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milkyhoneybee · 7 months

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Unethical magic friend who uses you to solve their problems without asking you or considering your comfort

They ran out of milk for their morning coffee? They snap their fingers and suddenly your tits are massive and leaking milk. They take what they need and don't bother changing you back until they remember hours or days later, even if you try to remind them they just wave you off saying 'sure, sure, I just need to finish working out this summoning circle' and get distracted again

Sometimes they read something in a book that gets them horny or there's something they couldn't figure out, or they just pass someone in the market who takes their fancy, so guess who's helping them recreate it? You lose track of the amount of times you've been turned into the current object of their desires-- you don't even remember what your original hair colour was at this point, though you think you're mostly the same as you were when they change you back... but, enough subtle differences over time can build up...

Not to mention the times you've ended up with tentacles or horns or fangs or a foot long tongue, genitals of every configuration, or been transformed into slime and used just for their pleasure, or, more humiliatingly, been used in some test or experiment, or used to get spell ingredients

You would leave, you think, even if it didn't usually feel so good you lose control of yourself, but you didn't realise how binding a mage's "friendship bracelets" were when you first accepted it when you became friends, and now even if you do go anywhere, they can summon you back without trouble

They just conjure you some souvenir or some kind of 'treat' if you complain, and you feel your cheeks flush with the patronising nature of it. None of your complaints are ever taken seriously

Sometimes they'll summon a demon or other creature either for information or for some task, and you've ended up being used as payment or to placate them. You start drooling and going weak at the knees whenever you smell succubus milk or incubus cum from the amount of times you've been exposed to it already-- you're honestly worried it'll become an addiction before too long...

The one time you tried to sabotage one of your friends spells, hoping they'd get a taste of their own medicine, and while at first it was satisfying seeing their look of panic when the magic went awry, it didn't last long...

When you looked at their spell book and saw they were trying to create an armour spell as strong as dragon scales, you figured out just what your interference had caused, watching those glistening sapphire scales spread along their growing, shifting limbs, long claws growing in, a tail stretching out behind them, horns and wings starting to form

Unfortunately, your friend was still conscious enough to realise it was you that had caused the issue, and they had no qualms about 'punishing' you for it

Increasingly they grew larger and stronger than you, long maw full of sharp fangs and a wicked tongue grinning as they pinned you down under one paw. The tongue that shoved itself inside you was larger than some of the cocks you'd taken before, making you squeal and writhe, body shaking when the edge of claws sent little trickles of blood down your thighs and sides. They pressed you down harder into the floor, growling like a thunderstorm and started fucking their tongue into you. Suddenly, their haunches were over your face, their serpentine body much more flexible and longer than their human one, and your eyes widened at the sight of the cock hanging heavy and flushed, pushing past the split of scales between their legs

Even trying to keep your mouth closed didn't save you, your draconic friend simply smothering you with their cock until you were forced to take a breath, and after letting you get a little air, they took the opportunity to ram their cock straight down your throat. You can't fight back at all as they fill you from both ends, feeling like a toy being hollowed out

Their cock is covered in ridges and the slick confines of your throat drag against them in a way that, from what you can still manage to piece together due to the lack of consistent air, must feel good. They even get their tail wrapped around your throat, making your watering eyes roll up as they tighten their hold

You pass out, of course

Thankfully, they must have pulled out before the lack of air completely did you in (though you have no way to tell, perhaps they could still cast necromantic magic in dragon form?) but you come to in fits and starts, finally piecing enough of yourself together when you're being held in both of their front paws, your hole stretched and leaking around their cock as they bounce you up and down its length

From the way your belly sloshes, and how sticky your legs are (not to mention the rest of you, you assume), you can guess they've already cum in you a few times while you were out cold

When the draconic mage finally finishes with you, you're left slumped over, face half laying in a puddle of cum and you don't think you'll ever not smell like it or if you'll ever taste anything else again. You don't know if you can even talk any more from having your throat so thoroughly fucked. Not to mention if your holes will recover after being stretched out and absolutely ruined on that massive dragon cock...

