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themotherofblood · 1 year

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byka perzys | part two

rosy riñītsos | part one | masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Crybaby!Reader

A/N: y’all filthies were hungry for part two so here we go, again do not come at me. This is very taboo with dad Daemon and step mom Rhaenyra. Feel free to skip this if it ain’t your cup of tea; I have other vanilla ones. A little angsty start!! Not proof read. I’m going to bed lol I will do it later :)

tw: naive reader, dubcon-ish,breastfeeding (lactation kink), infantilism, incest!, spanking.

It has been eight moons since Rhaenyra Targaryen claimed the Iron Throne, it had been a bloody affair truly- her own kin beheaded and hanging off the gates of the Red Keep as an example.

Usurp the throne and pay its price.

People that Y/N once called family all hung from the gates, her favourite aunt in chains with her little cousins. Daemon and Rhaenyra did their best to keep their children away from the monstrosity that followed with war, however keeping Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena proved to being harder. They won the throne regardless with every green supporter executed or incarcerated. Only after Rhaenyra secured her position did she send for her eldest daughter to be brought to King’s Landing from Dragonstone.

The battle had turned both Rhaenyra and Daemon bitter, while to the court they had begun celebrating their victory. With enormous galas being thrown for their children’s engagements. Both Jace and Baela being named future heir to the throne, they had begun being more involved in the politicking while Rhaena and Luke began to make journeys with their grandfather Corlys.

You felt alone in it all- Joff, Aegon and Viserys were all little making them the joy of everyone’s eyes and what remained of you? A mere bastard girl at court with nothing to her name. You were happy that the war ended, that your mother sat the throne; your family whole. You had spent all your life hidden, buried in your books or lost in the gardens. You didn’t care much for courtly attention, what you did care for were your kepa and mūna.

You went from nursing yourself to sleep in between them for many moons to the war making them forget of your existence, you waited, you truly did. However as the days passed, the more scared you became. You would cry yourself to sleep with fear of death, and now you felt alone. You stood at court and yet no one saw you. A giant table set for supper and yet there was just you awaiting your family. They never came.

You had found solace elsewhere, making multiple trips with your lady’s maids to the city as everybody made efforts to sew Kings Landing back to its proper glory, many of Daemon’s gold cloaks would accompany you; not wanting to loose their heads to dark sister. You offered baskets of milk, clothing and food out to the people of flea bottom and perhaps in those few hours you spent with the common people. You felt more seen than you had in over six months, your visits became frequent, and while Daemon and Rhaenyra believed you were holed up deep in the libraries in the Red Keep; you read stories to children at the Blackwater beaches.

You learned of tales of your own birth and how you might have been one of these common people had your father not been so considerate of his own blood. It warmed you heart and yet upset you more. He never spoke of your birth mother and you never questioned him on the matter, not until you sent out your lady’s maid to find the tavern you took birth in. It was weeks until they returned with the name of the tavern, which too they relayed to you with hesitation. A princess in a tavern…blasphemy.

You had found your people, while your mother perished while birthing you, an older tavern wench recognized your lilac eyes the second you set foot into her establishment, they cared for you the first eight moons of your existence until gold cloaks came knocking down their door to retrieve you for your kepus, the King. They did not fight, mayhaps their one child of many would be raised in riches. They closed the bar down as they celebrated your return.

Everyone of the barmaids began hounding you with questions.

“Do ya remember us little lady?” one questioned “I bathed you as babey”

“Aye- but I named ya little fires!” a woman named Chataya replied.

“Tell us litte fires, have ya gotten one of those monsters?” the older woman questioned, you happily smiled as you nodded your head.

“Vermithor.” you said smiling ear to ear.

“Vermithor!” they all cheered as they raised their cups of ale, making you flinch but giggle along. You spent a better part of that afternoon basking in happiness, there wasn’t a single room in the Red Keep that spread with this much joy at your presence.

That evening at the square named you the Princess of Flea Bottom.

A fitting title for a very different reason from when Daemon was named the very thing for his whoring habits.

Just as always even tonight, other than Joffrey everybody seemed to have found themselves occupied.

