiss. You made sure to leave no corner of his mouth unexplored, no inch unkissed. Viserys quietly seated himself on the bed next to your twin, back propped against a pillow, legs stretched. When his hands reached for your back, you finally stopped making out with your twin and laid down, head between his thighs.

Daemon pouted.

“What are you doing?”

Viserys remained fully dressed, in what must have been a confusing sight to Daemon. Your twin and you enjoyed playing different games than this. When you were with Viserys, he liked to play husband and wife. Daemon and you had never fully evolved from the childhood games of slipping a finger in, taking something inside your mouth, raking nails across each other's ribs. While he had taken you as a man was meant to take his woman, it was a rare occasion.

You knew he had fucked other women, common whores and nobles alike. But he always came back to you, and never dared take you in such a way unless you begged for it. He didn't want to defile you, perhaps. Didn't want to lump you in with them. You were still his little sister, his hāedus. Precious, pure, Valyrian. Made by the gods to his image and likeness.

“Come on.” Viserys said, smoothing your hair back. “Doesn't she look good, brother?”

“She does. She always does.” Daemon spoke, as if caught in a trance.

“Will you get me ready for you?” You asked him, pouting. Daemon looked at Viserys. Whatever that he saw, it seemed to please him, for he leaned in over you. The wet, smacking sounds over you, told you that they had started to make out. You took your chance to run your hand over Daemon's stomach, gently scratching with your nails.

He shivered, just as you thought he would. With a gentle hand, you took his member and started to tease him. Daemon gasped.

Viserys’ hands started to pull at your nipples, making you arch from the bed. You felt yourself become slick with want already, arousal pooling in your belly and making you whine wantonly.

Your noises made your brothers pull apart. Viserys chuckled, his caresses turning more insistent now that Daemon wasn't distracting him with a kiss.

“Sweet little whore.” Daemon whispered, brushing your cheek with almost reverence. You pulled him on top of you, rubbing yourself against his thigh without an ounce of shame.

“I want you inside me, dārilaros.” You licked the shell of his ear, playfully. Daemon groaned.

“In your..?” He asked, softly. You never knew him to be so hesitant.

“My cunt, Daemon.” You rolled your eyes. You were his twin, after all.

“But Viserys…”

“I will have her mouth.” Viserys ordered, and finally took off his crown. He set it aside, and opened his breeches. You leaned your head on his thigh, watching him loom over you.

Viserys was the decision maker of the three of you. When faced with dilemmas, he took rash, decisive action. Daemon was mercurial, and prone to sudden mood swings, which often meant that he second guessed himself. You, like Viserys, were stubborn as they came.

A hand on your thigh startled you. It was Daemon, gently making room for himself. You let your thighs fall apart, showing him your slick cunt. He hummed appreciatively, and slowly started rutting against you, without entering. He dragged his tip against your entrance, teasing the both of you, before tapping it against your pearl and starting all over again.

You tried focusing on Viserys, taking him inside your mouth. He was as impatient as Daemon, though, so his hands found immediate purchase on your hair.

“Show me how good of a Queen you are, my love.” His thumb brushed over the slope of your nose, careful. You twisted yourself as good as you could, knowing that when Daemon entered, you would have a hard time doing more than using Viserys’ lap as a pillow.

His manhood was heavy on your tongue, the taste salty and musky. You looked up at him, mischievously. Viserys groaned, and urged you to take him deeper.

But you were a Targaryen and a Queen. You took orders from no one. Instead, you twirled your tongue around him, licking him sloppily. You knew there would be time for deep thrusts into your throat later on. Viserys’ thighs shook under you, throwing off your rhythm.

Daemon got down on his stomach, and sucked your pearl inside his mouth. There was no finesse to the way he was touching you, just pure desperation. It made you jolt and choke a moan around Viserys’ cock.

Daemon needed you wet and open, fast. His own desperation was showing in the way he gripped at you, almost cruel. He pressed a finger inside you and growled.

“You are soaked, little sister.”

You would have given him a snide reply, but you were too busy sucking Viserys' cock. Thank the gods the three of you had stayed up celebrating last night, or otherwise it would have been too much and too fast.

You thanked the gods that the three of you had stayed up last night celebrating, and not gone straight to bed. Otherwise, your body could not take it.

Noticing your distress, Viserys starts rubbing your breasts, softly kneading.

“You are doing so good, my Queen.”

“Our Queen.” Daemon pulls away from your cunt, annoyed.

“Treat her like it, then.”

Daemon grumbles a little, but complies. The desperate fingering of your poor hole slows down to a more manageable pace. Your moans around Viserys lost their pained edge, and you were able to go back to focusing on pleasing him.

Your twin gets more dedicated with his kisses. He slows down, licking your sex from top to bottom until you are squirming and unable to focus on anything else but the way he is kissing you.

You let go of Viserys cock, resting your head on his thigh. Your face scrunches up, jaw already a little sore. You moan, loud and high.

Your older brother gives you a kind look and pets your hair, pushing it back from your face. He seems as mesmerized by the sight of your twin lapping up the nectar between your thighs as you are.

“Be quiet.” He chides. “Or I will take your mouth until you are too sore to cry out.”

The thought, coupled with the way Daemon is starting to push his tongue inside you, makes you kneen. One of your hands timidly goes to his silver hair, encouraging him to go deeper. Your other hand reaches for Viserys, who gives you his outstretched hand to hold.

“Quiet, hāedus.” Viserys squeezes your hand.

Daemon stops his ministrations. He looks up at you, face wet with your slick, and chuckles.

“Give her your cock back, Viserys, if you are that bothered by the noise.”

“I am waiting for the two of you.”

“Afraid I will bite your cock once Daemon presses…” You tease, but before you can finish your sentence, Daemon gives your ankles a mighty tug and buries himself to the hilt inside you. “Ah. Brother…” And you are not even sure which one of them you are pleading to anymore. You have forgotten whatever smug comment you were going to say to Viserys, mouth falling open with surprise and pleasure.

Daemon feels right inside you. Warm, thick and reaching just the place where you need him to. Just the place that makes your smug comments and piling on Viserys fall away, mind gone blank with nothing but the need to give the two of them perfect Valyrian babes. Twins, like you and Daemon, or at least, a litter of siblings that can marry each other and keep your bloodline pure.

“Brat.” Daemon says, fondly. “Stop being mean to Viserys. You need to apologize. Relax your jaw for him.”

So you do. You open your mouth, letting it hang open, and give Viserys your best puppy eyed look. He snorts, very undignified for a King, and places the tip of his cock against your mouth. You whine.

“Spoiled little thing, isn't she?” Viserys pulls his hips away, and you do your best to give chase, whining more. Daemon tuts, and grips you firmly by the waist. Viserys look at him, and they exchange a glance, communicating without a word needing to be said. “Did that look like an apology to you, Daemon?”

“Not at all, brother.” He pulls out of you as well, making you whine more.

“That is so unfair!” You complain. “The two of you are teaming up against me.”

“Like you were trying to do before with me, huh?” Daemon asks, meanly pinching your thigh. You shriek and kick at him a little. “You were being mean to Viserys.”

“Oh, like you aren't!” You squirm away from him, turning on to your belly so he can’t pinch at you. You crawl towards Viserys, hoping he will protect you. Instead, he only tugs at your wrists, keeping them pinned down so you can't move.

You are trying so hard to get free of Viserys’ grip that you make a fatal mistake. You don't notice Daemon at your back, getting ready to strike. And strike he does. He smacks your arse, making you wince and fall forward into Viserys. Daemon smacks your arse again. And again. It's edging into picking of you, rather than just teasing. It's making you unbelievably wet.

“Viserys!” You scream. “Do something!”

“You are a little brat. But so is he. Enough.” Your older brother orders, letting go of your wrists. He gives Daemon a warning look. “Both of you.”

You give Daemon a superior sneer over your shoulder. You stick your tongue out. He snarls, and tugs at your hair.

“You are the Queen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Behave as it befits your station.” Viserys says. “Daemon, inside. You, open your mouth.”

Daemon laughs. You do so as well. Viserys pouts.

“It's an order from your King.” He repeats, pompously.

“Alright, alright. If the King orders it.” You say, and open up your mouth. You make your best effort to let your jaw go loose, and welcome him inside. He is considerate enough to not start thrusting right away, but you know soon that patience will be tested. Viserys is as much of a dragon as Daemon and you are, and he is not one to deny himself of his pleasure. He can take you over and over on his good days, fuck you until you cry, and remain unbothered by your tears. In a sense, Daemon and him are the same.

You feel Daemon's hands on your back, warning you that he is soon to move. You widen your stance, knees falling even more apart. He slides inside carefully enough, but the stretch still hurts. You wince, and Viserys is quick to smooth down your frown with a thumb, very gentle.

Both of your brothers are very tuned in to your reactions. Consequence of being a twin, for Daemon. Consequence of being the eldest, for Viserys. They are cautious about your discomfort. You wonder what would they be like if you were not a Targaryen.

You have heard Daemon could be quite cruel with whores. He had a taste for Valyrian girls, of pouty mouths and tight little bodies, barely out of childhood. Viserys had wandering eyes, and mistook every kindness for flirting. He only read you right because he had known you all your life. They respected your strength and power too much to do anything else.

Daemon hands goes to your pearl, rubbing quick little circles in the hope of making you relax. You force your body to accept his intrusion, and go lax in between them, trusting them to not let you fall.

Viserys starts thrusting into your mouth, shallowly at first. He works on opening up your throat for him, and you try to focus on breathing to your nose. Gagging happens regardless. Daemon jolts you too much once he starts moving not to.

“Seven Hells. Do that again.” He mutters to Viserys, after a particularly vicious thrust on your throat. “She flutters delightfully when she chokes.”

You garble out an indignant reply at their lack of consideration, but you are quickly soothed by Daemon's fingers rubbing your pearl. He keeps his strokes long, making sure to drag against your walls in the most pleasurable way.

Viserys soon starts to praise you under his breath. He is the one who has been teased longer, so it makes sense that he would be the first of the three of you to let go.

“You are so good. Your mouth, sister…”

You grin around his member. You double your efforts, sucking at him and bobbing your head with enthusiasm. Your focus is so much on him that your peak takes you by surprise, and with one last thrust of Daemon's hips, you are screaming around Viserys. The vibrations against him prove to be too much, and he too goes over the edge with a muffled curse. He barely manages to pull out of you, painting your chest white.

Daemon is spurred on by the sounds and sights around him, and he snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, before he is screaming his release. You feel it coat your thighs, and it's only then that you allow yourself to collapse into Viserys.

“I was already dressed for the day.” He complains. “Can't walk into the council covered in my own seed.”

“Change later.” Daemon says, plopping on top of you and by extension, Viserys. Your older brother groans. “You are not going yet.”

“They will come looking for me.” Viserys tries to wiggle out of the cuddle pile, but the weight of your twin, and you combined is too much to do anything.

“Let them come.”

314 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 1 year

Text

His Sapphire Princess (I)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,866

CW: mummy issues, childish teasing, incest

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire charecters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all charecters are his except for my OC

Visenya

Her mother was once again in labour. Visenya was the eldest of three. With two brothers and two uncles, she often found herself surrounded by boys. Her Aunt Heleana was often her only escape and even then, bugs seemed more interesting to her. She had longed for a baby sister and loved the idea of dressing her up like a doll and teaching her everything she knew. She often felt lonely, her brothers were often off with their eldest Uncle Aegon, trying their hardest to impress him. She missed the days when they longed for her satisfaction or happiness over any task, she asked them to do. And now they focused their attention on tormenting her other Uncle Aemond.