Of course, leaving them a dragon doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone. Once you get enough energy and brain cells to rub together, and manage to clean up a bit, you get herded over to their spell book. They eventually nudge you and manage to gesture, growl, and, at times, roughly manipulate you, until you can brew a potion to change them back

Once they're back on two legs? 'Well, that was fun, wasn't it?'

#nsft fantasy #nsft concept #tf kink #unethical mage #monster fucker #objectification kink

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asharaxofstarfall · 8 months

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sansa is so important actually. she's not a warrior, she doesn't have dragons or fighting skills or magic, she only has herself to rely on and she gets through it. “courtesy is a lady's armor” and she uses it so well. but beneath that armour, she still has a heart and no matter what she goes through, she'll never let herself forget that. “if i am ever a queen, i'll make them love me” and its not fake love and fake charity, it's genuine care for everyone she meets. she risks beatings from joffrey in order to help out random lowborns that she doesn't even know. she risks even more by telling margaery about joffrey's true nature so she can save another girl from his abuse. “my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.” and yet the author never let's us forget that she's still a little girl and she still hurts so much. this armour that she uses to protect herself never makes her vicious or uncaring, if anything, it's the exact opposite. she still prays when she thinks that the gods aren't listening, because they might be and she'll take any chance at saving herself and her family. she learns not to trust people at face value but still loves knights and stories and songs and she still believes in good over all else. petyr tries so make her his persephone and his lolita and she wont let him “i am not your daughter, she thought. “i am sansa stark, lord eddard’s daughter and lady catelyn’s, the blood of winterfell.” even when forced to give up her identity, she still refuses to forget who she is. she's just so important guys

#“now watch me explain how brienne comes into this- ”#they are made for each other #not in a romantic way #but in the sense that she's the true knight sansa has been waiting for #she's not going to save her per se #but she's going to help bring her home #brienne not being a knight is also very important #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #pro sansa stark

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

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Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be all yours shortly.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their hands on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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Queen Of My Life (Aegon x Reader)

“I will be queen and write history like my ancestor (y/n) Targaryen”

“The story of (y/n) was your brother Rhaegars Favourite, she was known as “the miracle queen”

“The miracle? Why?I’ve only known a few scattered parts of her”

“She is known as the last good leader along with her husband king Aegon, they were the first and only couple that ruled United and seemed to listen to the worries of their subjects”

“She cared for the small folk?”

“The didn’t call her “our sun” for nothing”

(Y/n) was not supposed to be born, a child created after the night Rhaenyra laid with Ser Criston Cole, it might sound evil but as her belly grew Rhaenyra wished for the babe to die, to get rid of it.

The babe came out quickly and earlier than expected, a healthy girl that wailed loudly as she fussed and screamed to get away from her mothers grasp, it was almost like the babe had heard every thought her mother had, the hostility that was created as she was growing inside a womb that it’s owner wished she was dead.

The only person that (y/n) truly loved was Laenor, he adored his daughter and spoiled her to no ends, she had everything laid beneath her feet with one click of her fathers fingers, before her dragon hatched Laenor would take her up in the sky just to hear the little girls sequels of bliss.

“You did it!”

(Y/n) bursted in the room with a dagger in her hand, her fathers dagger that she had just lost. Rhaenyra was quick to restrain her daughter from cutting through her chest, the whole room erupted with chaos as the boiling pot that was her daughter temper seemed to have blown up and was ready to burn everyone.

“How dare you blame me?”

“How dare I? You killed my father just to marry your fucking knight in shinning armour”

The scariest part was not (y/n)s tone nor the raised tone that pierced through eardrums, it was that there was no emotion in her eyes, just plain darkness, Rhaenyra was truly backed against the wall to fight for her life.

Criston Cole was the one to thankfully be brave enough to pull (y/n) away, unfortunately due to her erratic movements the princess had managed to cut herself, earning a deep clean cut from bicep to wrist, her cry of pain was deafening as her blood spilled down to the floor, Criston wanted to throw up at the sight of his daughters blood intertwining with mourning for another man she called “father”.

