#lucerys velaryon fanfic

[simpingland]

'Alone' together// Lucerys Velaryon x fem!reader.

Y/N Celtigar and Luke have been betrothed for years, but the reader is having a hard time finding true friendship on Dragonstone. Some tutoring makes Luke change his mind about his wife to be.

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No one could stand Jace when he was ahead in any of the classes you all shared with the Master. That's why you took every lesson so seriously, just so you could take him down a peg or two. And it could be fun most of the time, but in the long run, you and Jace never quite clicked, causing Rhaena and Luke to stay somewhat aloof from you, preferring the favour of the prince to the favour of a pupil like you.

When everyone heard the news about Lady Celtigar's death, you were only eight. Rhaenyra saw in you a child who longed for her mother as she had longed for her own, and made a pact with your father to take you into her care. He agreed, proposing a marriage in return. It was a good idea, Valyrian blood with Valyrian blood, extending and strengthening houses that moved across the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, though you were the same age as Jace, Baela was also a close child and the idea of her being queen in the future protected Rhaenyra and Jace's reign...so you were promised to Luke.

It could have been worse, they could have promised you Joffrey...or worse...Jace! At least Lucerys, as you found out a few days later, turned out to be a good boy, if a little too childish for your taste. Growing up in Dragonstone had been quicker than anyone expected, but no less hard. The siblings were very close to each other, and they were also very close to their dragons. Rhaena was sweet and pleasant, but there was something about her company that made you feel as if she was there out of obligation. You never had the feeling that you belonged there.

Arguments between the four of you were very common, never worrisome as they were usually the typical ones caused by going on adventures together, by stealing things from each other... although if someone came out crying, it was usually you. You were a studious young woman, always alert and if Rhaenyra found out about all the shenanigans of the group, it was because you told her. They never listened when you justified yourself by saying that lying was not an option for you. At dinners together you were usually the one who was left out of the conversation, even if they were talking about you. If you were lucky and Luke got mad at Jace too, you had the young man sitting next to you as he prattled on about Arrax and how much he hated Jace that day. He never failed to make you laugh. Sadly, that didn't always happen, and it was more common for him to give you the same dirty looks as the rest when you didn't play along.

Rhaenyra already knew about this problem, and she tried to educate you on how being friends with your husband was always the best way to be married. The problem was that you didn't really know how to make friends...because no one understood how you loved them, everything you said or did ended up being used against you. And no matter how much you made up your mind that you shouldn't do anything, you couldn't help but stay at the table with Luke after he failed his geography lesson with the Maester. Jace had already left for his dragon with a victorious smile, and Rhaena accompanied him, the Maester would show her how to feed her little Morning.

Luke was more embarrassed than sad, you could see it in the way he looked down at you as you paced the table with the map.

"Don't you have one of your sewing classes or one of those lame things you like to do?" he asked.

"I don't like boring things...I just like to be quiet. It's different. And no, I can stay and help you."

"No need, thanks..." he tried to concentrate on the map.

"You should learn some trick to memorize the map...a song, a rhyme..."

"That's just stupid." He interrupted you and you instantly stopped wanting to help him. Something must have crossed your eyes because Luke felt bad right away. "Sorry...it's just...Jace will laugh at me if he sees me burst into song if someone asks me to point out the Isles of Tarth."

This made you laugh, and Luke smiled at your reaction. It wasn't very casual to see you laugh genuinely, it was always usually out of politeness or only brought on by the Maester, Rhaenyra, or some guard. Although, if he thought about it, Luke had seen you laugh at times when he had focused more on you than on the dinners.

"It's just a trick, you end up memorising it eventually. Besides, by the time you're Lord of Driftmark you'll have travelled more. It will be easier."

"How do you memorise it?"

"Oh..." you didn't expect that question. Perhaps because the answer was so personal. "I think about my family. Where my grandmothers were born...where my uncle died...where my grandfather won a battle...where my mother was a ward when she was my age..."

It seemed like a sad thing, but it wasn't really sad for you. The maps served you like a history book. You'd always had a head for remembering stories, and it was all because you felt too trapped there, too lonely. You enjoyed visits to the castle, something the others hated, for even the dullest Lord had an anecdote about someone in your family. However, if the Targaryen children wanted to know something about their family, all they had to do was open any history book.

"It's very nice, really, though I think I'd go mad if I used your method." Luke tried to lighten up a bit the turn the conversation seemed about to take.

"Right, I think the simplest thing to do is for us to decorate our own map." You suggested.

"I don't have enough inks to make a nice map."

"I do!"

Luke had to follow you at a quickened pace, even though he was even slightly taller than you, your enthusiasm to show him your full artistic arsenal outweighed physics. You let him into your rooms, where he hadn't been for many years, and he was surprised to see that it was more cluttered than he expected. There were piles of books in every nook and cranny, many open and with notes on their sides. You also had a small desk in front of your balcony. When he looked out, he noticed that you overlooked the beach. It made him tender to know that he could watch you study while he trained with Jace.

The afternoon flew by as Luke decorated a map with colours assigned to houses, animals and creatures. He made trees and mountains, and you taught him to draw castles for important towns. On a thinner piece of paper, you wrote the names of all those places and Luke tried to name the points you pointed out and then you checked it by putting the paper over it. And it didn't take him long to match what he said with what it really was. He was so happy that he even gave you a hug.

From that day on, geography lessons were much more fun for Luke, as he spent more time drawing than memorising, and he showed you all the things he was doing. Jace's concentration would be thrown off by your whispering and giggling. Sometimes you would show him the annotations and drawings you had on your map, and you would have fun imagining an tracing a dragon ride.

He started helping you in Valyrian, Luke's favourite subject. And at dinners he always sat next to you, apart from Rhaena and Jace. Luke always did the talking, for he always had more to tell than you, who spent the whole day engaged in something completely alternative to what the others were doing. Day by day, he would let you feel open enough to give him your opinion on the books you were reading or telling him some childhood stories.

One of the days when Jace and Luke were training, Luke remembered that afternoon, and your little desk overlooking the beach. He stopped to look for you with his eyes, and it took him a while to find your figure, but he did. He couldn't see you clearly, but he could make out that you were leaning on your balcony, concentrating on something, with a pen in your hand.

"It would be good if you were concentrating on something, Lucerys," the older scolded him.

"Sorry, you're right...I'm really getting better though." Luke smiled mischievously at her.

"Only in geography, I'm not going to applaud your need to draw trees in the woods." Jace landed a lazy first punch, pulling Luke's gaze away from yours.

"Hey! Easy!" Luke tried to hit him back, but clearly Jace was better than him.

"Oops, sorry...I didn't remember how much of a pussy you've become since you and Y/N are the best of friends."

It was silly, but the fight that was supposed to be a rehearsal turned into something all too real, and Jace and Luke were soon fighting without swords, using shoves and fists. From a blow that Jace threw disproportionately, Luke felt part of his lower lip split. At the sight of blood, both stopped instantly.

Of course they were brought before Rhaenyra by the guard who at the time was unable to stop them. And you, who could hear all the commotion, went down to check what was going on. Both were dishevelled but only Luke was bleeding.