Aemond was her dearest friend, having both had eggs that didn't hatch in the cradle they found a way to bond through that. And later their love for the histories of old Valyria and learning High Valyrian.

One was never without the other, that was until she finally claimed her dragon.

When she was six, she went to Dragonstone for the first time. There she made it her mission to claim a dragon. She did not mind which, but she was determined to do so. Having given up much sooner than Aemond on her egg ever hatching, she concluded that she would claim a dragon, and if Aemond wished, she would happily share a dragon with him.

It was no easy feat, she snuck off in the dead of night and rode on horseback (a horse double her size, barely hanging on for dear life) to the dragon mount. Nine dragons resided on Dragonstone, her mother's; Syrax, her brothers; Vermax and Arrax, her father's; Seasmoke, the three wild dragons; Sheepstealer, Greyghost and the cannibal (though she would never think of attempting to claim them), and then there was Vermithor and Silverwing. She believed her best bets were lied with one of them, wild dragons being far too risky for a mere child. There were also several hatchlings and young dragons, but she wanted a grown one. A dragon to strike fear and build her respect.

She was a princess and the heir to the iron throne, after her mother. And riding a dragon fit for a king or a queen is a sure-fire way to build her some support, if not fear to stop any usurpation.

So, when she came face to face with Vermithor, she knew he would be hers.

She sang him a Valyrian lullaby, A song her mother often sang to one of her brothers. She almost giggled at the motion, the bronze fury, wooed by a lullaby. But she had heard stories of dragons being lulled into submission by a song, she hoped it would attract his attention, and lure him out.

It did.

Though she did not anticipate him letting a monstrous roar into her face, a fire built in his throat.

"Umbagon, gīda"

Wait, calm.

He stopped, his head lowered, sniffing her. She refused to show her fear, refused to cry. "Dohaerās" she stuttered.

Serve

His head lowered further, edging closer to her face. He sniffed her, letting out a grumble. "Dohaerās" she let out again, this time her voice firm.

His body lowered; his face approached hers. She reached her hand out to stroke him, rubbing at his nose.

"kessa ao ivestragī nyke kipagon ao?" she questioned, hand still stroking him.

will you let me ride you?

His eyes homed in on her, taking in her every movement. Assessing her.

He moved his head forward gently, softly nuzzling her, or at least as much as a dragon could. She took that as a yes and moved forward slowly. Her hand not leaving him. whether to reassure her or him, she did not know. She stoked along his side gently. Moving forward to the ladder to his saddle.

"ok" she muttered to herself, reaching forward to grab the ladder "don't fall, don't fall" she moved up slowly, holding her breath. Making it onto the saddle, he let out a slight shake. Not enough to throw her off, but enough to hurry up. It seemed as if Vermithor was eager to let his new mount fly him.

She sat down slowly, grabbing the reins, "sōvegon".

fly

His ascension was fast, somewhat graceful. Unlike her mother's dragon, he did not glide into the air, sweet and graceful. No Vermithor flew. He flapped his wings to their full length, showing off his size and power. Vermithor wanted to dominate the sky and show his power. He was loud, roaring as if to announce his presence. At first, she thought it was to strike fear and warn other dragons off, but by the quick company of Silverwing, she knew it was a call.

The mated dragons roared upon each other's presence. And then they began to sing. They moved around each other, their voices echoing their movements.

They flew and moved around each other.

She realised then that with one came the other. Much like she and Aemond, perhaps he could claim Silverwing. And they could be like their first riders, she hoped.

She wasn't sure how long they flew, by the time she had even claimed Vermithor the sun had begun to rise, and her parents must be starting to worry. But she could not find it in her to care. They landed outside the entrances to the castle and were quickly greeted by her parents.

"Muña, Kepa" she shouted in greeting. "I claimed him, Muña" she let out excitedly.

"I saw, my love." Her mother spoke, her tone wavering between stern and happy. She knew her mother could not stay mad at her for long, especially with how happy she was.

Her father let out a laugh, "We saw, sweetheart, but you can't keep sneaking out" he tried to say sternly, though his pride shone through his eyes.

"I know, it won't happen again" she muttered, lying.

"hmm" her mother spoke, clearly not believing it "you know, when you lie you look at your feet"

"sorry" she squeaked out, before seeing Jace, her younger brother (by ten moons) run out.

"Senya!" he shouted.

"Did you see? Did you see?" she asked excitedly, as Jace ran up to her and hugged her.

"Yes! Can you take me riding?" he questioned excitedly, Vermax being only four was nowhere near large enough to ride.

"of course," she spoke quickly wrapping her arms around him and spinning in a circle.

Her mother cleared her throat "not until you are older" she spoke " and you missy, will have to hold off on the riding until the dragon masters deem you ready".

Shouts of discontent rang between the two children, "but you claimed Syrax was around my age, and you were allowed to ride her!"

"Yes, but Syrax was much smaller, and Vermithor is much bigger" her mother spoke, pride in her tone when speaking of her dragon.

Visenya only hoped for a bond like her mother and her dragon had.

Ever since claiming her dragon Aemond had tried to distance himself from her. His jealousy strong and their relationship. But she refused to put up with Aemonds actions. Dragging him along with her to meet Vermithor, trying to get Silverwing to bond with him. She did not, but the notion alone made all jealousy he felt disappear. She continued in her efforts to find him a dragon to claim, and whenever he wanted, she would take him out on Vermithor.

If the people of KingsLanding thought, they were close before, then this was a whole new thing.

Alicent, her grandmother, had always liked her. Found her sweet and adored how she cared for Aemond.

Everyone in KingsLanding enjoyed the young princess.

They did not however like her brothers.

At first, she didn't understand, still believing that Ser Laenor was their father. That was until she met Ser Harwin strong. Seeing the way her mother looked at him, the way he looked towards Jace and Luke. The way he had taken her under his wing also and treated her as if she were his own. She knew he was her brother's father, not hers. But neither was Laenor. But she still loved him like he was and treated him as if he was. She was his favourite (another reason for the court to believe she was his) and she was always by his side, and always felt such sorrow when he went off to battle in the steppestones.

She did feel some envy of her brothers, though Ser Harwin loved her as much as he did her brothers, even sneaking off to teach her how to defend herself and swordplay, she could not shake the feeling of jealousy.

Her mother, as much as she loved her, always had a look of resentment when she saw her. She assumed it was because she looked like her father. A man she had no idea who he was a man she could only assume her mother loved. Her mother favoured her brothers, she knew it, lived with it, and resented it. All because she looked like a man whom she had never met. Though being named her mother's heir did quench some of the envy she felt, it still wasn't enough.

Her mother may always be there for her, that was no lie. But unlike with her brothers, there was a hesitance to it.

That was another reason why she wanted a sister, perhaps a sister would understand why she felt the way she did and be treated the same as she was.

But she understood she wouldn't be, no her siblings would all come from a man who loved her mother, and her mother loved back. A man who stuck around.

So, when she overheard, she had a brother, no surprise was seen on her face as she understood nothing would change. That she would be fourth on her mother's list of priorities.

Loved just as much as her brothers, but a hesitance to it.

"Muña" she called, walking down the hallway, towards her mother's chambers.

She had promised her mother she would be there for the birth, wanting to act as support and learn one day what would be a part of her own life (a fact her mother never let her forget).

She ran up to her, quick to greet her new baby brother, her brothers will be very pleased. Her father quickly appeared from another entrance, causing her to run straight into him "ugh, Kepa! Watch where you are going" she groaned, rubbing her nose

He chuckled softly "sorry, little love"

"My, my what happened to you!" her mother exclaimed, "if memory, serves you'd said you'd be her for the birth of the babe?"

She offered a sheepish smile, "Sorry mother, Vermithor wanted to go flying, ask him yourself" nodding her head, it was true to some degree, she wanted to go flying and Vermithor was more than eager to comply.

Her mother hummed in response.

"A boy! I've just heard" her father finally spoke, happily.

"Yes," mother said through pained breaths.

"Can I name him, this time mama?" she said begged. She had a very long list of names and was more than prepared to give her brother a fitting name. as much as she loved Jace and Luke, she hated their names.

Her father patted her head and said "it's up to you mother, love" before turning to her "well done, where are you going?"

"She wants to see him." Her mother hissed, walking shakily up the stairs.

She?

Alicent?

She Shook her head, Alicent had four babes of her own, surely she understands how painful birth is. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was getting too old. She was a grandmother after all!

"Now? I'm coming with you"

"Me too!"

"I should hope so," her mother remarked, bitterly.

"Can I hold him, Muña?" she asked, seeing her mother struggling.

Her mother looked down at her and nodded, grateful for the small rest it gave her "of course, my sweet girl"

Her father quickly offered her his arm, which was taken gratefully.

She looked down at her brother, he had the same nose as Luke, brown hair and what she could make out brown eyes. A shame. She had hoped for at least one silver-haired sibling. She was starting to feel like the odd one out.

"Was it terribly painful"

Both mother and daughter turned to look at the other and rolled their eyes.

"I took a lance through the shoulder once," he remarked, unaware of his wife and daughter's actions.

"My deepest sympathies" her mother hissed.

She was completely enchanted with her newest brother, despite his plain features, and simply choose to ignore her father and his attempts at comforting her mother, giving the babe forehead kisses, and cooing at how cute he was, but stopped upon realising he was covered in blood let out a disgusted snort. Her mother chuckled thinking it was directed at her father.

The halls were crowded with court members. Awaiting to see the newest prince. some to see if her mother had had another child sired by her father or another bastard.

Stopping for several members of the court to offer their congratulations to her mother before reaching the queen's chambers. She handed over her brother before bidding her parents farewell.

Whatever was about to happen, she had no desire to see.

And spotting Aemond walking through the corridors meant she didn't want to stick around for much longer.

"AEMOND!" she shouted, running up to him "I have another brother!"

He rolled his eyes, an action he tried to keep from her "hmmm" he said, not caring too much. She and he were walking down the corridor heading towards her family chambers.

"Congratulations Visenya! Oh, that's great news Visenya!" she mocked, putting on a deeper voice.

"Ha Ha, very funny" he spoke, unamused. Arms crossed.

"What does it even matter? Aren't they just another bas-"

"Do NOT-" she interrupted him; a stern look on her face. "They are my brothers, and that is all that matters" she spoke, tone hard, tired of Aemond's attitude. "If you're going to speak about this is will take my leave" she stared him down. Not at wanting to leave. Aemond always apologised, he hated it when he received the silent treatment from her and was often quick to apologise to prevent it.

"Sorry, Senya" he looked down. "what's his name?"

"I don't know, I have ideas, but mother probably won't listen to them!" she let out frustrated "it'll probably be some stupid name like Rhacearys or something!"

They had come up to her family chambers now, the door opened as Ser Harwin and her brothers walked in placing a dragon egg in a fire hearth inside.

"Brothers!" she exclaimed, walking in. Aemond stood by the doorway hesitant to enter.

"princess" Harwin greeted with a warm smile.

"Hello Harwin" she replied, hugging him.

"Senya" both her brothers exclaimed, before moving their eyes to Aemond "uncle," they said curtly, before looking at each other and giggling. Oh, they were up to something!

"Perhaps I should go" Aemond mumbled, moving to leave.

"I – but" she stuttered out, sad, he wanted to leave "I'll see you later? In our secret spot" she whispered the last part, winking terribly as she did so.

Aemond went to laugh but stopped after seeing something over her shoulder. Her brothers most likely. "of course," he mumbled.

"WAIT!" she ran up to him, giving him a quick hug. "BYE!"

Not long after his exit her mother and father entered the room, stopping her from confronting her brothers about whatever their plans with Aemond were.