“Sorry sister, there are council matters.” Jacearys apologised on his and Baela’s behalf for their inability to join you for supper. Lucearys and Rhaena had extended their stay at Driftmark. You had spent the better part of supper scraping your peas from one end to the other as Joffrey went on about his new horse gifted to him by some lord- Massey? Baremon? You weren’t sure which.

“A proper princess finishes her food!” the shrill voice of Septa Marlow scolded you yet again.

That night you attempted something you would have never tried before, you frustrations seemed to have frozen your nervousness as you pattered your way over to the royal apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast with a book in one hand and a doll in another. Hoping that tonight Daemon might read to you for the night, you wouldn’t even beg to lay with them; merely spend a few moments in their company. The queensgaurd placed by their doors already had succumbed to slumber as he leaned against the wall. Your meek nature made it far to easy to evade him as you entered the Queen’s apartments.

The door to their bed chambers were slightly parted as you heard chatter from within, a burst of joy spread through you. After much time they had been in their bed chambers at an acceptable hour, perhaps tonight you might sleep all through the dark skies till the sun graced King’s Landing. You smiled to yourself, already the forming the sentence of request in your head so you wouldn’t stammer while speaking. Running the words over your head twice before approaching the door.

You peaked in, immediately freezing as your knock barely reached the door. You eyes fixated on the image within the chambers. Your heart sunk, small twitches of anxiety moved through your fingers as your gaze fell upon a girl stood in between Daemon and Rhaenyra. Daemon’s lips attacking her neck as she suckled at Rhaenyra’s breasts, your feet took you backwards. Knocking over the vase placed on a side table by the door, a loud crash through the corridor.

Daemon’s eyes immediately shot to the door, furious at whoever would dare interrupt the Queen and her consort, and even more who would dare to peak in. He pushed the whore on the bed and unsheathed his dagger, ready to swing it at whomever he would find at their chamber doors. He heard hurried shuffling feet as pushed the door open with all its might, the queensgaurd placed at the door looking disheveled as he appeared to make himself look coherent. He stumbled to no evidence to who the onlooker might have been, other than a book laid on the ground.

He picked up the book, turning it to read it’s cover. A tale of romance that perhaps only one person would have read it in all of the Red Keep. He shook his head, cursing himself at what you might have seen as he returned inside to grab his cloak. He threw the book at his wife, who looked at him questioningly; she frowned at the cover as Daemon apologized to the doe eyed whore that both Daemon and Rhaenyra would have enjoyed tormenting.

“Sorry pet, here’s your gold.” He placed four gold coins on her lap before leaving to find you.

You ran as fast as your feet would allow, hiking your skirts with both hands as your discarded your doll by the servants chambers, everyone of them shouting at you; concerned of your well being. You had managed to climb over boxes just as you did with trees and jumped over the lower walls, ridding yourself of the Red Keep. You hated it here, you wanted to go home. You wanted everyone to just return to the days at Dragonstone. The metal fencing tugged at your skirts, ripping through a good inch or two of your lavender skirts and dug into the skin of thigh, drawing blood that in the moment you hadn’t registered somewhere in the scuffle you had also misplaced a slipper, leaving your one foot bare as you escaped. You just ran, escaping the vile portrait of another girl nursing on your mother.

Pushing through crowds of people as you ran towards the Dragonpit, Vermithor had already felt your inner turmoil, growling and freeing himself of his chains as he stomped his way out of his holding to the courtyard; awaiting your arrival as he still growled at the dragonkeeper trying to settle him down. They already knew the sudden outraged behaviour of the bronze dragon had to do with your arrival, in the darkness however they couldn’t tell a thing.

You ran towards your dragon, looking behind you to see if anyone followed which you were sure they would. Your father might have been as furious as you were at them, if not worse.

“Vhalar Vermithor!” you yelled at him.

“Soves!”

You hurried to pull yourself onto his wing, yanking your body up onto your leathered saddle. “Sovētēs!” you ordered once more before your dragon pushed its wings back to fly towards the dark skies. You hadn’t even bothered to tie yourself to him, you just held on as your heart hammered within your chest.

Daemon arrived to the dragonpit moments later, already finding a torn piece of your dress stained in blood and your doll discarded at the servant grounds, he cursed under his breath as Caraxes was brought out of his holding. He wasted no time in mounting his dragon after he made sure that the dragon keepers would send word to his wife. Caraxes would hunt them down to be sure, he had to.