“Take the princess back to her chamber Ser Criston”

The queen commanded him to which he heartedly agreed. Swiftly he lifted her up to hold her in her arms, she was just a kid, a kid that attempted to not only kill her mother, to also strike down the future heir and accuse her of murder, the queen had followed the two with her eyes as the knight exited the room, leaving all of them in despair over the event.

“We should call a maester for the princess”

Alicent suggested mostly to herself as she spoke to a hushed tone, the queen sped to the princesses room to find her laying in her bed while Ser Criston had torn off his cape to stop the bleeding, Criston was a tormented father that had his hands tied when it came to the matter of his daughter, when she was born he knew it in his heart that the babe was his kin, how could a father stand watching his only daughter lay wounded?

On the morrow Rhaenyras family departed for dragon stone, except (y/n) who had requested to stay behind and become the queens lady in waiting, queen Alicent always felt for the young girl who had inherited Cristons eyes, she could somewhat understand why Rhaenyra had a certain grudge against (y/n), to gaze upon your own daughter and see a man you hate.

One of the few times (y/n) was seen smiling was at her wedding with Aegon, Aegon fell for the princess ever since they were young, he had a very special gift from her that started from his thigh down to his knee, (y/n) and Aegon were extremely competitive so one time during training (y/n) requested real swords, Aegon being the arrogant prick he could be lazily swung his swords while (y/n) bend down and landed a nasty cut.

“How does it feel to be my lady wife?”

“Nothing has really changed, except the fact that tonight we have to land a small little cut on you”

(Y/n) and Aegon were drawn to one another long before their wedding, Alicent had betrothed them to shut the rumours of the princesses moans coming from Aegons room, while partially to quickly hide the fact that (y/n) had not bled for two moons.

Aegon giggled at the comment as he took her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, after that his other hand caressed her still flat belly lovingly, his babe was safely growing inside the woman he loved.

“It’s a boy”

“I did not know I was marrying a witch”

“Heleana saw it, we will name him Saeror”

“Saeror?! What type of name is that?”

“Saeror the future king… has a nice ring to it”

Aegon surprised them all, he became a wonderful lord husband and stood honourably by his wives side through good times and bad times.

Aegon was present when Saeror was born, he had pushed the maester away to hold his babe, he would have never thought that he would take one look at a bloody little thing that resembled a small kitten would make him so happy, Aegon laughed loudly as Saeror wailed his way into the world.

“Saeror, You will be our legacy little one”

Reluctantly he passed the babe to the wet nurses so they can take care of the newborn, carelessly he wiped his hands to his clothes before kneeling in front of his glowing wife who sheepishly smiled at him, content with bringing the future heir to the world without any complications.

Aegon caressed her hair while his other hand held hers tightly, she had blessed him with a new family, (y/n) shed light in his life like the beacon of old town, how wife was the fire that burned him so sweetly.

“A lot of women say they do not wish for their husbands to be in the room while giving birth, it is said men do not look at their wives as women any more”

“I do not view you as a woman, I worship you as a goddess”

“I did good”

“You did wonderful, queen of my life”

Rhaenyra had been absent to every important event, the wedding, the birth of (y/n)s first born, any feast that was held for (y/n)s honour Rhaenyra had an excuse to not make an appearance, sending only a letter as a “congratulations”, the bitterness within (y/n) took over her brain towards her mother in a quick pace.

Quite the contrary with her good mother queen Alicent, she had stepped up to take great care of (y/n) and showed her the way to be a queen, Alicent was determined to be the mother she did not have, she was aware of what life was like without that maternal figure and would hate herself if she allowed that curse to be casted upon another woman.

(Y/n) had proven to be restless, giving birth to three sons one after the other. Saeror, Zenea and little Aemond in honour of her good brother who hugged (y/n) tightly and whispered a subtle “thank you” in her ear when they announced the babes name to the court.

“(y/n) and Aegon the generous” where known within kings landing due to visiting orphanages often to take care of the children as well as funding maesters to visit anyone in need of medical care from the small folk, adored by the public was an extremely brilliant move against the heir Rhaenyra who had fled the capital and lived her life hiding away instead of building her claim.