"Mother look, we choose an egg for the baby" Jace spoke, as their mother moved to sit.

"That looks like the perfect one" she agreed, finally sitting in the chair to rest, as the cover on the eggs pot was lifted.

"We let Luke choose" Jace admitted, as Luke grew a proud smile and thanked him.

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragon pit, princess. I thought it best to escort the lads" Harwin spoke up, his eyes drawn to the babe in her father's arms.

"Laenor and I thank you, commander".

"Another boy, I heard. What a fine knight you are going to make, yes?" Harwin spoke towards the babe.

She stood by her father, looking down at the babe. He had been cleaned up since she last saw him. Much less blood.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey"

"Joffrey?" she questioned, looking between her mother and father "my list had much better names!"

"shush, now," her father whispered, patting her head and moving the babe into ser Harwin's arms.

"wasn't that your friend's name?" she questioned, looking at her father.

He gulped and nodded "Oh! Ok, it's fine then. I forgive you!" she exclaimed. Though she still hoped for a chance to rename him to something much better.

"Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Luke spoke, trying to grab Joffrey out of Harwin's arms.

Their father tutted, moving her brothers and herself away, dismissing them to their dragon pit lessons.

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fragileheartbeats · 1 month

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— SUNFYRE ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Sunfyre is a dragon characterized by his brilliant gold scales that glisten like beaten gold in the sunlight, along with pale pink wing membranes. His flames also share the same golden hue. Notably, Archmaester Gyldayn declares Sunfyre the most beautiful dragon ever witnessed in the known world.

Sunfyre is a young and fearless dragon. He is a formidable fighter. Despite enduring severe injuries in every battle—injuries he could never fully recover from—Sunfyre managed to triumph over every opponent he encountered. This includes Meleys, described as a splendid dragon. He also killed Moondancer, who left him very injured, and he further killed and devoured Grey Ghost. Sunfyre's last victim was Rhaenyra Targaryen, who attempted to usurp Aegon's crown.

Despite suffering severe injuries and a damaged wing, Sunfyre miraculously managed to fly back to Dragonstone. The reason for this return is considered to be that he sensed Aegon needed him. Sunfyre had a strong connection to his rider, Aegon II; their bond was one of the best, and Sunfyre never let him down. Aegon deeply cared about Sunfyre; he made his sigil a golden three-headed dragon breathing golden flames on black to honor him. This sigil also became the main symbol of the Greens. When Sunfyre died, Aegon wept.

— VHAGAR ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉, 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚.

Vhagar was a she-dragon of House Targaryen. She was ridden by Queen Visenya Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest, alongside Aegon the Conqueror's Balerion and their sister Rhaenys's Meraxes. Other known riders of Vhagar are Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen.

By the time of the Dance of the Dragons, Vhagar was the hardened survivor of a hundred battles, had grown almost as large as Balerion, and was the oldest and largest of the dragons in Westeros. Her roar was so powerful that it could shake the very foundations of Storm's End. No living dragon could match her for size or ferocity.

Aemond would continue to fly Vhagar in battle during the civil war between King Aegon II and Queen Rhaenyra. During the battle at Rook's Rest, Vhagar and Aemond, and King Aegon and Sunfyre, ambushed the dragon Meleys and her rider Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Meleys was an old and large dragon, and might have stood a chance against Vhagar alone, but died from the combined assault. Vhagar was the only dragon who left the battle reasonably unharmed.

— CARAXES ִ ۫ 𖥔 𓈒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐖𝐲𝐫𝐦.

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅, 𝒄𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.

Aemon's nephew, Prince Daemon Targaryen, had claimed Caraxes as his mount. Daemon took his paramour Mysaria with him on Caraxes when he retreated from King's Landing for Dragonstone.

Daemon used Caraxes during the War for the Stepstones. During those years, Daemon divided his time between the Stepstones and Dragonstone where he would often fly with his niece, Princess Rhaenyra, and her dragon Syrax. After Daemon remarried to Lady Laena Velaryon, the newly wed toured the Free Cities of Essos with their dragons Caraxes and Vhagar. Huge crowds came to see both dragons everywhere they went.

At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, Daemon landed Caraxes atop Kingspyre Tower during the assault on Harrenhal.

Atop Caraxes later in the civil war, Daemon challenged Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar at Harrenhal. All four were killed in the ensuing Battle Above the Gods Eye. At the end of the fight, Vhagar locked with Caraxes and they fell into the Gods Eye. While in freefall, even as Vhagar's claws opened up Caraxes's belly and used her teeth to tear off one of his wing-arms, Caraxes locked his teeth onto the larger dragon's throat and tore it out. Vhagar did not survive the force of the fall. Somehow, Caraxes managed to live long enough to pull himself out of the water and onto the shore, even though his entrails were falling out and one of his arms had been torn clean off. The dragon soon died in front of the walls of Harrenhal.

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happilyhertale · 1 year

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Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤 I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 5.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the day of your birth dawned, the enchanting chimes of Kings Landing echoed through the city, filling the air with a symphony of celebration. All the people of the realm witnessed your arrival on this earth. As the beloved first-born daughter of King Viserys and his beloved Queen Aemma, it was well known that your father longed for a son. But your father's deep love for you surpassed all pre-determined expectations.

When your mother's womb was filled with new life again, you were still a child yourself, and the anticipation of the arrival of a male heir to stride through the royal halls grew. But fate had other plans, and your sister Rhaenyra graced the world with her presence. From the moment she entered this realm, an unbreakable bond formed between the two of you. Despite Rhaenyra's temperamental nature, you found harmony in each other's company.

During your childhood together, mischievous pranks became part of your playful repertoire, often driving others to despair. While you found solace in the art of needlework and the treasures of old books in the library, Rhaenyra could always be found in the exercise yard, rolling in the earth and eagerly keeping pace with the boys of the court. But you, too, actually took part in such pursuits and proved that your wild spirit burns just as brightly. Countless times you stood by Rhaenyra's side, defending her against the taunts of those who mocked her only because she was a girl. Together, fearlessly and with combined strength, you unceremoniously threw those who dared to challenge you into the dirt.

Yet the longing for a male heir consumed your father Viserys' heart and overshadowed the vibrant love between your parents. Your mother, despite her best efforts, was tired and exhausted after mourning a dead child in the cradle, suffering two stillbirths and two heartbreaking miscarriages. But a glimmer of hope emerged when she became pregnant again, sparking the anticipation of a long-awaited male successor. Even you and Rhaenyra held on to that hope, for you were reluctant to take on the burden of ruling a kingdom. The duties and benefits of being a princess gave you both far more pleasure. But this pregnancy weighed heavily on your mother, sapping her vitality with each passing day. The signs were obvious to you, for she rarely ventured out of her bath anymore.

You and Rhaenyra started spending a few moments together in bed in the evenings at that time. You had numerous conversations ranging from trivia to the prevailing topic of your mother and her exhausting pregnancy. It was during these intimate exchanges that your fear of childbirth was really ignited.

This fear was only fuelled when your mother died in childbirth. Your mother's untimely passing at the birth of the long-awaited male heir shook you and Rhaenyra to the core. But in the midst of the pain, there was a surprising turn of events when your father called you to him. The seriousness that showed on his face set the tone as you and Rhaenyra stood before King Viserys, waiting for his words.

In a calm and serious tone, he unravelled the story of the Song of Ice and Fire and tied together the threads of the prophetic vision of Aegon the Conqueror. As his hopeful gaze fell upon you, a feeling of trepidation crept over you, for you did not know what he was up to. Your father was trying to divert the succession by preferring you to your uncle Daemon and longing for you to ascend the throne. There was silence in the air, broken only by Rhaenyra's radiant smile. But you shook your head resolutely and refused the iron throne that awaited you. And so the path took its course, granting Rhaenyra her rightful place as heir to the throne.

But what you and Rhaenyra also shared was the joyful anticipation that shot through your veins every time your uncle Daemon visited King's Landing. The moment Caraxes appeared in the sky, your heart beat faster and you quickly made your way to the dragon pit. Hastily you traversed the corridors, longing to catch even a glimpse of your beloved uncle. Gasping for breath, you reached the entrance of the dragon pit and waited patiently for his arrival. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra was at your side, waiting as well. And whenever Daemon finally appeared, a radiant smile lit up both your faces.

Without hesitation, you both sprinted towards him, and with effortless strength, he lifted you both up in his arms and carried you towards the keep. Enchanted, you listened to his every word and listened to tales of epic battles and distant lands he had travelled. But over time, things changed. You grew more mature, older and wiser.

Although you still hold your uncle in high esteem, a bittersweet ambivalence stirs within you. You still enjoyed listening to his stories, even if you feigned a certain disinterest. But his shadowy deeds, which always resonated in the depths of your consciousness, repelled you. The same was true of your uncle. He held you in high esteem, considered you his niece and vowed to protect you from the horrors of this world should he have the power to do so. However, he considered you weak, much like your father, King Viserys. It was Rhaenyra, spirited and rebellious, who attracted his affections more. But such things were of no consequence to you. Gaining his attention was not attractive, at least you kept whispering this to yourself.

One day, the whispers of the servants echoed ceaselessly through the air, like a delicate melody. The news was full of excitement - a vibrant festival was to fill the humble streets of Flea Bottom. Enchanting attractions and captivating performers would parade through the avenues, enthralling all who gathered with their enchanting talents. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, for it had been far too long since you had joined Rhaenyra on a journey through the secret passages of the keep.

As evening fell and dinner drew to a close, you retired to your chambers. Secretly you dressed in the humble attire of the servants and carefully donned a cloak with a hood that concealed your shining silver locks. With great determination, you approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall in your chambers and exerted a gentle but purposeful push. The wall that obeyed your touch gives way, revealing a hidden passageway that lies beyond. A tingle of anticipation flows through you as you enter the hidden passageways and the familiar excitement within you flares up again.

As you arrive in front of the massive keep, you stare upwards, fascinated by the towering walls that seem almost frightening. Relief washes over you, for you knew that tonight you would escape the confines of this fortress and enjoy the freedom that awaited you. Your path leads you unwaveringly to Flea Bottom, a thriving tapestry of life and pleasure. The narrow streets were teeming with happy people, the air was filled with animated conversation and joyous laughter.

At every corner, artists adorned the bustling scene, showing off their talents and attracting the attention of passers-by. The fascination of it all takes hold of you as your gaze wanders upwards to witness a daredevil performer gracefully crossing a taut rope between two old walls. A melodious laugh escapes your lips, evidence of the sheer wonder and enchantment that has captivated you.

The lure of this uncomplicated existence is undeniably great. What is even more enticing is the anonymity it gives you. Here your hair remains unseen, the darkness hides you from prying eyes. Your purple eyes go unnoticed like a hidden gem. You are no princess, but just an ordinary soul among them.

A woman gracefully hands you a glass of wine and a smile graces your lips in response. As you sip the wine, she leads you into the crowd of dancing people. In the square, musicians serenade and enchant those who sway to their melodies. You find yourself in the midst of the cheering crowd, laughing and twirling in blissful abandon. You spill a little wine but pay no attention to the fleeting mishap. Your hood slips briefly, but you deftly straighten it again, preserving your disguise.

But as you turn around briskly, a sudden shock of surprise passes through you. Standing before you is your uncle, Daemon, wrapped in his own cloak.

"Uncle!" you say, startled. Your eyes are wide and you stop abruptly. You are breathing heavily from all your dancing.

But he only grins at you.

"Well, well... What is our little princess doing here?" he asks you.

You clear your throat slightly, "Well... I just wanted to enjoy the festivities," you say softly.

He smiles at you, "I could see that," he grins at you.

"So you're interested in the festivities? And you even sneak out of the keep to do it?" he asks you.