Vermithor flew for hours to be sure; you had not a clue of where he took you. Your mind toiled of far worse things.

What were you thinking? The court didn’t want you and neither did your kin. The word bastard began to ring in your ears as you cried high above the clouds. The more Vermithor flew the more it became apparent that he was flying north, the air began to grow colder until he finally landed upon a strip of mountains. You sighed, looking around at the hill forests as you shuffled off him. You yelped out loud feeling the throb in your thigh, you began trembling again.

You wanted to go home.

You wanted to go back to Dragonstone.

Vermithor grunted, already irked that you had distrupted his sleep and yet he sympathized with your sorrow, the cold that had began to seep into your bones that your torn summer gown did nothing to shield you from. The bronze fury let out a gust of fire, circling around himself and you to keep him warm as he snuggled himself on the grass. You shuffled closer to his neck as you rested against the warm reptilian skin, crying into your hands. Afraid and alone.

Daemon had flown for hours, Caraxes had lost the scent of your dragon past the burning ruins in the Riverlands. He returned at dawn, failing to find you as he stomped into his chambers. He explained it all to Rhaenyra who looked terrified, hurrying to send out ravens to every lord to seek for a bronze dragon and their princess dressed in lavender. Daemon made trips himself, scouring through Dragonstone and Driftmark first, knowing the Vermithor spent most his time on those lands. To no avail.

He regretted no reaching out to you sooner, most of it was to blame the monstrosity that clouded Rhaenyra and his blood at the aftermath of the war. The enjoyed paying whores to leave those girls bruised by the morning, how were they to do that two their own zaldrititos. They couldn’t bare the thought of touching you while their demons ran wild in the sheets, you were far too pure to taint so early. Many night they’d free themselves of the council at late hours, Daemon himself would return covered in blood after he “interrogated” the green sympathisers. He’d peer into your bed chambers just as Rhaenyra would, watching a small frown that they would pet away from your sleeping body.

You had fallen asleep at some point, the simmering burnt grass lulled your sobbing frame to sleep as you hid under Vermithor’s wing. Come morning you woke within the same burnt circle, the sun glaring in your eyes as Vermithor rested from a few feet from you; nibbling on a roasted sheep. You shuffled up, groaning at the throb on your thigh, some where along the night the cut had stopped bleeding but left a better part of your gown soaked in blood.

You groaned as you stood up, looking around to have an inkling of where you might be, you limped toward Vermithor. Petting his skin.

“Can you take me home? Dragonstone?” you asked him, hoping he’d be done with his meal soon. His yellow eyes merely looked at you from his periphery before thudding his head to the ground to rest. “Please?”

He moved his snout to push the leftover sheep towards you, before closing his eyes to slumber.

You had begun to venture around the edge of the woods, luckily finding a pond to wash your wound. More tears followed as the gash burned anew, the cruel cold water bringing you much discomfort. Hours went past, you had begged your bronze dragon to take you home a dozen times, to no avail. He had begun to drag himself to a mountain cave, holding his fresh kill within his mouth as he huffed every two breaths; awaiting your limping frame to keep up with him.

Perhaps this was your home now, you were hungry, and ate around the cooked flesh of the kills Vermithor would hunt, you were in pain. Both physically and mentally, perhaps they didn’t care, perhaps they threw another gala as they were rid of their bastard daughter.

“What if she never returns Daemon?” Rhaenyra sighed as she held rocked baby Visenya to bed. “She won’t survive out there.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Daemon snapped, still beating himself over your disappearance. “She has her dragon with her, he will protect her.”

Various lords around the seven kingdoms sent out watch parties, hoping to spot the princess or atleast her dragon. Four days past and not a word, until finally a white raven arrived from The Vale. A parchment containing the sightings of Vermithor atop their mountains and talks of Hill tribes and Mountain men attacking whatever that dragon was trying to hide. All attempts to make contact were met with dragon fire, killing the Knights of The Vale and Hill tribes alike.