"I want an explanation, right now!" Rhaenyra looked furious.

"Luke is being unbearable, mother." Jace gave her a terrible look.

"It's you who can't stand to be outdone. You're always the most important." Luke accepted the water-soaked handkerchief you gave him. He let out a small whimper as he felt the sting.

"Maybe it's because I'm the heir to the throne, my education is vital. And you only know how to giggle and be a shitty student."

You couldn't take it anymore, he always used that excuse, that he had to be the best to be a good king. Luke had already confessed to you over dinner that the love and admiration he had for Jace causes him a lot of anxiety, because he felt unfit to rule something as important as Driftmark.

"That doesn't give you any right to hit him..." everyone turned to look at you, and Jace was relieved to find himself back in the same situation where you were making a fool of yourself.

"You weren't there to see it, it would be nice if you stayed out of this for once."

"I didn't do anything wrong, don't talk to me like that." You were getting that high-pitched, agitated voice again that you get when you're feeling overly nervous. Luke could see it, his hand rested on your arm gently.

"It's your fault Luke's an twat now. All you know how to do is be a pain in the ass to everyone, and now you're filling my brother's head with your bullshit."

"What's wrong with you is that you're unbearable and jealous because Baela isn't here to tell you how well you're doing everything."

"And what's wrong with you is that you're such a pain in the ass that your father put you on the first boat that offered to take you off his sight."

"Jace!" Rhaenyra snapped at him. "I command you to stop talking like that. I remember teaching you some manners, didn't I?. Apologize. Right now."

Jace gave a sigh. And with a forced smile, he focused on them both.

"Luke, I'm really sorry I hurt you, maybe I went too far, considering you're also going to spend the rest of your life next to this absolute bore and insufferable woman. It's a big sacrifice on your part."

Jace gave Luke a friendly slap on his shoulder and turned away, forgiving himself. You, on the other hand, had already started to feel the tears forming at the thought of disappearing from your father's sight. It was too delicate of a subject, and you longed for him, Jace had struck another blow too hard.

"Apologize to Y/N, Jace." Luke's voice sounded serious, demanding. Jace turned away.

"By what right are you commanding me around now?"

"I'm your brother, and Y/N will be my wife, your sister-in-law, and we'll all be a family. Show her the respect she deserves, and ask for her forgiveness."

Jace was quiet for a second. Luke's hand moved to reach for your hand and squeezed it, it was cold, but at his touch, it began to warm.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." It was dry, and it was surely not for you, but for Luke. It was still humiliating, and of course, it was you who left that room crying.

You tried to hide your tears from Luke, who was asking you not to leave, but you couldn't even come up with an excuse, you just disappeared from there.

When you didn't show up for dinner, Luke couldn't eat a single bite. Rhaenyra watched as your empty seat provoked something in him that hadn't happened before, he became quiet. Jaxe was also quiet, stressed and recovering from the scold he received from his mother after all that scene. With a nod of his head, Luke had permission to get up and look for you. Your door was open, but inside your room you were hard to find. On the floor, your back against your bed, a candle illuminated one of your maps. You tried to wipe your face a little as Luke sat down next to you.

"You're missing your favourite dessert..." he tried to get a smile out of you, he couldn't. "I'm sure Jace regrets what he said, he didn't say a single word at dinner."

"He regrets a lot of things I'm sure, but never that he spoke ill of me." You told him without so much as a glance at him.

"That's not true. There may be friction, but we're all family."

"Yeah, but I'm not in it. All I try to do is to be fair, to do the right thing. Your mother is a future queen to me, I must always tell her the truth. And none of the three of you seem to understand the great danger you are in every day..."

"I do understand that you do it for us, but soon she will be like a mother to you too." Luke held your hand.

"I miss my family so much...All I really have from them is just memories I didn't even get to live, few years with my mother... I try to love in the present but then I'm faced with this ignorace against my person.Lucerys, every day I feel this sorrow, this silence...I feel so, so lonely."

Then he understood your great passion for maps. And he suddenly felt like a tremendous idiot. I could have been there for you much earlier. But he was convinced that it was a good time to start.

"I've had dreams too...well, they were really nightmares...about being heir to Driftmark and spending my whole life alone. Jace would be here, Mother at King's Landing, Rhaena married, and everyone else would be dead...and you would be left, as always, locked in your rooms, not wanting to talk to anyone."

At last you looked at him, he too had a sad expression. His lip was split at the bottom. His eyes connected with yours.

"I'm sorry you had that impression of me...you...I actually, genuinely like you. A lot."

You watched as Luke smiled mischievously, like his mother did.

"It'll be the only thing I beat Jace at..." he finally got a laugh out of you. "Maybe, we could feel 'alone' together."

"Sounds like a good idea..."

"And we can go to sleep together, but alone." He continued to joke.

"And have lonely blonde and brunette children..." you continued.

"And sail the ocean alone..."

And in unison you both said "but together!"

At the coincidence, you burst out laughing. And more you laughed when Luke got a stitch of pain in his lip from smiling. His little scream was too funny.

"Hey...don't be mean!" he scolded you with a totally fake frown.

"Oh, my prince, I'm sorry! That wound looks bad..."

"Well, the Maester says nothing that can't be fixed with a kiss on the wound in question."

"Haha! Now I really feel sorry for you if you need a kiss from the Maester..."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck, the sages say only kisses from beautiful, blonde women, lousy with Valyrian but great readers with a strangely amusing laugh."

In that light, Luke had made you happier than you had ever imagined. He might still be a little more childish than you'd like, but it was this that made you laugh during dinners and lessons. This dedication to your could be the beginning of a fun and pleasant future, much closer than your inner child had imagined when you read those love stories in your books.

It was you who reached first, and Luke was the first to close his eyes. A tender kiss on the lips, first on his bottom lip, soft and slow, trying not to hurt him. But above was his upper lip, intact, and there you gave him another kiss, more intense, but just as sweet. And Luke pressed his lips together as hard as he could, letting himself be carried away by your soft lips brushing his. When you broke apart, he saw you blush a little, but you immediately laughed at him, who was much more flushed than you were.

"Actually...if I'm going to be your wife, you didn't have to memorise all those places. I would know them for you." You told him as you walked on your way to the kitchen, ready to dine alone with the leftovers from dinner.

"Right..." Luke led the way, holding your hand. "Although then you would never have realised how much you really like me."

#lucerys velaryon #lucerys strong #prince lucerys #lucerys targaryen #luke velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys Velaryon x y/n #lucerys Velaryon fanfic #lucerys velaryon one shot #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #elliot grihault

[saltandfire-blog]

When you realize your ship is manifested from Fox and the Hound 😅❤️

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #fanfiction #house targaryen #lucerys targaryen #westeros #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #fox and the hound #friends to lovers to enemies #friends to enemies #lovers to enemies #lucerys velaryon fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #lucemond

[house-strong]

༄࿔ petrichor and sea salt

summary ; drabble requested by @cedricsleftelbow as part of my 1k follower celebration.