You look at him, "Does that surprise you?" you ask him in return.

He shrugs slightly, "Let's put it this way, I didn't expect it"

He looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Your cheeks flush slightly and you look to the side.

"Well... I have to go, take care princess," he says with a slight grin and continues walking.

You are left a little irritated.

The next day you learn that Rhaenyra was in a brothel with Daemon and you are shocked. You met Daemon on the streets of Flea Bottom, he must have gone straight to a brothel afterwards... When you hear this, you immediately go in search of Rhaenyra.

When you find her, she is standing talking to Ser Criston.

"Rhaenyra," you say, and she responds with a smile.

"Can we talk for a moment?" you ask her.

Ser Criston steps away from you.

When you are alone, you look at her.

"You were in a brothel with Uncle Daemon?" you ask her.

Her eyes grow wide.

"How do you know about that?" she asks you, horrified.

"Well... secrets don't stay secrets here for long... Especially when two silver-haired people visit a brothel," you say.

She swallows visibly.

"So it's true?" you ask her.

She grabs your arm, "He didn't take my maidenhead, I swear," she says to you.

"But how can you be so careless as to go to a brothel with him?" you ask her.

"Do you know what will happen if this gets out?" you ask her further, "Your reputation will be ruined!"

She bites her lip nervously.

"It won't come out... and if it does...I didn't lose my maidenhead to him," she says softly.

But after your father finds out about it, he is furious. He has Daemon brought to him.

"Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory"

There is a brief silence in the throne room as Daemon speaks the words and lies hungover on the floor.

Viserys kneels over him, "Of course... It's not my daughter you lust for, is it?"

He presses the blade a little more against Daemon's neck, "It's my throne"

Daemon grins just slightly.

"You can take her as your wife... But she will no longer be heir to the throne. I will make y/n heir to the throne. Rhaenyra is no longer pure, too wild to rule a kingdom... Hoping that you cannot corrupt y/n, " Viserys finally says.

Daemon gets angry, "You can't do that!"

Viserys stands up, "You'll see what I can do"

And in a moment that seemed to stand the test of time, your father, in a grand production, announced to the realm that you were the rightful heir to the throne. He justifies this monumental decision by acknowledging that he should have recognised your esteemed position as elder sister from the beginning. Deep down, however, both you and Rhaenyra understand the motivations behind this decision, but the revelation leaves you stunned and unprepared. The thought of assuming the role of queen does not suit your heart's desires, but your father, determined and weary of all stormy arguments, rejects all arguments.

The kingdom is in an uproar, and King Viserys hosts an extravagant ball to celebrate this turning point. With unwavering courage, you step into the limelight, knowing that all eyes will be on you all night and your every move will be closely watched. Countless lords vie for your attention, eager to capture your gaze. You, now the embodiment of attraction, become the most desired woman in the realm, igniting ardent desire from all corners. In the midst of this whirlwind, you find a moment of calm, enjoying a sip of wine in solitude, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of your uncle at your side.

"Niece," he says in greeting.

You look over at him slightly and then drink some more of your wine.

"Uncle," you say back.

After a while his voice resounds, "So you are now heir to the throne"

You nod slightly, "I guess that's right," you say.

He smiles slightly, "You don't seem very pleased about it"

You snort slightly, "Well... if you hadn't taken your other niece to a brothel and started rumours about her virtue... Then I wouldn't have to be here," you say.

"So you're not pleased?" he asks you.

You just look at him.

"Why... Why are you taking her to a brothel in the first place? It's irresponsible and immoral," you say.

"'Excuse me... My highly moral niece... but if we are honest, was I ever moral?" he asks you.

You snort again and he looks at you.

"You were out in Flea Bottom yourself...," he finally replies, but you interrupt him.

"... but I didn't go to a brothel!" you say.

He watches you for a moment.

"I had to take Rhaenyra there... I had to show her... To show her what it means to make political decisions… to fulfil duties and also to accept and live out personal preferences," he tells you.

You shake your head slightly, "You can't think of anything better than taking your niece to your brothel?"

You drink from your wine and look out into the crowd again.

He looks at you, a slight smile curling his lips.

"You wish I had gone to the brothel with you?" he asks suddenly.

You choke on your wine.

"Excuse me?" you ask him.

He grins now, "You wish I had chosen you. When I met you on the streets of Flea Bottom... You wish I had taken you by the hand and..."

But you interrupt him.

"What? No! Of course not!" you say to him, but your cheeks blush slightly.

He just grins even more, "Well... If I had known that your father would now install you as heir to the throne... Then I wouldn't have deprived you of this lesson," he says with the same grin on his face.

"Stop it!" you hiss.

"I have no interest in going to a filthy brothel with you," you say to him and you feel the anger rising inside you.

"Well... we don't have to go to a brothel either... I can teach you this lesson in a soft bed," his eyes sparkle as he says this to you.

You just look at him.

"Do you always have to be like this? So manipulative? Maybe you should stop trying to corrupt your brother's daughters... At some point there won't be any children left to succeed to the throne... Or is that what you want? So that you can be named heir to the throne again?" you say to him.

Daemon's gaze darkens, but you simply step away from him.

You leave the ball. You quickly try to put a great distance between you and Daemon. You don't know what it is, but the thought of being in a brothel with Daemon stirs something in you. But you quickly move on towards your chambers.

As the morning light wakes you and you step out of your chambers after your morning routine, a bittersweet realisation comes to you - Daemon has once again left King's Landing.

But in the midst of this recurring absence, a new responsibility now weighs on your shoulders and demands your attention. Your father, concerned for your future, keeps dropping hints about potential suitors who might be worthy of you. Some of these suggestions make you recoil in horror, as they are unfamiliar names of lords you have never heard of. Others, with some logic, sound like good partners. But one name keeps coming up - Laenor Velaryon. Laenor, a kind-hearted soul, would guarantee you a respectful marriage. But deep inside you long for a marriage that promises more than a husband who prefers to spend his free time in the company of other men.

While King Viserys wants to leave the final decision to you, he nevertheless tries in his own discreet way to win your heart for this union. Inwardly, you cannot help but envy Rhaenyra, who now enjoys the freedom of choice, unaffected by the burden of political affairs. Yet you are taken aback when she too suddenly expresses her desire for an engagement. Ser Harwin's proposal to marry her is announced by your father, and the glow on Rhaenyra's lips betrays her joy. After much deliberation, your father has given his consent to this betrothal, sealing the path Rhaenyra will take.

Preparations for Rhaenyra's wedding are in full swing, putting an enchanting aura in the air. Although Rhaenyra is no longer heir to the throne, no expense or effort is spared to ensure a magnificent wedding. While you are busy with your own new tasks, you are all the more surprised when your sister's wedding is suddenly only a few days away.

The capital city is welcoming an influx of distinguished guests, with unfamiliar faces packing the halls. Amidst this swirl, fate once again crosses your path with Laenor. Warm greetings are exchanged, and in the absence of your father's watchful presence, you are indeed able to engage in pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, your father never fails to highlight Laenor's presence whenever he can.

On the auspicious day of the wedding, there is a grand ball where wine flows copiously, instilling in you a sense of calm. This makes it a little easier to bear your father's insistent insistence that you dance with Laenor. Your gaze, however, inevitably wanders to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin, who always wear beaming smiles on their lips. Genuine joy fills your heart for them.

Suddenly a murmur goes through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment. As you look up from your seat at the head table, you catch sight of the entrance of your uncle, who has been absent throughout the ceremony. Surprised, but not completely taken aback, it seems only logical that he naturally needs to make a special appearance. He exudes an undeniable charm as he strides into the hall, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Your eyes meet briefly, and you detect a hint of mirth in his eyes. Hastily, you avert your gaze and seek refuge in the depths of your wine glass.

Daemon makes his way to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and offers them his congratulations before gracefully walking around the table. Finally, he settles across from you. As you avoid his gaze, your attention is abruptly taken by your father, who suddenly stands before you. A smile graces your face as you lift your gaze to meet him, only to lose it again when you see Laenor standing beside your father.

"Y/n. I thought you were going to show Laenor your new dancing skills?" your father asks you.

You smile, "Where do you keep getting these ideas from?," you mumble.

But gracefully you rise from your seat and put on a gentle smile, as if the weight of the world is light on your shoulders. Together with Laenor, you glide to the dance floor, a harmonious couple amidst the lively atmosphere. Laenor, a skilful dance partner, engages you in pleasant conversation. But his presence does not arouse any feelings beyond the warmth of a cousin.

After a few dances, a growing restlessness overcomes you and you long for solitude and a break from the boisterous mood. Seeking solace, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, the rim of your wine cup finding comfort at your lips. A single, daring sip empties the vessel and quiets your inner turmoil for a moment. In the distance, your father approaches Laenor once more and engages him in conversation. The scene almost amuses you as you notice that Laenor is beginning to seem annoyed too.

You quickly take another cup of wine and leave the festivities before your father can address you again. Cup in hand, you stroll through the corridors and make your way to your chambers. Weary from the day's events, your only desire is to wrap yourself in solitude. As you enter your private chambers, you free yourself from the confines of your dress and let out a relieved sigh as the lacing at your back loosens.

The garment falls to the floor and surrenders to gravity. Wearing a flowing nightgown, you approach the mirror and carefully untangle the intricately braided pigtails that adorned your head. As you lift the brush and prepare to run it through your silken tresses, an unwelcome interruption sounds in the form of a sharp knock on the door. Irritation flickers across your face as you turn to face the unwelcome disturbance.

"Who is it?" you ask. But no one answers. You sigh and go to the door. You open it.

"What is it?" but you pause as you see your uncle.

"Uncle?" you ask.

He smiles slightly at you, "Niece," he says.

You look at each other for a while.

"Won't you invite me in?" he finally asks you.

"I'm not sure I want to," you reply.

He raises his eyebrows a little, but you take a step to the side.

His hands are behind his back and he smiles at you. Slowly he enters your chambers. You close the door and watch him. You see his broad back and notice that he seems to be looking around.

"Not much has changed in your chambers..." he says somewhat absently as he stands at your desk.

You look at him and smile a little, "Did you come here to inspect my chambers?" you ask him.

He turns to you and has to smile a little again, "No... of course not...", he says almost quietly.

He lets his fingers glide lightly over a book lying on your desk.

"You seemed annoyed," he says finally.

Now you are the one raising your eyebrows, "What?" you ask him.

"Well... At the ball... You seemed upset. Upset that Viserys kept trying to badger you with Laenor's presence," he says, smiling at you.

You roll your eyes a little as you think about it again. "Is it that noticeable?" you ask him.

You walk over to the table and drink from your wine again.

"I don't want to marry Laenor," you say finally.

"I like Laenor, he's nice. But I don't want a man who prefers the company of men," you say, turning to face Daemon.

Daemon grins slightly.

"That's understandable... You want a man who desires you," he says to you.

You have to chuckle a little, but shake your head slightly, "I don't think that's an argument that will meet with my father's understanding," you say.

"Well...", Daemon says, "You will be queen, you should decide who you marry... who will rule with you", he says to you.

You drink again of your wine and look at him. You see a sparkle in his purple eyes.

"I could take you to a brothel, if that would help you decide," he says suddenly.

This hits you unexpectedly and you suddenly have to laugh. Your laughter infects Daemon and you hear him chuckle slightly.

"Thank you very much for your offer, uncle. But I think I will decline," you say with a smile.

You look at each other and notice how close you are. You can literally feel his breath on your skin. Suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp briefly, but then his hand is on your cheek and he holds you tight. The kiss is wild and passionate. You put your hands on his firm chest and pull him closer to you by his waistcoat. You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lower lip. Daemon breaks the kiss briefly. He is breathing heavily. His thumb wanders gently over your lower lip. His eyes seem to be watching your face closely, as if finding even the slightest sign that you don't want this.