Daemon was enraged as he rushed to mount Caraxes, armed with Dark Sister while he rode with all his might to arrive at the Eyrie before the dusk began to decorate the horizon. They pointed toward the taller peak, warning him of Mountain men all guarding the cave for any sitting of the bronze fury. Daemon flew above with Caraxes, watching as the savages below shoot arrows and boulder like rocks in the cave; above all he heard the furious roars of Y/N’s dragon. He had burned every last one of them in a fit of rage, the glowing carnage could be seen from miles below the mountains as Caraxes landed with a thud just outside the caves. Daemon approached the dark cave with stealth, singing a Valyrian lullaby that his grand sire sung for his dragon, one that he sang with Y/N while he helped her claim the enormous beast.

You hid behind your dragon’s tail, groaning in pain as a rock yet again bruised your skin. The first two days stop the mountain were peaceful. You had found yourself berries that kept your fed just enough to curb the rumbling, the fresh water pond helped both you and Vermithor and the gash on your thigh began dry as your cleaned them with washed leaves. Your dress on the other hand, went from lavender to dirt brown in no time, your feet covered in little cuts at you rid yourself of your only slipper. Your family consisted of Vermithor and little cave bugs, that was until the people Vermithor was stealing sheep and goats from came knocking- charging at your door.

You had fought them for two days, with barely enough sleep as they kept throwing things and shooting at Vermithor. He burned them and yet more came, then came knights who knew your name. Perhaps green sympathizers that wanted your head, you burned them too. You cowered behind Vermithor sobbing until you heard a familiar lullaby, you cried louder in your hands, you feared you had succumbed to madness.

“Y/N! Riñītsos?” you heard Daemon’s voice bellow in the darkness. You were sure somebody had come for you, and it sure wasn’t Daemon. You huffed pulling yourself onto Vermithor, hoping to scare away whoever it was.

“Dracarys.” you said, making Vermithor let out a blow of fire around the cave. You sat atop him with agony and rage in your eyes, you were exhausted and were sure you would die by the end of the fortnight. That was until the warm glow of the fire flashed the white haired figure stood at the entrance of the cave.

“nyke issa riñītsos.” his voiced echoed through the cave.

“k-kepa?” you bottom lip wobbled as you shuffled off of Vermithor, barely able to hold your own weight together.

As much as Daemon wanted to run to grab you, he couldn’t. The bronze fury still held a murderous stance towards him, he had to wait for you. You feet slowly limped forward to him, clearing your eyes in the little light that remained in the burning darkness. You whispered his name once more to which he replied, holding his arms out until he saw your body in the light.

Frail, your dress covered in soot, dirt and blood. The braids on your hair undone and unruly, stained in dirt and blood too. Wounds on your arms and a bleeding cut on your head, Daemon took in a sharp breath once he finally had you in his arm, you collapsed- whimpering as he rushed to cover your body with his cloak.

“Iksā ȳgha, iksan vaoreznuni.” He whispered against your temple as he pushed you hair away. Daemon carried you to Caraxes, helping you mount him first before situating himself behind you. He was perturbed to be sure, that you would be so reckless but in the moment he felt nothing but relief as he flew back to the Red Keep with you in his arms.

Two days, it had been two days as you graced the world of consciousness and then drifted to slumber again. The day Daemon returned to the Red Keep, carrying your cloaked frame in his arms as your lady’s maids rushed to care for you. Both Rhaenyra and him and sat through the ordeal as the cleaned your wounds, he wanted to backhand every one of your maids as your hissed and cried out as the girls tended your wounds. Upon being tucked in bed, Daemon sat with you for hours, humming a lullaby under his breath as he caressed your silver wisps.

When you had awoken for sure, you had jolted awake. Eyes darting over your canopy until they fell upon Rhaenyra and Daemon sat next to your bed. Both looked tired and yet furious, their faces reminded you of what you had seen, soon filling your relieved heart with bitterness.

“What were you thinking?” Rhaenyra questioned darkly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

“The Queen asked you something.” Daemon said in addition.

You scoffed at the two of them, frowning at their audacity to question you after what they had done. You groaned as you sat up, shuffling yourself off your bed from the other end. The poppy you were sure they made you consume, helped with your aching joints. Daemon’s chair scrapped as he approached you, holding your arms firmly in his hands as he questioned you once more.

“Nothing, my queen.” you said bitterly, fighting to tear yourself away from his grip.