“I was thinking about this prompt "please. please just listen to me."”+ “Like in the rain them fighting over something and he says "please. please just listen to me." He confesses and she just stands. Then she hits him and yells at him “WHY TF DID YOU NOT SAY ANYTHING SOONER YOU IDIOT?!?!?””

pairing ; lucerys velaryon x reader

notes ; i thought this was a beautiful concept!! yay unrevised 8 am writing 😫🙏

thunder looms over the castle of driftmark. bursts of hot, white flashes litter the sky, illuminating the sparsely lit hallways of the castle to a point where the shadows come alive. rain is pelting down on the cobblestone, tittering and pattering against the high stone walls of driftmark. wind is howling within the night, seeming to make a song for the shadows to dance to.

you’re disheartened at this point, anger freely flowing through your veins and, despite the cold the winds bring, burning your skin with intense fire. a huff of hair shoots out from your mouth, the tears that formed as a result of yelling at your lifelong best friend, lucerys velaryon, were now free falling, sending cascades of rivers to stain your pink cheeks.

lucerys is saying something, you don’t know what, for there’s a stream of blood rushing to your ears that drowns out his words. you grow increasingly irritated; you’re hot and sticky with sweat, there’s a pounding in your head from the tears that spill, and bottom line, lucerys is avoiding the answer to your question.

“forget it, luke,” you seethe through a clenched jaw. you turn on your heel, stomping out of his doorway and into the canopy of walls. despite the overhang, droplets rain in from the sides that were littered with open windows. each droplet attacks you with ferocity, almost mimicking the anger you felt boiling in your stomach – taunting you and telling you the prince wasn’t yours.

who was lucerys to decide who you should court? as your friend and prince, he should have some influence to help you live happily, not squander your attempts to find a good match.

despite the bitter cold of the outside of his room, lucerys follows you, his pleas becoming more desperate. his voice is loud over the ocean that sings its melody.

“please! please,” lucerys cries out, a hand raising to shield his eyes from the water that attracted itself to his face. he follows you down the path where it leads to the open courtyard. you’re both soaked to the bone at this point, shivers racking both your body’s, and warm breaths of air puffing smoke into the sky. lucerys pulls his wet coat tighter around him, “listen to me!”

his hand flies to your wrists and pulls you to a stop, turning you around to face him. his dark hair sticks to his forehead, sending droplets to fly from the ends. his eyes are filled with a wild innocence. you stare at him grudgingly, your face contorting into despair as tears continue to fall; they’re filled with anger and disappointment.

“i–” luke starts, cutting himself off as he thinks. he’s unsure as to what to say – should he just lay it all out? he could, but then who was to say how you would react? would he lose your friendship? “i said no to all of them because–”

he stops, his words losing themself within the rain.

“well?” you respond, brows furrowed.

“i love you.”

it’s as if you control the weather yourself, for the anger you feel bubbles down into a simmer and the rain’s ferociousness dies down, replaced by softer pellets of rain. you’re open-mouthed, mind tasting his confession on your subconscious voice. you blink away you tears and think.

it all made sense, really. as if everything clicked all at once.

lucerys velaryon denied all your suitors because he loved you.

a hand goes to your face, wiping the excess water and removing hair that’s bothering your face. you two stare at each other, unsure.

suddenly, your hand swats at his chest and he jumps back, turning his chest away. the action causes a dull ache on his skin and a burning sensation on your knuckle. he puts his arms in front of him as if to defend himself from another attack. he’s bewildered, shouting a ‘hey’ in response.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you shout, sending another attack on his covered torso. he swats away your hand with his. “i love you, lucerys, but sometimes you’re an idiot.”

the insult flies over his head when you announce your own heartfelt feelings. he knows you were upset and wound up by the anger you felt, but now words of clarity were spilling from you. your words give him confidence, confidence to move forward and grasp your face with his hands, pulling you into a soft kiss. your hands meet his and you sink into the action.

he pulls away, smacking his lips together quietly as if tasting you on them.

he pushes a strand of hair back, biting back a smile, “i don’t know.”

you shake your head, returning the grin that was growing on his mouth, “you’re an idiot, lucerys velaryon.”

#lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon blurb #lucerys velaryon fanfic #lucerys velaryon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd blurb #house-strong 1k celebration #my writing

[starogeorgina]

First Lucerys fic coming soon

#house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon x reader #Lucerys Velaryon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon edit #my edits

[doxypsychlean]

Sōvēs!

Lucerys Velaryon & Arrax (ONESHOT)

Warnings: it WILL break your heart. Just as it did mine, while I was writing it.

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll come up with more like this one, all to torture your poor soul!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Oof, this one is just...

"Mother?"

The boy looked around. There was nothing. Only white.

"Mother?!" He yelled out, panic in his voice. His brown eyes were now filled with fear, as opposed to their usual warm,happy glow.

He was alone. Alone in this big, white empty space.

"Is anyone here?!" The boy yelled out once more, eyes searching frantically, scanning every corner of this strange room for a glimpse of another. "Please!"

A soft growl came from behind him.

"Arrax!" He recognized the sound immediately. "Where are we, boy? What's going on?"

His voice had gone down, now barely above a whisper as he approached his dragon. The beast looked down at him with golden eyes, filled with sorrow. The dragon nudged him softly with its head, almost as if trying to apologize for something.

"I don't understand... We were... We were at..."

He couldn't remember. He knew that him a his dragon were flying back from somewhere, trying to reach their home.

"Where were we? And where are we now? I don't..."

His small hand ran over the white scales. There were a few droplets running down from them.

Storm's End. The rain. Vhagar. Lord Borros. Blue shimmer of a sapphire. Aemond.

"Give me your eye or I will take it..." He repeated the words his uncle had said to him earlier that day. "Oh, Arrax! I'm so,so sorry..."

It all came back to him. The fear. Both his and the one that ran through his dragon, as the two looked around; two pairs of eyes, one brown and the other golden, both searching for the looming shadow of Vhagar before they flew off.

"Was that it, boy? Are we...?"

Then came the memory of two strong jaws clamping down on white scales and pale skin with all their might. Tearing through them as if it was nothing. The pain that lasted only a few seconds. His uncle yelling out in horror. Then all went dark.

"Doesn't matter now, does it?"

Arrax nodded its head, as if agreeing with its rider's words. It didn't matter anymore. But the dragon still had a look of regret written on its face. It averted its gaze as it tried to put its head under one pearlescent wing.

"Well... How about we find a way to get out of here, hm?" The boy placed his hands on each side of the beast's head and pulled at it. He could read through the dragon's expression. Arrax felt guilty. It couldn't save him. It failed. They were both gone.

"Hey, I didn't see her either... It's no one's fault, really." Brown locks of hair shook as he laughed out with a reassuring nod of his head.

Arrax stared down at him . Sorry, friend. I was scared. I tried. But we never made it out of that storm.

"It's all going to be alright, Arrax. Let's get out of here."

Lucerys looked around. There were no white walls anymore. No big, empty space. Only clouds. Pure and white. All around them.

"Well, that sure makes it easier! Let's go then!"

The boy laughed again, the sound coming from the bottom of his heart as happy tears streamed down his face. Arrax let out a happy growl in return. The beast bowed down, inviting his friend to climb on his back.

"Sōvēs, Arrax!"

The dragon took a few steps forward, then spread his white wings and took off.