"Do you really want me to corrupt another daughter of the king?" he asks you in his deep voice.

You are also breathing heavily and look at him.

"Shut up, uncle," you say simply.

He chuckles lightly and lets his hand slide down your neck. He pulls you close again and kisses you.

He pushes you backwards slightly and you notice the back of your thighs pressing against the desk. His hands are suddenly on your hips and with one quick movement you are sitting on the desk. Daemon is standing between your legs and he starts kissing your neck. Slowly he lets his lips and tongue glide over your soft skin. His fingers slowly slide along your thigh and you gasp.

"Is that okay?" Daemon whispers as he continues to caress your neck. You just nod and wrap your legs around him.

You feel a slight grin on his lips. You start to unbutton his shirt. More and more of his muscular chest is exposed. You notice slight scars on his skin as he lets go of your neck to pull his shirt over his head. You breathe heavily. You let your fingers wander gently over his chest and feel the scars. You bite your lip lightly.

"Shall we stop for a moment and admire each other's bodies?" he asks you with a teasing undertone.

You look up into his eyes. "Shut up, I said," you whisper. He chuckles softly and kisses you again. His hand continues to wander along your thigh. It slides under your nightgown and you let your hand slide down his neck. You gently grab his neck and pull him closer to you. You notice how your undergarments are getting more and more soaked. When his fingers suddenly slide over your folds, you moan into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate for long and pushes your undergarments aside. He feels your wetness immediately and his fingers are immediately soaked.

A deep groan forms in his chest. His fingers find your clit and start to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You moan again and gasp. You grip his neck tighter and he grins at you.

"You like that..." he whispers.

You just whimper as he moves his fingers faster. You kiss him again and try to undo his trousers at the same time. But you are distracted by his fingers. When he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, your efforts stop.

"Daemon...", you moan a little louder now.

"Yes...? I must prepare you for my cock...", he murmurs simply and lets his fingers slide into you.

You look into his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and you are breathing heavily. He smiles at you. You moan as he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again. You close your eyes and pull him towards you. Your lips find his lips and when he inserts a third finger, you just whimper. But you start to move your hips towards him.

Suddenly you hear him open his trousers and they slip to the floor. Your tongues continue to dance around each other as he suddenly stops inserting his fingers into you. Instead, he reaches for your undergarments and pulls them down your legs. You breathe heavily and watch his movements. You see him bite his lip as he just drops your undergarments on the floor. But then your gaze falls on his body. Daemon is standing in front of you without his shirt and trousers. And you see his entire size.

You now bite your lip as you look at his cock. It is big and thick and you can already see a few drops polling around at its tip.

His big hand pumps a few times his hot length and then he lets the tip of his cock slide through your wetness. You hear him grunt softly and can't hold back a moan of your own.

He kisses you again and lets his hand wander to your ass. Slowly he pulls you closer to him and you feel him slowly push his cock into you. You bite your lip. You gasp as his big member almost splits you. But it feels so good. He gives you time to adjust to his size. You start to move your hips towards him. And he takes that as a sign and his thrusts become stronger. With each thrust he is deeper inside you. His grunts get louder and you start moaning in unison with him. He fills you completely. Your arms are around his neck and you close your eyes. His hands are on your hips and he makes you slam down on his cock faster. You cry out in passion. The table beneath you starts to creak with each thrust, it is obviously not designed for such activities.

Suddenly one of his hands is on your shoulder and he pushes you down gently. You follow his instruction and lie down on the table. Immediately his hands are on your hips again, setting the pace. You wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you. The slapping of your naked skin and your lustful sounds fill your chambers. With each thrust, he grazes your sweet spot in your wet core. You moan out. Daemon notices how your walls clench around his cock.

Without hesitation, he begins to rub your pearl with his thumb. You reach for his biceps as a wave of excitement floods through you.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"It's all right, I've got you. Show me how good it is for you... Come on my cock," you hear him say in his deep voice. His thumb moves faster and his thrusts become harder.

And then an incredible feeling floods you.

You moan, but his thrusts don't let up.

"Daemon," you moan and continue to grab his biceps.

"Yes... Yes!" he just grunts. You close your eyes and are a moaning mess. And then you hear him groan loudly. His moans become softer until they subside completely. You are both breathing heavily. You are still lying on your desk. Daemon is still standing between your legs. He lets his head hang down and you feel him slowly pull his cock out of you. You notice his cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the floor. But you can't move. Your eyes are closed and you try to catch your breath. You notice how he gently caresses your thigh.

"I wanted to take Rhaenyra's maidenhead that night... In the brothel...", you suddenly hear him say.

You open your eyes and look at him. He looks at you closely.

Neither of you says anything.

When suddenly he breaks the silence again, "But I couldn't"

You continue to look at him.

"Why?" you ask quietly.

He swallows briefly, "When I saw you that night. You, the perfect, good princess who did something forbidden... That somehow confused me..." he says quietly. His fingers continue to caress your thigh.

"I don't know, I just couldn't," he says a little louder.

You have to smile slightly and sit up.

"So my uncle does have a conscience," you say teasingly.

He has to smile slightly, "Then I guess I shouldn't have taken your maidenhead"

You smile, "Who said you did?"

He looks at you a little startled.

"I was joking," you say before he can say anything.

This time he has to laugh. He starts stroking your cheek.

"Maybe your father had better not find out about this," he says suddenly. But you have the feeling that there is a hint of sadness.

You look at him. Suddenly you have to smile slightly.

"Except... When I tell him I want to marry you," you say.

His eyes grow wide.

"What...?" he whispers.

"Well... He wants me to get married. And I get to have the last word," you say.

"But you are so often annoyed with me," he says with a smile.

"Well... at least that guarantees it won't be boring," you say quietly.

Daemon just shakes his head slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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#prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen oneshot #matt smith #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic

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multific · 1 year

Text

A Mother's Love

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aegon getting stuck in a meeting is nothing new. Being held up by the nobles was a normal occurrence. However, all Aegon was thinking is how he would rather be in bed with you, his very pregnant wife.

Aegon was held up by the council. His leg bounced as he grew more and more annoyed by the second.

All he wanted was to go back to bed, where you were, cuddle to your baby bump and forget about all this King nonsense.

Little did he know, that just as he was dreaming about your baby bump, you were on your bed, screaming in pain.

One of the servants went to fetch the King, but a knight stood in her way, not allowing the king to be disturbed.

Aegon was now extremely irritated, he felt like for the entire day, he had been held in that damn room.

And he was.

As soon as he exited, the servant girl rushed over to him.

"My King! I have been waiting for you!"

"Not now! I wish to rest!" he tried to dismiss the girl.

"But My King! The Queen is in labor." that stopped Aegon. He slowly turned and looked at the girl.

"What did you just say?"

"She started her pains this morning, it is possible she has already given birth." said the girl.

"Why didn't you come and tell me sooner?!" Aegon was now yelling.

"The guards stopped me." she replied, Aegon looked at his guards, shooting extremely disappointed looks at them. But he can deal with them later.

Aegon then quickly turned and headed back to where your shared chambers was.

He opened the door, and there you were, your eyes met him and you smiled. Holding a little bundle in your arms.

Every servant left the room, leaving the King and Queen alone.

"I didn't know. They didn't tell me." he said, trying his best to explain himself but you just smiled. He moved closer to you.

"Doesn't matter anymore. Come, meet your son." you were quick to hand him the bundle as he sat down next to you. "He looks like you."

Aegon looked down at his son, his eyes and hair were the exact as his father's.

"I was hoping you would name him." you confessed and he gave a nod. He was too focused on the little baby.

"He is beautiful." Aegon whispered as the child yawned. "You gave me an angel." you smiled, closely watching the two.

"I'm also extremely tired. If I may sleep for a bit."

"I will give him to the nurse."

"No, no Aegon." you were quick as he stood up, you reached towards your son. "I wish to have him here, please."

Aegon looked at you confused. "Why? You need to rest."

"Yes, of course. But I also need to bond with him. If I don't have him here... I do not wish to be like your mother was to you." you finally confessed. Your deepest worry since became aware of the little human inside you.

"You would never be like her." Aegon moved back onto the bed, sitting down once more. "You will be an amazing mother. You will show every woman what it is to be a mother. A mother who loves their child. I know you will, you grew to love me." you smiled.

"Leave him in his crib." you pointed at the little bed next to your side of the bed. "When he falls asleep, put him on his back into the bed and the small blanket over him. If he wakes and I don't, wake me, I'll feed him. Do not call a nurse. Promise me Aegon that you will not call a nurse." he could hear the desperation in your voice and as much as he knew you needed to rest, he also didn’t wish to fight your decision.

"I promise you, My Love. I will do as you asked." you nodded before moving to lay down, watching the two as you fell asleep.

Aegon looked at his son, slowly standing up as he walked to the windows, letting the late afternoon sun hit the child's beautiful round cheeks.

Aegon placed a kiss onto the child's forehead.

Aegon was still rather furious that the guards didn't warn him about what was happening in his own castle, he will make sure that they will learn their lesson.

But just for now, he was okay with only holding his son as he watched you sleep.

A warm feeling completely filled his chest.

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sunnytarg · 1 year

Note

Good Night 😁 How do you think yandere Maegor, Aegon I, Aemond and Daemon would react if their children with a darling reader wife defended their mother from them and confronted them about their unhealthy love and attitude and their way of acting with the reader and children demanded that they leave their mother alone? (reader seeing the situation: 😲😨😱😫😣😖) Lol thanks you are amazing 💖

Aemond’s part got a little long lol.

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

He, his darling wife and their child are all sitting around the table breaking fast when his youngest from his darling wife speaks up. His youngest and only daughter is a quiet girl, only speaking to her mother when he allows his wife out of her chambers and to her brothers, so it surprises him when his daughter asks him why he and his aunts ride their dragons but her mother never does. He blinks down at her and thinks of what to say to her. There is no way to make her understand why his daring wife must stay in her chambers and why she mustn’t ride her dragon.

He smiles down at her and simply says, “it’s much safer for your mother to ride with me on my dragon.”

His daughter frowns and it reminds him of how his beloved wife would frown at him at the beginning of their marriage. His daughter shakes her head and her silver braid shakes with her. “Maegor told me that our dragons bond with us. So if that is true, shouldn’t mother’s dragon be the safest place for her?”

Aegon grits his teeth and fights to keep the smile on his face. He had not cared whether his wife had given him a child or not but he knew that if she had his child she would be more pleasant, more docile. He wouldn’t have to worry so much about his wife. His daughter was his wife’s responsibility. When his wife needed to be in her chambers or spend time with him, he made sure that Rhaenys or Visenya could look after the little girl. He wondered if this curiosity came from one of them.

He looks at his darling wife and sees that she’s looking down at their child. Aegon clears his throat and she snaps her head up to him. Her eyes are wide and she’s biting her lip. Just the sight makes his cock harden. She looks between him and their daughter and tucks a stray piece of her child’s hair behind her ear and says, “I prefer to ride on daddy’s dragon.”

His daughter's frown deepens before she turns to scowl at him. “It’s wrong to keep a rider away from their dragon.”

Aegon only takes a sip from his goblet as his wife explains to their daughter that it’s best for her to stay with him. That, yes, aunt Visenya and aunt Rhaenys get to ride their dragons by themselves, but Aegon only wants to make sure she’s safe. It takes a moment for his daughter to stop with her questions but when she does, she finishes her meal and skips off to find one of her brothers. Aegon waits a moment before he turns his attention to his wife. He has to make sure she doesn’t feel the same way.