Your tone irked her even more, far more than you using her title to defy her. “We don’t ask you for much, that you remain with us, and obey us.” she lectured “Perhaps we have been to lenient with you.”

You still said nothing as you scowled at the floor, “Do you know what they do to the girls at Old Town? The ones that behave as poorly as you have!” Daemon scolded you this time as he dragged your body back to your bed. You fought harder against his hold only irking them further.

Daemon held your body down as they plopped you on your belly. You felt them shuffle over you before Rhaenyra lifted your sleep shift from your backside, hastily pulling away at your small clothes.

“Let me go!” you screamed “Damn you, damn both of you!”

Daemon held you face down, muffling your screams as you felt the leather resting against your rear. “How many days did we not sleep proper , sweet wife?”

“Seven days.” she replied with venom in her voice.

“Seven hits.” Daemon agreed. “You better count them!” he warned you.

You felt the first hit throb against your rear, you bit your lip to starve them of a reaction. Another slash of the leather burned against your rear. “You better count if you want her to stop.” Daemon tutted.

“Go to hell!” you spat.

They had not a clue of why you acted this way, surely they would have explained what you saw but your defiance angered them way beyond measure. They wanted their meek, shy girl to return, even if they had to spank it back into you.Another harder hit radiated through your bottom, this time you cried out; only to be hit again when you finally screamed out “One!”

“Have you a clue of how afraid we were?” Daemon scolded along with the leather connecting to your arse again.

“The Vale knights you have killed? The damage alone!” Rhaenyra yelled before spanking you again.

“What if something happened to you? Do you see the wounds under a fortnight alone?” Daemon loosened his hold on you as you succumbed to your punishment, now fighting to sob.

“You could have been killed!” Rhaenyra bellowed as she got her last hit in.

You scurried forward into the bed as Daemon let you go, you hugged your knees as you shielded your face away from them. Your muña would have yelled at you once more but Daemon pulled her out of your chambers as she heaved in anger.

They hated you.

They left you to ponder over what you had done, you killed people, you ran away from home. You were horrible and they hated you now. You hadn’t realized when you began to sob but you did, you lady’s maids visited once to stoke the fires by the hearth before leaving. You sobbed into a pillow, letting every last shred of emotions in your body wet through the silk of your pillow.

Rhaenyra resumed court for the day, still fuming at what her daughter had done. Reparations were made of the dead knights to the Vale as Daemon did his best to calm her down. Perhaps they had gone two far in punishing you, however you needed to understand if not fear leaving this castle ever again. She would have chained you to the bed for all she cared, fighting this hard to sheild you from a war. Atleast her sons knew how to fight, her step daughter by Laena were fierce. You were mouse disguised a dragon, spoiled endlessly. She hated that it had resorted to this and would comfort you sooner than later.

Daemon on the other hand had handed her his belt, the simmering rage he had felt as he held your frail body back to the keep, unsure if you were dead or just asleep in his arms. The pained screams he had to hear as they cleaned your wounds, all because you were too stupid to ask them or yell at them instead of running. He hated himself too, he should have known better. Known that she would wither if left alone for far too long.

They approached your room way after supper, trays of untouched food remained outside your chambers as a lady’s maid informed them of your refusal to move. Rhaenyra huffed as she picked the tray of supper as Daemin held the door open for her, it had been a while since she had fed you herself.

You still remained the fetal position in your bed, small whimpers left your body as the pushed through the bed curtains. At first she believed you were crying your sleep, a prank of guilt ran through them as they saw your reddened rear peaking through your sleep shift.

It wasn’t until you whimpered out more words that they realized you were awake, regressed to a mere child afraid of monster as you cried.

“I-I want to go home,” you said through hiccups.

“You are home,” Daemon whispered as he pulled your onto his lap.

“D-dragonstone, home,” you whimpered.

“Oh, zaldrititos. This is our home now,” Rhaenyra cooed at her.

“No, not my home- daor!” you wailed louder, only growing more distressed as you refused to look at them “Ao vēdros nyke! Daor nyke!”

Rhaenyra gasped, “No- we could never hate you.”

“Always want our riñītsos,” Daemon whispered against your temple.

You shook your head as more furious tears fell from your eyes “The girl! I saw her, s-she was feeding on muña. You want her, n-not me.”