For the entire ride back to King's Landing, Aemond could see two shadows flying close behind him, a bit off to the side. High up. Way above him. He kept turning around, but whenever he did, the shadows dissappeared.

The laugh of a boy could be heard in the short distance, youthful and innocent. A flap of scaly wings followed close after.

"Higher, Arrax, higher!"

Vhagar's big eyes looked up and landed on the two shadows above them. She let out a loud roar as they flew higher and higher, untill the white iridescent scales and curly brown hair dissappeared out of sight, only stopping when she couldn't see them anymore.

#lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon fanfic #lucerys targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #arrax #vhagar #hotd fanfic #hotd #game of thrones #dance of dragons #oneshot #accepting requests #requests open

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.” 

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.  

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen

[slavicdelight]

The Hight Tower and the Dragon's Heir

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader

Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.

Warnings: none, following canon divergence

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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.

As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.

However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.

In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.

"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.

"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.

"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.

"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.

"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.

Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.

"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.

As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.

A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.

Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.

The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.

Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.

Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.

Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.

Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.

"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.

Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.

As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.

When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.

The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.

Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.

As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.

The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.

As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.

In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.

Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.

These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.

As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.

Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.

Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.

The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.

Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.

The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.

Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.

During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.

The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"

In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.

Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.

More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.

Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."

Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.

With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.

The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.

Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?

Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.

Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.

The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.

As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.

Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.

Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.

Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.

The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.

In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.

A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.

The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.

However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.

In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.

Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.

As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.

Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.

Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.

The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.

In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.

As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ♡

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #alicent hightower x reader #male reader #otto hightower #viserys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #jaecerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aemond one eye #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #team green #team black #house of the dragon fanfiction #alicent hightower #targaryen reader #aemond hotd #aemond targaryen fanfic #fic rec #hotd season 2 #princess rhaenyra #king viserys #queen alicent #alicent hightower fanfic #dance of the dragons #aegon ii targaryen #helaena the dreamer #helaena targaryen

[maidragoste]

Chapter One: The Reaping

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader (I labeled it that even though Jace's backstory is different from Katniss's but he and Reader will be the star-crossed lovers of district 12)

Chapter Two

I really hope you like it because I'm so excited to write this au!

Please let me know what you think in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys entered the Victors' Village, not that he was a victor. In fact, his name had never come up in the reaping. But he and his brothers lived there since his uncle Larys took care of them after his father died in the middle of an explosion in the mines while working.

The teenager quickly quickened his pace while adjusting his grip on the only two squirrels he had brought from all the ones he had hunted during the morning with Baela, his best friend. He may not have needed to hunt for food anymore but he was one of the few people in District 12 who knew how to hunt. Some people had depended on bartering with his father to bring a plate of food to his table. His father would not have wanted him to leave those people abandoned, so every day he sneaks into the forest with Baela to look for deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, fish, or any type of edible vegetable or fruit. He always gave the best goods to Baela, after all, she had more mouths to feed with her mother, her twin sister, and her two little brothers. But the rest he exchanged with the merchants or even sometimes he practically ended up giving away his merchandise due to the low price that he was willing to accept from the families that he knew did not have enough to eat to prevent them from ending up asking for more tesserae. Uncle Larys had never told him but Jacaerys knew that he thought he was a fool for doing that.

Jacaerys hated the silence in the village but it was no surprise considering that of the twelve houses there, the only house that was being inhabited was his uncle's. Of the seventy-three Hunger Games that have been held so far, there have only been two victors from District 12 and the only one still alive is Larys Strong.

Jace hurried into the house trying to ignore the heaviness in his stomach.

“I told you Luke would throw up again this year! You owe me!” was the first thing Joffrey, his youngest brother, said when he saw him.

Lucerys, or Luke as his dad had nicknamed him, was the middle brother, and every year he had the worst time during Repairing; which was the moment when the District escort went up to the podium and then took a random piece of paper from each glass urn, one containing the names of all the boys between twelve and eighteen years old and another with the names of the girls. This was how the tributes were chosen for each Hunger Games. Like any coherent person in District 12 Luke feared being chosen as a tribute and unlike Jacaerys he could not hide his fear.

“Take this to the kitchen,” the oldest of the brothers asked, handing the squirrels to Joffrey before running to the bathroom.

When Jacaerys entered he found Luke hunched over, holding the toilet bowl. Ignoring the smell of vomit he hurried to his brother's side and with one hand began to rub soothing circles on Luke's back while the other brushed the hair from his face. He doesn't know how many minutes they stayed like this until the youngest finally stopped vomiting.

"I'm sorry, Jace" Luke apologized with a broken voice and tears on his cheeks, clearly feeling ashamed for being in the same position for another year. "I really tried."

"Hey, you have nothing to apologize for," Jacaerys denied as he helped him up from the floor. "It's okay to be afraid. Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid."

"Joffrey is not afraid," the youngest murmured after cleaning his face.

Joffrey must have been the only thirteen-year-old in District 12 who wasn't horrified at the thought of his name coming up in the Reaping. Jacaerys believed it was because Joff thought he would be able to win the games just by being a relative of a victor. Also, of the three, Joff seemed to want Uncle Larys's validation and attention the most. In these three years living with him he had never told them that he loved them but Jace thought that he should at least care a little about them because otherwise he could have let the authorities take them to the community orphanage instead of taking care of them.

"I told you, an idiot," Jace said, managing to get a small laugh out of Lucerys. "Listen, Luke. Everything will be fine. You never asked for a tessera so your name is only on four pieces of paper."

In the first year when you started to be part of the Reaping, they put your name only once in the bowl. But every time you have a birthday they add another paper with your name on it. If you do not ask for any tessera then it is assumed that you will reach the age of eighteen with only seven papers.

Jacaerys always tried to reassure his brother, and also himself, saying that the chances of his name coming up were low compared to all the people who had to ask for tesserae to be able to eat.

"Lucerys, Jacaerys, start getting ready for the Reaping" Larys ordered from below. There was no need for him to shout as the house was silent.

"Take a bath, you stink" Jacaerys mocked, ruffling Lucerys's hair before leaving him in the bathroom.

"Happy Hunger Games! and may the odds be ever in your favor!" greeted Effie Trinket, the District 12 companion, with the same excitement as in previous years.

While Effie gives a speech about what an honor it is for her to be there as a companion, Jacaerys's eyes meet Baela's. She smiles at him and he struggles to return it. Baela is so brave, he doesn't know how she isn't trembling with fear knowing that her name is at least twenty times. Maybe in recent years she was no longer asking for tesserae but before Jacaerys moved in with his uncle she had.

"Ladies first!" said Effie announcing that it was time for the drawing. She approaches the urn with the girls' names and then reaches deep inside and takes out a piece of paper. You can feel the tension in the air and for a moment everyone seems to hold their breath until Effie opens the paper and I read it "Y/n Y/l!"

Shit. Jacaerys knew you. He had seen you more than once at the bakery when he went to buy or exchange his merchandise with your father. Not only that but you two share classes together at school. You weren't friends. But you were still there for his brothers when he was too devastated by the death of his father to care about anyone else. You were the one who stopped some idiots from bothering Luke at school, you were the one who helped Joffrey with his homework to prevent him from repeating a grade, and you, in the only conversation you ever shared, reminded him that he was important to the District, that his brothers needed him, that he could not abandon them, that his father would not have wanted to see him as a ghost in life, that he would have wanted him to help the people of the District.