Maegor

It takes seeing his mother silently weeping after watching the maester leave for Maegor’s son of 6 years of age to finally say something to his father. He doesn’t know what’s happening or why his mother is crying but he does know that it has something to do with his father. When he marches up to his father with his arms crossed he demands to know why he’s making his mother cry.

Maegor only crouches down to his son's level and only says, “your mother is doing her duty.”

The little boy's brows furrow and he looks at his mother who still hasn’t looked up from the ground. He asks, quizzically, “what is mother’s duty?”

Maegor picks the boy up in his arms and his mother looks at him. She looks like she wants to say something but his father beats her to it. His father looks at his mother as he says, “we all have duties. Your mothers is to provide me with many children.”

He looks at his son and smiles. It seems hollow to the little boy but he doesn’t look away. “Don’t you want more brothers and sisters?”

The little boy nods enthusiastically. Of course, he does! He loves running around with his brothers. His sister is still too young to play, but sometimes he goes to her cradle and talks to her about his newly hatched dragon. He also knows his mother loves him and his siblings so why would she be upset about her duties?

“Well, when you and your siblings don’t do what is asked of you, what happens?” Maegor asks his son.

The little boy scrunches up his face and says, “we get punished.”

Maegor nods and walks over to his wife and kisses her on the forehead. There are still tears streaming down her face and now her bottom lip is wobbling. He wants to go and hug his mother but he can’t with his father holding him.

“Exactly,” his father says and turns towards the door to his mother’s chambers. The little boy looks back at his mother when he hears her call out for her husband in a desperate voice but her father doesn’t look at her as he walks out of the chambers and sets his son down. He shuts the doors and pulls out a key to lock them. “The same rules apply to your mother. Until she accepts that she must provide me with more children, she must be punished. So I want you to run along and find your brothers and don’t come back and try to find your mother until she comes to find you.”

The little boy nods and walks away with his head down. This isn’t the first time that he’s been told he’s not to be allowed around his mother for a period of time. He doesn’t like it when his mother is upset but he knows that when he sees her again she’ll be smiling like she always is when she sees them after a long time.

Aemond

Aemond’s son doesn’t say anything until he watches his mother go through letters addressed to her. Instead of a bright smile gracing her face when she reads a letter from her family back home she only frowns. He knows that his mother loves her family, and every time she talks to him about them she practically glows. So he asks a question that seems obvious to him, “why are you upset mother? Are you not happy to hear from your family?”

She looks at him and makes an attempt to smile, although to him it looks much more like a grimace. She opens her arms for him to walk into and when he does he also climbs into her lap. He knows he’s getting too big for this, being 7 years of age, but he loves when his mother holds him.

“They have asked me to come and visit them.” She tells him with a sigh.

The boy frowns and looks at his mother. He feels like he’s missing something but he doesn’t know what. “Well, then you should visit them.”

She shakes her head and kisses his forehead, “it is not that simple, my little knight, your father would never allow me.”

Before he can ask any more questions his father walks in, as though just talking about him has summoned him. Truthfully, he was surprised that he wasn’t already in the library with his mother. It’s very rare to see his mother without his father by her side. His father comes over to kiss his wife and before he can say something or ruffle his son's hair, the little boy pipes up, “why can’t mother go and see her family?”

His father frowns and looks at his mother who holds up the letter from her family. He reads it quickly and instead of handing it back to his mother he walks over and tosses it into the fireplace. He feels his mother tense but she says nothing.

“Your mother must stay here with me. If she goes back to her family's home, The Iron Islands,” his face wrinkles with disgust at the mention of the place. The little boy doesn’t know why, every time his mother talks about it, it sounds like a fun place. “she might try and leave us. You don’t want your mother to leave us and find a new family, do you?”

“No,” the little boy says immediately. He looks up at his mother and then at his father and says, “mother wouldn’t leave me, though. She can even take me with her to see the seas and the castle.”

His mother squeezes him at those words and he sees her smiling. When he looks at his father he looks furious and if sensing it his mother jumps in, “I wasn’t thinking about it, my love. I wouldn’t leave you. I love it here.”

His father looks at his mother for a moment. Like he’s trying to see if she’s lying. When he’s satisfied he walks over to her and strokes her hair and smiles down at her. He mumbles an ‘of course' but his son isn’t finished yet.

“It’s wrong to keep mother away from her family. Her sisters probably really miss her.” He says and wiggles out of his mother's grip. He stands in front of his father who towers over him. “A good husband would let his wife go.”

He knows this because his uncle Daeron often visited his wife’s home. His uncle always tells him how a good husband should act and how when he grows up and gets married how he should treat his future wife. He just wrinkled his nose at that. He doesn’t want to be married. He wants to be a knight and fight and that means he would have no time for a wife.

His father looks down at him and sighs, usually, he would kneel down to his level but he must be frustrated. “You’re right. I’ll talk to your mother about this later.”

Satisfied the little boy nods and runs out. Maybe he can sneak down to the dragon pit while his parents talk.

-*-

“You don’t want to leave me, do you, my love?” Aemond asks later that night when the rest of the Red Keep is asleep. When she doesn’t answer him he thrusts harder and brings the hand that was squeezing her tits up to her throat. He spends every night like this, buried deep in his wife. If she goes off to where she came from he wouldn’t have this. “You don’t as want to go back to the Iron Islands, I thought we agreed that one as beautiful as you doesn’t belong in a place so disgusting.”

“I’ll stay here, Aemond, I’ll write back tomorrow and tell them I won’t be coming.” His wife says before she moans loudly. He looks down at her, not fully believing her. When they first married she had asked constantly to go and visit the Iron Islands. Just thinking about it makes him angry. His thrusts become rougher and he gets closer to the edge as his darling wife wraps her legs around him.

“Maybe it’s time for another child,” he whispers quietly, almost to himself but his wife catches it. She looks up at him with wide eyes, surprised. Ever since their son was born he has been making sure that she drank moon tea. He doesn’t like the idea of sharing her attention with another but perhaps another child will make her stop thinking about those disgusting islands. “You want to give me another babe, don’t you?”

Before she can respond he grabs her hips roughly and holds them down as he spills his seed into her. He makes sure that no moon tea is brought to her in the morning and when they break their fast, he has his wife inform their son that she will not be going to the Iron Islands.

Daemon

It takes several tries from Daemon’s young daughter trying to get his attention for him to finally look her way. It is the first feast she has been allowed to be at and she’s easily excited at everything. His darling wife had tried to put it off. She had asked Daemon if perhaps they could wait a little longer, as feasts could sometimes get out of control. Daemon had only shaken his head and had a maid get his daughter ready. After all, this feast was to celebrate the health of their son's health. After months of being sickly, he has finally turned around and is as healthy as any babe.

“Daddy,” his daughter whines at him and he tries not to roll his eyes. He turns his attention away from his wife who has looked extra delicious after this last pregnancy and turns towards his daughter. “You weren’t listening.”

“No, my dear, I wasn’t,” he says and leans down so she doesn’t have to shout over all the noise. “What did you say?”

“It wasn’t me that said anything,” she looked at him with an annoyed frown. “The Lord of Highgarden has been trying to ask mother to dance but you’re keeping all of her attention for yourself.”

“The Lord of Highgarden can go dance with someone else’s wife. Your mother will stay here with me.” He says, dismissively.

He tries to turn back to his wife who has already turned to talk to Lyonel Tyrell but his daughter has other plans. “You always do this.”

He grabs his wife’s hand before he continues talking to his child. His wife will know that he doesn’t want her leaving this table, much less dancing with that Tyrell cunt. He can feel her tense beside him and he knows that she is thinking of the last time she decided to pay attention to some other petty lord. It was the same night he had spilled his seed in her over and over again until he was certain she was with child. He smirks slightly at the memory of her the next day. She hadn’t been able to walk or sit down easily. He had made sure to leave red marks and bruises on her behind as a reminder of who she belonged to.

“What do I always do, my child?” He asks, not caring if his boredom with this conversation is apparent in his tone.

His daughter rolls her eyes as though her father’s behavior is obvious to everyone. After all, if she can see it at 5 years of age, so should everyone else. “You never share mother.”

“Of course I don’t,” Daemon chuckled and glared at the lord sitting beside his daughter who has decided to eavesdrop on his conversation. “She’s my wife.”

The little girl balls her fists up in frustration and says, “she’s my mom and you barely let her go enough for her to play with me.”

Of course, he didn’t. He wasn’t about to share his wife’s attention with a child. It didn’t matter if it was his child. The only reason she was here, to begin with, was because he wanted to marry his dear wife and no one would allow him, so he fucked her until she was with child. The only reason his daughter was still in the castle was that having a child made his wife more agreeable to him.

“You have servants and maids to play with you,” he responded and his daughter only shook her head.

“They aren’t mother!”

Her loud proclamation drew his wife’s attention. Daemon frowned and patted her hand. Mouthing to her that he would handle it. His wife frowned and looked at their daughter, clearly debating on whether or not to argue with Daemon. Eventually, she turned when Daemon moved his arm behind her chair and grazed the back of her neck with his fingers.

“You’re right,” he says to his daughter. She looks confused at his words. Her father never admits when he’s wrong. “How about tomorrow you and mother play in the garden?”

His daughter nodded her head enthusiastically and finally turned her attention to the people dancing.

Daemon’s eyes made their way towards Lyonel Tyrell as he thought. His wife would enjoy spending time with her daughter and while they were in the royal gardens he would be talking to the Lord of Highgarden. His daughter was old enough to be given as a ward. Sure, his darling wife would be upset about him sending their daughter away but she has a new babe to look after. Plus, Daemon thought with a sly smirk, the maesters have told him that she was recovered from the birth of their son. Tonight he would make sure to give her another child so she wouldn’t be so distracted by the absence of her daughter.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aegon i targaryen #aegon the conqueror #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #daemon Targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x reader #Maegor Targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #Aegon the conqueror x reader #yandere!hotd

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optimizche · 2 years

Text

Missing (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Author's note: This can be a sole piece or a multi-chapter series, depending on your wants, hence your feedback on the same is much appreciated.

Warnings: Angst. Unrequited love.

Being a daughter of the Master of Laws of Viserys The Peaceful's Small Council ensured that you were blessed with a beautiful life that almost made up for the absence of your mother. But it were the healing abilities that you inherited from birth that truly made you special.

Unlike any maester who had to rely on their poultices, teas and potions to heal wounds, you could heal with the simplest touch of your hand.

Word of your "powers" was kept a closely guarded secret, your presence being constantly needed around the royal family to tend to their wounds and maladies.

When the Rogue Prince Daemon suffered injuries during tourneys or during battles such as one at the Stepstones, you were at hand to heal him.

When the King himself fell ill after cutting his hand upon one of the swords on the Iron Throne, it was you who were summoned to tend to his health. The King eventually had confided in you that had you been born a few years earlier, perhaps you would have been able to save the life of his beloved Queen Aemma. It was a guilt you carried deep within yourself, having lost your own mother to childbirth.

Being an innately gifted healer as a child, you were granted access to the highest and best possible education in Westeros, something that was accessible only to members of the Royal blood.

You grew up along with the young princes. Sons of the Kings's eldest daughter Princess Rhaenyra: Jacaerys, Lucerys and baby Joffrey. And the King's own children with Queen Alicent Hightower: Aegon, Aemond and Helaena.

Over the course of the years, you had grown especially close to the Princes and Princess Helaena, taking your lessons with the children of the Royal Family a rare opportunity afforded to you on account of your abilities.

But it was Prince Aemond you found yourself seeking out the most, being a source of comfort for him when his brother and nephews (playfully) teased him of the account of not being bonded to a dragon.

You discussed the arts and philosophy with Aemond, watching him train in combat in the courtyard of the Red Keep along with his brother and nephews while you received your medical education from Grand Maesters from the Citadel.

Being so closely knit with the Royal Family, you watched them drift apart, with Prince Daemon taking Lady Laena Velaryon to wife and moving to Pentos, while Princess Rhaenyra moved to Dragonstone with her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Memories of the day still bring tears to your eyes, when you recall how tightly Jacaerys and Lucerys had hugged you before departing King's Landing and how you had kissed little Joffrey's tiny hand, feeling his fingers clutch at your own finger.

Even though you exchanged letters by ravens with the young princes Jacaerys and Lucerys, you could feel the divide growing between them and the children of the King and Queen Alicent.

Your closeness to Princess Rhaenyra's children did nothing to deter you from eventually falling in love with young Aemond before you even knew what love meant.

Perhaps it was during those long walks through the godswood where you spoke with him about your lessons. Or perhaps it was when he hugged you in tears, Aegon's cruel taunts for being dragonless finally getting under his skin. Or perhaps when he quietly confided in you that you were his best friend.

You couldn't describe the warmth swelling in your heart at his words when he told you how special and precious you were to him, in the naivety of your childhood.

But it would be a sombre event that led to the shattering of your heart.

--------

Attending the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon at Driftmark was a sobering moment in the giddiness of your growing yet secret affection for Prince Aemond.

You watched as they buried Lady Laena at sea, where she could finally rest, being one with the waters of Driftmark.

Finding Jacaerys and Lucerys, you gave the princes a hug, the reunion between your friends bringing a smile to your lips. You comforted Lady Laena's daughters, Baela and Rhaena. And eventually, you met Prince Daemon.

"I wish you had been at Pentos with us, little one," Prince Daemon said with a sad smile. "Perhaps my brave girl and my child would've lived."

The words brought tears to your eyes as you remembered King Viserys' confession about Queen Aemma's death, a sudden sense of guilt wracking you. What use was your education if you couldn't save the loved ones of your loved ones?

Instead of allowing Prince Daemon to hug you in condolence, you ran away in tears, hoping to find Aemond and speak to him.

But the conversation you so desperately needed never came about. In place of it, you overheard an exchange between Aegon and Aemond that destroyed your heart.

------------

"You love her," you exhaled, feeling like you had received a blow to your chest. "You love her, do you not?"

Blood turning cold, your eyes met the young, snowy haired prince's.

"You told Aegon that if only your mother had betrothed you to Helaena, you would have done your duty," you said, hating how your voice trembled. "You love her, don't you, Aemond?"

"I don't know what has gotten into you tonight, but this can wait, I have a dragon to claim," he said, an arrogance edging into his voice, something that you had often seen in his interactions with Aegon or his nephews. You never dreamt that it would ever be directed at you.

"You need to answer me, Aemond. You owe our friendship this courtesy."

The young prince looked like he was in a rush, desperate to be anywhere else but here in this moment.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, I do love Helaena! And what of it? Are you going to run and tell my mother? My father?"

Simply hearing his admission felt like your heart had been split into two and been set alight by dragonfire.

"No, I wouldn't dream of it. I-"

"Now if you will excuse me, I have a dragon to claim," he said, a lust for power glowing in his eyes as he pushed past you.

You fell to your knees, tears flooding into your eyes at the realisation that your love for him would forever remain unrequited. That Aemond had chosen a dragon over his best friend. That he loved Helaena and it would never be you...

Gasping and wiping furiously at your cheeks, you took off, running as swiftly as your feet could carry you, into the night, sneaking past the Targaryen household guards...

---------

The next morning, everything had changed. Aemond had lost an eye, he had claimed the biggest dragon in the seven realms, Vhagar, and he had lost his best friend, who's name he had cried out as he bled from his eye. And King Viserys' healer had gone missing.

Your heart had suddenly hardened to dragonglass, unyielding like Valyrian steel and you found yourself at Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon's feet as they were watching the Royal Fleet return to King's Landing along with Vhagar, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre, begging to them to shield you to take you away from the royal family and give you a place in their household in secret.

While Princess Rhaenyra was reluctant at your request, not wanting to deny her father the best medical care possible, it was Prince Daemon who understood your desperation. He convinced Princess Rhaenyra to smuggle you to Dragonstone, the two having made their own plans to marry and set Ser Laenor free to be with his lover Qarl in the Free Cities.

The two understood that having a healer of your calibre on their side would only prove advantageous, given how tense the situation was within the Royal Family.

The "official" story would be that you had gone missing, never to be found, giving your father the closure he could find, while Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra would raise you as their ward, in secret.

As you healed the Valyrian steel gash on Princess Rhaenyra's arm inflicted by Queen Alicent and Prince Lucerys' broken nose, a result of Aemond's actions, with a simple touch, they knew how valuable you'd be to them.

But even as you demonstrated your skill at healing, you felt a twinge of guilt, knowing full well that you could have healed Aemond's eye in a moment.

Yet you chose not to. Just as Aemond had made his choices, you had made yours.

And you had chosen a side in the war that would change the future of Westeros.

Part 2

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #angst #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x helaena #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n

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chloedrewitt · 2 years

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Hi, could you write fic about Aemond House of Dragon where OC is Rhaeyneras “strong” daughter. And if plot could go OC was made Prisoner of Aegon ii during dance of dragons.OC and Aemond Are forced to get Married. Eventually they have kids, feel in love and Rule kingdoms aa king and queen and bring peace to boath sides

𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 - 𝘼𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 [𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1]

summary: You are taken prisoner by Aegon II and kept in a cell until he calls for an audience, during which you find out that your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, has agreed to a peace contract between the Blacks and the Greens. You, as Rhaenyra’s heir, are to marry the eldest, unmarried son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent; Aemond Targaryen. This is an unwanted surprise for both of you, and you find it hard to make an effort. But when Aemond takes you to your dragon for a ride, seemingly against his brother’s wishes, you slowly begin to find comfort in his company.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: none

a/n: Thank you so much for the request, I loved the idea! I made a couple of changes to the canon to make sure this story worked out the way I envisioned it based on the request 💗

Part 2 will be about the wedding and their future!

Part 2

Request status: open [info]

Taglist:

If you wish to be added to or removed from the character taglist, please comment underneath this post.

Masterlist - Ko-fi

The material of your dress irritated your skin, and even though you adjusted the lace collar multiple times, it only seemed to make it worse. Dirt covered you where your skin was exposed, and strands of your dark hair were now falling in your face, nothing but a phantom of the beautiful updo your maid had braided your hair into this morning.

For a prison cell, the room was moderately sized, so you did not feel claustrophobic, but it did nothing for the moist stone walls and the dirt that covered almost every part of them. Even doing as much as leaning against them, so that your muscles could relax, covered your back in slick muck.

A guard had placed a tray of food at the entrance of your cell hours ago, but you had not touched it. Instead, you’d watched as the steam rising from the bread slowly faded and the goblet of water became polluted by drops that had fallen from the ceiling. You averted your gaze, trying your best to ignore the stinging pain in your stomach.

You should have listened to your mother and not crossed enemy territory, but you had been confident in your and your dragon Zaelix’s abilities. Now, you were in a prison cell and Zaelix most likely laying somewhere in shackles, sedated so he would not fly away.

The tears you had cried hours before were now dry, making it uncomfortable to move a single muscle in your face. Your gaze dropped to your hands, blood underneath your nails the only sign that you had struggled when they’d taken you. It had happened fast, and you could not recall any details, but you knew that the Greens, your own family, were behind this.

Cruel were the wars where blood spilled blood, but that was what happened when you were born into royalty, and you had little problems with it. People made their own choices, and ometimes these choices were not the smartest, as you had to learn first-hand.

Your head was so heavy on your shoulders that you stopped caring about your filthy surroundings and rested it against the wall. There was no bed in the cell, unless one counted the piece of animal fur lying in the corner opposite from you. Which you certainly did not. You were Queen Rhaenyra’s first born, a future Queen in her own right if your side won, which it certainly looked like at the moment.

The Blacks had more allies than the Greens, and in numbers lay strength. Not to mention the army of dragonriders your siblings were raising as you cowered in this cell, consisting of illegitimate Targaryen children with just enough Valyrian blood to bond with one of the feared beasts.

Capturing you was like serving the enemy a means to exert political pressure on your mother. It did not seem to be enough that many of her own followers doubted your heritage, considering you looked nothing like your late father Laenor Velaryon, with your dark hair and sharp features, all of which were traits not commonly associated with Valyrians.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cursing yourself about how you had failed on your mission to secure new allies, hoping that your mother and stepfather at least knew you were alive. He had accepted you like his own, after all, and out of your siblings, you were closest with your mother.

A sound coming from the corridor interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention to the bars separating you from your freedom.

A man stopped before your cell, keychain hanging from his belt as a hood covered most of his face, but judging by the graying stubble which covered his chin, you estimated that he was middle-aged. “Get up,” he barked, but you only gave him a venomous glare.

He took a key from his chain and inserted it into the lock to open the door, which your eyes briefly jumped to. To run would have been foolish, considering you had no idea what the building you were in looked like, or where Zaelix was being kept. Without him, escape was close to impossible. But you had always liked to test your luck.

“Are you deaf, girl?” The prison guard said impatiently as he reached out to pull you up by the arm, but you were quicker. You dodged his hand and elbowed him in the temple, using his momentary startlement to run for the door, but were blocked by another man who stepped from the shadows into the doorframe.

It happened so fast that you could not react, and so you bumped into his chest, which gave him enough physical closeness to take hold of your wrists with his gloved hands.

“Let me go,” you said, struggling to free yourself, but his grip only tightened. You stared at his chest, and the Targaryen sigil which graced his chest. It was hard to see, since it was just as black as the rest of his leather clothes, but you were close enough to make it out.

“I would not be very smart to do that, now, would I?” The man responded as the prison guard behind you grunted, presumably trying to stand after receiving the blow to his head. When you looked up at your captor, you saw that he had only one eye, the other one hidden beneath an eye path, and long, silver hair. This must have been Aemond One-Eye, also known as Aemond Kinslayer for reasons you tried not to think of.

You stopped resisting and angrily stared up at him instead, looking directly into his revealed eye while he firmly kept his hands around your wrists. Your chest was rising and falling rather quickly, as you tried to recover from the previous struggle. The man looked at the guard behind you, an amused smile on his lips.

“Perhaps my brother should reconsider hiring a new prison guard after all, if you are so easily overpowered by a Lady,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine and his hot breath calming your irritated skin.

“Forgive me, my prince,” rumbled the guard from somewhere behind you, as the prince turned his attention back to you.

“Shall we?” He asked with raised eyebrows, as if you even had a choice in what was about to happen. You simply narrowed your eyes and remained silent, not intending to give him the satisfaction of hearing your protests again.

He let go of one of your wrists and reached behind you, where the prison guard offered him a pair of metal handcuffs. You hissed when he bound your wrists with them behind your back, the cool material not improving the cold feeling you were exposed to.

Wordlessly, he guided you out of the dungeon, the screams of other inmates, which they let out as soon as they laid eyes on the prince and guard, following you while you climbed the staircase. Each step felt as if someone dug knives into your feet, and you tried your hardest not to let it show. Yours was the blood of the dragon, and you would act like it.

Stares followed you as Aemond led you through the halls of the castle. Your looks were less than appealing, and you were sure you scared some of the Ladies in the corridors, with your unkempt hair and the dirt that covered your dress.