(Y/n) and Aegon were seen with their children and Ser Criston Cole along with Ser Erryk to kings landing, listening to the small folks worries and strolling through paths like common folk, another clever move was throwing feasts for the children’s namedays were everyone was welcomed, the masses were fed and give their blessing to the princes, Lords from all of Westeros would travel to make alliances with the Targaryens, to offer their daughters for the princes.

“Push my love”

“I cannot, I am tired”

“Come on sweetling this is your fourth time in this bed, you are strong”

(Y/n) pushed with all her might while Alicent and Aegon held her hands to support her and pass their strength to her, (y/n) grunted and breathed heavily to push a new life out of her. She fell in her husbands arms once she felt the relief of the babe releasing from her womb, the sound of a newborn weeping would never get old to the couple, Aegon engulfed her with his arms to bring his sweaty mess of a wife in his arms to kiss her temple.

“Praise the mother, my queen you did well”

“Is our boy healthy?”

“A strong boy sweet one”

Alicent reassured the princess as she followed the wet nurses who did the usual routine for the babe before bringing it to the mother. (Y/n) held her new babe in her arms while she was still being held by her husband, tears that were shed from his eyes hit her shoulder.

“What will we name him?”

“I was thinking Naemor”

“Welcome to the family Naemor”

Aegon cooed at the babe who had started to calm down in his mothers arms. Aegon gave another kiss to his wives head, she deserved all the gold in the world for the sacrifices she had made, to create a home for him in her arms and create a human from his seed, she was his miracle.

“Your grace, your presence is requested to the throne room”

“Oh seven hells I completely forgot of the hearing”

“Is that today? We must get ready”

“My love, you are to remain abed”

“No, I will not give her that satisfaction of missing this, help me please or I’ll do this without you”

Aegon had no choice but to comply to his wives wishes and offer his hands for support to get her up on her feet. Ser Criston watched silently for a moment until he mastered the courage to take a few steps to stand next to the princess.

“A boy?”

“Indeed, here”

Carefully (y/n) laid her newborn babe in the knights arms, Criston could not believe his eyes, a fourth grandchild was presented to him, he was as perfect as the rest of them, they were times that he had cursed himself for what he had done, to fall for Rhaenyras act and entertain it to the point that he risked the highest honour and toyed with his life, this is the moment that gave his life meaning, to see your daughter prevail and become the strongest Targaryen of the entire kingdom.

Once the wet nurses were excused and (y/n) dressed in her gown with the assistance of her husband Criston stayed in the room to rock the babe for as long as he could, away from the prude eyes of the servants.

“You have a beautiful family… princess”

“Aegon could you please take the babe?”

Aegon gladly reached for the babe to cradle him in his arms, the newborn had drifted off to slumber as he was safely rocked by his grandfather.

(Y/n) froze in her spot for a moment as she eyeballed the knight who also did not move a muscle, it was her that fell in his arms for a tight hug. She was not dim witted, the stories had reached her ears ever since she was a toddler, Criston was there for every step of her life, protecting his kin from the shadows.

“I will take revenge for you, do not worry… father”

Criston only caressed her long dirty blonde hair, it was very few times that (y/n) could truly show affection to her biological father, after such an emotional event of giving birth Criston was one of the closest people she had, her true father that was there for her more than her mother had ever been.

“You mustn’t walk in your condition, I’ll carry you there”

“No I-“

“Hush now princess I’ll let you down before the doors agape”

It was pointless to put on a fuss, her father had her off her feet in a blink of an eye while her husband Aegon was on their side with the newborn babe. Soon enough they reached the throne room doors and Criston Cole kept his promising by allowing the princess to stand by herself.

“Princess (y/n) and prince Aegon of house Targaryen”

As the doors unlatched to reveal the couple (y/n) felt like her “family” threw daggers from their eyes to the princess, a part of her wanted to know what was it that she had done that cause such hatred, the other part was quite content with her own family.

“I apologise for the interruption your grace, we happily announce the birth of our newborn son Naemor”

“A fourth son… let me see”

“Allow me my moon”

(Y/n) mumbled to Aegon as asked for their son to take him up to the stairs to the frail grandsire. (Y/n) was in agony the minute she took a step in the room, labour was one of the most excruciating pains she had experienced, however no one could see her pain, the prideful princess smiled as she bend the knee to let the king gaze upon the child.