Jace had to go say goodbye to you, his gratitude may be three years late but he needed to thank you for taking care of his brothers when he had failed them and remind him that he had a purpose.

Jacaerys watches you move towards the stage. Your posture is straight, your chin up and your steps are firm but he can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You still look pretty in your pink dress, it wasn't glamorous at all—no one in the district wears glamorous clothes—but in his eyes, you stood out. It's probably because, unlike other girls in the district, your clothes didn't hang off and your bones didn't show, you didn't look like someone who was malnourished.

Maybe with your beauty and if you had a good interview you could get lucky and captivate a sponsor, he thought. He hoped that this year his uncle would try even harder to bring home a winner.

Once you are on stage Effie asks for volunteers. Of course, no one offers.

“Now it's time to meet our male tribute!” Effie announces, rushing to the boys' urn and pulling out the first piece of paper she sees, “Lucerys Strong!”

This must be a nightmare, Jacaerys thought. They were supposed to be safe, they had never asked for tesserae. He was snapped out of his stupor by hearing Joffrey's desperate cries calling for Luke as his brother began to walk with fear and tears in his eyes to the stage. Jace didn't even think about it, he broke out of his formation and started running after Lucerys.

“I'm a volunteer!” he shouted when the peacekeepers grabbed him, wanting to take him away from Lucerys. “I volunteered as a tribute!” he repeated, standing up straight, once they released him.

"Magnificent!" Effie exclaimed, happy because there was finally some action in the District. "But you are supposed to present the winner of the reaping first and then ask for volunteers…"

"Just let him up," the mayor interrupted her sharply, clearly upset by the situation. He knew Jacaerys because he always bought strawberries from him and Baela.

“No, Jace!” Lucerys said with a trembling voice, still shaking her head. “You can't!”

“Go to Joffrey” the eldest brother ordered firmly, he wanted to hug Luke but he was afraid that if he did he would also start crying and he couldn't do it knowing that the cameras were filming everything. He couldn't appear weak. “Go,” he repeated, pushing him aside and heading to the stage without looking back.

Jacaerys' brown eyes meet yours and the heaviness in his stomach increases. He would have to kill you if he wanted to come home, you, the person who pushed him to move forward after her father's death. He had never thanked you and much less would he do so now knowing that in a few days, he may be the one who ended up killing you. Obviously, luck was not on his side but if you died he really hoped that it would be another of the tributes who would end up taking your life. If it became him and he managed to win the games, Jacaerys was sure that there would not be a day in which he would not think of you.

"Wonderful!" Effie exclaimed once the young man finished climbing the stairs. "What's your name?"

"Jacaerys Strong," he answered.

"I'll bet my shoes he was your brother. You didn't want him to steal your glory, did you?" The companion's smile disappeared before the furious looks of the victor and the tributes. "Good! Let's give a big round of applause to our new tribute!"

But no one applauds. The entire District demonstrates its disagreement with its silence. Not only that, but many people begin to bring the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then point them at Jacaerys. He looks shocked as they give him that gesture. It was not a common thing to be used in the District but every once in a while, someone would do it during funerals. It was a gesture of giving thanks, of admiration, of farewell to a loved one. The same gesture they had made at his father's funeral. Jacaerys feels a lump form in his throat. He can't help but look at you, this was thanks to you, if you hadn't reminded him that the District needed him like they needed his dad then maybe he would have continued in silence staring into nothingness, living mechanically instead of starting to help people like his dad used to do.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he instructs you and Jace to shake hands. Jacaerys notices that your hand is a little smaller than his and he feels warm against hiss. You catch him off guard when you squeeze his hand as if to encourage him. He returns the gesture even though he knows he shouldn't, it wasn't the time to become friends.

Tag: @valeskafics @agqrtz

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[blakeswritingimagines]

When they realized they loved you

Aegon: He was never much of a romantic. It takes more than a few flowers and well-chosen words to charm his heart. But when you met in the godswood, there was an instant connection, like you'd known each other for years. Your laugh, your smile, your wit, they all sparked a fire inside him that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Your presence filled his heart with such joy and when you looked at him with those eyes, he was transfixed. He knew then, without a doubt, that you were the one.

Aemond: There was never a specific moment when he realized he was in love with you. It was more like a gradual process. He began to feel a strong connection to you and began to care deeply for you in ways he had never before experienced. Each time you spent together only solidified these feelings. It was after your first kiss that he began to fully realize the depth of his feelings.

Jacaerys: You are a wonderful person who is both beautiful and kind. He fell in love the moment your eyes met. The way you smiled and made him feel comfortable. He can't ever explain it properly, but you made him feel something he had never felt before. It was like his heart was bursting with joy just from your presence.

Lucerys: It was love at first sight. He knew right away that you were meant for each other. It was a feeling of warmth and comfort that he had never experienced before. The more time you spent together, the deeper your bond grew. He was completely overwhelmed by your beauty and charm.

Rhaenyra: It was during a hunt in the Kingswood. After having killed two stags, you found yourselves alone in a clearing. She noticed for the first time how beautiful you were, with the sun shining off your angelic presence almost as if casting a halo over your head. The next thing she knew you were kissing each other.

Daemon: When he first saw you across the crowded ballroom of the Red Keep. You had a glow that seemed to draw him, a glimmer in your eyes that would enchant a fool but he knew you would be his one day. Every inch of you seemed perfect, your supple flesh, your gentle touch, your voice that could melt steel. He knew that he had to have you.

Alicent: When she first laid her eyes upon you. You were the most beautiful person she had ever seen, and your personality made you even more attractive. Your intelligence, your humor, your kindness, and your strength of character. She was instantly drawn to you and knew you were the one for her.

Helena: It was the way you looked at her, the way you spoke to her. It was like everything else disappeared the moment she was with you. Whenever she was with you all the chaos of the world faded away, and all that remained was you both. It was as if she could feel your soul reaching out to her own, and your hearts beating together as one.

Harwin: It was love at first sight. From the moment your eyes met, he could not help but feel a burning in his chest. A feeling of warmth and connection that he had never experienced before. You exchanged glances across the room, and your hearts were quickly intertwined, entwined in a way that neither of you could escape. He knew then and there that he had found his partner for life.

Cregan: As soon as he saw you. He was amazed by your beauty. You were so delicate and graceful, yet fierce and strong. Your eyes were like two shining jewels, and your smile was the warmest thing he had ever seen. When he held you in his arms, he knew that you were the one for him.