You began to shuffle away from her as reached forward to touch your face “We were afraid of hurting you sweet pea, I never get this angry but we have fought so hard to keep all of you safe.”

“Not knowing where you were was death, do you understand? I couldn’t breathe knowing you were out there, alone.” Rhaenyra confessed.

“You have been alone and angry, we are so sorry riñītsos,” Daemon said as he pushed your hair away. “We should have come for you sooner.”

Daemon began to pepper kisses down your face as Rhaenyra approached you again, this time you let her touch you as she caressed over your bandages.

“kepa,” you whimpered as more tears fell from your eyes. “muña,”

“You need to eat,” he whispered in your ear, nudging you to sit up right. You whined, I wanting to untangle this cocoon you had craved for months. “No, just be here.”

Your tummy grumbled and yet your refused to let this warmth wash away for a stupid cut of steak or mutton. You nuzzled your nose in the peaking curve of Rhaenyra’s bosom, hoping she would let you nurse on her; you felt far to dazed to be refused of such tenderness. Rhaenyra being a mother new exactly what you wanted, she shuffled backwards, tugging at the front strings of her dress robes. Her breasts spilling through the loosely tied corset.

You hungrily latched at her pink nipple, all too inviting at your groaned the second the sweet milk hit your tongue. She tapped your nose to make your suckle gently at her sore breasts and yet your happily lapped as your nurses on her. Daemon shuffled away making you whine, he shook his head at your impatience. Which soon turned to joy as he returned with your discarded doll in one hand; dressed in a brand new red and black dress. His other hand held the book you wanted him to read to you. He slotted himself back in yet again as you smiled around Rhaenyra’s breast.

Daemon read through passages like melted butter to the tongue, with every pause he pressed a kiss to you temple or caressed through Rhaenyra’s hair. Before Daemon flipped through the first chapter you had switched to the other breast as you suckled her dry. One thing was to be sure, it would be a while before her miles dried up for good. Not that she cared as she doted over the contentment that washed over your features

You felt content, warm and safe. You were bathed and clean, fed and sated as your were cuddled in between the two people you loved the most. You muña letting your hair as your kepa read you to sleep, the wars had ended, the blood shed seized and perhaps just for a moment. The Red Keep felt like home.

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 1 year

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Hey! Idk if you are accepting requests but if so can you make a Aemond Targaryen x Reader basead on "Mastermind" by Taylor Swift? My idea is that Aemond starts to like the Reader and wants to marry them but he feels very insecure and wants the reader to like him too, so he starts plotting and trying to get closer so it feels organic but he actually is planning everything, then by the end he feels guiltycause he feels he tricked them into the marriage but reader always knew ?Thanks!

A GAME I COULDN’T LOSE ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Lannister! Reader

prompt: Aemond wants to be loved by Reader, but he doesn’t know someone has been pulling strings..

key: h/c = hair color, Corlys = Laena & Laenor’s father, Baela = Daemon & Laena daughter

word count: 2,000+ words

“Once upon a time, the planets and the fates..And all the stars aligned..You and I ended up in the same room, at the same time..”

The first time he had laid eyes on her, he was ten. He didn’t know much about the h/c girl, just that she was visiting Rhaena and Baela. Offering the young girls support after the loss of their Mother. Right away, he knew that she was special. She had held their hands throughout the ceremony. She whispered comforting words whenever the adult’s turned their eyes away for a split second. She purposefully ignored Aegon whenever he tried to utter a snide comment to her.

She had a glow to her, that made him stare. He should have been paying attention to the funeral. He shouldn’t have been staring, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to look away. Not when he wanted to know more about the h/c girl in black robes. She was absolutely eye-catching⎯and he was sure that if the circumstances were different, he would have made a attempt to talk to her.

“And the touch of a hand lit the fuse, of a chain reaction of countermoves..To assess the equation of you..Checkmate, I couldn't lose..”

The last time he had seen her, he was ten. His vision was blurred and the pain was unbearable. But, even through all of that he could still see her icy glare. Burning holes into him and his brother. Her hand gripped tightly on Baela’s shoulder, a wet rag in her other hand. Even though he lost an eye, he felt somewhat better knowing that she was looking at him. Sure, it was out of disgust and anger. But, it was a start.

Their eyes lock for a second, her glare deepening. A sneer now forming on her pretty face. He was sure that if it was just the two of them, she’d curse him out. And as odd as it was, he wished for it. He wanted to know her name. He wanted her to talk to him⎯even if she was damning him to hell and back. He wanted her. And he would get her one way or another.

“What happened?” Corlys questions, staring at his granddaughter in worry.

“He…” Baela stutters out, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Allow me to explain, my lord?” Y/N speaks up, rubbing Baela’s shoulder.

“Speak, child.” He nods.

Looking at Baela for confirmation to continue, the young girl nods her head, the tears in her eyes now starting to fall down her bloody cheeks. The h/c girl swallows the lump in her throat. Rubbing her thumb on her shoulder, Baela grabs at her hand, gripping onto it tightly. The pain of what had happened painted on the young girl's face.

“Aemond claimed Vhagar, he did it in security so that they would not get the chance to oppose it.” Y/N explains, “After being confronted, he insulted Luke and Jace, calling them bastards. They defended their honor.”

“You tell the truth, child?” Corlys asks, looking at her for any deceitfulness.

“I do, sir. I gain nothing from telling lies.” She whispers, keeping her eyes on him.

Aemond watches as Corlys stares her down, a serious look on his face. Those kinds of accusations were as serious as they come. If they found to be lies, she’d be punished or worse⎯killed. Turning her eyes from Corlys to him, Corlys’s eyes follow her, a death glare on his face.

“Do not let them punish the boys for his mistake.” She begs, placing her hand on Corlys’s arm.

“What if I told you none of it was accidental? And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me..I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork..The dominoes cascaded in a line..”

The next time he saw her, he was eighteen, and it may not have been so accidental. He never thought that he would see the h/c girl ever again. But, when he heard a whisper from the maids of one of the lord’s girls returning after being away for so long. He made sure to be in the area. Watching from a distance, she adorned a simple red dress, a bright smile on her face⎯much different than the last time he saw her. His heart fluttered at the sight.

Picking up her skirt slightly, she picks up her pace as she walks, approaching a man. Bowing her head at a few people, she sprints at the man, a loud laugh leaving her lips. Spinning her around in a circle, she buries her head into his shoulder, her h/c hair bouncing around. That must have been her father. Pulling away from the hug, he grabs her arm, tugging her away from everyone’s prying eyes.

“I missed you!” She gushes, “It’s been far too long.”

“Agreed, far too long. How is your brother? Meria? How is the baby?” He questions, a bright smile on his face.

“Wonderful! He’s been prancing around preaching about him having a son. Meria had to lock him in their chambers to stop him from embarrassing himself any further.” She explains, “How has the court been? The last time I was here, I was a mere child.”

“Troubled. But, I am sure things will work out in time.” He nods, patting her arm.

Nodding her head in understanding, they slow down their pace, now away from the nosy eyes of the people on the dock. Patting her arm gently, a troubled look appears on her face, probably wondering why the court was so troubled. Not that he blamed her. Targaryen politics were⎯how to put it⎯difficult at time? Passing by him, they completely ignore his presence, seemingly in their own little world.

Stepping out from the shadows, he clears his throat loudly, making sure to get their attention. They both tense up at the sound, pausing mid-step. Slowly looking over their shoulders, their grips tighten on one another. Their faces showing their thoughts, shit. Forcing smiles onto their faces, they bow in respect.

“Ah, Y/N. You remember Prince Aemond. Don’t you?” Her father pipes in, tensing at the sight of him.

“I do.” She spits out, nodding.

“My lady.” He smirks, “I’ve seen you’ve grown too. No longer the feisty young girl that I once knew.”

His eyes lower to her hand, wanting her to extend it. He wanted to place a kiss on the back of her hand, like he was supposed to do. He wanted to be a gentleman. He wanted to show her the respect she deserved. Her eyes flicker down, seemingly catching what he wanted. She clenches her jaw, holding her hand out for him. A giddy feeling blooming in his chest. Carefully grasping her hand, he practically melts in his shoes at the feeling of her hand in his.

“Yes, my time in Winterfell has made me mature.” She forces out, tensing as he places a kiss to her knuckles.

“I can tell.” He teases, “Will I see you tonight? We are having a feast for my brother’s marriage with Helaena.”