“A strong son from the most beloved couple of the realm”

“You honour me your grace”

“I believe we need to circle back to the reason we are all gathered here”

“I can understand it might bring a certain uneasiness to you that you are not the centre of attention, still do allow your own daughter to present her son-your fourth grandson- to the king -our father-“

Aegon snapped at his half sister, (y/n) smirked at the sharp jab her husband had landed. Aegon would go to war for his family, he had grown to be a man because of the influence (y/n) had on him, she made him stronger, sharper, a proper king and a protector of the realm.

(Y/n) was proud of the man she had married, she had to admit that when she was to be wed to him she feared for her future, what if Aegons passion for her burned out? What if his taste for wine got the best of him?

Questions that clouded her judgement had kept her up until the dawn of her wedding day, now there he was, not an ounce of quiver as he went toe to toe with Rhaenyra to defend his queen.

“We have decided as a union that our presence is important since we would officially want to announce that we side with prince Jacaerys when it comes to the claim of driftmark”

“What?”

“My brother is the second born of our family, our… late father Laenor had wished for him to inherit it, the power of the ocean runs through our veins”

“What do you know of Velaryon blood princess? I could cut my wrists and you would still not recognise it”

“ I only recognise the blood of a man like Laenor, a knight that fought to defend the realm against the common foe, I do not wish to witness the blood of a villainous brother that stops at nothing to gain power”

(Y/n) had stepped down from the throne that her grandsire was occupying, Aegon paced quickly to her to take their son from her with one hand while the other snaked it’s way around her waist for support, he was observant enough to pick up on the slight trembling of her hands, she was growing tired and the argument of Ser Vaemond was not helping.

“Enough!”

The king declared as loud as he could with the combination of stomping his cane to the ground for a louder pause to the heated conversation. (Y/n) and Aegon turned their backs on Ser Vaemond in order to face the king out of respect, (y/n) even leaned her head to Aegons shoulder to get closer to him, his musk scent was a familiar thing she could focus as she was feeling her knees fighting to keep her up.

“I have heard enough, it is a day to celebrate not to kill each other. I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of house Velaryon as the future heir of lord of the tides, I should also announce that prince Aegon with his lady wife princess (y/n) of house Targaryen will be declared as my… heirs to the throne… after me”

“It cannot be”

“Aegon and (y/n) have proved themselves worthy of the throne… Rhaenyra, my sweet daughter… you will inherit the… Step-ahhh”

“Call the maesters!”

Aegon felt his wife tense at the scene that was playing in front of them, the time she had always been waiting for was happening, her grandsire was announcing her as his heir instead of Rhaenyra.

The grunts of agony that shook the room from her grandsire caused the small babe to start fussing, wails erupting from her new born son while Aegon started to lightly bounce the babe in his arms.

“Hush little one, you father is here”

“We must go, come my moon”

(Y/n) took Aegons hand to lead him out of the throne room while everyone was preoccupied with tending to her grandsire the king, her pain however caused a flinch while a hiss was uttered from her causing her to come to a halt.

“You need to rest”

“We do not have time for that”

“I do not care what you say, the throne will be there after you take a bath and sleep for a few hours, Ser Criston take my wife in our chambers, I will handle the rest”

“So the king died right after he declared a new heir?”

“Correct”

“If he had announced it to the court as you say, why did war ensue?”

“Princess Rhaenyra fled to dragon stone with her family to call banners for support to her claim, the king had passed before the official ceremony could take place”

“And what of queen (y/n)?”

“Her and king Aegon were crowned before the masses at dawn, the small folk cheered at the announcement of that the couple were crowned as king and queen of the realm, men offered to be trained as knights to protect the new queen against princess Rhaenyra”

“So a mother and a daughter went to war”

“Queen (y/n) was known for one phrase”

“The blood in the veins is thicker than the water in the womb”

“The Beloved queen was an intriguing character, a powerful woman with endless potential, her story is the second most astonishing one after Aegon the conqueror”

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