Criston: He realized when he couldn’t imagine a day without being within your proximity. When every moment he is not with you is spent yearning for your touch, your voice, your smile. You are the sun in his sky and without you, darkness seems to swallow his world.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #alicent hightower x reader #helena targaryen x reader #harwin strong x reader #criston cole x reader #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

Game of Thrones Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Aemond Targaryen ♡

Lemon Cakes - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Modern Aemond HCs

Courting HCs

Jealousy HC's

🆇Polaroid's Part 1🆇 🆇Missed You Part 2🆇

🆇Collar🆇

♡ Aegon Targaryen ♡

Modern Aegon HCs

Promise

Artist

🆇Reward🆇

🆇Passageways🆇

Wrapping Presents

Birthday Celebrations

Neighbour part one Daughter part two

♡ Helaena Targaryen ♡

Modern Helaena HCs

🆇Wife🆇

♡ Jace Velaryon ♡

Modern Jace HC's

Cocky Part One 🆇Part Two🆇

🆇Nsfw Alphabet🆇

🆇See You Again🆇

Modern Crush Headcannons

🆇How to Treat a Princess🆇 (featuring Aegon)

🆇Yours🆇

Frat Party Part 1- Frat Baby Part 2

🆇Perfect Wife🆇

Studying

♡ Luke Velaryon ♡

Modern Luke HC's

Dance

Study date - part one - part two

♡ Daemon Targaryen ♡

Modern Daemon HC's

🆇My Sweet Dragon🆇

🆇Partition🆇

🆇In Charge🆇

My Moon & Stars (sequel to in charge)

【P】Swear it【P】

Sugar Baby Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - 🆇Part 4.5🆇 - Part 4 - Part 5 Wedding - Honeymoon

🆇Missed You🆇

🆇Rings🆇

🆇Moved In🆇

♡ Rhaenyra Targaryen ♡

🆇Perzītsos🆇

🆇 Worth it🆇

♡ Harwin Strong ♡

🆇Take Care of You🆇

Suitable Match

♡ Criston Cole ♡

🆇Test my Devotion🆇

♡ Cregan Stark ♡

🆇 Princess🆇

🆇Perfect Little Prisoner🆇

♡Alicent Hightower♡

🆇Dreams🆇

Preferences/Multicharacter

How they react to you being drunk – Aemond, Aegon, Heleana 🆇How he is in bed🆇 – Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Daemon, Harwin 🆇Modern NSFW Heacannons🆇- Jace, Daemon, Aegon, Aemond How they react to your period - Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Cregan, Luke

Modern boyfriend Headcannons - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

New Years Countdown - aegon, aemond, jace, luke

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon smut #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #rhaenerya targaryen x reader #heleana targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #lucerys valeryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #cregan stark x reader #harwin strong x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic

[simpingland]

Ok so what abt…

lucerys with a knight!reader and hes like whipped and things their the coolest person ever but gets all nervous when he sees them training or talks to them

idk I think it’s cute 🙏😽

Trust // Lucerys Velaryon x neutral!Knignt!Reader

Summary: Luke is enchanted by a new young Knight. He is so desperate to impress his crush that he put himself in embarrasing situations.

A/N: Loved this request, but I had a headache trying to decide the pronouns!!!!!! But I sorted it out, thanks for reaching, hope you like it!<3

--------------------------

Being a knight had never been Prince Lucerys Velaryon's dream. He had enough work trying to come to terms with being lord of Driftmark. But seeing you made him question many things. Your uniform of armor was one of a thousand things that had caught his eye. It had been Rhaenyra who had placed you close to all her family, you were one of the finest knights, young and respectable, though not of noble birth. Your primary duty was to protect the princes, and this was something Luke appreciated. His interest in learning to fight grew, and he used to pester Jace to spend more time with the sword, which he himself didn't like. But no one understood, and Luke carried it very quietly, knowing that his chance with you was nil. That didn't stop him from getting up early to watch you train, with that thin layer of sweat making you shine. He couldn't even feel jealous when some other knight made you smile, for he loved to see you in the comfort of being out of work.

It took him a long time to summon up the courage to speak to you, and as he had feared it went terribly wrong. He approached you with the intention of demonstrating how good he was at archery, which he was certainly better at than the sword. He deliberately positioned himself close to where you were resting, with a feigned air of confidence, and pretended to watch the arrows with precision.

"They are all the same, my Prince," you told him.

He instantly turned red.

"That's what I was checking."

He tried not to pretend he saw your smile, but it wasn't malicious either, the Prince looked very tender with that focused face. The first arrow was just a little off the centre of the target, and the court nobles applauded Luke falsely. Not you, you just stood and watched as Luke sighed in dissatisfaction. The second arrow missed completely and caused something of a commotion. When the third missed again, the laughter of the crowd was impossible to hide. That was the moment when Luke disappeared, with the excuse that he had to go back to his Valyrian lessons.

You would have liked to follow him, to tell him to ignore the people, but it was not appropriate. So the next day you made an effort to talk to him. You were walking along the beach, on your way to visit Arrax. The young prince kept his head down, looking everywhere and avoiding your face.

"The good thing about arrows, my Prince, is that during battle it doesn't matter how well you aim them, the important thing is that they hit the enemy, and they always go in masses."

You saw him smile sheepishly.

"The worst of it is that I am better at it than the sword," he replied.

"It is more important that you have a sharp mind than a knife. We'll take care of the rest.

"I know, it's just…I just…" you could see him try to say it, but he couldn't and you decided to change the subject.

"When I was little, I didn't have anything in the house except sticks and knives. No dolls, no books… I spent all day fighting with my siblings. But honestly, I wish I had had a lot more at my fingertips. I like knowing that I protect you and your family, my Prince, I just don't like the idea of going into battle. And knowing how to handle a sword or bow is not so reassuring. So don't be in a hurry to learn."

Luke didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't in a hurry to battle, he was in a hurry to impress you, of course that made him even more nervous. When Arrax appeared before you, the dragon, who was getting bigger every day, roared with joy at the sight of his rider. Then Luke forgot his nervousness, happy also to see his dearest friend. He could sense your nervousness, as you tried to move away from the creature, which, though beautiful, was still fierce.

"Arrax is very calm, you shouldn't be afraid of him" Luke tried to convince you.

"Well, your majesty, luckily I'm not the one who has to ride him."

"Do you…do you want to pet him?" He twisted his cloak in his hands.

"I don't want to risk losing my hands, Prince."

Maybe it was your fear, or maybe it was because Arrax's presence always made him feel better, but Luke started to get a little too confident. He turned to Arrax and whispered words in Valyrian that you did not understand. Then he took your hand, which was a little tense, and looked you in the eye.

"You are the bravest knight at court. And that Arrax knows." He watched as you smirked.

"And how does a dragon know that?"

"Well, because I told him."

When you laughed, Luke felt a stupid pride, and noticed how you squeezed his hand, still resisting.

"Are you sure he's not going to devour me? This armour must look pretty crunchy to him…"

"That armour to him is like a diamond to us, small, nice and shiny. Come on, trust me."

You looked into his eyes for a few seconds, he seemed to be begging for it.

Then you finally let him guide your hand, and slowly, he raised it for Arrax to sniff. You could see how it took him a few seconds before he finally rested his entire muzzle on your palm, and you felt a purr that was much louder than a cat's, but quite tender. Soon you could move your hand to stroke his face, neck and wings, the dragon circled around, making it clear that he liked you. And Luke kept his distance, watching you and admiring you. This stupid infatuation…he was never going to get over it at this pace.

