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danytar · 3 days

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“Meet me at the highest heaven” [ King!Aegon!Targaryen X Sister!Wife!Reader ]

Warnings: anxiety, aegon is going to Rook's Rest,Incest, mention of war and death, No use of y/n, swearing,(m receiving),erotic lactation.

Summary: Aegon is going to the battle. And now you feel like your heart will be torn apart at any moment. Will you be able to say goodbye to him?

'The true king is the king who leads his battles himself' The famous quote in the world. Which you've heard hundreds of times. But you did not think that your husband would apply the phrase himself. You are still in pain over the murder of your eldest son.

You still haven't forgotten what happened.. You still haven't forgotten how you lost two children in one night. It was like a nightmare.. you hoped you would wake up soon and find yourself in bed with your husband. as a prince and princess.

The weight of your titles weighs heavily on your shoulders. You hoped it was a joke or something but it never was.. Your husband has already entered the game of thrones and getting out of that game is not as easy as entering it.

You were in your room, combing your silver locks, lost in your thoughts then you heard your doors open and there was the new hand of the king. “My queen”. His voice was polite and firm.

“Yes sir criston? ”. You let the comb from your hand and turned to see him standing there close to the big door of your chambers. “His grace requested your presence in his own chambers”. he replied to you.

You nodded and got up from your chair to leave the room. The knight led the way for your husband's chambers. you can't help but feel worry about what will happen next.You don't know what's causing this feeling, but you ignore it for now at least.

The guard opened the door for you and stopped outside the room. You entered the room and your gaze fell directly on him he was standing there in full armor. You swallow and take steps closer to him.

He looked at you and didn't speak yet. There was a silent moment between you two, just letting your eyes speak for you. He meets you with a warm smile on his lips you couldn't help but feel small tears wet your cheeks.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you don't let him but you rushe to him and embraces him hardly. The feel of steel on your skin doesn't bother you at all.He hugged you back he moved your hair away from your bare shoulders and placed his head there to inhale your scent.

One of his hands was gently stroking your hair and the other was tight around you. He broke the silence between you two with a little joke to lighten the mood “Is my queen trying to seduce me with this dress now?” He cocked his head and looked at you with a smile.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly “Shut up”. he chuckled with you then he wiped away the remnants of your tears and looked into your eyes.

“Don't cry my queen I won't leave you alone in this world I swear”. He lifted your chin with his thumb so you could look at him. He can see the coming tears from your eyes So he presses a kiss between your eyebrows.

“Do you really have to go?”. The words escaped your trembling lips. You cannot afford another loss and it's not any loss A piece of you. “I'm afraid I do, my love it's my duty to protect my kingdoms...to protect you”.

He tucked your silver locks behind your ears and looked at your eyes sweetly. He may be a king but your tears make him the weakest thing you could ever imagine. He hugged you to his chest again and his arms caress your shoulders and your bare back.

“I want to go with you”. You break the hug and look at him. He cups your cheeks and sighs “No, you will stay here I won't let my queen go the battle”.

“Aegon-” He interrupts you and places his thumb on your lips “No objections You're not going anywhere”. He looked at you in the eye and spoke softly. He was serious, he didn't want to put his wife in danger.

You pulled away from him and turned to give him your back. He sighed at your stubbornness and spoke in a sweet, low tone “Is this how you will say goodbye to me?”.

“This is not a farewell. You will return to me against your will ”. You gently wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. he chuckled and talked to tease you “I can't promise I'll come back alive”.

You turn around again, with a frown on your face. he chuckles when he sees your face. “This is not funny aegon! ”

He wipes away the tears of laughter and approaches you again. You try to move away again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.He presses his lips to yours forcefully His kisses were desperate and intense. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you hard.

He bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth slightly so he could insert his tongue inside. you gladly opened your mouth slightly and your tongue joined his with an elaborate dance. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting heavily.

He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You closed your eyes and sighed then you spoke in a low tone “Come back safe”. you whispered in his hear. He smiled at you and replied, “I will.” He holds you tightly and whispers into you ear, “Be strong, love, I'll be home before you know it...”He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Come back to me one piece, please”. you whispered to him.

“I promise, I'll be back..” He caresses your cheek, “You must be brave and look after yourself and our son”. He whispers to you and hugs you again, but this time his lips travel to your exposed neck and kiss you there. Your body shivers under his touch.

He sighs softly as he feels her soft skin beneath his palms “So soft..” He continues to kiss your neck, as his hands working to undress you slowly.He whispers to you and nibbles your ear “If you think you're going to seduce me like this without me doing anything to you, you're wrong my love”.

“I wasn’t planning to seduce you.” You reply with a low tone.

“Excuses...excuses ”. He lets your dress fall so he can kiss your breasts and suck your nipples. Your breasts were still producing milk because you were pregnant from little while before your tragic miscarriage.

He was still in his armor and combat uniform, but you never complained about the feel of the rough steel on your bare skin. He rose from your chest, then got up and rubbed his thumbs over your breasts.

He looked at you in the eye and smiled “Lay on the bed for me my sweet queen”. You felt a tingle of emotions hit your stomach. You did as you were told he smiled at you and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs he placed a bunch of kisses on your thighs and his tongue started messing with you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and held your husband's face in place. He was caressing your pearl and he will nor stop until you told him to stop Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye.

♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii

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arcielee · 1 month

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Fare Well

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Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm.

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him.

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire.

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern.

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.”

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.”

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins.

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh.

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin.

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.”

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright.

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips.

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric.

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck.

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs.

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.”

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?”

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.”

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat.

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone.

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus.

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance.

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you.

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible.

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you.

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next.

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spider-stark · 21 days

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PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes.

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady.

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly.

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.”

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.”

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be.

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault.

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.”

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long.

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze.

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care.

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you.

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-”

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!��

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment.

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.”

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother.

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you.

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?”

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well.

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother.

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you.

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?”

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings.

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him.

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant.

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all.

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother.

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.”

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room.

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo.

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck.

And, in many ways, you hate it.

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard.

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself.

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind.

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol.

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight.

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest.

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too.

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors.

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball.

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air.

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you.

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips.

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life.

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear.

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table.

“No!”

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck.

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?”

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table.

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished.

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary.

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?”

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different.

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid.

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!”

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?”

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.”

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent.

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence.

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?”

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe.

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.”

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with.

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-”

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,”

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too.

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!”

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh.

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.”

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising.

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.”

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?”

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times.

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into.

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel.

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.”

“You could.”

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise.

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.”

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth.

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-”

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.”

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another.

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,”

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.”

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?”

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure.

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.”

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you.

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want.

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon.

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into.

That, for him, it had always been you.

“Aegon, I-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.”

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions.

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.”

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it.

“You’re… generous.”

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon.

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.”

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self.

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.”

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression.

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.”

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.”

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.”

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.”

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.”

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age.

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you.

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?”

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.”

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin.

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.”

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.”

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice.

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

608 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Playing with Fire

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: You travel to the capital, as Prince Aegon intends to take a wife at the command of the King. Much to your surprise, more than one Targaryen prince catches your eye.

warnings: none for this part other than some sensual themes

word count: 4k

A/N: as Katherine Pierce once said, "it's okay to love them both😏"

masterlist

King Viserys announced a ball, to be held within the Red Keep, crafted for his eldest son Aegon to choose a bride. Maidens traveled from all corners of the seven kingdoms and beyond, to attend and vie for Prince Aegon’s affections. You were to be no exception, much to your displeasure.

Your family had carted you off to the capital, though you put up quite a fight. You did not wish to marry yet, let alone marry Prince Aegon. You had heard nothing but promiscuous rumors about him from ladies returning from their times in the capital.

Nearly all returned with a story about Prince Aegon; stealing to their rooms in the night or pulling them to darkened corridors only for them to leave with lips bruised from kissing and ruffled skirts. The prince was said to be quite lustful and gluttonous.

You would listen, eyes wide, as they recalled their stories with blushing cheeks and girlish giggles. One lady even showed the lovebites Prince Aegon had adorned her neck with, pushing back her hair and revealing the purple bruises that had just begun to fade to a deep jade color.

Prince Aegon was reminiscent of a wolf in your mind, or perhaps a dragon like that of his house sigil. An all-powerful creature who devoured whomever he desired.

Alas, as the only daughter of your family, it was time for you to find a husband. A prince was too enticing of an offer for your family to keep you at home. You simply would have to avoid Prince Aegon and hope he would not take a liking to you. You figured it should be easy enough to do, he would surely be preoccupied with the dozens of ladies who had come for him.

Still, the night of the ball you found yourself clinging to the corners of the room. Your mother had traveled to the capital with you and was eager to present you to the dragon prince. She had a new gown tailored for you, the soft pink color of a rose from the Reach. Your hair was done in an elaborate style, with silver pins that shone like stars in the candlelight. You slouched into the crowd, spotting her looking for you.

“Seven hells,” you murmured to yourself, ducking behind a servant carrying a tray of empty goblets. You can hear her voice above the music, calling your name. The serving girl gives you a startled look and you smile at her, apologetically.

You moved swiftly to avoid her, taking cover behind Cassandra Baratheon who is eagerly looking for Aegon. She glances down at you, blue eyes narrowing. She looks breathtakingly beautiful, clad in a sapphire-colored gown that matches her eyes, and makes her pale skin luminescent. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, spilling down her back. Cassandra has come dressed the part of a princess.

“What are you doing?” she asks, nose wrinkling. She waves the fan she holds, the fabric matching that of her gown. She barely acknowledges your presence, long neck craning over the crowd hunting for Prince Aegon.

“Hiding,” you hiss, looking around nervously. Cassandra rolls her eyes folding her fan and whacking you with it on the arm.

“Ouch!” you yelp, swatting at her.

“Get away from me!” she scolds, “you shall make me look foolish!”

You make a face at the Baratheon, sticking out your tongue, before dashing to the opposite side of the room. You had briefly resided in Storm’s End when you were a child, as a ward to the Baratheons. Needless to say, you and Cassandra did not get along well.

You heard your mother’s call once more and panicked, as the crowd began to part. Glancing to your left, you spotted a long table covered with food for grazing guests. The tablecloth was long and dusted against the floor. In your panic you dropped to your knees, and climbed under the table, fixing the tablecloth behind you.

You exhaled a deep breath as you pushed yourself back, sitting completely under the table. You could hear the crowd around you, but you were hidden. Well, almost. In your haste your slipper had come off, and it lay sticking halfway out from under the table.

Your eyes widened as you reached for it before it was pulled from your sight. Lifting the table cloth you stuck your head out to address the thief.

Prince Aemond stood inspecting your slipper, brows furrowed in confusion. He looked very regal, in an outfit such a deep, rich green it almost appeared black. Gold trimmed the cuffs of his sleeves, and down the front of his shirt. You were admiring him until his violet eye met yours.

You had heard of the accident that happened to Aemond when he was a boy but you had never met him. A deep scar marred half his face before disappearing underneath an eyepatch and reappearing through his brow. Aemond’s face twisted in confusion as he looked down at you.

“What are you doing, my lady?” he asked, voice stiff but polite. He spoke as though he could not be bothered by your foolishness.

“Please, my prince,” you said in a hushed whisper, reaching for your shoe. Aemond did not move, still perplexed. You could hear your mother’s voice, as she chatted, followed by Cassandra Baratheon’s irritating call.

“Why are you under- ooof!”

Aemond was not someone who was easily surprised. But surprise him you did. Without thinking you slammed your hand into the hard muscles of his stomach, grabbing his shirt. The prince doubled over and you pulled him under the table with you.

Aemond looked at you incredulously, shocked that he was overpowered by a maiden.

“I do apologize, my prince,” you said in earnest, hoping he would spare you his fury. You wore a desperate expression on your face, your eyes pleading. People had lost their hands entirely for putting them upon royalty, and you were rather fond of your extremities. You continue to stare at him, eyes wide, as you are crouched on your knees.

Aemond had no idea who you were, other than some noble lady. His lips parted as he watched you, his hand still holding your slipper. Your eyes dropped to it.

“May I have my shoe?” you asked, and Aemond jerked his head in a nod, but did not return your slipper. He felt very confused with the entirety of the situation. Aemond was not used to such tomfoolery.

“My lady,” he began, “why are you hiding under a table?”

You wet your lips, eyes still nervous. You swallow before answering, still nervous that the prince may drag you by your hair to the nearest black cell.

“I am hiding.”

“That is obvious,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, “from whom?”

“My mother,” you say, flinching as a shadow moves past, “she wishes to introduce me to Prince Aegon.”

Aemond hums, tucking a knee towards his chest and resting his arm atop it. He does not need further explanation. His eye roams over your form, over the dress you wear, and the layer of sweat that coats your forehead and throat from your antics. Your hairstyle is disheveled, several pins seem to be out of place, but the ones that remain sparkle in the light that sneaks through the tablecloth.

You meet his eye and feel your cheeks turn red at his attention. He is devilishly handsome, with his silky, long silver hair and purple eye that seems to peer into your soul. The eyepatch and scar only make him seem more dangerous, causing your palms to sweat nervously.

“I apologize, it was rather rude to involve you,” you tell him, glancing towards the floor.

Aemond chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. You smile weakly at the sound, having not expected it.

“This is the most interesting thing that has occurred all evening,” he assures you, “unless, of course, you count Lady Tyrell’s gown mishap.”

He watches your eyes widen and mouth open at his shared gossip. Aemond smiles, happy to have engaged you. He watches as the nervousness begins to fall from your face, and your shoulders relax.

“What happened?” you ask, brows lifting in curiosity.

“One of her sleeves caught on Lord Manderly’s broach, and tore,” he tells you, watching you cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.

“Disasterous indeed,” you snicker and Aemond feels his lips tug into a smile. You laugh once more at the thought. A moment goes by, the pair of you sitting in silence.

“You are free to leave my prince,” you tell him, “I do not mean to hold you, hostage.”

“It is quite alight,” he says, earnestly, “I am enjoying the distraction.”

Aemond found this whole affair a slap in the face. Aegon was not interested in marriage, nor was he suited for it. He would rather indulge with any lady, servant, or whore he could get his hands on.

Yet their father insisted on this spectacle for Aegon to take a wife. If he did fail to do so, Aemond knew the small council was plotting for Aegon to marry their sister Helaena. Aemond did not know which plan he hated more.

A hand reached the edge of the tablecloth and your mother’s face became visible. Behind her stood a smirking Cassandra Baratheon.

“Y/N,” your mother hissed, pulling you from under the table. Embarrassment was evident in her voice and you hung your head as she scolded you.

“There, I told you Lady (Y/L/N),” Cassandra said, in a nasally voice. You scowled at her, as her face twisted in confusion as Aemond exited the table behind you. He stands holding his arms crossed behind his back. You did not realize how tall he was, he towers above you.

“She behaves like a child,” Cassandra snaps, a shrewd smile on her lips.

“You are a horrible cow, Cass,” you hiss at her, causing her to sneer. The look fades as she takes in Prince Aemond behind you and she bats her lashes, fanning herself.

“Oh, my,” your mother said, looking towards Prince Aemond, “your grace.”

She begins to curtsey but Aemond waves her off.

“No need, my lady,” he told her, offering you both a smile, “I was just delighted by your daughter’s company.” Aemond holds your slipper out to show your mother. You glance towards the floor, your bare foot hidden under your skirts.

“The lady simply lost her slipper, it rolled under the table you see,” he lies to your mother, who nods at his words. A starstruck expression is plastered on her face as she gazes up at the handsome prince. A dreamy smile plays on her mouth.

You purse your lips, fighting a smile that threatened to appear. Aemond turned to you then, violet eye gleaming, as though acknowledging the secret he kept for you.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards your foot. You nodded and he knelt before you. Aemond curled his hand around your ankle, lifting your foot from the floor and helping you inside your slipper.

“There,” he said, looking up at you, “no harm done.”

You hear Cassandra scoff behind you, but your mother looks pleased.

“Thank you, my prince,” you tell Aemond, as he stands. You feel fluttering in your stomach as he holds your gaze. Your ankle tingles where his hand has been.

“I do hope we run into each other again, during your stay in the capital,” he tells you.

“I should like that, very much, my prince.”

“Aemond,” he insists.

“Aemond,” you say, enjoying the sound of his name on your tongue, with no titles attached. You smile tentatively as his name lingers in the space between you.

Aemond bids your mother farewell and departs toward the other side of the room. Your mother locks her hand around your arm.

“That is not the prince we came for,” she scolds, but you can tell Aemond still has her flustered. Her face is flushed, as though she is remembering her youth. She fans herself with a gloved hand.

“You are blushing, mother,” you tease and she shoos you away, “where is Prince Aegon then?”

You glance around the room, and the only other silver-crowned head you spot is that of Princess Helaena who is engaged in a dance with her grandsire. Your mother instructed you earlier to befriend the princess, something she would surely remind you to do on the morrow as well.

“You are too late,” Cassandra calls, fanning herself once more. You roll your eyes at her eavesdropping. Ever the nosy gossip, Cassandra is.

“The prince has left for the night. I assume he found someone to entertain him,” Cassandra says, feigning that this does not bother her. You see through her though; Cassandra believes she is already married to Aegon in her mind.

You flush at her words. Targaryens seem to have insatiable appetites. You bring your gaze back to your mother who frowns.

“Do you hear how she talks of him?” you ask, “do you truly wish a man like that for me?”

Your mother scoffs at your concerns.

“He would give you a dozen children then, several grandchildren for me,” she says, patting your arm. Your eyes widen in horror at the thought. Your mother has no qualms with you marrying a lecherous man, then. She sees your expression and gives you a look of a mother’s aggravation.

“Do not look at me like that,” she tells you, “you need not be scared of the marriage bed.”

“Easy for you to say,” you tell her, sighing, “you are not a maiden.”

“I was once,” she says, tone hardening, “when the time is right, I shall tell you all you need know. It need not be frightening.”

You remember the bruises on the lady’s neck and know your mother must be lying to you. How could they be born of something pleasurable?

“May I go to bed, now that the prince is gone?” you ask and your mother sighs, before shaking her head.

“I have been without your company all evening, you shall stay a while longer.”

You stay much longer than you intend, getting lost in gossip with your mother and other lords and ladies of court. You are even able to introduce yourself to Princess Helaena, who captures your attention with her latest fascination with an insect found on the islands of the Jade Sea. She had been reading about it, and her eyes lit up when talking about it.

The hour is late when your mother leaves you to retire to the guest chambers you share. You linger behind to hear Lord Beesbury finish a tale. You find yourself wandering the Red Keep, searching for your chambers.

You pass by several goldcloaks who murmur to you, politely. You yawn, as you turn a corner, walking down a corridor lit by recently revived torches. The servants of the Keep must have been told to refresh them with all the late running festivities.

A noise catches your attention; the squeaking hinge of a door being opened followed by a giggle. The shape of a lady appears, her green dress sparkling in the light. She has red hair, and you recognize her but cannot recall her name. Your eyes widen as she smiles, hand outstretched behind her, holding onto someone.

She pulls her partner towards her, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. The silver hair is unmistakable. His hair is shorter than his brother, though he wears a similar outfit to that of Aemond. His shirt is untucked and you notice the laces of the lady’s corset are loose, as though restrung in haste. Prince Aegon grins as he reaches to cup the lady’s cheeks, covering her lips in a passionate kiss.

You stand frozen and unnoticed by the pair, entranced by their embrace. The lady makes a whimpering noise as Aegon’s hand slips down her throat, the other holding her waist against him. He removes his lips from hers, only to bring them to the side of her throat. Your lips part as you watch him kiss her neck as though it were her lips. The lady seems to enjoy this, tangling her hands in his short locks.

You are so hypnotized by Aegon’s actions, you don’t notice when the lady’s eyes open to a half-lidded stare. Her eyes widen as notices you observing them. The lady shrieks, pushing Aegon away from her.

“What?” he grumbles, as the lady smoothes her skirt, fleeing the scene with a reddened face. Aegon watches as she rushes by you, his violet eyes meeting yours.

Your eyes are wide, lips parted in shock, and you feel as though your feet are rooted to where you stand. Though your mind is telling you to run away, following the fleeing lady, you stare at the prince. Aegon stands shorter than his brother, his shoulders slouched in a carefree manner. His hair is wavy, the strands ending near his jaw. Like his brother, he is painfully handsome. A curse all Targaryens seem to bear.

Aegon wets his lips, which are a shining feature of his face. Reddened and plumped from kissing, begging to be kissed again. It is as though the gods molded them for kissing and kissing alone. Aegon’s mouth opens, and his brows come together, as he takes a lazy step toward you.

“I do not know you,” he says, his lips downturned into a pout. You swallow hard.

“I am Lady Y/N, my prince,” you tell him, clasping your hands in front of you, trying to stop them from fiddling nervously.

“Lady Y/N,” he says your name slowly, as though tasting it. “I did not see you at the ball.”

“I was there, my prince,” you tell him, knowing your efforts of avoiding him were in vain, “it appears I did not make an impression.”

His lips turn into a smile, revealing a row of shiny white teeth. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip drawing your eyes toward his mouth.

“I should bid you goodnight, my prince,” you say urgently, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he calls, a quickens his steps until coming to face you.

His eyes narrow, a smile still playing on his face.

“How did I not see you?” he asks, “I always remember a pretty face.”

You feel your face flush. No matter how much he frightens you, flirtation with a prince is not something you are used to.

“I do not know, my prince,” you tell him, flustered by his compliment.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as though enjoying how you squirm beneath his gaze.

“Come have a drink with me,” he offers, “and we can review your evening, and why we did not make each other’s acquaintance.”

Insatiable indeed. The prince was just with a maiden, and yet here he stands, planning his next course. He holds out a hand to you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. You can picture the ladies who stood in your shoes before you, who said yes to him. Who indulged him in the pleasures of the known world. You could do so too if you so desired. His voice is inviting, a sensual caress.

“May I speak freely, my prince?” you ask and he nods, curiously.

“I am quite frightened.”

Aegon’s head snaps back at that.

“Frightened?”

You nod.

He takes a step back from you, hands held out in surrender.

“There is no need to be frightened, my lady,” he tells you, “I wish you no harm, only the pleasure of your company.”

Your breath comes out shakily.

“I do not wish you to bed me,” you tell him, rushing out the words, “I do not wish you to take my maidenhead.”

Aegon’s eyes go wide as saucers and he releases a laugh, before shushing you.

“My lady, we are in a corridor,” he says, looking around as though you’ve made a foolish assumption. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“I have heard stories,” you tell him and he frowns, though there is amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, you have?”

“Yes,” you say, growing annoyed with him, “that you lure helpless maidens into your bed, OR any place that suits you.” You gesture to the corridor you stand in. A bed, a wall, probably on dragonback. It likely did not matter.

Aegon laughs again, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. No one has spoken to him of his reputation so directly before, outside of the members of his family.

“How lustful of me,” he says, a grin stretching from ear to ear, “you paint me as such a wanton creature Lady Y/N.”

You raise your brows. Aegon stands before you, unashamed. It must be so easy for a prince, to be a man in this world. He is so relaxed with the conversation about his promiscuity.

“You just had a lady in your company,” you accuse, “and now you look at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asks, leaning against the stone wall, as though the conversation was entirely natural to him. You laugh, breaking his gaze, before looking at him once more. He raises a brow, eyes still half lidded, intrigued.

“As though you are a man starving, who has happened upon a feast,” you say, laughing at the ridiculousness of it gesturing to the space between you.

Aegon gives you a once-over with his eyes before answering. A tingle rolls down your spine as his eyes take in every inch of you. You feel naked under his gaze.

“Perhaps I am famished,” he tells you, and your entire body feels like it is on fire. He is very good at this, and you suddenly realize what makes women want to crawl into bed with him. If this is anything like what pleasure awaits the marriage bed, perhaps your mother was right.

Aegon wets his lips when you do not answer, tilting his head against the wall, and exposing his neck to you. You watch the apple of his throat bob up and down and have a sudden urge to place a kiss on it. You roll your shoulders back, steadying yourself.

“Yes well,” you stutter, trying to find words, “perhaps there are leftovers from the feast.”

“Are you in the capital long?’ he asks suddenly changing the subject. You blink, the room suddenly seeming uncomfortably warm.

“Yes, my prince, at least-”

“Good,” he interrupts, pushing off the wall and walking towards you. He comes to stand face to face with you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the sweet wine on his breath from the feast and something else; something rich and smoky that makes you want to bury your face in his chest and inhale.

“I shall have that drink with you,” he says, eyes locked on yours until the final word he speaks. Only then does he drop his eyes to your parted lips, before bringing them back to your eyes. He flashes you a smile, before continuing his leave in the direction you came.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he calls and you turn, confused by his exit. There was something in the air between you that promised something more. The tension gnawing at you. Aegon has begun walking backward slowly, so he could face you, a smirk on his lips, as he takes in your expression. You feel your thoughts are not safe around him.

“Goodnight, my prince,” you manage to choke out, head spinning from the interaction.

“Aegon,” he insists.

“Aegon,” you repeat and he tilts his head back, as though enjoying hearing you speak his name.

Then he turns on his heel and is gone.

When you finally make it to your chambers, the sky has begun to lighten with the promise of imminent sunrise. You lay in bed, thoughts racing and heart pounding. Your dreams are restless, filled with dragon princes with silver hair and lavender eyes.

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Based on the prompt “is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Where’s it from? Idk. I just barely remember the prompt itself.it just screamed Aegon to me and this shit popped out.

The day had been long and tiering for your feet that throbbed with ache within your uncomfortable shoes. You were more then thankful of the fact that the day was finally drawing to a close and that you could let your guard down within the confines of your chamber; Indulging yourself with prospects of having a proper soak in the bath to ease the tension in your muscles.

Your body pleaded you for rest, your eyes had begun to weigh heavy with fatigue and your mind was slowly cloaked over by a blanket of fog, all of it gradually piling up on one another within the time it took you to enter your chamber no less. So much so that you almost didn’t account for the fact that there was a human shaped figure upon your bedsheets until you moved away from the now locked door, locking eyes.

You sharply inhaled the breath within your throat, clasping your hand over your chest before addressing the very much naked male. “Aegon, is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” The prince simply shrugged, acting as though this was quite the common occurrence within the Keep when it really wasn’t. “I overheard that you were having a bad day and I merely wished to surprise you, my dearest.” He claimed, smirking when he noticed the effort you put in keeping your eyes above a certain level of his bare body.

“Though it seems to me that you’re trying to protect what semblance of honour I have left by averting your gaze from the…less descent aspects.” Aegon continued as he removed himself from your bed and walked behind you so he could press his body against your clothes back as rest his head on your shoulder, his breath skimming the lobe of your ear and neck, causing the goosebumps to arise. “You’re allowed to look you know…but you’re encouraged to touch as well if it relives you of the stress.” He whispers hotly, his hands clambering up your arms and rest on your shoulders as they began to knead the aching muscles there, causing you to groan.

“What’s your motive Aegon, your not normally this…giving.” You asked as his calloused fingers began to massage the base of your neck. You hear him huff as he moved to stand in front of you, his fingers now toying with the hairs on your neck as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m trying to show my appreciation for everything that you’ve done for me and here you are questioning my motives.” Aegon’s observant eyes gauging even the most minute expressions your body subconsciously gave in terms of enjoyment.

“I’m hurt y/n, truly you wound your prince. Though I’m not entirely against you making up for it through more…intimate means.” He purrs seductively, gently cusping your jaw in his hand, running his thumb back forth across it. To feel Aegon’s bare body pressed up against yours brought forth a feeling from the pit of your stomach; One you couldn’t quite describe as either lust nor disgust. It wasn’t in between either; His body was beautifully sculptured from porcelain and the heat coming off of him only made you yearn for sleep even more, though preferably within the residency of his arms.

As tempting as Aegon was trying to come across, you didn’t feel it within you to indulge his sexual fantasies tonight, already having exhausted yourself enough as it is and peeled yourself away from him to your side of the bed before starting to undress yourself by removing your shoes first. “As nice as that sounds my prince but I fear I maybe too tired to indulge you in those sorts of physical practices. I wish for sleep more so then anything you could offer.” You offhandedly told him, tucking yourself beneath the covers after successfully changing into your nightwear, too tired to care about the audience of one you had stare into your back.

“That tired huh?” Aegon asked, tucking himself next to you under the covers. You hummed, thankful that he has stopped his advances for the night, just this once. “Would you allow me to hold you as you drift off?” It was strange to hear him ask but you didn’t have the heart to interrogate him further and instead burrow your head into his pale chest, allowing yourself to drown in his warmth as a sigh of relief escapes your lips. Aegon chuckles, bringing his arms over you in means of pulling you closer so that you were flushed against his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his against it so you were face to face. “Good night, dearest. I shall be here when you awake.”

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dragonbarbie · 10 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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maria-tries-to-write · 1 year

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Aemond, to Ser Cole: I don’t give a shit about tourneys.

Aemond, winning every single tourney just to consecrate reader as Queen of love and beauty: a toast to the most beautiful Queen of love and beauty.

Aegon: Yeah, slay Queen!

Aemond, ready to kill Aegon:

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maidragoste · 1 year

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You Can Do It

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: The twins are born. Aemond isn't by your side, but Aegon is.

Masterlist Serie

I still don't know when I'm going to finish writing chapter 5 but until then I'll leave you with this

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

"Aegon what are you doing here?" Alicent asked in surprise as the door to your chambers opens and her firstborn entered.

As soon as the king heard the news that your waters had already broken, he ran to your chambers. He didn't know why exactly but something inside him told him that he had to be by your side. And he was glad to listen to that small voice when he saw how the tension in your face softened at the sight of him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked walking up to you.

"I had better days, your grace" you replied with a small smile. It won't matter that you were sweaty and your belly was giant. to Aegon, you still looked beautiful.

You stopped your walk and leaned against the wall. The maester had told you to walk around the room until it was time for your baby to come out.

"My king, the birthing bed is no place for men," the maester said earning a glare from Aegon.

"I am the king and I can be where I please" he replied scathingly "Besides, I came to support my niece in the name of my brother"

Your eyes blinked away the tears that were forming at the mention of Aemond. You had the stupid hope that your husband would return for the birth of his child.

"Aegon, this could go on for hours," Alicent said trying to convince him to leave "I'm sure you have more important things to do"

"I'm sure the council can handle it for a couple of hours" the king affirmed "It doesn't matter, I'll stay by your side until you finish" he promised looking into your eyes.

"Thank you" you whispered thinking for a brief moment to hug him but you didn't.

And neither Alicent nor the maester said they bothered to try again to get the king to leave, not wanting to face his wrath. They were also sure that sooner or later Aegon would leave. Both of them were surprised when he took your hand and started walking with you around the room for over an hour.

Alicent was telling you stories from when your uncles were babies in an attempt to distract you from the pain when at one point you get a contraction so strong it almost makes you fall on the floor, if it wasn't for Aegon catching you. They both helped you get into bed as comfortably as possible. Aegon didn't take his eyes off your face as the maester lifted your nightgown to see if you could start thrusting yet.

"You can push now, princess" the old man announced.

You began to push, crying out in pain as you clung to both Aegon's hand and Alicent's. She looked at her son expecting him at any moment to get up and leave the room. But he never did, he stayed by your side without letting go of your hand, from time to time making a little grimace because of the strength with which you were holding him but he never complained. She noted how Aegon's lavender eyes conveyed pure concern and pain. He looked like he was suffering from seeing you suffer.

"Princess, you must keep pushing," the maester asked when you stopped.

"I can't," you said tiredly "I can't do it" you repeated ignoring the midwives' words of encouragement.

"Y/n, I swear that all this pain will be worth it when you have your baby in your arms," Alicent said brushing the hair from your face.

"No, I can't do it" you repeated shaking your head "They're going to have to cut me open to get the baby out" you panicked and started crying. You were scared, you wanted your mother by your side, you wanted her to tell you that everything would be okay. You didn't want to die yet, you wanted to see your mother and siblings again, you wanted to be there when Aemond came back and met your baby. But right now you didn't think you were capable of giving birth.

Aegon felt his heart break to see you in this state. You looked so hopeless. He couldn't bear to see you like this.

"Hey, hey, look at me, look at me" with his free hand he took your chin making you look at him "No one is going to open you" he promised, giving your hand a light squeeze, it was the only way he could show his support "I know you can do it. Do you hear me? You can do it. You're not alone" he could feel her mother's gaze but he didn't care, the only thing that mattered now was you "You have dragon blood in your veins. You are strong. You will beat the delivery bed "Your breathing calmed down and slowly the tears stopped flowing "Now I want you to push, you can lean on me, smash my hand and scream all you want but I need you to push" he smiled when you nodded.

Alicent couldn't help but be surprised and angry. A part of her was surprised by the softness in her firstborn's voice when speaking to you, she was grateful that he can comfort you but another part was furious with her son for being here, by your side when he was not together with Helaena when Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born. Aegon was not there to calm his sister's fears.

Then you started to push again, you were sure that your screams should be heard throughout the castle but it didn't matter, today you would give birth. Aegon was right, you have the blood of the dragon and you weren't going to let the birthing bed kill you. You were going to live, you were going to see your baby grow, you'd be on your feet when Aemond got back and you'd introduce him to his child, and the both of you raise him together.

"I can already see the child's head, princess. Keep pushing" asked the maester and you did it. You had to make one last effort and you could already have your baby in your arms.

You kept pushing until you finally heard a cry from the baby. You were so relieved to hear that you let yourself lean against Aegon. He started stroking your back. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the sense of security and peace you felt. You smiled when you heard that he was a boy. You were about to ask for it so you could see it when you felt pain again making you groan, earning worried looks from your mother-in-law and brother-in-law.

"Princess, there is still another child" announced the maester surprised.

"Damn it Aemond. When I get back I won't let him touch me again" you said making the king laugh.

"Okay, princess, let's get this over with," Aegon said smiling and you couldn't help but smile back. You should hate him for stealing your mother's throne, but how could you hate him after he was by your side on the birthing bed? It was not his obligation, he was not your husband but he was still here, by your side, supporting you.

A couple more pushes and it didn't take long for another cry to be heard, this one much louder.

"Another boy, princess. Congratulations"

"Thank you all for being with me"

A few minutes later the midwives finished cleaning the children. They gave you one of your babies, Alicent was ready to take the other but the midwife gave it to the king.

Aegon didn't expect it but he took the baby without problems, it's not like it was the first time he had a child in his arms he was a father. He felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he remembered when he first lifted Jaehaerys. He decided to put those thoughts aside so as not to overshadow the happiness of the birth of your children.

"My little Aemon," you said looking tenderly at your son in your arms. You felt your heart full of love. Alicent was right. All the pain was worth seeing how she looked at you "I'm your mom" you smiled and left a kiss on her forehead. You still didn't want to let go but you could see your mother-in-law eager to pick up one of her grandchildren "Meet your grandmother" you gave her the baby.

Alicent was relieved to see that her grandson had Aemond's nose and violet eyes, which were darker than the king's. For a moment she had feared that Aegon's attitude was because they were actually his children.

"And what are you going to call this little guy?" Aegon asked as he rocked the baby. He already loved him, simply for being a part of you.

"Baelon" you replied with a smile feeling warmth seeing how he looked at your son "Now, I didn't want to interrupt your moment with your nephew but I would like to meet my son"

"I'm sorry" the king apologized with red cheeks before passing the boy to you.

"It's okay" you smiled at him before turning your full attention to your baby.

Alicent looked at the three of them and felt nauseated. You looked so happy as you spoke to Baelon and Aegon looked at you with such love, he had never seen that look in his eyes, the three of you quietly seemed like family. She felt sick when she realized her mistake when she denied the commitment between Helaena and Jacaerys and yours with Aegon. She remembered her firstborn complaining that he didn't want to marry his sister but you, that he loved you. She had thought it was a whim but now she could see it. Because only a man who truly loved you could look so happy while you carry another man's child. Any other man would be spiteful and jealous. But Aegon didn't, he loved you so much that he just wanted to see you well.

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danytar · 19 days

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“My Dragon's Mother” [Prince!Aegon!Targaryen X Pregnant!Wife!Reader]

Warnings: Incest - Erotic lactation - domesticity - pregnancy kink - offensive language

Summary: Aegon is obsessed with his wife during her second pregnancy and he's trying hard to keep his hands to himself after she reach the final stages of pregnancy.

You were reading peacefully in your own chambers sitting in your chair in front of your large mirror. Suddenly you hear the sound of your doors being opened.from the intoxicating scent that invaded the room You knew he was your husband.

You put your book aside on the table in front of you then you looked in the mirror in front of you to see him standing there smiling at you. you smiled back to him.

He get closer and closer, then kneel behind your chair and wrapped his arms around your pregnant belly.

“How does my goddess feeling this morning?” he whispered in your ear.

“There is no fat goddess”. you replied and moved your head slightly to look at his handsome face.

“Fat?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at you with a curious look.. “My goddess carrying my child and says a ridiculous things about herself! ”.

Before you could respond, he tucked his face into the side of your neck his arms were still tight around your belly. You could feel his breath on your neck.

“Some satisfaction?” you chuckled. he smiled softly he started kissing the side of your neck, your jaw, and below your ear. Your sensitive potential.

You felt like you were in heaven your husband's gentle kisses and touches make your body tremble. His hands moved from your belly to your chest and began to feel and squeeze your swollen breasts..

“Aeg- what you're doing?” you replied with a short chuckle.

“Make my own goddess feel relaxed”. His tone was sexy and low. you felt like they were starting to leak..He smiled seductively and nibbled your earlobe slowly. You let out a soft moan when you felt his teeth scratch your skin.

He got up from his place and he was now in front of you and knelt down in front of your chair again. He smiled at you seductively. That smile of his is like a spear that pierced your heart.

He placed his head and hands on your belly “I can't wait to meet you my sweet girl or boy”. He murmured sweetly while you smiled and tangled your fingers in his short silver hair.

You chuckle and said “Oh? is this so? ”. he smiled at you and kissed your belly.

“Tell me, how do you feel while you carrying dragon's child?” he chuckled.

“Hmm Horrible”

“Horrible??”He raised his eyebrows and looked at you.. “Is this a lie, my dear wife?”

You chuckled and nodded. he smiled widely then he rose to kiss your lips softly. Your husband's kisses were usually hot and rough but he was considerate of your pregnancy and its progress that's why he didn't want to cause you things that he would regret later.

You two stayed like that for a while, kissing each other and he caresses your body and your belly in particular.However, suddenly your moments are interrupted by a pair of silverlyheads entering the room.

Aegon pulled away from you to look at the twin.

“Mummy! we had chosen the child egg! ”. They said in sync and ran towards you and their father.

“Eh? Without us? ”Aegon replied to tease them.

“I went with them” Aemond's voice broke through the conversation as he leaned against the door frame.

Aegon looks at his brother with soft smilie “Thank you brother”.

Aemond smiled back and nodded “How are you today, sister?”. he said to you.

“Pretty good Aemond thank you”. you replied with a wide smilie.

“Daddy, uncle aemond helped us to choose the egg. It was golden and shiny It resembles sunfyre scales”. Jaenaera said.

“Oh? Sunfyre scales really? ” Aegon chuckled .

They nodded. While you smiled and said to them, “Then let’s hope the dragon looks like Sunfyre too.”

Aegon looked at you and smiled “Oh? Do you want to replace me with this child?”.

“I didn't say I would replace you, my love”.

“We also chose the baby's name”. The twin interrupt your conversation with your husband.

“Also?!” Aegon can't help but laugh at his children.

“Yes! I will name him Aemon” Jaehaerys replied.

“Hey! We agreed on Viserys like grandfather's name! ”. Jaenaera protest.

“No!”

“Yes! ”

“No! ”

“Oh yes! ”

You chuckled at the sight of the children arguing over their sibling's name. The two were having such a lively argument regarding their sibling's potential name that they were almost shouting when they spoke.

It was quite amusing to just watch them at this moment, they were two adorable children that were having such a small argument over the name of their sibling to be.

But at least it seemed that they were decided upon the idea of having a brother.

“I've already chosen a name ” you chuckled.

Aegon chuckled alongside his wife as she spoke. She had already chosen a name for the child and she seemed satisfied with her decision. It certainly made sense that she had already decided upon a name for their future child herself. He spoke to her now in a soft and caring tone.

“So you have already chosen out a name for our future child, that is great. It is a good thing that you are already so prepared.”

“W-What! but muuuummmmmmyyy! ”

“What did you choose sister?” Aemond replied.

“Aegon”

“Yes sweetheart? ”he replied.

You chuckled..“His name will be Aegon”.

He was indeed correct in his prediction, she did choose his name. He could not resist the urge to smirk as she had chosen his very own name for the unborn child that she carried with her.

He spoke teasingly. "My own name? You really chose Aegon as the child's name?"

You smiled and nodded. Aemond rolled his eyes and sighed wryly “Aegon? really sis? Why isn't Aemond? I can't believe you chose our stupid brother's name”

“Excuse me? Our stupid brother is my husband”you replied to aemond.

Aegon can't help but smilies and hugs from behind and wrapped his arms around your belly again and placed kisses on your neck.

“You two!”Aemond scolds you both and covers children's eyes. you and aegon chuckles while aemond takes your children outside “Come on guys, it looks like your parents are busy”.

After you were left alone Your husband raised the level and started biting your neck and ear.. You groaned lightly. “Ah- aeg! what you think yourself doing? ”.

He smiled slyly then he proceeded to pull down the straps of your silk nightgown to reveal your swollen chest in front of him.

“Aegon! "

He smiled and looked at you.. You knew this evil look very well.

“No! " you checked.

“Oh yes honey”. he replied.

“Aeg! ”.

He quickly pounced your breasts and his mouth began to abuse your nipples.. you can't help but moaned loudly.. “Aeg-”

“I am just enjoying my sweet wife, that is all.”

He spoke back with humor, continuing his licks and bites her swollen breasts. He was enjoying it immensely, he knew she was enjoying it as well given her reactions to him touching her, and he had no intention of stopping at all.

“Little Aegon won't share your breasts with me”.

“Aegon!”.

“This is true, my sweet child, are you listening? Your mother's tits are mine.. all of them.. even.. ”.

“Even what? ”

“This”.

He started sucking on your nipples vigorously, drawing out every drop of milk was there. “AH- You are a big pervert ”. you moaned loudly and you ran your fingers through his hair.

He checked “I know”.

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#aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon headcanons #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon fanfic #aegon the second #tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x reader #hotd2 #hotd s2 #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon x you

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Anniversary

summary: swimming & face fucking || you and aegon relax at a snowy cabin in winter town for your first anniversary

pairing: modern!aegon x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, i love him idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day four of 12 days of smuff!! surely this counts for swimming they are at least in some water lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You let out a soft sigh and relax further into the balmy water, letting your eyes slip shut as wafts of steam warm your face, which contrasted nicely with the cold mountain air that blew in breezes all around you. Your lips can’t help but curl up into a soft smile as bubbles gently break across the surface of your bare skin, tickling slightly as they rise to the surface of the water.

“Okay, you were right,” Aegon rasps next to you, his signature soft smirk audible in his words, “Maybe celebrating our anniversary in Winter Town wasn’t such an awful idea.”

You blow a huff of laughter through your nose as you crack open an eye to peer at him — watching as he lets out a contented sigh, head tilted back against the lip of the hot tub, along with his stocky arms. Your eye opens a bit more as you let your gaze linger for a second longer, taking in the soft pink blush smattered across his full cheeks and the way silvery strands of hair stuck against the top of his forehead from the steam billowing up off the surface of the water.

“Better than Dorne?” You tease, letting your eye slip shut once more.

You hear him let out a soft laugh next to you before he sighs happily again, “Better than Dorne.” He agrees, voice strained as though he were speaking through a stretch.

The two of you stay that way for an indiscernible amount of time, minutes seeming to blur together as jets massage every inch of you.

Suddenly, you feel the water seem to shift around you and you open your eyes, smiling when you see that Aegon has chosen to move much closer, his shoulder nearly bumping against yours.

“Hi,” you say simply, peering up at him through your lashes before you turn and lay back against him, your back against his side.

He quickly readjusts and hooks both of his arms around your middle, his hands resting idly just underneath your breasts. “Hey,” he chuckles, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the damp hair at the top of your head, “Come here often?” He teases; you can practically feel his chest swell with pride as you laugh against him.

“As it just so happens, this is my first time,” you reply, tilting your head back to look up into his violet eyes, “Although, I happen to be on an anniversary vacation with my boyfriend.” Your smirk quickly turns into a pleased hum as he cups your breasts in his warm hands, your nipples hardening as you arch your back enough for them to rise out of the warm water.

“He sounds very lucky,” he rasps, savoring your gasps as he kneads the fat of your breasts, eyes glimmering at the whimpers you let out every time his thumbs skim across your nipples.

You reach a hand up and twine your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “He tells me quite often he is,” you breathe before tugging his face down to yours and hungrily pressing your lips against his.

Both of you sigh into the kiss, your lips moving together lazily, unhurried. Aegon groans above you when he feels your tongue brush over his bottom lip, his hands grasping tighter to your breasts as he parts his pouty lips and lets you lick eagerly into his mouth, a gesture he happily returns as your tongues languidly swirl together.

The two of you kiss for a while, moving against one other leisurely, each of you drinking down the other’s small noises of pleasure.

Before too long, though, Aegon started to become restless and you smiled into the kiss when his touches became more desperate — harder, more incessant. You squeak against his lips when one large hand comes down and suddenly cups your center, already bare from when you’d both decided to forego swimsuits.

“Wait!” You breathe, sitting up and disentangling yourself from your boyfriend’s arms.

“Everything okay?” He asks with concern, one eyebrow quirked up.

You can’t help but smile, endeared at his concern, although you quickly correct yourself with a sly smirk before you lean in and press kisses in a trail, starting at his chest and working your way up and over his collarbone and neck until you reach his ear.

“Just want you in my mouth…” you tease, biting your lower lip as you pull back just enough to peer into his eyes.

“That can be arranged,” he says around a gruff laugh before tilting his head toward the sliding glass door that leads back into the small, cozy cabin you’d rented for the weekend, “Shall we head inside?”

You nod with a small giggle as you pull yourself from the bubbling water, squealing playfully when he takes the opportunity to smack a hand against your ass. The two of you quickly skitter inside, the cold air instantly nipping at your skin.

You sigh a sigh of relief as you make it into the cabin, happy to be out of the cold breeze. Aegon makes quick work of the sliding door, quickly locking it into place before he takes one of your hands and leads you to the soft leather sofa in the middle of the room, a pleased smirk on his face.

“I believe someone said something about getting their mouth on me…” he said, quirking his head to the side in mock contemplation as his hands settled on your hips; he presses a soft kiss to your lips before plopping himself down on the couch, one hand wrapping loosely around his already half-hard cock as he stares at you expectantly.

You merely give him a playful eye roll before sinking to your knees between his thighs, the plush fur rug cushioning your knees from the wood floors of the cabin as the heat from the small fireplace in the corner of the room warms your back.

He meets your gaze with a groan, tongue darting out to wet his lips when you place your hands on the tops of his thighs; the hand around his cock relaxes at his side.

You lean in and press soft kisses to the light trail of hair that leads down from his bellybutton, taking your time before softly licking at the head, a pleased hum bubbling up from your throat at the salty taste of his pre-cum.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs above you, dark eyes nearly black as he watches you gently lick and kiss around the tip of his cock, “That’s it.” He praises when your lips wrap around him and eagerly suck him into your mouth.

You groan softly, relishing the heavy weight of him on your tongue, before you begin bobbing your head. You wrap one hand around the base, stroking what little of his considerable length you can’t fit into your mouth, as you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes scanning over the pale planes of his chest before locking with his eyes once more.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he huffs above you, pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face, “So beautiful with my cock in your mouth, hm?”

You nod as best you can, eyes watering slightly as the head of him pokes against the back of your throat. You can already feel his length twitch in your mouth, feeling cocky as you cup his stones with one hand, smirking when you find them already tightening up as you roll them gently in your hand in a way that makes Aegon’s head tilt back with a loud, drawn out groan.

You move against him for a minute more, your other hand gripping at the top of his thigh as lewd wet noises fill the cabin. He can’t help but curl in on himself slightly when you run your tongue over that one sensitive area at his head, a hiss leaving his lips as one hand cups the back of your head.

“Seven Hells,” he mutters, swallowing thickly before just barely canting his hips up, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question as his eyes meet yours, “‘M close, princess, please — fuck!”

You can’t help but giggle around his length, nodding the best you can. He makes a soft sound of relief before the hand at the back of your head tightens in your hair; you steel yourself, groaning as he begins rutting his hips up into your waiting mouth.

He lets out a beautiful whining groan above you, relishing the way his cock slides so easily in and out of your mouth as his tip prods deliciously at the back of your throat.

“Shit,” he grunts, guiding your head down at the same instant he snaps his hips up, watching intently as your eyes roll back into your head, pleased at how you seem to enjoy this just as much as he does, “Gonna cum down that pretty throat, fuck.” He warns, gripping tighter at your hair as he starts to lose himself.

You nod as best you can, sealing your lips around his cock a bit harder, squelching noises filling your ears as you choke around his length. Tears spring to your eyes as he thrusts a handful more times before his hips still, cock buried down your throat for a second as he all but growls above you.

Pride fills your chest as you feel his length twitch against your tongue, the heady taste of his spend fills your mouth as you swallow around him, careful to breathe through your nose.

After a moment, the fingers in your hair relax, allowing you to pull yourself off of him with a soft pop, smirking as you press soothing kisses to the insides of his thighs before you push yourself off the floor, wiping a hand across your mouth as you join him on the sofa.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” You ask softly, chuckling at the soft moan that sounds from his throat as you straddle his legs, your breasts pressed up against his warm chest as you settle yourself in his lap.

“You are goddess,” he murmurs, half-lidded eyes peering up at you as his hands come to rest on your hips.

You merely chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair, gasping as he pulls you to him, violet eyes flicking up to yours before he runs his tongue over one of your nipples, sealing his soft lips around the bud for a moment as he suckles it into his mouth.

“Aegon…” you breathe above him, whining as his hands sink down to cup your bum, pressing you harder against him still, as if he can’t be close enough to you.

“Give me ten minutes and I’m yours,” he promises roughly, nose digging into the fat of your breast as he busies himself against your chest.

You sigh softly and pull him up, slotting your mouth against his.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 28 days

Text

1968 [Chapter 1: Ares, God Of War]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.7k

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Let’s begin with a definition.

Disaster is a noun derived from Ancient Greek: dus, a prefix meaning “bad,” and aster, or “star.” In the time when humans worshipped Zeus and Hera, Hephaestus and Aphrodite, it was believed that tragedies resulted from the inauspicious positioning of celestial bodies: a volcano erupts because of Jupiter, a returning comet brings with it a flood. There is a certain helplessness inherent in this mythology. There is predestined suffering that lies in wait until all the jewels of the sky have malignantly aligned.

Have you ever met someone who made you ache to change the stars?

~~~~~~~~~~

Gunshots explode through the lobby of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, Florida; you feel the wind of the bullets as they clip by, fragmented metallic rage. Aemond is on the marble floor, blood pouring down his face, blood all over the white shirt beneath his navy blue suit jacket when you rip it open, tearing a button loose. He’s reaching for you through the jostling and the screams, leaving crimson handprints on your mint green dress. And you think: He just won the Florida primary. He’s not supposed to die. He’s supposed to be the president.

“What happened?” Aemond murmurs, his right eye dazed and only half-open; the left has vanished beneath a cloudburst of gore. Perhaps ten yards away, people have caught the assailant and pinned him against one of the vast Venetian windows until the police arrive. They’re roaring at him in red-faced fury, their closed fists strike his ribs and his cheekbones, their knuckles paint him scarlet and indigo.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” You brace both palms over the maroon stain spreading rapidly across Aemond’s chest and press down as hard as you can. Your fingers are drenched in seconds, warm fading life. He’s bleeding to death. You shriek through the turmoil: “Criston?!”

“Is he okay?” Aemond asks faintly. He means the baby; you’re six months pregnant with his first child, his greatest treasure, his Atlantis, his Holy Grail. Aemond has already decided that it’s a boy. Sometimes you fear what will happen if he’s wrong.

“Yes, honey, the baby’s fine, don’t worry. Criston!”

Aegon is here instead, sweating out rum and ruin like he always is, hair too long, veins full of pills, colliding with you and pawing at his dying brother with untrustworthy hands. “Aemond?!”

You shove Aegon away, splattering him with blood. “Get back, he needs air!”

“Where’s he shot?! Let me see—”

“I told you to get back!”

“Goddammit, you don’t own him! He’s mine too!”

Criston has fought his way through the maelstrom and is dragging Aegon away by the collar of his frayed olive green army jacket, stolen from Daeron when he visited home after basic training, a uniform of embittered revolution worn by a man who’s never fought for anything. “Aegon, make sure someone’s called for an ambulance, then meet the paramedics at the door and help them find us.”

“But—”

“Go!” Criston roars, and Aegon scrambles to his feet and is lost within the crowd. You can hear Otto bellowing at journalists and hotel employees to make space for the fallen senator; there are flashes of cameras and prayers shouted aloud. Above your head are crystal chandeliers and a vaulted ceiling hand-painted by 75 Italian artists in the 1920s; swimming in your skull are visions of Jackie Kennedy in the pink suit filthy with her husband’s brains. It’s just before midnight on Tuesday, May 28th. Upstairs in their oceanfront Imperial Suites, nannies will be shaking awake the absent adults of the Targaryen dynasty, who retired with the children before Aemond made his victory speech in the hotel ballroom: Alicent, Helaena, Fosco, Mimi.

Criston’s hands—larger, stronger—replace yours over the gushing wound in Aemond’s chest. What did the bullet hit? His lung, his heart? He’s not speaking anymore, his right eye is closed. His bloodied hands rest open and empty on the floor. “Criston, he’s dying,” you sob.

“No he’s not. We’re not going to let him.”

“What’s the closest hospital?”

“Good Samaritan is just across the bridge on the mainland.” It’s Criston’s job to know these things, though he had been thinking of you when he plotted his meticulous notes in his day planner: in case you eat a bad cheeseburger, or trip on the stairs, or catch the flu and start burning up with fever. Aemond worries about the baby. Aegon has five children, Helaena has three, and Aemond will feel that he has been robbed of something if he does not swiftly procure a family of his own. He needs you on the campaign trail, but still, he worries.

Across the lobby, the police have arrived to arrest the aspiring assassin. He puts up a fight when they try to handcuff him and earns a nightstick to the gut, an elbow to the nose. He is choking on his own blood. Perhaps he is drowning in it. Good, you think.

“Don’t kill him!” Otto booms at the officers. “I want him alive for trial! I want him to ride the lighting up in Raiford, you keep that son of a bitch alive!”

“Aemond?” You thread your fingers through his soaked hair. What happened to his left eye? Is it somewhere underneath all that carnage, or is it gone? “Please wake up. Please stay with me. We need you. The baby and I need you.”

“He’s going to live,” Criston promises, both hands still clamped over the bullet wound to slow the hemorrhaging.

“Aemond, please…” How can he be the president with only one eye?

An old woman in a yellow striped skirt suit is lumbering close with a homemade prayer rope clenched in her fist. “A komboskini for the senator!” For his last rites. For his soul.

“He doesn’t need it!” Criston says. “He’s not dying! No one is dying tonight!”

Still, you take the komboskini from the lady, each of the 100 knots a prayer unspoken. She is a devotee of Aemond, and you must show her gratitude. “Efcharistó, aderfí. O Theós na se evlogeí.” They are some of the few Greek words you’ve mastered; you’ve used them often since Aemond announced that he was running for president. Thank you, sister. God bless you.

The paramedics arrive, splitting the crowd like a laceration, white uniforms and a stretcher to ferry Aemond away. People are wailing, cursing, swearing vengeance. Aegon has returned and is peering down at Aemond with those large, glassy, muddled eyes, afraid to ask. “Is he…is he still…?”

“He has a pulse,” Criston replies. He helps the paramedics drag Aemond onto the stretcher and strap him to it. Your husband’s shirt is now drenched in red like garnet, like cinnabar, like the poppies that commemorate the boys butchered in World War I, like the wasted blood being spilled in Vietnam, men reduced to memory. “Good Samaritan?” Criston confirms with the paramedics.

“Yes sir,” the most senior one agrees. And then to you, with great deference, with compassion that transcends what somebody can harbor for strangers: “Ma’am, there’s a place for you if you want it.”

“I do,” you say, tear-streaked face, hands bathed in blood. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The ambulance is idling outside the main entranceway of the hotel. Criston grasps your hand to steady you as you step up into the back, and you take a seat on the red leather bench beside the stretcher. The paramedics are placing IVs, holding an oxygen mask to Aemond’s face, muttering urgently into their radio, abbreviations and code words you can’t understand, a secret language of organic calamities. High above the stars are crystalline and radiant in a clear sky. In your own chest—unshredded by metal, unpierced by rage—your intact heart is pounding.

The lead paramedic turns to you again and says: “We can fit one more person.”

It’s your decision. You are the senator’s wife; you were supposed to be the next first lady of the United States. You look through the ambulance’s open doors. Aegon stares back expectantly, his hair falling in his face, his arms thrown wide, petulant, combative, useless, drunk. “Criston.”

“Bitch!” Aegon hisses at you as Criston climbs into the vehicle. The doors slam shut, the engine rumbles, the siren squeals as the ambulance races westbound on Breakers Row towards County Road, which connects with Flagler Memorial Bridge and the mainland.

Through the rear window you watch Aegon as he stands in the white-gold hotel luminescence, becoming smaller and smaller until he vanishes, and all you can see are streetlights, and all you can smell is blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every story needs its cast of characters. Here are the major players in the summer of 1968.

President Lyndon Baines Johnson is in the White House watching the clocks tick towards November 5th, when his successor will be ordained. He has chosen not to seek reelection. Since his ascension upon Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, Johnson’s domestic focus has been unprecedented civil rights legislation and his War On Poverty, yet what has infected the media like blood poisoning is the war in Vietnam. On the television are napalm bombs incinerating Vietnamese peasants, caskets draped with American flags, riots being beaten down by police, college students torching draft cards and chanting “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” Now the president is sick in body, in spirit, in heart, and this is not a metaphor: he suffered a near-fatal cardiac arrest in 1955 and another shortly after John F. Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, Texas. He will die almost exactly four years after leaving office. Had he sought another term, he would have been unlikely to survive it. The public eye is something like a snake bite; it sinks its fangs in and you hope the venom burns clean before it can curse you with clots or hemorrhages or paralysis, before it can drown you in the dark waters of infamy.

In the void left by President Johnson’s surrender, four factions have emerged within the Democratic Party. The old guard—the same labor unions, congressmen, and local political machines who have steered the platform since the days of Franklin D. Roosvelt’s New Deal—has flocked to current Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Humphrey is competent yet uninspiring, a mid-fifties Midwesterner who flinches at the unpolished fury of antiwar protests and sedately lectures Black Power activists on the dangers of “reverse racism.” He is not a threat. He is a sheep in sheep’s clothing, and this is the time for wolves.

Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota is unapologetically opposed to the Vietnam War, a moral crusader, a reluctant warrior, a man who wears his lack of taste for the presidency like a badge of honor. He feels compelled to run, but he does not crave it. He thinks this makes him a saint; but Joan of Arc was burned at the stake and Saint Lawrence was roasted alive. Like Halloween candy plunked into a child’s neon orange plastic pumpkin, McCarthy has collected his own coalition, college students and posh urbanites who believe themselves to be the future of the Democratic Party. In 2016, people will conjure McCarthy’s ghost when drawing comparisons to a controversial left-wing senator from Vermont named Bernie Sanders.

If McCarthy is the future and Humphrey is the past, then former governor of Alabama George Wallace is downright archaic. He is the candidate of choice for Southern white supremacists, averse to Republicans since Lincoln and still reverent of Depression-era New Deal programs that kept them from starving to death. Wallace is best known for his promise of “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” and pledges to end the chaos that has besieged America through strict law and order. Provided he loses the Democratic primary, Wallace plans to run in the general election as an Independent, hoping to peel away enough support from the major party candidates to force the House of Representatives to declare the winner and then leverage his votes to negotiate an end to federal desegregation efforts in the South. His devoted wife Lurleen just died of uterine cancer, a diagnosis which Wallace kept hidden from her for years; doctors are in the habit of informing husbands of their wives’ ailments and giving them carte blanche control over the treatment plan, which unfortunately in Lurleen’s case was nothing. She was 41 years old.

In his short-lived castle of red corridors like the marrow rivers of bones, President Johnson hides from the hippies who jeer and spit; Humphrey frowns at them, McCarthy tries to appease them, Wallace says the only four-letter words they don’t know are “w-o-r-k” and “s-o-a-p.” But Aemond climbs down from podiums to meet them like old friends. He is young, only 36. He has a brother serving in the swamps of Vietnam. He is focused, determined, insatiable; he devours every scrap of news that is printed about him and writes his speeches by hand. As the self-admitted runt of the Targaryen family, Aemond knows what it is like to be underestimated. He wants a better America, and he wants to be the president, and he wants these things in equal, relentless measure, each fueling the other until these ambitions become inseparable. He has grown up hearing slurs against Greeks and consequently has no tolerance for discrimination, which he contends is antithetical to the American Dream. He attends civil rights marches in labyrinthian cities, antiwar protests on college campuses, union meetings in coal mining towns of West Virginia and Kentucky and Wyoming, music festivals crowded with long unwashed hair and braless women, fundraisers flush with the deep pockets of the Northeastern elite. Aemond’s coalition grows each day, bleeding away strength from his rivals like a Medieval surgeon. Their flesh turns cold and anemic, while Aemond’s heart pumps scalding torrents of blood.

If Aemond wins the Democratic primary at the convention in August, his opponent will almost certainly be the Republican frontrunner Richard Nixon of California. Nixon wants the White House just as badly, and he’s much smarter than he looks. He was Eisenhower’s vice president for eight years in the 1950s and lost to the ill-fated John F. Kennedy in 1960 by a whisker; some say he did not lose at all, but instead was cheated out of 100,000 votes by Kennedy’s mafia connections in Chicago. But with the Democrats divided and their incumbent president floundering, Nixon’s timing has never been better. He was once a poor boy with two dead brothers who earned a scholarship to Duke Law. Now he will become whoever he needs to be to win the presidency of the United States.

1968 is the year of wolves. The fangs are sharp, and the bellies ache with hunger.

~~~~~~~~~~

A local deli has opened early and sent sandwiches to Good Samaritan Medical Center for the family and friends of the senator from New Jersey: ham and Swiss, cucumber and cream cheese, tuna salad, egg salad, pimento cheese, BLTs, Cubans. The lobby is filling up with bouquets of flowers and handwritten notes. You pace and count the knots of the komboskini over and over again as you wait; Aemond has been in surgery for hours. The nurses periodically bring you Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, scalding watered-down sweetness to distract you from the fact that some surgeon is currently rooting around inside your husband’s ribcage.

Alicent—a convert to the Greek Orthodox faith just as you are, though far more zealous, far more sincere if you dared to admit it—is pleading for God to save her son as she clasps her own prayer rope. Helaena is seated beside her, eerily calm. Helaena’s husband Fosco is wandering around boredly and inflicting small talk upon the nurses, ogling out the third-story windows, playing with his red Duncan yo-yo. Otto is making a series of calls using one of the phones at the nurses’ station. Criston is there too, leaning over the countertop and speaking with Otto in low conspiratorial whispers.

Aegon is sitting alone and glaring at you. He takes a rattling bottle of pills—prescriptions that doctors are too afraid not to write for him when he asks—out of a pocket on the front of his green army jacket, spotted like a leopard with your bloody handprints. He opens the amber-colored, cylindrical container and pours two, no, three tiny white tablets into his palm. He tosses them into his mouth and washes them down with a swallow of his own mediocre hot chocolate, still glaring. You ignore him.

“How could this have happened?” Mimi says again from where she’s slumped in her chair. Aegon’s wife has a Snow White sort of beauty, but with a perpetual ruddiness in her nose and cheeks from the gin she sips constantly. You suppose it would make anyone a drunk, being married to a man like that. Her maiden name was Marina Marceline Leroux, but everyone has always called her Mimi, even the press on the rare occasions when she makes an appearance. Her children—Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, and little Cosmo, only five years old—are all back at the Breakers Hotel with the nannies, the same as Helaena’s. Mimi blubbers to nobody in particular: “How…? Who…? Who would want to hurt Aemond…?”

Someone needs to sober her up. You fetch a BLT off the platter of sandwiches and offer it to her. “Here. Eat.”

“I’m not hungry. Who on earth could be hungry at a time like this? I’m absolutely nauseated, I’ll never want food again—”

“Mimi, eat the sandwich.”

“Fine, fine,” she slurs morosely, then takes an unenthusiastic bite. She listens to you, all the women do. They listen to you, and you listen to Aemond, and the circle is closed and complete.

Criston is walking over now. You turn to him, needing good news, bad news, any news. “It was a Wallace supporter,” Criston says. From his seat, Aegon is watching Criston with his slow drugged gaze, listening intently. “Some bell pepper farmer from up by Jacksonville.”

“He’s been taken to the local jail for holding?” you ask, and then add: “Alive?”

“Yeah, and he already has a record. Assault and battery. His brother-in-law is apparently a Grand Dragon in the Klan.”

“What the hell is a Grand Dragon?”

“Well, it’s higher than a Goblin, but not as illustrious as an Imperial Wizard, does that answer your question?”

“Perfectly.” You smile at Criston, a pained, wry smile. He returns it and places a palm over your belly. You are still wearing the mint green dress Aemond picked out for you this morning, before he won the Florida primary, before he was shot twice by the disciple of a political adversary and laid at death’s doorstep. You are still covered in your husband’s blood.

“You’re feeling alright?” Then Criston smirks, knowing how ridiculous he must sound. “You know. All things considered.”

“We’re both fine. The baby’s moving around, I can feel it.”

“You can feel him, you mean,” Criston teases, knowing Aemond’s preoccupation with his unborn son; but you can’t bring yourself to appreciate the joke.

Aegon says to you suddenly: “How the fuck did you let this happen?”

“What?” you answer, stunned.

Aegon stands and approaches, lurching, raging. “You always have to be right beside him, in the photographs, in the headlines, in the soundbites, but you let some psychopath run up and shoot him? Twice?!”

“I thought he just wanted to shake Aemond’s hand, or maybe get a quote for an article—”

“You didn’t notice the gun?!”

“Aegon, sit down,” Criston orders.

“It happened in seconds,” you say. “You think you would have done better? You and your Valium, and your Librium, and your Percodan? You think your reaction time would have been so superior to mine?”

“Please,” Alicent moans, mopping tears from her pink cheeks with a handkerchief. “Please, don’t fight, not now…”

“We are all friends here,” Fosco adds in his thick Italian accent, yo-yoing by a window.

“You want to be the first lady so bad but you can’t handle it!” Aegon shouts, his voice echoing through the lobby. “You’re not some prodigy, you don’t have all the answers, you’re just a girl who stitched yourself to Aemond and then you let him get shot, he’s being operated on right now, maybe he’s even dying, and you still act like you’re so fucking perfect—”

“You’re mad because you know that everybody here is thinking the same thing,” you tell Aegon, cold and cruel. “That if someone had to get killed tonight it should have been you.”

Aegon’s mouth drops open; he stares at you with that slippery, opaque, stoned woundedness, pathetic, infuriating, illogically childish. Everyone else pretends they haven’t heard you. Alicent sniffles into her handkerchief. Fosco begins humming I Want To Hold Your Hand. Mimi chews sluggishly on her BLT. From the nurses’ station, Otto says, holding the phone to his chest: “It’s George Wallace. He’s calling for Aemond’s wife.” Then he waits to see if you’ll agree to take it.

Of course you will. You have to. You are acting in your husband’s stead. You go to the nurses’ station and grab the handset when Otto passes it to you. “This is Mrs. Targaryen.”

“Ma’am, I just wanted to offer you my sincerest condolences.” He has a pronounced drawl, born and raised in what he has praised as the Great Anglo-Saxon Southland. You animal, you think. You braindead bigot. “I do hope the senator makes a hasty recovery. I sure would like to beat him at the ballot box, but I have no stomach for anarchy. An act like this is repugnant to me, as it should be to any red-blooded American.”

“It was one of yours, do you know that?” you say, dripping venom. “One of your hateful ghouls.”

“I have no such knowledge. But if the shooter does turn out to be a supporter of my campaign, I disavow him utterly. He deserves a nice long sit in Old Sparky and then to meet his maker.”

“You inspire men to commit violence, and then you renounce them when they spill blood. I’m still wearing my husband’s. It’s on my hands, it’s on my dress, and I will not absolve you of blame. You are a gardener of discord. You grow it like roses or wheat. You tend to it until it blooms.” Otto is studying you, bushy eyebrows raised. “If you’d truly like to repent, perhaps dropping out of the Democratic primary would be a good start. And then you could find something useful to do, like drowning yourself.”

From whatever office he’s currently lounging comfortably in, his shoes kicked up on the desk, Wallace chuckles. “Aemond is very fortunate to have as ardent a defender as you, my dear.”

“Yes, a devoted wife is such a treasure. It’s a shame you killed yours.”

“Ma’am, once again, I just wanted to express how terribly sorry I am for your family’s hardship. I would never wish for an incident like this—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be emboldening white supremacists then!” You slam the phone as you hang up.

Otto looks at you. He says: “Did it go well?”

The heavy double doors leading to the operating theater swing open, and a surgeon steps through them, still drying his hands with a dark blue towel. He has changed his scrubs and washed his skin, but you notice a spot he missed: a fleck of half-dried blood up by his temple. That’s Aemond, you think. That’s a piece of him.

Everyone rushes to gather around the doctor, even Mimi; she lists like a ship taking on water as she walks, gnawing at all that remains of her BLT, just a sliver of white toast crust.

“The senator is alive,” the doctor says, and Alicent cries out in relief. Criston rests a palm on her shoulder. “But we could not save the eye.”

“He’s half-blind?” you ask. There’s never been a half-blind president. There’s never been a Greek one either. And the only reason this is stuck in your mind is because you know it will consume Aemond’s.

The doctor nods. “We had to remove it. The bullet that struck Senator Targaryen in the head, fortunately, was more of a graze. It ricocheted off his skull and didn’t cause any trauma to the brain, but his eye was…” He hesitates, trying to find a more polite word than shredded, macerated, pulverized. “Destroyed.”

“You stopped the bleeding?” Aegon says, astonished. “He’s okay? He’s really okay?”

“The second bullet pierced the thoracic cavity and was lodged less than an inch from his heart. He was very lucky. We repaired the damage to the best of our ability, and I am optimistic that the senator will make a full recovery. He’s resting comfortably now, but he should be awake soon.”

“Oh, thank God,” Alicent says, glistening dark eyes raised to heaven. The salient points gathered, Fosco wanders off again, his yo-yo dangling from its string.

Otto asks: “When can he resume campaigning?”

The doctor is caught off-guard; it takes him a moment to answer. “That will depend on the senator’s stamina as he regains his strength. If he chooses to stay in the race at all.”

Otto scoffs. “Of course he’ll stay in. This is what he lives for. You really can’t give me a ballpark figure?”

The doctor is determinately impassive. “I would estimate a month or two before he can withstand the rigors of the campaign trail again.”

“California is June 4th,” Otto recalls, counting off dates on his fingers. “Illinois is the 11th, New York is the 18th…”

“Look, there are people outside!” Fosco announces excitedly as he peers through one of the windows. “Hello! Hello everybody!”

“Fosco, you idiot, stop waving,” Otto snaps. “Go sit down.”

“But they are cheering.”

“Not for you.”

Fosco, somewhat deflated, grabs an egg salad sandwich off the platter and plops into a chair to eat it. He’s dressed in a green plaid sport coat and tight white trousers, very chic, very European. You’ve never been able to imagine Fosco and Helaena being passionately romantic with each other. They’re both a bit too doll-like for that, closer to Barbie and Ken than flesh and blood, blank stares and vague ambitions.

“Someone should talk to them,” Alicent says softly. She means the crowd that is forming in front of the hospital: journalists, cops, local politicians, mutilated veterans, college kids, farmers, fishermen, women and children, the future and the past. Everyone turns to look at you.

“I’ll do it,” you volunteer. You will, you must. Aemond could have chosen a hundred similarly suited women to be his wife, but he chose you, and when he did your vows became a blood oath.

Criston accompanies you downstairs to where the crowd has gathered just outside the front entrance of Good Samaritan Medical Center. The night air is warm and humid, the stars bright. You had thought of so many things to tell these people as you’d stood in the elevator as it descended, but now your mind is empty, fearful. There are photographers with blinding camera flashes and apostles waiting with famished eyes. From the depths of injustice and poverty and war, they have come to pay their respects to the man they believe is destined to save not just themselves but their world. What should I say? What would Aemond want me to say?

“I am very pleased to share with you all that Senator Targaryen is out of surgery and regaining his strength.”

There are cheers and applause and prayers; you are still clutching the komboskini that the old woman gave you in the lobby of the Breakers Hotel. You see more prayer ropes in this flock, and rosaries too, Bibles and dog tags, copies of The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Joanne Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem.

“We would like to thank you for your heartfelt support. Aemond and I are so very grateful, and he is looking forward to being back on the campaign trail soon.”

More clapping and whistling, and then the crowd waits. You aren’t sure what they want to hear as you stand in the glow of the hospital luminance; your hands are trembling wildly, so you clasp them together as you hold the komboskini. Criston glances over at you, concerned. You settle on the truth.

“The man who tried to kill my husband tonight is a supporter of former Alabama governor George Wallace and an avowed white supremacist. Any ideology that advocates for violence and prejudice is a threat to our bodies, our nation, and our souls. We will not surrender to it, not even when our lives are in jeopardy. We will not concede that hope for a better world is lost. We will press ever onward with the knowledge that God is on our side, and that the future of this country is worth fighting for.”

You are bathed in flashbulb lightning; your ears ring with the thunder of the applause. You are shaking hands now, nodding, beaming, Criston following you like a shadow as you move through the congregation. You stop to listen to a middle-aged woman in a floral dress who wants to give you marriage advice: never get bossy, don’t become selfish, remember that you are his safe harbor in the storms of life. It is your job to gift her your momentary veneration. You have beauty, but she has wisdom; or at least, that is the bargain that has been struck, that is the presumption everyone agrees upon. She must have some advantage over you, otherwise the decades she has spent in service of her parents and husband and children have been wasted, she has carved away pieces of herself to feed hungry mouths until she vanished like the doomed nymph Echo. In return, she tries not to envy you too much, not to dismiss you as foolish or frivolous or lustful. Sometimes you think that women are filled with such vicious, relentless self-loathing that it feels good to direct it at someone else for a while, to pick apart another body, to tally up the deficits of her spirit.

“Aemond is so lucky to have you,” the woman says. You can barely hear her over the roar of the crowd.

And you smile as you dutifully reply: “I think it’s the other way around.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There is a television mounted on the wall in Aemond’s room. The news coverage, the volume turned way down low, oscillates between his own near-assassination and the stalled peace talks in Paris. Representatives of the United States and North Vietnam cannot agree, and so each day more body bags are flown home to return the bones of the nation’s sons and fathers to Missouri, Alabama, Idaho, Maine, Wisconsin, Maryland, Arizona, California, New Jersey, everywhere else. Someone has to end it. Aemond will end it.

“I dreamed I won Florida,” your husband mumbles, and that’s how you know he’s awake, here in a hospital bed and wearing IVs like strings of Christmas lights around a pine tree.

“You did,” you tell him, gently smoothing back his hair from his forehead. His left eye—where his left eye used to be—is bandaged; his words are soft and labored. “Humphrey was second. Wallace got third. But you won. And you’re going to be okay.”

“McCarthy?”

“It seems you’re devouring his coalition.”

Aemond’s lips slowly curl into a grin, triumphant. “It is God’s will.” And this is what he always says. It is God’s will that he survives, it is God’s will that he wins the presidency, it is God’s will that you give him sons.

“Yes,” you agree, lifting his right hand to kiss his knuckles. Then you press the komboskini you’re still carrying into his weak grasp. It means more to Aemond than it does to you. “Yes it is.”

Aemond sinks into unconsciousness again, morphine and dreams that blur with reality. There will be pain soon, and plenty of it, but he is free from that impending truth for now. You rise from your chair to tell the rest of the family that Aemond is beginning to wake up. Alicent and Criston will want to speak with him.

When you open the door, Aegon is standing there: an eavesdropper, a trespasser. He glares at you with his large wet ocean-blue eyes, hazy with pills, glinting with resentment. Reluctantly, you step aside to let him in. Aegon wobbles as he passes you and has to grab onto the doorframe to steady himself, scrabbling like a trapped animal.

“You’re a disaster,” you say, caustic like acid, biting, repulsed.

Aegon whirls and jabs his index finger against your chest, bloodstained mint green wool bouclé by Chanel. “You’re a vessel. You’re a cow. And one day he’ll be done with you.”

You feel something hitting you like a bullet, cracking ribs, piercing lungs, tearing muscles and ligaments. Your lips have parted, but you can’t fathom words. Aegon has said many things to you—bitter things, belittling things, things in mixed company, things when you’re alone—but never this. For the first time since you met him two years ago, he has won one of your sparring matches. He has the upper hand. He has wounded you.

Aegon can see this, certainly. But he doesn’t seem pleased with himself. He looks a little shellshocked, like he can’t quite believe he said the words, like maybe if given the chance again he wouldn’t take it. But the moment is over now, and you can’t get time back, it is a thread that unspools until every inch is gone, spent, tangled in a thousand webs.

Aegon staggers into the hospital room. You flee from it. Out in the lobby the phone at the nurses’ station is ringing again. They’ll all be calling now to give their requisite sympathies. Humphrey counsels prudence, McCarthy prays for peace, LBJ offers the empathy of someone who has felt the cold gaze of Death in his own doorway, Nixon praises Aemond’s resilience and quotes the ancient philosopher Seneca: “There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

255 notes · View notes

elliewlums · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 [𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐢]

pairing: aegon targaryen ii x fem!reader

summary: aegon seeks comfort from you

content warnings: implied nightmare, a lil bit of crying, a whole lot of hurt/comfort, feelings ugh

no judgements i beg i have a soft spot for emotionally crippled emos. also i know this will flop but i had an idea and ran w it so i’m committed. and as always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

“y/n…”

you roll over at the rasping voice in your doorway. “mmh.”

the door creaks as aegon pushes it closed behind him; steady footsteps advance on you as your body naturally unfolds to make room for his broadness. you feel his heat, the blankets lifting at the corner as he works his way into your side; you shuffle over in the king sized bed, already knowing what he desires.

he needles his way beneath your arm and sniffles. his bare torso is cold against your own warm skin.

“come here,” you murmur, not wanting him to catch a chill. your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you cradle his cheeks, all the while dotting tender kisses against his face, damp with tears. “what is it, hm?” he shakes his head, reaching to twirl the ends of your hair in his large fingers.

you sit up, propping yourself against the various pillows and coaxing him up into your arms.

his head lolls as he gazes up at you through blonde lashes, almost invisible until the sunlight catches them. your own hand travels up to brush stray strands of hair out of his face.

“what did you do to my guard?” you giggle. aegon’s brows knit until a deep crease forms in his porcelain skin. you smooth it with the pad of your thumb.

“i just… suggested he take a walk.”

“at two in the morning?”

a beat of silence follows. your smile slowly fades as his lips part to speak.

“do you love me?” a question often asked; one often unanswered by the person he craved to hear it from the most.

“i do. more than anyone.” you pinch his chin, not meanly, just enough to encourage his eyes to yours in the dimly lit chambers. “i swear it.”

you press a sweet kiss to his lips, pushed into a gorgeous pout that makes you giddy with affection. “do you love me?” you ask. a rebuttal.

he nods shakily; then again, firmer. “more than anyone.”

“good,” you say. his eyelids start to drop as he settles in your arms and presses his nose to your neck. you press lips to the top of his head as his cheek squishes against the juncture of your shoulder. his fierce grip around your waist borders on discomfort.

“gentle, aegon.” you murmur. he mumbles something indiscernible but loosens his hold nonetheless. his flaxen tresses fall around his face in a halo and soon his breathing evens and deepens. it’s not long before you’re exhausted as well.

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

Note

❛ c’mon, we’d look cute together. ❜ promt with Aegon! I feel like he would be a little shit even to the ones he likes.

Summary: Aegon has been on your ass for a while now, so you barricade yourself within the library for a moment of reprieve.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, bane of your existence and a pain in your fucking backside. The twerp was like a thorn lodged in your side, too fickle to be removed by traditional means. For as long as you could remember Aegon had been your shadow, following you wherever you went whether that be the gardens, courtyard, library, kitchen, even to your own fucking chambers, Aegon was there with a smug smirk that you’d love nothing more then to wipe off by the means of your first to his face. His entire existence annoyed you to the point that you intentionally hide from him in whatever room was within the closest vicinity.

Once you hid in the library for an entire day knowing for certain that Aegon wouldn’t ever dare step foot in there; Especially when Aemond was known to occupy the library as though it were his chamber. The younger brother was made more then aware of Aegon’s incessant pursuit towards you by how often he would see you rush into the room; Slamming the door shut behind you whilst looking as though you had just set one of the dragons loose within the castle. “I have never, not once, ever seen my brother so determined about something before.” He said as he quickly finished reading a passage out of his book. “You haven’t slipped anything into his drink by any chance.” You only gave the prince a glare, “ha ha, very funny Aemond, don’t you think I would’ve done that just if it meant getting him off my arse for a fucking second?”

“Considering that this is Aegon we are talking about, I’m certain he’d rather be in your arse then on it.” Aemond put it bluntly, his lips graced with a small smirk when you groaned in annoyance, “all joking aside, I have never seen him this determined in perusing someone. It’s quite frankly horrifying to see him up so early.” Aegon was known to be a heavy sleeper, more so during his ventures out to the streets of silk; So seeing his brother get up anytime other then midday brought a lot into question for Aemond. The answer to all of his inquiries was currently attempting to blockade the door with a chair. “Well tell him to quit it or find another, less invasive method in perusing me before I end up hitting him where his future kids will most definitely feel it.” You replied, stepping back to view your work before turning your attention to Aemond who’s eye was gleaming in amusement.

“So your telling me there’s an slight window of opportunity for you to accept my brothers advances?” He hummed, his chin resting within the palm of hand as he caught onto the look of realisation that flash across your face as you recollected the phrasing of your prior words. “No I didn’t.” You curtly answered. “I’m afraid you did, sweet y/n.” Aemond taunted, thoroughly enjoying what he was now learning, “your putting words in my mouth.” You hissed as you turned to addresses the prince who looked about as smug as a cat in his chair. “Am I? Or are you in denial of the possibility that you do, in fact, like the attention my brother has been giving you recently?” You knew what Aemond was doing but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, edging you to the point of an accidental confession; Mind games have always been his forte.

So you did what you could’ve done in that situation, change the subject and put him in the hot seat. “Why are you so invested in your brothers love life all of a sudden Aemond? Normally you wouldn’t give two shits with whom he fucks but right now your acting as though you were a gossiping lady of the court.” Aemond scoffs, fully aware of what you were doing. He didn’t blame you, forcing to admit favouritism towards his brother’s company was damming to one’s pride indeed. Even he has a hard time finding anything remotely favourable out of his brother’s company, especially ones that didn’t involve chasing him down the streets of silk and flea bottom whenever he were to allude his duties. “Oh please why would you-“ just as Aemond was about to finish his sentence, a voice from the other side of the door belonging to that of Ser Criston Cole.

“Prince Aemond, the Queen Alicent requests your audience.” You knew that Alicent didn’t liked to be kept waiting, so you walked over to the door and dislodged the chair from underneath the handle before suspicions were raised. “You wouldn’t want to keep the Queen waiting.” You told him, you see his eye linger on the stack of books on the table he was occupying and you sighed, “I’ll clear away your books, just get going.” Aemond wordlessly got up and crossed the room to the door, though not before casting you a thankful gaze before leaving the library with Ser Criston hot on his heels. With nothing else to do and no one else to talk with, you began clearing up and putting away books to their proper shelves which took you a substantial amount of time, and before you knew it afternoon had already fallen upon KingsLanding.

“I think I’ll head down to the gardens for a bit, just to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.” You told yourself for no other reason then verbal confirmation of what you were planning on doing as you stepped out of the Library, making sure to shut the door behind yourself before you were greeted with a pair of mischievously beautiful lilac eyes and a head of short platinum locks. “Aegon.” You breathed out, “what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine afternoon.” You continued through gritted teeth when the prince only smirked in response as he proceeded to grab a hold of your arm, linking it with his own before leading you both down the hallway. “No need to act so cordial towards me, I merely wanted to spend time with you today but couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. Little did I know you were tucked away in the library with my brother.”

The way Aegon’s voice seemed uncharacteristic towards the end made you look at him properly, just in time to see his lilac eyes darken with insecurity as his jaw subtly clenched whilst his grip on your hand tightened over yours absentmindedly. You almost completely forgot that underneath the facade was a boy born into a loveless family and crippling expectations; You almost felt upset for ignoring him, only to be rudely remembered that this was the same boy that tripped you over into a mud puddle and faked innocence along with the time he stole your clothes while you were bathing. How he had gotten in without you hearing his heavy ass breathing still alludes you and frightens you simultaneously. “Apologise my prince, I didn’t know my absence would affect you as much.” You replied, squeezing his hand.

“You can make it up to me by walking through the garden with me.” Aegon quickly suggested and when you didn’t reply fast enough for his liking, he began to whine and lean his weight into you. “C’mon, we’d look cute together, strolling through the gardens, hand in hand, arm in arm. Don’t you think?” Aegon at this point was on the brink of desperation. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he had been trying to find you, almost turned the red keep upside down in the process throughout the duration of his search for you. All he wished for is that he got to have your company even if it was for a short period of time. Aegon just wanted to let his guard down and the only way he could do that was whenever he was with you. So when you sighed and agreed to accompany him, the prince was practically dragging you do the hall with his long strides as you struggled to keep up.

Despite regretting your easy acceptance towards his offer, you found yourself looking upon Aegon’s face to see that the shadows of doubt and regret have retreated from his features and the worry lines usually seen across his forehead had subsided for far happier ones. If Aemond’s words from earlier were to be believed and that Aegon had been determined in being within your presence and how your body receipted to his…peculiar advances. Then yes, you might’ve favoured Aegon’s undivided attention being on you and solely you. The mere thought of being desired and sought after to the point it drives that person into desperation because of how sorely sought after you were. It made you feel things. It made you feel wanted. “You’re a brat you know.” You said softly as you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the muscles within his body tense at your words, “however I’d rather you be my brat then anyone else’s. I’d want you to be my problem to deal with for the rest of my life.”

“As long as you be mine in return,” Aegon replied softer then usual, pressing a kiss to your head, “for now and for always.”

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youraverageaemondsimp · 6 months

Text

Meddle About // BestfriendsBrother!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader // MODERN AU

MDNI

Summary: going to your best friend's brother's party shouldn't be much of a big deal right? Till you catch her older brother's eye, THE aegon targaryen, known for his notorious reputation.

WARNINGS: afab!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, doggy style, fingering, tiddy sucking, aegon being aegon, spitting, spitting in mouth, aegon is nasty asf, cum eating, manhandling(?), hair pulling, voyeurism (reader walks in on aegon getting blowed), cunty aegon. + not proofread

WC: 2.2k

❝We only met each other just the other day, but you already got me feeling some type of way, now, if I could figure it out, I'd take you back to my house so we can meddle about. ❞

“You coming to the party tonight?” Helaena asks you through the phone and you sigh, “Can't, I need to prepare for the test in a week.” you tell her and you can hear her let out the most disappointed sigh ever.

“Girl fuck those tests, you need to have some fun, you are coming to the party, this isn't a request and if you don't- I will tell literally show up to your house and drag you here.” she says sternly and you chuckle at her words.

“Aegon throws a party every two weeks Hel, I can just attend the next one.” you try to reason but she shushes you, “No, you are coming, that's it.” she hangs up before you could respond and you stare at the phone in disbelief.

You ponder about it, wondering if you should really go, I mean you have the rest of the week to prepare for the test right? Skipping one day doesn't hurt.

So you decide to go.

And here you are in your car, trying to find a place to park as most of the empty spaces were occupied, luckily the targaryens owned this huge amount of slot, so parking here shouldn't be illegal as it was their own property.

After you find the parking spot, you make your way to the entrance gate to the mansion, looking at it in awe as you can hear the DJ play and lights flash.

Seems like Aegon went full out for this.

It wasn't uncommon for him to throw parties, he was the typical popular kid in college who throws a party almost every week, the one with a high body count, the one who's extremely good looking.

You on the other hand, were known to be the topper and pride of the academy, you were popular too, but not as much as him, and the main reason you were popular was because of your good grades and high percentage, being one of the top 5 academically well endowed students in the entire university.

You and Aegon were polar opposites, you didn't even know him that well, just someone that is the brother of your best friend.

The guard at the front asks for your name and you tell him it, and he lets you in, taking note that you were Helaena's best friend.

You stand in front of the huge door, hearing the music boom loudly from the otherside, before ringing the doorbell, only to find it open so you push it open and make your way inside.

You bring out your phone to call helaena and she immediately picks up, “Bitch, I'm here.” you tell her and she lets out a loud squeal, “Where are you? At the entrance? Wait, I'm coming.” she says and you wait a few minutes before you spot her making her way over to you through the crowd, and then dragging you to the pool outside, where it is less crowded.

That's when you spot Aegon, with his legs in the water, top naked and only wearing shorts, there was this girl clinging onto his arm in a bikini, you noticed that it was Cerelle Lannister.

One of the popular girls in the campus as well, but for the same reasons like Aegon.

“You did not tell me this was a pool party.” You say to helaena, looking down at your attire, which was a simple black thigh-length dress that hugged your body like a second skin and she shakes her head, “It's a merged party, so don't worry too much about attire.” she tells you and you nod.

You soon find the time flying by fast, you were having fun, finding classmates that you enjoyed talking to and engaging in fun games at the party with them, and suddenly you needed to pee.

“Hel! I'm going to the bathroom.” you yell loudly over the music and she gives you a thumbs up, acknowledging your words and you chuckle, making your way inside and up the stairs.

The hallway upwards seems empty, the music getting muffled as you go further down it, you open the door to Helaena's room to use the bathroom in her room since she wouldn't let anyone inside, until you spot Aegon at the edge of the bed, getting sucked off by none other than Cerelle.

She doesn't seem to have heard you enter the room, but Aegon surely did because his eyes filt over to you, you freeze up.

He looks directly at you, scanning your body from head to toe, mouth falling open as he breathes heavily, he grabs Cerelle's hair, pushing her further to in to take his cock in her mouth, while he maintains eye contact with you, you stand there not knowing what to do, he smirks at you, before he throws his head back and groans, coming undone in her mouth.

You quickly step outside the room and shut the door quietly behind you, and that's when you realise you entered the wrong room, you curse yourself internally and go into Helaena's room to do your business.

You clean up and come out of the room, only to find Aegon standing in the hallway, leaning against his door as if he was waiting for someone.

“Y/N isn't it?” he asks, and you nod.

He walks towards you, closing the distance between you both, causing you to press your back against the wall.

“The school's pride huh? I've heard a lot about you.” he tells you and you stand there confused.

Why is he trying to make a conversation as if nothing had happened earlier? That you did not just walk in on him getting his dick sucked?

But most importantly, why is he showing interest in you?

“I hope they're good things.” you reply back, sighing.

Maybe you can get acquainted with him, after all it would be nice to know your friend's brother just in case.

“Oh they are, you're often praised for being smart,” his eyes scan your figure, “But fuck, they missed out one core detail of how fucking hot you are.” he leans in, whispering in your ear.

You feel the goosebumps rise and shiver, which doesn't go unnoticed by him, earning a chuckle from him.

“Uh, thanks I guess, I need to go-” you push him off, and try to leave but he grabs your hand and pulls you to him, his gazes at your lips, licking his own and leaning in, you put your hand up to his lips pushing him away and freeing yourself from his grip, before rushing downstairs, away from him.

You thought that interaction would be the last of him.

But it wasn't.

It was almost as if the gods had heard you praying to make him leave you alone but they were like 'no'

So here you were, standing shocked with your apartment door open as you took in sight of Aegon, he was dripping wet from the rain that was pouring heavily outside.

“How did you find me?” you question, genuinely worried if he was stalking you, but he simply showed you the message of Helaena sending him your address when he said he got stuck in the rain, since you were nearby.

And that's when you receive a message from Helaena, ‘hoping that you won't mind letting Aegon in, since it looks like the rain won't stop anytime soon, and there is too much traffic.’

You sigh and reply to her, ‘of course not.’

You step aside and Aegon smiles widely, welcoming himself in, removing his wet boots and socks before stepping on the carpet.

You go inside your room and grab a towel, before throwing it at him, “Don't bother me, I'm studying.” you warn him and he raises his hands up in surrender, “I won't.” he says.

Well that was a fucking lie.

Because here you were, making out with him on your bed.

He rubs himself against you, creating friction to ease his ache as he kisses you hungrily and frantically, your hands tugging on his hair as you pull him closer, rubbing your cunt against him whilst straddling him.

He pulls from the kiss, hands groping your tits, and you gasp when he pinches your nipples, before pulling up your shirt, and pushing your bra down to reveal your breasts, he gives kitten licks to your pebbled up nipples before placing wet kisses.

“Fuck, I have been thinking of this lately.” he mutters, taking in your nipples wholly inside his mouth, suckling on it slowly. “Been wanting to fuck you since helaena bought you home.” he mutters, the other hand massaging your other breast, he pulls away before taking off your top completely and unhooking your bra, his hands then move to the band of your shorts, you get off him to pull them down, along with your panties, he takes this time to remove his own clothing, leaving you both bare.

“We barely knew each other before that party but fuck-” he pins you down on the bed, one hand holding both your hands up while his other holds your thigh, grabbing it and spreading you wide.

“Do you know how many times in this past weeks I had thought about just taking you to my house and fucking you senselessly?” his fingers dip down to your entrance, catching your wetness and bringing up it to coat your clit in it. “So. Many. Fucking. Times.” he pinches your clit harshly causing you to gasp.

“Aegon-” you whine, breah growing heavy, “What?” he asks before pinching it one more time, making you squirm.

His fingers travel downwards before he inserts one finger into your awaiting hole, slowly stretching you open, his grip on your wrists never falter once as his other hand works wonders, plunging in and out of you, creating lewd sounds.

He inserts another finger, curling them upward, grazing that spot causing you to clench around him in arousal, he repeats his motions and soon you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you. “Fuck- the way your cunt is fluterring around my fingers- i need it to do that on my cock.” he pulls his finger out, before inserting them in your mouth.

“Clean it up.” he commands and you obey, tongue swirling around his digits and sucking as you clean your wetness off of his fingers, he pulls out his fingers and kisses you instead, groaning when he feels the tangy taste of you on his tongue.

He pulls away from the kiss, “Keep your mouth open.” He tells you and you obey, and he purses his lips before spitting in your mouth, you flinch when you feel it land. “Swallow.” you shut your eyes tightly and do as he said.

“Good girl.” He praises you, and the praise goes straight to your core, causing you to push your thighs together.

He lets go of your hands, before getting up slightly and changing positions.

He flips you on to your stomach, before pulling your ass up, causing you to balance on your all fours as he kneels behind you.

“Fuck, I do not have a condom.” he mutters and you turns slightly to look at him, “It's fine, I'll take a pill in the morning.” you assure him and he nods.

He grabs you by your waist before shoving himself deep inside you in one swift thrust, causing you to moan and fall on your elbows at the sudden intrusion, he grabs your waist tightly before starting to move, thrusting in and out.

Your body jolts front and backwards at the intensity of his thrusts, one of his hands leave your waist to grab your tits, giving them a squeeze before the same hand collects your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail and he tugs on it, causing you to shift back on your hands again.

He uses your hair and waist as leverage to fuck brutally into you, his pace never faltering once, he grunts and groans when you clench around him, “Look at you, taking my cock so well.” he praises you, the hand gripping your waist goes downwards to your front, finding your clit.

He rubs fast circles unto it while thrusting, making you gasp as you feel your high approaching, “Fuck- Aeg- I'm gonna cum.” you blabber, and as soon as he hears that, he rubs your clit even faster, causing you to reach your peak once again.

You moan loudly into the room as the pleasure courses through you, your cunt clenching around him in pleasure which makes him throw his head back, “ ‘m gonna cum inside you” he murmurs as his thrusts turn sloppy before he comes to a sudden halt, spurting his hot cum inside you, only to move slowly again, riding his orgasm out.

He pulls out and watches as his spend leaks out of you, before collecting it on his finger, and tasting it, along with your juices.

He flips you onto over your back, and you breath heavily, trying to come down from the high, until you feel him once again at your entrance.

You look at him in confusion.

“Oh you didn't think we were done yet, were you?” he smirks.

Oh gods.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader smut #aegon x reader smut #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon x you #x reader smut #reader insert #aegon x fem!reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd smut #x reader #aegon x y/n #smut

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vsnyarbll · 1 year

Text

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden pt3

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, platonic!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 5.958

warnings: explicit language, nsfw (male masturbation, sexual thoughts) angst, patriarchy, love triangle (kind of?)

a/n: English is not my native language.

y/n entered through the black double-winged door. She didn't feel the need to knock. The person y/n was visiting was probably asleep anyway. She didn't want to wake him.

It was getting on towards three in the afternoon. The servants had finished their work, and everyone else in the castle had gone to their corners.

A week after her parents had arrived at the Red Keep, they were gone. y/n was not sad. She was happy that they had stayed longer than she had expected.

"Aegon?" she called, but the man in the bed did not move. y/n walked to the side where Aegon was not lying. He wasn't wearing night clothes. He must have come from outside and curled up on the bed.

y/n lay down on the bed without getting under the covers. She began to rub her arms, which ached from carrying Maelor.

"y/n," he said. But his eyes were still closed. y/n turned her gaze from the pictures of dragons on the wall of his room to him. Aegon rubbed his eyes with his right hand, but he still had not opened them. "y/n," he said again, his voice rough from waking up a moment ago. y/n couldn't tell if Aegon knew her presence in his room.

He opened his eyes and studied the ceiling, still not looking at her. Aegon turned to his right and was startled to see her. "y/n?" he said. This time he sounded surprised by her presence in his room.

"Hello, Aegon."

Aegon stirred where he lay. "When did you get here?"

"I just got here."

Aegon mumbled something, but y/n couldn't understand what he said.

"I was bored. And there is nothing to do in the castle."

Aegon chuckled and barely managed to sit up sleepily, leaning his back against the headboard. "Maelor-"

"With his wet nurse."

"Aemond-"

"The gods know where he is."

Aegon nodded.

y/n's arm was touching his. He tried to ignore the slight pressure on his arm. But also, he tried to savor their little interaction.

"Have you forgiven me?"

y/n turned her head towards him. "I don't know, Aegon."

Aegon smoothed the sheets over him, hoping the bulge between his legs wouldn't show.

"Were you dreaming?" she asked.

He blushed slightly as Aegon's dream filled his memory again. The details of his dream were fading, but he still remembered y/n's curves and the sounds she made. "No, I wasn't. Why would you think that?"

The possibility that Aegon might have made noises while sleeping and that she might have heard them worried him.

"I don't know. You seemed peaceful."

Aegon grimaced. He didn't like waking up. Sleeping was the best way to escape the responsibilities of real life. "I was peaceful."

y/n reached up and pulled a lock of hair out of Aegon's eyes. Her fingertips caressed his forehead as she brushed his hair out of his face. "There's no reason you shouldn't be at peace when you're not sleeping."

Aegon bowed his head. His cheeks warmed even more with y/n's fingertips touching his forehead.

He immediately turned his face away from her. "It's getting colder. Fall is coming, isn't it?"

y/n giggled. "I suppose so."

Aegon looked like he wanted to say something. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes but said nothing.

"I don't want to be cross with you, do you understand?" she asked.

"Yes, I understand."

y/n turned her body fully towards him. And put her hand on his arm. "It still doesn't feel right that you didn't tell me, but I understand your reasons."

Aegon wanted to push y/n's hand away. His feelings for her were no longer an innocent infatuation. Everything he felt for her had intensified. And he didn't want those desires to damage whatever it was between them.

"You can forgive me any time you want. I deserve every moment you don't forgive me."

"Just because I resent you doesn't mean we can't spend time together, okay? You can come to my chambers whenever you want."

Aegon unconsciously moved his hand to his forehead where y/n's fingers had just touched it. "I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"There are only two people in this whole castle that I don't want to see. I live in the same chambers with one of them, and the other comes every day to spend time with her grandson."

Aegon smiled.

y/n fixed her eyes on the picture on the wall again. "Your absence makes it harder for me to tolerate them."

As Aegon babbled something about understanding, y/n turned to him again. Then she ran her fingers through the waves of his hair.

When y/n first came to the castle, his hair was always unkempt, and his waves were barely visible.

But now he woke up every morning and combed his hair, using various oils to bring out his waves.

Because once, when the servants prepared his hair for a celebration, y/n said his waves were beautiful.

Aegon took her hand from his arm. "I will come to you."

The warmth of his hand felt good against y/n's cold one. The ring he always wore on his finger was uncomfortable pressure against her hand, but she didn't mind.

y/n couldn't stop her face from heating up as Aegon held her hand, and their faces were so close.

She carefully got out of bed. "I see you're not wearing your nightclothes. The queen has invited me to tea. Would you like to come?"

Aegon shuddered at the thought of spending time with his mother long enough to sit and drink tea, but he did not want to leave y/n vulnerable. "Yes, of course."

y/n crossed her arms and waited for him to get out of bed. They looked at each other briefly. "Oh... You're waiting for me to come."

"Yes?"

If Aegon came out from under the covers, y/n would see his bulge. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. And anyway, the situation was inappropriate, no matter how you looked at it.

"I... I need to do something. I need... I need some time. I'll be right with you."

y/n raised her eyebrows slightly. "You need to do something?"

Aegon resolutely kept his serious expression on his face and nodded. "I need to do something."

One side of y/n's lip lifted as she looked at his face. "Have fun," she said. And she left the room without looking back.

Aegon looked over to where y/n had just stood, his expression alternating between surprise and embarrassment.

She didn't understand. Right?

xxx

Aegon hurried out into the hall after finishing his work.

Stroking his hand around his cock several times was enough to get him to cum. He came faster than he usually did. Because y/n, the central source of his desires, had just touched his arm, his face.

Just thinking about her scent filling his nose every time she moved made him finish quickly.

He looked for a while at the semen spilling onto his fingers. The thought of how he could fill her with it almost made him hard again, but he quickly dressed back.

When he arrived in front of his mother's room, he sighed deeply and knocked on the door.

"You may come in," said the familiar voice.

Aegon went in, and when he saw his mother's depressed chambers, he wanted to go out again.

All around the room were seven-pointed stars and objects that reminded her mother of her gods. But he was more stressed by what he experienced in the room than by the objects.

"Aegon," his mother said in surprise. "I thought you were asleep, as always."

"I was, but I woke up. Then I realized we hadn't spent time together in a while."

His mother smiled but seemed uncomfortable with her eldest son's presence.

He saw y/n sitting on the armchair in the center of the room, eating the lemon cake in front of her. She smiled at Aegon and slid over to make room for him, obviously wanting him to sit with her.

Aegon returned her smile and was about to sit with her, but his mother moved first and sat down with y/n, sending her son a stern look.

Aegon sighed again and settled into the seat opposite them.

"Talya, will you bring the prince some wine?"

'Yet another humiliation.' he thought. "I'll have tea or whatever it is you drink."

The mother looked at her son again with the same puzzled expression and looked at y/n from the corner of her eye. "All right. Talya, the prince will have some tea."

The queen's maid brought tea and a plate for Prince Aegon. She placed a slice of cake on his plate.

"Would you like anything else, my prince?" she asked. Her eyes were constantly shifting between the queen and the prince.

"No, I'm fine."

The maid bowed to the queen and went to the back of the room again.

"Lady y/n, you look happier than usual today. Has something different happened?"

y/n set her cup down on the table and looked briefly at Aegon.

"Nothing different, your grace," y/n said. But she smiled to herself.

Aegon awarded that y/n felt more at ease with his presence in the room.

"Where is your husband?"

y/n's smile instantly froze at the mention of Aemond. "I do not know, my queen."

Whatever the queen did and whatever she said was meant to imply something. y/n may not have realized it, but Aegon knew her well enough to know her mother's every move.

"Has your milk stopped?" The queen asked instantly. y/n almost choked on her tea. "I always wanted you to nurse my grandson yourself, but of course, it is your choice," she said mockingly.

y/n stared at her mother-in-law. How could she have an opinion on such a matter? "I don't think it's something to discuss in front of your son, your grace."

The queen gave a fake smile. "I don't think you are beware of Aegon, my daughter. If you can discuss your bedroom problems with him, I am sure you will have no problem discussing this."

y/n was instantly on her feet. "Is that what this is all about? Is that the reason for your suggestive glances and sarcastic tone?" Then she added reluctantly. "Your grace."

"You're a married woman. You think you can hang out with your husband's brother out of nowhere?"

"Your grace-"

"Mother," said Aegon as he stood up. "How can you accuse Lady y/n like that? Nothing has passed between us. Is the idea that there can only be friendship between us so impossible to you?"

"Sit down, Aegon. I-"

"Instead of blaming y-" he cleared his throat. "Instead of blaming Lady y/n, teach your son how to behave honorably."

The queen stood up in anger. But like Aemond, she did not easily let her anger get the better of her.

"How about you teach him, Aegon, as his elder brother?" she locked her hands. "Perhaps you would if you could get your nose out of the brothels and free yourself from the time you've taken to drooling over my maids."

Aegon clenched his fists. "Mother, you-"

y/n grabbed Aegon's fist. "Aegon, forget it."

"Aegon? When did you become so close that you no longer call each other by your titles? And you expect me to believe that this is a simple friendship?"

y/n turned angrily to the queen this time. "Instead of lecturing us on morals here, deal with your son's faults, your grace." she took a deep breath to calm herself. "And when I say deal with his faults, I don't mean cover them up," she said. "Have you ever spoken to him about it, my queen?"

"About what?"

"Are you mad, mother? Have you finally lost your mind? She's talking about Aemond cheating on Lady y/n and all of you acting as if nothing happened."

The queen looked at Aegon with wide eyes.

"Can we go, my prince?" y/n asked in a low voice.

Aegon looked at y/n, who was now completely wrapped in his arm. He decided he had to hurry to get her out of that room. And he nodded silently.

The queen watched her son and daughter-in-law leave the room, her heart beating fast. She was sure that they didn't realize what they called friendship between them was so much more than friendship.

But all she wanted to do was protect Aemond. She didn't care about the peace or happiness of her eldest son or a girl from another land.

The moment Aegon and y/n stepped out into the hallway, they breathed a sigh of relief. y/n was holding Aegon's hand, but she didn't realize it. Aegon wanted to squeeze his hand tighter around her, but he didn't dare. He knew she would pull her hand away if she realized they were holding hands.

"I apologize for my mother, for everyone."

"You didn't do anything, Aegon. You're not the one who should apologize. And I don't think the queen talking to her son will change him. You can change how someone acts. But you can't change who they are inside."

Aegon nodded sadly. "What do you want to do-"

y/n instantly pulled her hand away from his. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

y/n stopped walking and looked at Aegon. The prince was tall, so she should have raised her head to see his face, but she didn't. Instead, she looked at Aegon through her lashes.

Aegon had long imagined how she would look like this, and now here she was.

If they weren't in a sad state, Aegon would get hard again. That was one of the biggest troubles he had been having for a few months.

"I'm tired. I should go to my chambers.

"Of course," Aegon said, his voice shaking.

y/n began to make her way to her room. Aegon watched her walk, already missing the presence of her hand in his.

If she were Aegon's, he wouldn't leave her alone for a second. His hands would always be on her hands. On her arms. And on her whole body. He would think of her before himself. Her pleasure before his own. Her comfort before his own.

y/n suddenly turned around. Aegon didn't look away, not afraid that she knew he was watching her.

"You are not what she says you are. Just because someone tries to mold you doesn't mean you have to fit that mold, Aegon."

Aegon could not answer. He felt his knees growing weak and unable to hold him up. ‘Just because someone tries to mold you doesn't mean you have to fit that mold.’ He repeated the words inwardly as if to commit them to his memory.

As y/n walked to her chambers, he moved to the edge of the wall and held on to it.

xxx

Aemond took a short ride with his dragon and turned back.

He did not use the royal carriage from the Dragonpit back to the castle. One of the things that helped him clear his head was his daily walks.

He used to enjoy training with Ser Criston, but spending long hours on the training field was no longer what he found peaceful. Wielding a sword was still his passion, but now he liked to deal with calmer matters.

Ever since he had claimed Vhagar, she had always made it possible for Aemond to take short breaks from life. He liked being in the sky better than on the ground.

Aemond didn't tie his hair up when he flew, unlike his kin. He liked the way the wind licked his hair and blew it back.

But he always dressed warmly. Aemond hated being cold. That's why he always wanted to snuggle up to y/n at night and sleep. And, of course, he wanted to be as close to her as he could. But she refused to even look at him, let alone hold him.

But before, they slept glued to each other every night.

And on nights when neither of them could sleep, they would snuggle under a blanket and watch the stars.

He couldn't believe that what he used to have was real. Some nights y/n would lie in his arms, and he would pinch his own arm after making sure she was asleep. 'I'm dreaming, or she's a figment of my imagination,' he always thought.

He would watch her, trying to be sure of her presence in his arms.

Now there was none of the intoxications of happiness that he had only two months ago.

Aemond knew she was right. She had every right to ignore him.

But he wanted her to be angry with him and then ignore him. They never fought except the day she found out about Alys. And the day he went to their chambers drunk.

It never even came up. Yes, y/n ignored him. But at the same time, when she told him about his duties, she used such a tone of voice that Aemond felt dizzy.

If he didn't clench his fingers into fists and squeeze his fists until his knuckles turned white, he would bend her on a table right then and there.

"The queen is waiting for you in her chambers," she would say, and her tone would be enough to give Aemond an erection.

Aemond's patience was wearing thin as she ignored him while at the same time ordering him around in her sweet voice.

He wanted to shake his head from side to side to distract his thoughts, but he didn't.

He finally managed to take his mind off y/n's body, her curves and breasts, her messy hair, and her cheeks flushed whenever he kissed that spot on her neck.

There was something else he had to focus his attention on with all his might. His beautiful wife, his beloved y/n, had started some rumors behind his back.

He had first heard the rumor from his mother. It was simple and harmless. It was about y/n would not carry a second child to Aemond. The queen was furious, of course, but it didn't affect Aemond in the slightest. At least he believed it was her right to spread these rumors.

But a few days later, the rumors came to him in other forms. They snowballed over a week, and the shape they finally took was the last straw for Aemond.

The rumors were simply about y/n choosing Aegon over him.

But the way people embellished that simple sentence was very different.

But even if the sentence had come to him straightforwardly without any other implication, it would still have angered him.

For the last few weeks, hearing Aegon's name was enough to push him to the limit of his patience.

Aegon had never lifted a finger in his childhood. Nor in all his life up to that day.

Aemond was the only one who had worked through all the hardships to make his name worthwhile.

And it had worked, but Aegon would be king only because he was born before him.

His brother, who only cared about sticking his cock in every hole he could find, would one day be king.

He had claimed his dragon by his own labor, spending hours in the library for years, always wanting to learn more.

But other than the title of prince, he had nothing of his own.

xxx

Aemond entered their chambers and found his wife at the table, arranging her jewelry.

He took slow steps toward y/n as he removed the leather gloves from his hand, one finger at a time. "How was your day?" he asked. And put the leather gloves next to the jewelry.

y/n spoke without lifting her head. "I've been working on these for a few hours. Other than that, it was a quiet day." she carefully placed the ruby necklace in the box.

"How was yours?"

"It started well. Maelor and I played a little. Well, if holding him on my lap counts as playing."

y/n took the earrings out of her ears. "He'll grow up. Then you can play all the games you want."

Aemond nodded.

He felt angry at y/n, but not for the rumors she was spreading.

He was angry with her because she was sitting across from him in the thinnest nightgown in her closet, and he wasn't even touching her with his pinky finger. "What did the maesters say about whether we could fulfill our duties as husband and wife?" once again, he was overcome with lust.

The rumors that had brought him to the room were not even in the back of his mind right now.

A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of anger, Aemond said he would bed with her, but they never did. And then the doctors told them to wait a while.

y/n finished at the table and stood up calmly. "Are you asking if I can have sex with you, Aemond?"

Aemond's lips formed a thin line. A few more sentences with that attitude, and he was going to cream his pants. "I mean, you know, you gave birth. And I thought you might still be sensitive to something like that."

y/n walked over to her side of the bed. "I'm not bedding with you because the maesters told me to, Aemond."

She took off the robe over her nightgown. "I'm not bedding with you because I don't want to."

Aemond sighed at her nipples, clearly visible under the nightgown.

She picked up the lavender oil from the table beside the bed. She pulled up the skirt of her dress just enough to allow it to reach her leg and began to apply the oil carefully.

"I-" y/n interrupted him and smiled. "The oil you use is nice too, but I prefer this one." Aemond looked at her, his eye wide. "I-" he cleared his throat. "I should go." As soon as he finished his sentence, he headed for the door.

"As you wish, dear husband."

Aemond's steps stopped instantly.

Dear husband

Those two words fell so softly from her lips that he decided not to leave the room. There was nowhere more important for him to be than next to his wife.

He moved to his side of the bed, and y/n watched him, wondering what he was doing.

He took off his leather coat and placed it on the chair.

"May you call the maid? I'm going to take a bath."

y/n nodded and took the robe, and put it back on.

After telling the guard at the door to call the maid, she walked towards Aemond.

He looked sad. It was as if whatever had been on his mind for days had aged him a few years.

She had tried not to care. She was already succeeding in the past few days. But it didn't make sense to her that Aemond should look so vulnerable.

She wanted to ask how he was, but the words caught in her throat. She watched him as she took off her robe again, not wanting to miss a move.

Aemond's hand trembled as he unbuttoned his first button. y/n continued to watch him in amazement.

When Aemond switched to the second button, he lingered on it for a long time.

His hands weren't shaking enough to prevent him from undoing the button, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

y/n couldn't stand the sight before her any longer. How could someone's head be so disorganized that they couldn't unbutton their buttons?

y/n grabbed his hand to stop him and started to unbutton him herself.

Aemond watched her expression without saying anything. He was surprised, but at the same time, he was trying to enjoy their closeness.

Her fingertips first touched the skin on his chest. Aemond's heart sped up, and his breaths became more frequent.

He was frightened that she might feel or even see his chest rising and falling faster than usual. He didn't want her to know she had such a hold on him.

Aemond put his hand behind his back and squeezed as she unbuttoned the buttons above his navel.

After she undid all the buttons, she ran her fingers over his belly.

She had always been fascinated by the fair skin that all the Targaryen had.

She stroked his muscles with her fingertips and felt his breathing quicken.

She admired his skin, smoother than her own, and a few scattered freckles that she could find where they were with her eyes closed.

"y/n..." he said. And he gently held her arm, exposed by her nightgown. He stroked her arm with his thumb. The moment he said "y/n-" again, there was a knock on the door.

They both moved quickly away from each other.

y/n cleared her throat and said, "come in."

The maid came and bowed at the prince and his wife, then went to the bathroom.

Aemond fiddled with his shirt sleeve to avoid eye contact as y/n let her eyes roam the room.

As the maid came out of the bathroom, Aemond quickly entered it.

"You can go. Tidy the bathroom tomorrow."

"Okay, my lady," she said and left the room.

y/n lay on her bed and waited for Aemond to finish.

She could hear the sound of water from the bathroom.

y/n closed her eyes, feeling the comfort of the bed, and reached out her hand toward where Aemond always slept. She ran her hand along the bedspread, trying to imagine his warmth.

They used to sleep cuddled together. Their legs would get so entangled that y/n couldn't get out of bed without waking him up.

Aemond's arm would ache from y/n resting her head on it all night, but he wouldn't dare move a finger, let alone his arm.

When y/n was pregnant, he was careful not to squeeze her too tightly, but he always slept with his hand on her stomach.

That was why y/n was surprised when she found out she had been cheated on and cried for days.

Although he was not very close to her in public and during the day, he kept her as close as possible at night. It was as if the depressed, dissatisfied Aemond had gone, and someone else had replaced him.

y/n thought he loved her. She thought it was just that the way he showed his love was unorthodox.

But he had no love left to share with her because he had someone else to share it with.

y/n's eyes were about to fill again with the heaviness in her chest. She tried to calm herself by telling herself everything would be all right, as Aegon had always told her.

When he said it, it was believable. But it wasn't as effective when y/n said it to herself.

He would be afraid to hold her in his arms. He would put his hand on her shoulder and arm to comfort her.

She closed her eyes tightly when she thought of Aegon. How would she get out of this dilemma?

There was no more water sound coming from the bath. Aemond usually kept his baths long. This time he came out faster than she expected.

He opened the bathroom door quickly. As it opened, y/n's nose filled with Aemond's scent. She couldn't get enough of the smell she hadn't inhaled in weeks. She tried to take deep breaths. His scent both comforted her as it reminded her of the two years they had spent together and made her feel even sadder as it reminded her of his betrayal.

When he saw y/n lying, he closed the door quietly, thinking she must be asleep. Then he took a blanket from one of the armchairs and draped it over y/n.

She opened her eyes as she felt the weight of the blanket. "I wasn't sleeping," she said. But her voice sounded sleepy.

"I thought you were."

He took the blanket back, folded it casually, and put it back on the armchair.

Since he had dressed in the bathroom, he went straight to bed. But just like y/n, he didn't remove the bedclothes and sat directly on the bed, his back against the headboard.

He put his wet hair behind the headboard so his clothes wouldn't get wet.

He leaned his head back and closed his eye.

"Aemond, are you okay?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know if I'm okay or not."

y/n realized he sounded hurt. "You can tell me."

Aemond felt his chest tighten. "How can you still be so nice to me?"

y/n didn't know how to react at first. "I just wanted to know what upset you."

"It's Maelor."

y/n turned to him curiously. How could it be Maelor? How could it be that her beloved son was the problem that confused him?

"What if his dragon egg never hatches?"

y/n also found it strange that his egg hadn't hatched yet, but she didn't think about it much. She didn't know when it was supposed to hatch.

"I'm sure it will hatch."

"No, you don't know," he said, "you don't know anything."

She ignored the implication in his voice. "After all, a dragon will come out of it. I'm sure it takes time."

Aemond stroked around his eye patch. "It's been three weeks. It should have cracked by now."

"Aemond-"

"If he doesn't have a dragon, the other children in the castle will try to humiliate and harm him."

"You never know. Maelor can do many successful things without having a dragon. He can fill his life with meaningful things. He can get a good education and can be a good swordsman."

Aemond chuckled. "Trust me. It's all meaningless."

"But-"

Aemond interrupted her. He didn't want to miss this opportunity, now that he had the confidence to tell her things he had never told anyone. "You talk about how lonely you are in the castle. I was lonely too, y/n. I had no one. I still have no one."

y/n immediately knew what he was talking about. It was no secret what a lonely childhood Prince Aemond had had, and it was the talk of the kingdom.

"His father is not like your father. I'm sure you will protect him."

"If anyone dares to touch him, I will destroy them."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

y/n couldn't understand why she was trying to comfort him. She thought it was because he seemed vulnerable. She suddenly felt she had forgotten everything in her head and had to protect him.

"The most important thing for a Targaryen is that your egg hatch for you," he said. He was obviously still stuck on that.

"If his egg does not hatch, he will claim a dragon in the future, Aemond. There is a solution."

He shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I was alone all my childhood because my egg didn't hatch for me. A Targaryen without a dragon is the most humiliating thing to be."

Aemond thought of how he had waited by his egg for days. His mother had always told him it would hatch, but it never had. He would sit by his egg for hours. At night when he slept, he would put it close to him. He thought his Valyrian blood would eventually hatch it, as he had read in the books. That was why he always kept it very close. But nothing ever happened. To him, the egg was nothing more than a worthless stone.

"But then you claimed Vhagar, Aemond, the greatest dragon alive."

He looked at her face briefly.

He could never despise the freedom and power that Vhagar had brought him. But she could not give him back his childhood.

"Throughout my childhood, I had to watch their interaction with their dragons in the Dragonpit. They made fun of me all the time. Jace, Luke..." his face hardened at the mention of Luke. "Your dear Aegon."

y/n lowered her gaze to her lap.

"They took everything from me, y/n, the little courage I had as a child, my self-confidence," he said. "My eye. They took my everything. And he still continues to steal everything I have."

y/n knew who he was talking about and what he meant by stealing.

Aegon had finally shattered the only structure he could call family. He was trying to steal y/n's love from him. And he did not doubt that Maelor would love Aegon more than he loved him.

"No one steals from you anymore, Aemond. You wanted it to be like this. Everything you are suffering is a result of what you've done."

Aemond turned on her angrily. "And here's the other thing. What do you get out of people thinking I have a small cock and that I'm a fool who can't even get laid?"

"Nothing. But I feel happier. You don't get what you deserve in this fucking castle. At least you can understand a little bit of how I feel. The way people look at you with pity, the way everyone talks about you in the corridors..."

"You know they are lies."

"Do you think so? I don't remember saying anything about how amazing the size of your cock is or how well you fuck."

Aemond straightened his posture. His hair was starting to touch his shoulders and arms. His wet hair had already begun to leave wet spots.

He was surprised by her foul language, but he also liked it.

"You're not going to get anything by acting angry."

"But I'm not acting angry, Aemond! I am angry."

"I would never leave you for someone else to take. Tell that fucking bastard in one of your secret meetings that if he becomes king one day, it won't affect me. If he wakes up one day and becomes one of the seven gods, he can't take you away from me. You both better get that through your heads."

y/n's eyes filled with tears of anger. "Aemond, you've already ruined my life once! What's wrong with you?"

Aemond got up from the bed. "You are mine. Maelor is mine. I know you would never sleep with Aegon, y/n. You're not that brave."

"Bravery? Is it brave to sleep with someone else when you're married, Aemond? You haven't even apologized, and now you're standing here telling me this!"

Aemond took a back step as if to free himself from that conversation.

"Are you upset that your whore got pregnant by someone else? Is that why you're like this? Is Maelor's egg your excuse?"

"You think I am upset because of her? You think she's important to me?"

"Then why did you follow her around for years?"

Aemond paused.

"Wasn't I enough for you?" she asked, averting her eyes.

"y/n..." Aemond said, taking a step toward her.

"I know I don't know much. But I thought you liked the nights we spent together."

"y/n..." he said again. "You're more than enough."

"Then why? I don't understand..." y/n said, her voice very low. She wasn't sure if Aemond had heard her, but from the sad look on his face, he had heard her.

"I'm sorry. For making you feel inadequate."

y/n shook her head. "It doesn't matter how you made me feel, Aemond. You ruined everything. We..." she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. "We could have been a happy family. I could have given you the love of a family."

Aemond's vision blurred.

"At least tell me why."

The words came to the tip of his tongue, but he held himself back. "I can't."

This time y/n could not hold back her tears. "See you tomorrow, Aemond," she said. Then she left the room, knowing where to go.

next chapter

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