You had expected to be brought before Aegon II in a throne room, so your confusion was noticeable when the prince opened a door, which led to a council chamber of sorts, and gently pushed you inside with a hand on your shoulder. He closed the door behind you, and you once again gave him an angry look before fixing your eyes on the figure sitting on the opposite side of the room.

“Aegon, I presume,” you said with disdain in your voice, but he only smiled at you. It was a heartless smile, one that made your blood boil.

“No need for formalities among family, I suppose,” he sighed as he stood from the table he was sitting at, the sound the chair made as it slid across the floor causing the hair on your neck to stand on end.

“Where is my dragon?” Your voice was only slightly shaking, a huge achievement in your eyes.

Aegon laughed, which sounded just as humorless as his smile looked. “You are captured, with close to no chance of escape. You, Queen Rhaenyra’s heir.” There was mockery in his voice, and you had to raise your chin to avoid succumbing to his insult. “And your first question concerns your dragon? Perhaps your mother should have named one of your siblings heir instead.”

You tried to free yourself from the handcuffs, but Aemond was still holding onto you, keeping you from leashing at his king, who was studying you closely with his hands folded behind his back.

“You know you are at a disadvantage. Most of Westeros supports my mother. You will have to slay half of the kingdom to make them accept you as king,” you hissed, and Aemond placed another hand on your shoulder to pull you back, most likely in case you’d try to free yourself again.

Aegon sighed as he walked around the table, tracing its edge with his fingers in the process. “Only a fool would think himself above reason. And trust me, Lady (y/n), I am no fool.” His expression changed for a moment, and you saw a hint of genuine remorse, before his facade returned. “It is why I proposed a peace treaty to your mother, hours after you were found trespassing on our lands.”

You narrowed your eyes, not sure where he was going with this.

“You see, I never intended for any of this to happen, Lady (y/n). At first, I didn’t even think it right to take my sister’s birthright from her.” You remained silent, curious to see what he would say next. “The crown is the most vulnerable when its succession is unclear, and I intend to end the uncertainty in this realm. So I proposed a marriage contract to your mother, and after some negotiations, she agreed.”

You stared in horror as the words reached your ear, and you realized that this marriage contract would most likely involve you somehow. You might have been a bit reckless at times, but you certainly were not a fool, either.

“You already have a wife,” you responded, feeling as though your muscles were paralyzed. The eyeless prince seemed to be just as curious as you, for he took a step forward and let go of your shoulder.

“Indeed I do,” Aegon said, eyes jumping from you to the man beside you. “But my brother does not.”

“And when, pray tell, was I supposed to find out?” His brother asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You know now, don’t you, Aemond.”

You swallowed. At least now, you had confirmation that this truly was Aemond One-Eye, but the weight attached to this information was almost too heavy to withstand. When you turned your head in Aemond’s direction, you saw that his jaw was tense.

“A warrior does not make a fine husband,” he protested in the most respectful way you could imagine. It was clear he thought highly of his brother.

“I would disagree,” said Aegon, before resting his eyes on you again. “You will be welcomed as a member of this court to officially celebrate the engagement. But make no mistake, Lady (y/n). You will be watched at any moment. This marriage alliance is important, yes, but not more important than my court’s safety. I hope you understand the precautions we must take.” Aegon exchanged one last glance between you and Aemond, before dismissing you both.

You looked at the man so boldly chosen for you as your fiance, before a servant came to escort you. Though the handcuffs remained in place for now, you could already feel just how much of a prisoner you would still be, even without these chains around your wrists.

***

The following days felt like they stretched to infinity, partially because you were left in the dark about what would happen next. Luckily, you were allowed to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with the other Targaryens in the dining room, but always had to be escorted by two guards at least. Especially when you roamed through the castle corridors during the day.

You only saw your fiance during meal time, and he mostly avoided looking at you, which was so painfully obvious that you felt angry just being in his presence most of the time. To Aegon’s credit, he was the only one who tried to break the ice and asked you general questions, such as how you found your chambers, or what kind of food you would prefer for the ceremony.

You had half-expected to remain in your room with only the company of your two guards until the wedding, when you heard a knock from the other side one afternoon, as you were reading a book to try and distract yourself. Knowing fully well that the guards kept a close watch on your room, this must have been one of the Greens.

The book you had been reading became less interesting while irritation made it hard for you to concentrate. Sighing, you placed it aside and rose from your bed to open the door, which revealed Aemond standing before you. You threw a glance at both guards who were standing on either side of the door with their backs turned towards you.

“Princess,” said Aemond, his exposed eye flickering between yours. You clenched your jaw as you let go of the door handle, crossing your arms in front of your chest. So far, he had been the only one to address you with the title you had been born with, even if your conversations had been short and rare.

When you only looked at him silently, he added, “I know this situation is far from ideal, but I wish to make it bearable for both of us.”

You snorted, which made the guards turn their heads slightly. It was probably not every day that they witnessed a supposedly high born woman react like this. “Oh, so I am not a bearable match, is that what you are suggesting?”

Aemond’s eye narrowed before he exhaled deeply, and you found it amusing how easily he could be irritated. “This does not have to be harder than it already is.”

“Doesn’t it?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from every word like poison, as you took a step forward. He did not move, and you had to tilt your head to be able to look him into the eye. Aemond One-Eye had always been described as rather short in comparison to his elder brother, but you realized that this was far from true. He practically towered over you.

“Because I’m finding it difficult to believe that marrying my brother’s murderer is anything but hard,” you hissed, staring daggers into the man, who, instead of retreating, lowered his head so it would be even closer to yours, before replying, “This is war, Lady (y/n).” His voice was surprisingly calm, almost sympathetic in a way. “And we stood on opposite sides. So you can continue to hold a grudge, or at least try to adapt to the situation. It’s what rulers do.”

You hated that he was right, and you hated even more that your gaze dropped to his lips, even if it was just for a second. It had suddenly gotten very hot around you, and you had to put some distance between Aemond and you to be able to breathe again.

“You speak of ruling, yet you are a second born son, and third born child. Your brother has heirs of his own.” You observed his facial expressions closely, but he was skilled enough not to move a muscle. Still, you could not help the feeling that there was something else these people were not telling you, and your mother must have been aware of it, too. You knew her, and she would have never married her heir off without the possibility of them sitting on the throne. You only hoped she had not decided to choose one of your siblings in your stead.

“I wish to make up for the past few days,” Aemond said, ignoring your previous comment. You were not sure what exactly he was referring to, but you decided to hear him out. “So I have arranged for you to see your dragon.”

“Zaelix,” you said with wide eyes, and all disdain you felt for the man momentarily evaporated. “Take me to him. Please.”

Aemond nodded and stepped aside to allow you to leave your room, pulling the door behind you shut. When the guards moved, the prince raised his hand, making them stop in their tracks. “No guards are needed in my presence. Continue to guard the Princess’ quarters.”

Without a word, they remained standing as Aemond placed his hand on your back, guiding you through the corridors and away from prying eyes. You observed the walls, trying to memorize the path that would lead you to your dragon. Though you had given up on an escape, mostly thanks to your mother seemingly agreeing to the engagement, you still felt calmer knowing where you could find Zaelix if you needed him.

“I hope your people have not harmed him,” you said as you kept your gaze locked ahead, but you felt Aemond’s hand on your back tense, as if the sheer accusation was an insult to him.

“I can personally assure you that your dragon has been looked after thoroughly. Despite resisting our dragonkeepers at first. He is very loyal.” You smiled proudly in response.

All doubts were gone when you saw Zaelix outside the castle walls. He was bound to the ground by his foot so that he could only raise himself a few meters into the air. When he saw you, he let out a scream of joy, which would have sounded like more of a predator’s scream to those unfamiliar with these creatures. Zaelix spread out his tattered wings, the accents on his white scales shimmering iridescently in the sunlight, and you even caught Aemond staring at the creature.

Zaelix immediately lowered his head to greet you when you stopped before him, pressing your forehead against the dragon’s cheek, both of you closing your eyes in unison. But when you looked up, you saw that he had been saddled.

“I thought a small trip might do you well. You do not strike me as someone who likes to spend her entire time on land,” Aemond said. You smiled faintly, trying your best to still be angry with him, but Aemond was truly making an effort and you started to feel embarrassed that he was the only one trying. Judging by his reaction when Aegon had proclaimed the marriage plan, he had been just as unaware as you.

When you looked around, though, you noticed that Zaelix was the only dragon on the field.

“Are you letting me go alone?” You asked warily, not believing for a second that anyone from Aegon’s court would allow this.

“Not exactly,” said Aemond, and you saw the hesitance on his face. “Vhagar is still recovering from an injury to her left wing. If you are not against it, I would ride with you.”

You swallowed, but nodded, knowing that it was your closest shot at feeling the wind in your hair again any time soon. As Aemond opened the shackles and then climbed your dragon to settle in the saddle, you pressed your forehead against Zaelix’s scaly skin again, silently ordering the dragon to be at his best behavior. This alliance was fragile as it was, and you were responsible enough not to try anything that could harm your mother or siblings.

After giving Zaelix a gentle pat, you followed Aemond into the saddle, wanting to sit down behind him, but he stopped you. “I think it would be safer if you sat before me,” he explained, and you simply looked at him for a few moments more before lowering yourself into the saddle between his legs.

You could feel his chest in your back, and the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “Your dragon is very beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment, not being able to help yourself since Zaelix was your entire pride and joy. Wanting to reply, you turned your head but accidentally brushed your nose against his, which made you reconsider, quickly turning your attention back to the dragon’s head.

“Is this alright?” Asked Aemond as he placed his hands on your waist, and you hated how good his hands felt on your body. You hummed a response, not trusting your voice not to crack, before you gave Zaelix the order to fly.

The wind forced your hair out of your face as your dragon rose higher and higher, until you could see the entirety of the castle below. Your grip around the saddle was strong, like you had been taught, and you let out a cheer just as Zaelix roared, which made Aemond chuckle behind you.

“Have you ever let go of the saddle before?” He asked, his chin brushing your shoulder as he spoke. You had to turn your head again, this time to hear him better since the wind was almost deafening.

“You mean… have I ever free ridden?”

Aemond nodded, but when you replied that you hadn’t, his hands held your waist tighter than before. “If you want to try, I will hold onto you.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, a small part of you telling you that this was a trap and he’d let you fall. Your assassination would not harm your mother’s political standing, since your siblings could easily replace you, but it would weaken her.

Something about Aemond’s touch, however, made you feel like this was an irrational thought, and you hated how easy it was to trust him, despite what he had done. Against your better judgment, you closed your eyes and slowly extended your arms. Aemond pulled you closer towards him, the sudden contact making you gasp, but still, you refrained from opening your eyes.

A smile spread across your lips, as you tasted freedom for the first time since waking up in that dungeon days ago. And even though your eyes were closed, you could feel Aemond looking at you, while he squeezed his legs slightly to make sure that you were sitting safely in the saddle.

Your body reacted to his touch, and you even found yourself leaning against him. Despite the fact that you still did not fully trust this man, you did not want to spend your life married to someone whose touch you didn’t crave, and his attractiveness was evident.

Slowly, you opened your eyes again and turned to look at Aemond, as Zaelix glided through the air. You met his eye, parting your lips slightly, and he did the same. “Thank you,” you breathed. “For today, I mean.”

His gaze lingered on your lips as you spoke, and you found yourself wanting to take off his eye patch, to see what he hid beneath it, but you resisted the urge.

“It was my pleasure, (y/n),” he replied, and you only broke eye contact once Zaelix had landed on the ground again.

#aemond targaryen #one bed trope but make it dragon #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #game of thrones #got #hotd #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower

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