Over the next few days, you could feel Luke's confidence to talk to you and smile at you grow. On the other hand, his desire to train had waned, and it was probably because of the humiliation he had recently endured.You could only watch the brothers from afar as they continued their lessons. Besides, Jace was a lousy learning partner, quick to get impatient and unable to understand that what Luke needed was a little patience. It wasn't your job to comfort him, so you had to hold back the urge to hug him and tell him how great he was without the need for swords. And the smiles you gave him only made him blush, though he always returned them, full of gratitude.

One of the many nights Luke couldn't sleep, he wandered around the castle aimlessly. And when he found you standing guard on the beach, he felt it was fate, though anything reminded him of you, for there was nothing else on his mind but you. The gentle breeze put those curls of his in front of his face, making him feel awkward, yet the breeze moved your hair in a poetic, almost dreamy way.

"Are you on night watch?" he asked, unable to think of anything else.

"Yes, my Prince. One of the knights has taken ill and owed me a favour."

"I hope it won't take long."

"Don't worry, I find it hard to rest so I like to be doing something at night…like you, I suppose."

"I couldn't sleep," Luke regretted his words instantly, for something in common you'd found and he's going to correct you. "Aren't you bored?"

"I'd like to tell you that the views are so beautiful that this is a pleasure…but the truth is that after three hours it gets repetitive."

Luke laughed as you smiled, glad to see him so relaxed. He stayed a while longer keeping you company, talking to you about the things he had done with Jace that day. He also asked you about your life before the Kingsguard, listening intently, entranced by your every word.

"Your parents must be proud of you," Luke said, picking up and throwing sand in his hands.

"They would have been happier if I had given them grandchildren, but the armour impressed them quite a bit too. Yours must be proud too. Everyone knows how clever you are."

"But it's no use. My father was able to fight at the Battle of Stepstones. I can't even hold a sword properly." His sad tone touched you and made you impatient in equal measure.

"I think you should put an end to that attitude once and for all. Come, let's practice!" Your enthusiasm caught him by surprise.

"Right now?"

"Yes! We have the whole beach to ourselves, we can take the swords from the cupboard. I think it's time you gain some confidence."

He followed you, somewhat confused and nervous, but your smile managed to reassure him. In the quiet of the beach, you guided Luke through every move. Being patient, clear and concise. And even though Luke was hesitant, he followed your instructions well and gained confidence by the minute."You're doing great, my Prince. But I think it's time you try to surprise me. Attac."

"What if I hurt you?" he asked unsure, though Luke thought he sounded arrogant.

"That's the whole idea of this…"

"I mean if I'm so clumsy that I end up hurting you without meaning to." The boy knew what he meant, and it took you a moment to remember that one time he pull out his uncle's eye as a kid.

"You'd rather practice with the bow?"Luke preferred to practice other things, but even thinking that already made him nervous, so he agreed to switch weapons. With torches illuminating the target, you walked a considerable distance. Luke knew the theory inside out, but it still made him tense, and even more so knowing you were watching him."You need to relax a bit," you pointed out. His arm was dislocated. When you placed your hands on his sleeve, Luke swallowed, letting you lead him on. "A little higher… let go."

When he shooted he missed. He couldn't hold back the insults, directing them at no one in particular. He kicked as you picked up the only arrow available.

"I should stop wasting your time…" he apologised dejectedly, handing the bow back to you.

"No, please!" You stopped him before he even turned around. "I don't want you to leave…not like this."

He sighed, looking you in the eyes and flattered, you wanted him to stay with you…you didn't want to see him sad, you genuinely care about him and Luke now knew that. He let you reposition his whole posture again.

"It's just that I always do something wrong…and I don't know what it is," confessed the Prince.

"It's not something you do, it's something you don't do. And it's being patient, being calm. And to do that you have to believe in yourself." Your voice caressed his face, his pulse quickening.

"What if I never get to believe in myself because I never achieve anything? It would be a hellish cycle." The arrow was still tense, he couldn't look at you.

"Then think of me. I trusted you, and I got to touch a dragon. How many knights can say that?"

He could see your beautiful smile, as encouraging as ever, and Luke caught his breath. You were so close to him that you could feel him stand up straight and seem to grow taller by the second, as if he was becoming a true Lord in front of you. When he finally released the arrow, it hit the centre of the bullseye. A clean and beautiful sound, as well as his smile full of joy. You gave him a hug on impulse, unaware that you were on duty or that it was the Prince. He didn't seem bothered though, returning your embrace with some surprise but full of affection. When you pulled apart, you looked at that sweet face and were at a loss for words.Luke couldn't find any appropriate ones either, nor was he able to keep his hands off your shoulders. It was strangely pleasant, and it took you quite a while to come out of your trance.

"I told you you could," you said, giving him a loving punch that pushed him away. The celebration went on for a while longer, with arrows still hitting the target, jokes and more silly anecdotes. As the sun began to appear, your turn was about to end. You walked together to the castle.

"I have to say I'm going to 'roll' into my bed," you were already starting to unbutton some of your armour, but first you had to escort Luke to his room.

"You make me envious, I'm due for Valyrian lessons in a bit."

"By the gods, I'm so sorry. I should have made you go back to bed, my Prince," you felt terrible, though Luke blushed at your dismay for him.

"No, no, no…it's not your fault. I'd trade a hundred hours of sleep to be able to spend even one awake with you."

The confession came as a surprise, and Luke knew it had sounded just as he felt it, because your eyes shone differently. If he could he would have run, but the warmth you radiated made him hold out a little hope. And the confession was repaid when you took his hand, gave him a little bow and planted a kiss on his knuckles.

There was no need to answer him, Luke could see you for the rest of the days, in your shining armour, and he could hear your voice whenever he needed to confide in him. He never told you, but it became obvious, that the night he roamed the castle he couldn't sleep because you were in his thoughts, remembering the touch of your hand on his. And now, he achived not only a kiss, but your love and trust.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys velaryon fanfic #lucerys velaryon x neutral!reader #lucerys velaryon x male!reader #lucerys velaryon x female!reader #lucerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #lucerys valeryon #house of the dragon #elliot grihault #game of thrones fanfiction

[saltandfire-blog]

Lucerys freckled and purple-eyed 💜

Portrayed by Jack Dylan Grazer for Luke on Salt and Fire

#lucemond #lucerys velaryon #house of the dragon #fanfiction #hotd #house targaryen #lucerys targaryen #westeros #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon fanfiction #lucerys velaryon fanfic

[house-strong]

༄࿔ confessions from the heart

summary ; drabble requested by anon as part of my 1k follower celebration.

“#14 romantic confession + Luke? congratulations on 1k!”

“14. i dream of you. all i do, is dream of you.”

pairing ; lucerys velaryon x reader

notes ; no notes.

rainy days on the island of driftmark are an omen of the gods; to rest, to relax, and to allow your mind to settle into a poetic wonder.

rain pitter–patters against the stone walls and wind howls, rousing the nature of driftmark into a chorus of ruffling leaves. the sea clashes violently against sea walls, sprays of salt and ocean splashing against the inner land. the sweet smell of rain and sea flood your senses; causing you to inhale deeply and relax into your chair.

lucerys is quietly sitting near you in a chair, head lodged into a book where he utters the words of its contents to himself. you’re sure it’s his way of keeping pace – avoiding the need to allow his eyes to scatter the page wildly. he tastes each word on his tongue, pausing on more syllable-difficult words. this way, you reckon, he understands the book in its complex entirety.