“You will.” She nods, relaxing as he pulls away.

“Promise to save me a dance?” He asks, trying desperately to not sound to eager.

“I think about it.” She muses, “Until then, Prince Aemond.”

“What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine, it was all by design..'Cause I'm a mastermind...”

She did in fact not save him a dance. Instead, she happily took Aegon’s hand. Not before, shooting him a teasing wink over her shoulder. If Aegon wasn’t his brother⎯Correction, if there wasn’t as many people in the hall as there was now, he’d have struck his brother down. Glaring holes into the back of Aegon’s head, he could hear everyone’s giggling, his mother even making a teasing remark.

“Why don’t you ask her for a dance, Aemond?” Alicent questions, a slight giggle to her voice.

“She took Aegon’s hand.” He deadpans, eyes glued to her.

“Only because she is teasing you.” Rhaenyra teases, “She’s a Lannister. She’s going to make you work for her hand.”

“Shush, Rhaenyra! Can you see him turning red?” Alicent teases, the woman bursting into giggles.

Turning his head to the woman, a snarky remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. He would let them enjoy this. Tomorrow they’d be sober and back at each other’s throats. Looking back at his brother, he places a kiss on the back of her hand, a smirk on his lips. Muttering something to her, she gently slaps his arm, shaking her head with a laugh. When he got the chance, he’d beat Aegon to a pulp.

Clenching his jaw at the sight, Aegon holds his hand out for her to take, hopefully to escort her off the dance floor and into his arms. Placing her hand into his, they walk off the floor, heading over to the table. Jumping up at the sight of them, he stands up from his seat, holding a hand out for her to take. But, she does not take it once again.

“Lady Lannister, wonderful to see you again. Are you enjoying the festivities?” Alicent smiles, a light snicker leaving her lips.

“Indeed, your majesty.” Y/N smiles, “Although, I must say the party is more tame than I am used to. Winterfell’s festivities are less..calm, so to say.”

Nodding their heads in understanding, she finally turns to him, her lips slightly twitching up into a smile. His heart pounds in his chest. If only he had the ability to freeze time. Holding her hand out for him, he carefully grabs it, afraid that she’d pull away too soon. Pressing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, she narrows her eyes slightly, like she was trying to read him. Meeting her eyes, she slowly pulls her hand away, turning her attention onto his mother.

“Queen Alicent, will you dance with me?” She questions, “Aegon has grown tired and I much prefer someone new to dance with.”

“You see, all the wisest women had to do it this way..'Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game..”

She holds onto Alicent’s hands, twirling the older woman in a circle. Giggles leaving the older woman’s lips as they spin around. Perhaps, in another time where war wasn’t a looming threat, things could have been more like this. Happy. Not a care in the world. Slowly coming to a waltz, a mischievous glint appears in Alicent’s eyes, almost like she knew something that no one else knew.

“Your son, Aemond.” Y/N questions, an innocent look on her face.

“What about him?” Alicent teases, an amused look on her face.

“He doesn’t think⎯” Y/N shakes her head, “Oh, forget about it.”

The amused look on Alicent’s face grows. Now this, she had to hear.

“No, you have gotten my attention. What is it?” Alicent nods, motioning for her to continue.

“I was going to say. He doesn’t think it was an accident meeting me at the docks, does he?” Y/N questions, innocently.

“What do you mean?” Alicent furrows her brows together.

Y/N’s face flashes mischievous before being painted in fake innocence. She was a Lannister after all. She always had a trick or two. Tucking a strand of hair away from Alicent’s face, she pulls the woman close to her. Almost like a hug, but not quite. Hiding her face in her hair, Alicent wraps her arms around her, pulling her in close.

“My mother always said that I should never let fate handle things. That if I want something, I should make it happen.” Y/N whispers, keeping her voice low enough to not be overheard.

“What are you saying?” Alicent questions, raising a brow.

“It was not a coincidence that we reunited after all of this time, my Queen. I know of the approaching war. I know sides will be picked.” Y/N explains, her voice low.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let us marry. A tie between both of our houses will be beneficial.” She smirks, “The Lannister riches? The Lannister allies? And the Targaryen crown? A very powerful duo. One strong enough to win the war.”

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