“enjoying your book?” you question, fingers tracing shapes on to your exposed skin.

lucerys doesn’t miss a beat, “mhm.”

odd.

he always replies with a word, never sounds.

you slowly rise from your lain position on the sofa, arms helping you in the process. you peak over the cushions and observe his serene features. your legs swing over, feet touching the ground and pushing you off your seat. you approach him and look over his shoulder.

it’s.. about dreams?

“dreams?” you echo your thoughts. you watch as lucerys’ finger skims the page, suddenly stopping at a subheading that read ‘DREAMS ABOUT LOVED ONES’. he turns his head to the side, his eyes peeking up through his lashes and bangs.

“i dream of you,” he hums, looking back down at the book with shyness from his confession. he licks his lips and tries to swallow down the nerves. “all the time.”

his words easily make a blush creep up on to your cheeks. they’re suddenly blistering hot. you seat at his shoulder and move to sit at the chair adjacent to him. the words flare in your stomach, causing a certain giddiness. dreams about a loved one. was the notion of clairvoyance plaguing him?

“you do?” you respond bashfully, folding your hands together and gently resting your head on them. you smile at him when he meets your gaze. “nothing else?”

he laughs, suddenly embarrassed, “all i do, is dream of you.”

it’s tooth-achingly sweet. he’s looking at you with this glint in his eye and a soft smile that reminds you of when he was a just a boy. when he was unsure of himself and constantly on the receiving end of being abashed. you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

“and what does the book say, hm?”

lucerys feels a sense of pride and devotion swell in his chest at your question. he gives you a toothy grin, rising to his feet to lean over the table.

he gives you a kiss on your cheek, “it means,” he kisses you on your other cheek, “that i’m hopelessly,” he kisses your mouth, “in love with you.”

the prince of driftmark pulls away just a bit, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. there is none, for you sigh longingly and give him another kiss on the mouth. he smiles into it and indulges himself into the feeling it gives him.

“i’m hopelessly in love with you, lucerys velaryon.”

#lucerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon fanfic #lucerys velaryon blurb #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #my writing #house-strong 1k celebration

[starogeorgina]

Ongoing Series -

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬

1.01

#Lucerys Velaryon #Lucerys Velaryon masterlist #Lucerys Velaryon fanfic

[barbswo]

Sweet Mother and Maiden.

Alicent was forced to watch her son drool over the bastard for what felt like a century, but she knew how that tale ended. She had witnessed it before.

There were times when she thought she could sacrifice everything for Rhaenyra, but those thoughts got swallowed down and sealed in the furthest corner of her mind, because that had never been possible. It was a smart choice. Alicent believed that Aemond would make the same one when the time would come.

Instead, he chose differently.

“I can’t believe you did such a thing,” she said when Aemond still hadn’t responded, or moved, or assured her that it was all a part of a great plan, “how could you put your… desires above the fate of this land? How could you be so selfish?”

“Because I am!” Snapped back Aemond, losing his composure at last, “I am selfish, mother, and I don’t need you to lecture me on this, because I don’t regret my decision for one. Moment,” he breathed through his teeth, “and I will choose him over this bloody land again and again if I have to!”

❧ excerpt from “Tides”

AO3; by l_t_m

#lucemond fic #hotd fanfic #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #tidesao3 #tideslucemond #hotd aesthetic #rhaenicent #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaenyra targeryan #alicent hightower #dance of the dragons

[valyriantarg]

Dance Of Dragons

1.Harsh truth

Winterfell

Once in Winterfell, Prince Jacaerys had taken his chance and won the trust of Lord Cregan. He was a young lord used to ruling his vassals and even more used to the harsh weather and the wild things that roamed the north.

Cregan and Jace became close friends, hunting together, drinking together and discussing political issues. At night the two exchanged stories of their families. Lord Stark was happy to meet another man like him and found his equal in the prince. Jace spent many days in winterfell enjoying the company of the Stark Lord.

It was a calm afternoon, Cregan and Jace were sitting by the fireplace in the main hall of Winterfell as the autumn wind howled outside the great keep. They were discussing the events that were about to unfold in the continent, but both were surprised by the sound of a dragon's screech coming from the horizon.

"Did you hear that?" Cregan asked his friend, raising his head to listen.

Both Cregan and Jace listened carefully in silence as the sound of the dragon's screeching echoed through the castle. There was no doubt that a dragon was near and judging by the sound of its screeching it was flying towards Winterfell.

They exited the main hall and walked out into the great courtyard of Winterfell. The massive black dragon was hovering right above the castle keep, its wings outstretched as it kept up its wailing scream. They stopped outside the main doors and looked up, Cregan observing the dragon with a mixture of awe and fear.

The mighty black dragon made its descent from the sky and landed outside the great doors of Winterfell. It filled the entire place with its enormous size, its wings outstretched and its tail lashing dangerously from side to side. Cregan watched with awe and cautious as the dragon landed, its massive claws gripping the ground.

Jace saw none other than his step sister Jaehaera. The princess dismounted the cannibal and walked towards Jace and Cregan; she was a vision to behold, Cregan thought, her silver hair flying in the wind, and her amethyst eyes staring at the pair.

“Sister, what brings you to winterfell?” Jace asked her as he approached her. Her dragon remained still behind her thrashing its tail back and forth.

“I’m afraid I carry bad news”. She said and looked at her brother with a solemn face, her amethyst eyes filled with sorrow. The growl of the cannibal making the situation worse.

"What is it?" Jace asked, his voice also soft and worried.

“Luke has been killed. I’m sorry Jace.” she revealed .

Jace's heart froze and his breath caught in his throat as his sister delivered the devastating news to him. He had expected that she came to Winterfell with a message, but not that it would be this harsh.

"Luke is dead?" He spoke in disbelief his eyes already watering.

Jaehaera placed her hand on his.

“When he arrived to Storms End Aemond was already there. He taunted him, threatened to take out his eye as a debt was left unpaid. Luke tried to run away. Aemond chased him on vhagar and…” she paused

Jace listened to his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief as she told him the story of his little brother's death.

"And?" Jace asked her, his voice tense. "What happened afterwards? Jaehaera speak!"

“Vhagar ate Luke and Arrax….” She spoke the final words her eyes already filled with tears.

Jace felt like someone had punched him in the stomach at those final words. His breath catching in his throat as he collapsed on the ground.

“Rhaenyra wants you back for his funeral” she kneeled down and spoke more calmly to him.

“Mother must be devastated. The two of them had a special bond” Jace spoke as he shed tears.

“I promise you brother, Luke will be avenged. They will pay for what they have done.” She said firmly to her brother.

“I’ll stay in winterfell to continue the plans with Lord Stark. But you, you must head back to Dragonstone.” She said and helped him back to his feet.

With these last words Jace was off to Dragonstone leaving Jaehaera back in Winterfell with Lord Cregan Stark.

Taglist

@littleshadow17

@lightdragonrayne

#hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen #cregan stark x reader #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #cregan stark #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf