#.ﾟ☆ﾟ. she was the heir of fire and ash / she would bow to no one ‹ visage. ›

[cludiaa]

“She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one”

#aelin throne of glass #throne of glass #aelin whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #sjmaas #sjm books #fanart #bookart #character art #fantasy art #booklr #sarah j. maas #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Siri, play Gilden Lily - Cults.

Chapter 24: A Queen is made

Rhaenyra watched as Jacaerys lifted his head higher. He would be heir. Not you. Not you, the eldest, who had done everything that was asked of you.

Not the eldest daughter who listened to her mother preach of creating a new order where women could sit upon the throne. A place where women born first have more right than a man born second.

Not you. 

Him.

“Naught is to be done but by my command.” Jacaerys eyes flitted to yours, waiting for you to argue, to fight back, to demand your rightful spot as the eldest to be the heir.

But no words escaped your mouth. Instead, your lips formed a hard line as you nodded to your brother before turning away to be there for your mother.

As you always had.

Such bitterness rose inside you. It was monstrous, and suffocating and swallowed you whole, though you pushed down that anger. For her. For your sister. For them all.

As you always had.

Your brother's footsteps faded away and Rhaenyra groaned, sobbing loudly as she bent forward. Your hands flew out to hold her arm, as you whispered praise and assurance to her, hoping that it would be enough to give her some comfort. 

You stood with your mother as her cries got louder. 

“Daemon!” She yelled out, and you looked to the midwives as one left the room. You held onto her tighter as she began to bend down groaning in pain, which turned to screams, sweat sticking her hair to her face. 

“Mother, what can I do? Please tell me what I can do?” You begged as you held onto her, one of her hands grasping yours painfully tight as she wailed. 

She cried louder, as she bent down one hand clutching her stomach as rivers of tears fell from her eyes. You felt helpless. You felt spiteful. You felt grief, and envy and anger and rage. You felt so much, that you did not even know what you truly felt.

It was overwhelming.

You did not know what to do.

This birth was nothing like your brothers.

She cried out again, head bowed towards the floor, teeth bared as she clenched her jaw. Red caught your eye on the floor below, as blood had begun to pool beneath her bare feet. Her toenails were stained with the sticky liquid. 

“Daemon!” She screamed again, ripping her hand away from yours as she stumbled away, the shift dragging through the blood on the floor, causing the white to stain. A long trail of blood followed her path.

You looked towards the door, praying your father would enter. 

He never did.

Rhaenyra groaned as she paced, bending in place to clutch at her back or stomach, nails digging into her own flesh, desperately trying to push past the pain and her fear.

Fear.

You realised that Rhaenyra felt fear. You remembered her mother. You remembered Laena. You remembered all the women before you who had died giving birth.

Please Gods, not her.

Where was Daemon? How could your father not come to her calls? How could he not come to help her? Assure her? The love of his life? The woman he risked everything for?

You raced out the door, asking the knight at the door where the Prince was.

“With Prince Jacaerys, Princess.” He replied.

“Daemon!” Your mothers voice cried from her chambers, and the urge to run and find him grew strong, but the need to be with your mother was stronger.

You raced back into the chambers as your mother sunk to the floor, back leant against the bed.

You raced to her side but stopped, you did not know if she wanted you close, you did not want to crowd her, you truly did not know what to do.

Doubt swirled in your mind.

What good were you? Eldest daughter. Never to be heir. Unsure of how to help her mother giving birth. Or how to help her grieve her father. Or the throne that was stolen from her.

What use were you?

The best you could do was be there, so if she called you, you were ready.

As she tucked her legs beneath her in a squat her hand came under the bloody shift, groaning as she did. 

You felt tears fall from your eyes as you watched her rip her hand away, dragging herself to stand, clutching the back of the chaise before collapsing to the ground again, hand underneath her shift.

She looked like she was growing weak. She had never looked so pale. The midwives began to come closer and you felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

Her screams grew louder as she hunched forward clawing onto the bed behind her, knuckles white with her grip. 

“Princess, let us help you.” Came the gentle voice of a young midwife, whose face was filled with tears.

“No.” Your mother groaned, hand still under her shift whilst the other now grasped her stomach.

“Get out!” Rhaenyra screamed, groaning as she pushed. 

“Mother, please let them help you!” You begged, coming closer to her as you knelt down beside her.

“Princess, please.” Begged another midwife.

“Get out!” She cried, leaning forward with one hand as she grunted and pushed, blood beginning to pool below her feet.

“Please. Gods please.” You whispered.

“You should not do this alone, Princess. Let us help you.” Begged the older midwife whilst the rest swayed on their feet with anxiety, watching the woman struggle with her birth.

Your mother cried louder, pushing as she groaned in pain. A pool of fluid landed between her legs as one of the midwives openly began to cry. Your mothers bloody hand came up to grasp yours suddenly as she screamed. Head thrown back as a pained wail twisted its way from Rhaenyras mouth, hand moving to catch the weight of the babe between her legs as she continued to push.

Suddenly it was quiet. 

The grip on your hand faltered.

The midwives watched on as your mother collapsed to the floor, pained breaths and gasps flowing from her mouth. No-one moved. No-one spoke.

All that could be heard was the silence of the room. Such an awful, awful silence. What would usually be a room full of the sounds of a babe crying, was now the emptiness of space. 

Why was it so quiet?

You looked down at your mother to see the bloody body of your sister, who did not move, nor did she cry, nor did she breathe. The stillness of the room was unbearable, and you found a sob work its way from your mouth as you watched your mother wrap the stillborn in her shift pulling it up to her chest as she slowly began to rock.

Footsteps filled the silent room and you turned to see your father, watching your mother rock back and forth. Rage bubbled up inside you as he stood there at the entrance. He did not walk forward, he did not try to console her, or see what was wrong.

The Rogue Prince merely stood there and watched. 

Your feet carried you before your mind knew what you were doing, storming up to your father looking at his face, which looked all the more shamed. 

“Get. Out.” You hissed. Staring up at your father, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He did not react, simply looked down at you sadly.

“Get-“ You hand went to hit him but he caught you gently, sighing. 

“Not here.” He muttered, holding your hand to bring you out of the chambers, your head turned to look at your mother one last time as she still rocked with the babe she had just lost. You let your father pull you from the room.

You had lost your sister. 

“You left her!” You spat, rising up on your toes to get in your fathers face, “You left her when she needed you! I needed you! And where were you? Plotting a war you have always wanted! Do you even care about us? Do you even love us? Or does your thirst for the crown weigh of more importance to you?”

Your fathers grip tightened on your arm, “Dont.” He growled.

“No. Let go of me.” You wriggled in his grasp trying to rip your arm from his, but his hold did not falter, nor did his gaze.

“Y/n.” He whispered.

“Let me go!” You cried pushing at his body with your other hand, grief overwhelming your rage as you began to sob.

“Tala.” (Daughter) He uttered and finally you stilled.

Your neck craned up to look at him. His face blurred in your vision from your tears. You tried so desperately to fight it. To push down the tide that began to swell inside you but you couldn't stop it.

You felt your lips tremble as a sob ripped from your chest. The Rogue Prince was quick to act, pulling you to him, clutching you against his chest. 

“Nyke vaoreznuni.” (I’m sorry.) He whispered into your hair as he clutched you close, allowing you to sob into his chest, feeling all of the days losses crawl up on you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered over and over as he held you, his lips atop your head and he pressed soft kisses into your hair. 

Sorry doesn’t cut it. 

Sorry doesn’t bring back your sister. Sorry doesn’t give your mother relief. Sorry doesn’t take away how he just abandoned her in her need. Sorry does not erase the pain.

Grunting you pushed away from him, sniffling and looked up at him in disgust.

“Fuck you.” You sneered before storming away.

The Prince did not chase you. 

Your thoughts ran to your brothers.

You needed to find Lucerys, to see if he was okay.

You could not face Jace at this moment.

It was a terrible thing to be so angry. A terrible thing to be so bitter, and envious and almost vengeful. You knew you should not envy him. But you did all the same.

In your mind, you had always known that it was likely for Jacaerys to be named Heir instead of you, but still you felt a keen sting of rejection and anger.

You walked towards Lucerys’ chambers, coming to the door quickly before entering with a soft knock. He sat on his chaise, looking down at his hands, but once he heard you enter he looked up in anticipation. 

“Is she…” He trailed off.

You shook your head, feeling a lump form in the back of your throat. 

“The babe didn’t make it.” You whispered sadly. 

“Mother is…” You stumbled on your words, “grieving.” 

Lucerys looked at his hands sadly as you sat beside him.

You grasped the young boys hand firmly, holding it in your lap, unsure of what to say.

It was silent again. You didn’t know how much you could hate silence until today. It made your hands fidget and your legs jump. What you once sought solace in, now haunted you.

“It’s going to be okay.” Lucerys spoke, strength in his voice. 

Your sweet brother, trying to be strong for you, trying to hold you together as your pieces began to crumble. You sniffed sharply, sitting up straighter, hand squeezing his. 

“Where is Daemon?” He asked, and you shook your head sternly, gritting your teeth.

The only sounds in the room were your soft sniffles and the crackling sounds of the fire. You did not know what to say, and for once, words escaped you.

You did not know how to comfort your brother. You did not know how to even comfort yourself. Fresh tears begin to fall. They rolled down your cheeks, their salty tracks dripping from your chin into your lap.

Lucerys turned his head to watch you cry gently. The young boy looked so lost, so unsure how to comfort you. And although you never told him, just his presence was enough.

Enough so, that you had hoped your presence had soothed your mother the same way. 

You sat together in the room for hours, holding onto each other, not daring to move lest the other be disturbed until you were called. Perhaps if you did not move, it did not happen. It had all been just a terrible dream.

But it was real. And it had happened. And soon reality came to crash down on the both of you.

A soft knock at the door stirred you both from your grieving. Your knight Ser Darke, came to collect you both as Jacaerys stood behind him waiting with a far away look in his eye.

Clearing your throat you stood, brushing down your gown and soothing your hair, before walking wordlessly out the door, the boys following behind. Always following you. Always leading them.

Now, never to truly lead.

Together you walked through the castle. With every step, you felt your heart give and your eyes burn, but you would not cry. Not anymore. Not now.

Not when they needed you. 

The sun had slowly begun to sink lower into the sky as you walked out onto the cliffside of Dragonstone, the grass and dirt crushed under your every step.

In front of you lay the giant candled stone, wax melted off of it on all sides from years of ceremonies and rituals. Hundreds of years worth of wax and flame. Your mother and father stood before it whilst large flames licked the sides.

Rhaenyra was dressed and her hair had been combed neatly behind her. She wore no large braids. And although she had been dressed, and her hair had been brushed, she was still just as pale as you had saw her hours earlier, and her hair just as slick from sweat.

You all watched as Princess Rhaenyra gently placed your deceased sister atop the flames, shoulders stuttering with silent sobs. She stood, in a way that only someone in physical and mental pain would.

All watched as the Princess and Prince mourned the loss of their daughter.

All was quiet.

And none spoke, nor whispered, nor cried loudly at the scene. Though silent tears were shed for the loss, there was no humanly grief to be heard. All that could be heard but the crackling of the flames.

You watched alongside your brothers, the younger Joffrey standing with you not quite understanding what was happening, though his face held a sadness that no young child should.

Your father watched Rhaenyra as she didn’t once take her eyes from the flames. Dark plumes of smoke rose into the air, whilst a soft breeze caressed the long tresses of hair at your mothers back. The approaching sound of a knight alerted the guards around your mother and father, their attention to the intruder causing your father to turn and watch.

Rhaenyra did not turn.

The sharp sound of two swords being drawn cut through the silence. The Prince watching behind the guards, hands on the hilt of the Dark Sister blade. You stepped forwards towards them both, your brother Jacaerys hand coming to stop you.

You shook off his hand.

Walking up towards the Kings guard was a man you recognised as Ser Eryyk Cargyll. A twin and member of the Knights Watch back in Kings Landing.

“I mean no harm, brothers.” He called out.

The Princess still did not turn around, hypnotised by the flames burning her loss in front of her. 

Ser Eryyk reached up and pulled away the helmet from his head whilst two swords were drawn on him, ready to strike him down at any moment.

At their recognition of him, the other guards lowered their sword whilst your father slowly stalked towards him. Ser Eryyk walked closer and knelt down bowing.

Movement caught your eye. Finally your mother turned, resting her tired gaze on the man before her. Her face was gaunt, eyes tired and dark. You wished to hold her.

One of Ser Eryyk's hands reached into the dark leather satchel on his side, pulling out your grandsire's crown. It looked as it did the last time you saw it.

You watched as the Knight held it out to your mother. 

“I swear to ward the Queen…” His voice called out, “With all my strength… and give my blood for hers.” 

Daemon walked forward in disbelief, grasping the crown before him, holding it delicately in his hands as though it may disappear. A piece of his brother in his hands, the only thing he had left.

“I shall take no wife…” the knight continued, “hold no lands… father no children. I shall guard her secrets…” 

You watched as your mother began to approach Daemon, looking at his hands holding the circlet. Light from the setting sun causes the gold to shine.

“Obey her commands, ride at her side and defend her name and honour.” Ser Eryyk continued his vows, and knelt down watching your father intently.

Daemon looked at the knight in disbelief before turning to look at your mother, who still watched from afar as she slowly stalked forward in shock.

Walking closer, Rhaenyra stood before Daemon as he lifted the crown of her father to place it gently atop her head. It fit perfectly. You watched in awe as a new feeling burst through your chest.

Pride.

Pride is what you felt now.

Your mother with her rightful crown. Your mother as the rightful Queen to the Seven Kingdoms. Your mother. Daemon knelt down in front of her and you followed after, resting your knee on the grass below you, your skin digging into the soil as you bowed your head before looking back up at your mother.

She held the crown well.

A true Queen.

“My Queen.” The Rogue Prince whispered to her, his gaze holding hers.

Behind you was the sounds of all present kneeling into the ground below them. The coats and armour moving, followed by the sounds of grass being crushed.

Her eyes caught yours and you bowed your head. Butterflies running wild in your stomach. 

You lifted your head and watched as your mother looked out at all of you, her sights looking past you holding her gaze onto someone. You turned your head to see Rhaenys, The Queen Who Never Was, standing up the back. Her granddaughters, Rhaena and Baela knelt before her for their Queen.

Princess Rhaenys she took no knee. 

Queen Rhaenyras eyes came back to you, as her guards walked forward towards her, escorting her up the path and back into the castle as you all followed.

You trailed behind her with your brothers, your head held high. 

Your mother, the Queen, true born heir to the Iron Throne and the rightful ruler of the realm.

No words were spoken once again, nothing but murmurs of “My Queen.” from those she passed, as they bowed their heads to their new Queen.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Ashes Burn: chapter one

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, gore, blood

🔷Summary: Your hometown will soon fall, and you become noticed by the one-eyed Kinslayer who lays siege to it.

🔷Author's note: Dark!Aemond is not something i throw around lightly. It is not something i take lightly as a warning. Just so you know.

🔷Wordcount :7036 (THAT CANT BE RIGHT THATS HUGE)

Warnings below the cut but mind your step!

🔷Warnings: Gore, AABFR, She/her pronouns, murder, warcrimes, mentions of non-con but no descriptions of it, Dubcon (aemondxoc) and overall a very very dark Aemond. Childabuse? (A child gets slapped)

All but ash

The skies have blackened with smoke in the distance. Fires keep the courtyard warm where multiple children and women shelter for the upcoming battle. They hope for a victory. They hope for a happy ending.

You stand on your balcony and overlook the city you were conceived in, born in, and perhaps even will die in: DolkBurg. A small city, almost a village, but not quite, located in the Riverlands. 

Your family, the Dawreyn, have been ruling this seat until the beginning of the Seven Kingdoms; perhaps even before that, according to some ancient texts. Yet you are not a full Dawreyn. You are a bastard. Your father is Samwell Dawreyn, but your mother? You wouldn't know.

From the distance, you notice horses riding up to the city gates. That is when you stop watching. You close the door of your balcony and head downstairs.

When you pass halls, men and women alike are preparing for the battle. Servants carry food, supplies, and weapons around in quick passed steps. You see your father and your brother adjusting their armours before going to meet the Greens head-on. And you see Lady Fyona Dawnreyn, who clutches her youngest child, your brother Maas, on her lap. Her eyes are big and full of worry, and she mumbles prayer after prayer. 

You ignore her for now, as she would ignore you as usual. ‘’Where are Annalysa and Diandra?’’ You ask your father, Lord Samwell Dawreyn. His heir, your half-brother Karst, is busy sharpening his sword, preparing for battle by slashing down imaginary enemies. You hope the battle ends as good as he imagines it. You doubt it, however. Karst has never seen a real battle. None of you have. Perhaps your father did. But he is old and weak. You would be a fool to deny it.

Your father speaks in an annoyed, snappy tone that betrays that you have outstayed your welcome in his presence already for today. ‘’Annalysa is in her rooms. Diandra is busy preparing her crossbow.’’ He does not even glance at you. 

And that kills you faster than any arrow or sword ever would. Diandra has always been very spirited. ‘’Don't tell me she is stupid enough to fight.’’ You huff. Diandra thinks she is the greatest archer who ever lived, but how much damage can one 12 years old do?

Your father turns on his heel, glaring at you. ‘’I'm glad that one of my daughters is doing something useful. Instead of sending good suitors screaming for the hills.’’ You absently touch your scar by your face before glaring at him. 

He leans in closer. ‘’We will soon discuss the matter of your future, Y/N. I will no longer have you under my roof. Not when bastards are hunted.’’ You know what he is referring to. 

King Aegon II has decided that all bastards holding titles and lands must turn it over to the Crown. You have never heard of a more foolish rule, but you understand why he did so. His nephews are bastards. The rightful queen might be pure of blood, but her children are not.

You would be a risk for your family to keep. You would endanger the life of your siblings. You would endanger everyone here. You would rather stay, but not at the costs of their lives.

Your father leaves the hall with Karst, and you watch the two of them walk outside, to where their horses await them. Karst climbs on the saddle before waving to you, following your shared father.

Diandra, out of breath, chases after them with her bow. ‘’Wait! I can fight!’’ She shouts into the dust and the shadows they leave behind.

You feel sympathy for your youngest sister. You gently lay a hand on her shoulder. ‘’They're men, Di. This war started because they were too shortsighted to see what we women are truly capable of.’’

Di drops her bow defeated. She was born eight years ago. You two are different in so many ways. ‘’I just wish I wasn't a woman. I wish I could…’’She looks wistfully to where the smoke clouds have gotten worse and is gathered above the hills surrounding the city. Even if she was born a man, she would not be able to fight for several years to come.

You take one of her hands and try to drag her away from the gates and back to the safety of your home.  ‘’We need to prepare the castle.’’ You tell her with a smile. ‘’It's a great honor and duty to prepare the castle when battle is afoot. We must -’’

A horse lets himself be known. A familiar horse. The majestic creature almost walks right to Diandra, who greets her horse with a pat on his neck. Balyrion, her loyal horse, lowers his head in greeting. 

Diandra grabs her bow, walking her horse to the stables where it escaped from...

You turn your back, but keep watching her. In the moments that you do, you see your sister climb on her horse and dash off into the city, to where the warzone becomes closer and closer to the place you call home.

You let out a shriek before grabbing your own horse from the stables, chasing after her in madness and desperation.  ‘’Diandra! Come back here!’’ You shout, following the little girl as you avoid villagers and smallfolk alike.

You follow her through the village where the soldiers are holding up near the gates of the city. Two or three laugh when you two approach in your dresses and another scoffs, but you ignore them all. 

Diandra has taken position by a crack of the gates. She has leveled her arrows through the hole, ready to impale her target from her horse. 

She is aiming.

She is waiting.

You see a man approach the gates. He has dark hair, and you see a terrifying large creature behind him that eclipse the sun. A dragon is waiting back on the hills. 

You heard rumors that she is the biggest dragon alive but rumors and seeing her with your own eyes are two different things. ‘’Let's see how easy you can bother villages without  your eyes…’’ Diandra mutters, and you see her switch her bow to the man that approaches your town.

You have a split second to act.

So you do.

You tackle her to the ground, slamming the bow out of her hands and throwing your body on hers to protect her. 

‘’No!’’ Diandra groans as the arrow misses him by a mere inch. The arrows land in the grass right beside his left feet. The man pauses and takes the arrow from the ground, as if he picks a flower.

He takes out a horn and blows it.

One time.

Two times.

Three times.

You feel an uneasy feeling grow as the little dots in the distance become bigger and bigger, and the army approaches your city.

‘’Are you mad?! He was going to offer us mercy!’’ You shout at Diandra.

She spits in your face before taking her bow back. ‘’There is no mercy from killers. You always were meant to be slave but I sure am not!’’ She shouts.

You don't even give her time to rethink her actions before you hit her across her face. She doubles over and clutches her face furious. She tries to attack you, but you simply step aside, letting her stumble. ‘’You're an idiot. That man came to offer terms. We will all die now!’’ You scream at her.

Two soldiers are needed to keep you both from hurting each other. Your father approaches as his soldiers hold you both apart, clearly disappointed.

‘’Diandra. What are you doing here?’’ You huff a bit. Of course he only cares for her wellbeing.

She has stupid hopeful eyes that fill you with pity. A stupid hopeful girl that never learns that men would never see her as an equal. ‘’I can fight, Father.’’ She speaks, easily freeing herself. She looks at him with big, hopeful eyes. ‘’I almost killed the man! I can fight. Let me fight.’’ She begs.

Your father scoffs, insulted and hurt that you both ruined this mission. This final chance at peace. ‘’You're a woman. Go home. You embarrassed me enough for one day.’’ You feel angry. Isn't he even a tiny bit proud?

You both get onto your horses as the army with the dragon banners reaches the final gate. Within a few mere moments, they have broken through the walls and gates. You watch as Diandra silently cries, tears of rage and broken dreams leaving her eyes… Until you follow her gaze to the open gate.

Diandra understands this is her chance.

And her moment.

Instead of running home, instead of retreating, the girl of 12 summers old, your sister, runs through the open gates into the battlefield. 

She takes her crossbow and aims it, but before she can even kill one soldier, she is surrounded. You overhear what she is saying to the soldiers. You show your empty hands to the men who try to stop you. ‘’Please. That's my sister. Show me your honour, and let me try to save her.’’ You beg.

You fear they will kill you on the spot but the man that Diandra tried to kill, the man with the kind brown almost dark and certainly Dornish eyes speaks for you, protecting you. ‘’Very well. We will push the attack, so don't expect to return.’’ He warns you.

You don't listen to him and run past soldiers on foot and horse alike, past slayed soldiers and those who are still moaning in pain to where your sister is surrounded.

You hope you are not too late.

You hope your mission is not in vain. You approach your sister and overhear her insulting the soldiers that keep their weapons aimed at her. ‘’Who leads you, you disgusting pigs? Take me to him!’’ She demands as if this is her army.

You will kill that girl if she gets out of here alive. What is she even thinking? ‘’Diandra!’’ You shout, and she blushes as a little girl being scolded by her mother. A few soldiers turn their heads to you, surprised by your entrance.

The commander escorts you to her. ‘’Pigs, huh?’’ He says dryly. ‘’And who are you, little lady?’’ You thought you knew, but you aren't sure anymore. Who is your sister?

Diandra ignores him.

‘’Well? Are you deaf? Who commands you? I wish to speak to him. Now!’’ She shouts, causing one soldier to even flince. The commander sighs deeply before nodding to a man who approaches.

The fighting for the walls continues. The army of the Greens outmatches the army of Dolkburg greatly. You can even see the outcome for this point of the war. It won't even take a day. Perhaps three hours, that is if you are all lucky.

From the corner of your eye, you take in an all black dressed character with long silver hair, wielding an impressive long silver sword. A Targaryen. You almost instantly back away from him, stepping on the toes of the commander. ‘’Pardon me, Ser.’’ You mutter, but he didn't even feel your feet. His iron shoes protected him. The commander bows his head in respect for the Targaryen.

The Targaryen in question is a terrifying creature that looks as if he came walking straight out of a historic book about the first conquest of Westeros. You become aware of your increased heartbeat, and you avoid drawing attention to yourself.

You heard rumours.

You all had.

There are three green Targaryens with dragons. One is the king. He is a modest threat if he comes. One is the last born prince, he too would be a modest threat. But the second one, he is the deadliest with the biggest dragon of them all. He is known as the Kinslayer or one-eye.

And unfortunately for you, and your beautiful hometown, your family's lives and the lives of your friends and everything else that matters to you, that you hold so dear, this man is clearly covering up a missing eye with a black eyepatch.

The one-eyed Targaryen  grins at your sister. ‘’I am right here, little lady.’’ He speaks full of mockery in a deep raw voice that sends chills down your spine. There is no humanity or kindness in his eyes. Only bloodlust. Madness. Insanity and rage. You know that all attempts at peace are lost.

Diandra seems taken back for a moment. Perhaps she is even truly afraid for a moment. But Diandra has never learned to live on her knees. She would rather die standing than live on her knees. She looks the prince up and down slowly, as if he’s a cow on the market. ‘’You're even uglier up close.’’ She says, shocking a few soldiers and even the commander.

The prince glares at her.

‘’I am flattered.’’ He speaks, not giving a damn. But his curiosity gets the better of him anyway. ‘’Who are you, and why do you wish to die so badly?’’ He speaks, taking out his sword. 

Your sister lifts her chin. ‘’I am Diandra of house Dawreyn. You're attacking my home. It's you who is going to die.’’ You close your eyes quietly, praying. If he wasn't planning on killing her...

He sure is now.

The prince laughs in her face as some of the surrounding soldiers join in.

‘’Am I now? O, my. How unfortunate.’’ He speaks, eying his men with amusement in his remaining good eye. His men chuckle or laugh. Then that laugh vanishes, leaving behind a beast. He suddenly jumps forward, causing Diandra to stumble backwards. He grits his teeth at her.  ‘’I have a dragon, you foolish cunt. Perhaps I'll keep you alive as entertainment for my men. You are too young to have sex with, but we can cut you up or make you a target practice. I do warn you: I can’t see very well..’’ He warns Diandra with those words.

You must interfere. ‘’That would be foolish. My sister speaks-’’Before you can finish talking, Diandra pushes you roughly aside, walking up to Aemond before taking out a small sword.

She exhales before speaking. So loudly that everyone can hear her. ‘’I challenge you to a duel.’’ She says, her voice unshaken, her eyes burning with hatred. ‘’That is, if you are man enough to face me.’’ 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You hear cold laughter of the men. ‘’No! Diandra, no.’’ You tell her strictly. ‘’Diandra stop being foolish-’’ Diandra coldly turns around to face you. 

The prince snickers as well, amused by this development and very eager to spill blood. ‘’'You? You want to duel me?’’ The prince wonders outloud. ‘’You have more balls than the other men, I give you that. But I can't hurt a little peasant girl as yourself.’’

Diandra spits at the genuinely disgusting few men. ‘’Yes. I will take your other eye and send it to your brother.’’ She groans, insulted and impatient. You don’t think she is even scared. That is not a concept she’s familiar with.

The prince sighs almost as if he's bored with the entire idea of fighting your sister. ‘’O, I'm not going to do that. That wouldn't be fun for me.’’ You suppose that is true. It would be boring and a very short duel. One-sided too.

Diandra is let go of by the command of the prince.  She charges at him with her sword. ‘’Do it! Do it, you coward!’’ She shouts as the guards restrain her once more.

The prince continues his dramatics for quite a while, moaning about his boredom when behind him, near the gates your people are slaughtered as pigs. ‘’I was told there was going to be a battle, yet here I am with two annoying hostages. The one a mute, the other a talkative dumb child.’’ He murmurs as Diandra screams and kicks her attackers. You are frozen and can't move a single finger. 

Another person rides into the battlefield. Karst. You see he is covered in blood and has fought his way to the frontlines.He rides up to the prince and glares at him. ‘’I assume you are the Kinslayer?’’ He spats. You are glad and fearful your brother is here.

The prince's good eye narrows. ‘’I am named Aemond.’’ And just like that, the demon has a name.

Karst nods. ‘’Aemond. Good. I'm Karst of house Dawreyn. My father demands the return of my sister, Diandra.’’ Your eyes roll, but you carefully compose your face. Of course he only cares about Diandra. ‘’Release both her and her septa and we can discuss the terms of your surrender.’’ You know that Karst only protects you by lying about who you are. Bastards aren't safe under Aegon's rule. But to call you a septa? That is a lie that even a one-eyed man will easily see through.

For a moment it's silent.

Birds chirp in the distance.

Clouds roll by.

Screams are the only thing you hear.

Screams and prayers.

Until that moment passes and the laughter, that stomach twisting laughter returns. It sends shivers down your spine, and if hell had a sound, that would be it. 

It would be funny. Perhaps if the roles were reversed, you would laugh too. ‘’My surrender? I see stupidity runs in the family.’’ The prince comments. Perhaps it does.

Karst does not even blink. ‘’If you won't face a woman, surely you will face a man. Or are you a craven?’’ He grins at Aemond, taunting him by taking out his sword. ‘’I heard you are one of the youngest dragon riders out of your family.’’ You never heard that story.

The prince smirks, barely hiding his pride.

‘’You heard correct.’’

Your brother comes even closer. ‘’Yet, I heard your sister, the Queen Rhaenyra was even younger.’’ You bite your lips to avoid laughing at Aemond’s enraged face. Not only did Karst remind him of a old wound, but also made clear who your family is loyal to in the same breath, when pretending to praise the Prince’s ego. Karst cleans some blood of his sword, blood you know that belongs to Aemond’s men. ‘’Do us both a favor, and duel me so we can stop this unnecessary bloodshed.’’ He speaks, as a true leader of this town.

To that the prince nods. ‘’Very well.’’ He speaks. To his men he nods. They grab you and your sister before cleaning a large space for the duel.

Karst speaks with the words of a true hero. ‘’Whoever wins this duel, takes Dolkburg.’’  He says, making a very big gamble. A too big a gamble, perhaps. But Karst is a good fighter. He is skilled. Efficient. He is enough. He needs to be enough.

He continues as the prince remains silent. ‘’Three steps. Agreed?’’ So they will take three steps back before attacking.

The prince shrugs again that bored tone of his coming out. ‘’Tis fine with me.’’ He speaks.

Karst counts out loud as he takes steps away from the prince. You watch anxiously.  You focus on Karst's metal boots. You see one step. And a second one.

But before he can place his feet down for the thirth, his feet stop moving, and you watch him collapse for your own eyes. 

The prince stands behind him with his sword drawn where blood still drips from. ‘’And that would be three.’’ He grins at your brother. Aemond is speaking to a corpse.

Grief is a funny thing. You, for one, are horrified and frozen and clutch your throat to silence the cries that come out. When Diandra, screams at Aemond before her small legs pick up the pace and approach him quickly. Aemond simply turns, his sword in his dominant hand and waits with a grin for her to approach. Before he can chop her head off, the Dornish commander picks Diandra up by her hips. ‘’Let me go! I shall have my revenge!’’ Diandra screams, when kicking him. You are the commander very thankful. ‘’You are a monster!” She shouts at Aemond. He was staring at the corpses of his men and although you can’t quite tell what is going on inside his head, you can see he did not appreciate that comment.

‘’Diandra, shut up.’’ You beg her as the prince is reminded of you both. He already finds her annoying. He already is tested and challenged by her. 

He sees you. Perhaps he did before. But now he acknowledges your existence. You shelter your sister, aware he will kill you both.

Aemond looks at the corpse of your brother. He smirks at your trembling legs and the way you cling tightly to your sister. ‘’My. You're a pretty one.’’ He speaks, surprising you. He takes in your simple gown approvingly, treating it as a seductive cloth made of silk. 

It's a compliment. You aren't used to men flirting with you. You aren't used to any of this. 

‘’I am not.’’ You say instead, shielding your sister by tightly holding her against your chest.

The prince chuckles, staring a little too long at your lips.

‘’I quite disagree.’’ He murmurs to himself. He steps closer to you and you can smell a permanent almost stench of rotten meat and dead bodies as he comes closer. ‘’I have never known a septa to dress in such a way. And I have met a lot.’’ He says. 

You can’t imagine where a man like him met a septa.

‘’I have recently converted.’’ You hope he buys the lie. ‘’I chased her the moment I heard her ladyship was gone.’’ You tell the prince, nodding to your sister. 

He does not seem to care about Diandra's noble lineage. And that scares you. He must care, if he is to keep her alive. Diandra will be a difficult young, useless hostage that insulted him countless times already. He must see her value. ‘’That's Diandra of house Dawreyn. She is worth a lot if you were to ransom her.’’ A ransom would mean he can't hurt her. Not too badly. And you know your father too well. He would pay soon and get Diandra back, ensuring her safety once more.

For a moment, a brief moment, it seems likely that Diandra will protest. Perhaps even call you a traitor. She is close to ruining it all. But instead, she likely understands that you know the best way to save you both.

The prince takes in Diandra's glares and silk riding gown. He sighs as if he has to admit to himself that you indeed tell the truth. You are thankful for the simple beige gown you picked out today. A simple gown without any stitches or designs or patterns who won't give away that you are a Dawreyn as well.  He speaks, wettening his lips with his tongue. ‘’A woman of great schemes and great beauty. You are interesting.’’ There it is again. That gentle soft tone when he speaks to you. Yet it feels like a fox trying to lure a bunny out of its den. You know it's nothing more but a facade. 

Yet you try to negotiate with him. You try to get on his good side. A tiny bit as much as your heart allows. ‘’I know she made a fool of you, and I know we insulted you both. Yet I beg you to let her be. She is still a child.’’ You hope he likes the dramatic touch of your begging. He seems to like dramatics.

Instead of giving you his word as a gentleman, he stares off into the distance of your hometown. You become uncomfortable and turn your gaze away from him. ‘’Are you betrothed?’’ He asks as his men are busy fending off soldiers that try to keep coming to you and Diandra. 

‘’No.’’ You respond as you watch a single soldier be beheaded brutally. He survives the first attempt, and the blood splashes down his armor, and you can hear his screams before he bleeds out. The agreement remains. He won. Dolkburg is his. ‘’M-my prince, you can stop the fighting. We’ll let Lord Samwell know that you and Karst made an agreement-’’

His lips curl into a smirk as he briefly looks up from the moaning and screaming soldiers that beg for death and mercy.  ‘’I have no intention to stop this battle.’’ He sounds almost happy. Glad, delighted and peppy. Not how you would expect.

You don’t understand. Why waste good men and resources on a fight already won? Why kill innocents? ‘’But..why ever not? You are clearly on the winning side. What good will it do?’’ You sound like a little foolish girl.

He grins, amused. ‘’You’re a woman, so I don’t expect your innocent and pure mind to understand the way I think. These men are traitors. They defied my brother and his reign. They will answer for their crimes with fire and blood.’’ You need to stop this. Now. You watch his sword, where the blood of your brother still drips down. This is insanity.  ‘’Most men didn’t deny Aegon. You know this! Most men simply follow their lord. They don’t choose to die-’’ they don't even choose to follow their lord.

You might see it that way. But he does not. ‘’They made a choice. And they choose wrong. If you like, you can give them proper burial after since you are a septa.’’ You nod, unsure as to how you would even do so. You don’t know anything about septas or burials. And he knows it too, you can tell he was sarcastic.

‘’Married?’’ The prince asks as a casual follow-up. You ignore him as your father comes through the lines, pushing an army of soldiers through the broken gates. They fend off the first few guards. And they slay whoever is on their path. As they push forward, the other half of the army is riled up and follows them, with a powerful battle cry. Even the smallfolk has come out, rallied to their cause, with whatever weapons they could find. Some grab swords from fallen soldiers, others just use pans and knifes.

More and more soldiers on Aemond’s side die as the battle seems to turn.

Your lips begin to smile hopefully as Diandra applauds. Annoyed, Aemond glares at her. You are quick to stop her. ‘’I asked you something.’’ He groans when he grabs you by the throat. You are not choked but understand by the rage and insanity in his remaining good eye he is very close and tempted to do so.

‘’Are you married?’’ He repeats, almost spitting at you.

You are not sure why he asks. You are sure you don’t want him to know that you are unwed.

And you won't become his.

So you lie.

The word rolls easily over your lips as you pretend to think back of a love long lost. ‘’Widowed.’’ You speak your voice soft. ‘’He went to the Reach to fight. They say he was burned alive.’’ You know he was there. You know he killed and blazed dozens in the Reach. You hope he feels terrible about it. Yet he begins to smile again, careless and pleased. 

‘’I can live with that.’’ He chuckles in your ear. ‘’A woman as gorgeous as yourself is too pretty to be a widow forever. It's past time you moved on.’’ He lets go of you, pleased you answered him but annoyed it took you so damn long.

You absently nod. Until you have the eerie feeling that he might be referring to himself. 

Your father fights well and bravely. But to think he would win is a foolish thought. And eventually, he is captured and brought forward. ‘’Daddy!’' Diandra yells as they take him closer to her.

Almost happy with her, Aemond perks up and whispers something in the ear of a soldier close to him. The soldier runs off. 

Aemond approaches Diandra and grabs a handful of her dark locks, causing her to cry out. He throws her on her knees and forces the blade he carries on her neck, ready to behead her any moment. ‘’That is a child!’’ You seem to be the only one disgusted by this. 

He glares in your direction and another soldier grabs your arms. ‘’Do not harm the septa.’’ Aemond growls, warning him. The soldier lets go of you instantly. He turns his head to your father. ‘’Bend the knee or see your daughter die the way I killed your son as well.’’ Realization hits your father as the soldier brings Karst's head to him. Your father tears up helplessly as he nods. The head is tossed around between soldiers, before Aemond takes the skull of your brother and inserts his sword into the right eye of Karst. 

Your sister is the child, the small one, the weaker one. You must protect her. 

‘’Look away, Diandra!’’ You warn her, but it is too late. Diandra watches with her mouth open as Aemond cuts out one of the eyes of your brother, proudly as if its his trophy. Aemond laughs, taking in the eye. 

Karst’s blue gorgeous and bright eyes.

‘’He had gorgeous eyes. I bet he fucked a lot of women, didn’t he?’’ He asks your father, and you are appealed at the audacity of him. Your father does not respond, silent tears running down both his cheeks. Aemond chuckles, before kicking your father against his kneecaps. ‘’You can be silent all you wish, I like silence. Helps me think.’’ 

‘’I bet he had his eyes set on the Septa here.’’ Aemond continues, gesturing to you. ‘’That’s why he rode into Battle, that’s why he challenged me. Not for his useless brat sister, but because he had a hard one for her.’’ Your own brother. You know he is lying. But just that thought, makes you sick. He sees your disgust and your glare and smirks. ‘’Does that disgust you? My apologies.’’ 

Your father croaks out. ‘’And my other daughter? What will you do with Y/N?’’ You close your eyes in fear as cold sweat breaks out. You hear Aemond's boots turn around to face you and you open your eyes. When you do you are confronted with his rage and his displeasure. You helplessly tear up. ‘’Please, I know she's a bastard but she is my daughter. Certainly you can make an exception for once. We can even pay you.’’ He offers. ‘’We have gold, plenty of women, animals for your dragon, you can even burn me, if you like. But not my children. She is good, so is Diandra. They are sweet kind girls-’’

You don’t know Aemond very well. But he does not seem to care even a bit about money. He cares about justice, about honor and revenge. Gold is not important to him.

Disgusted as if he burned himself or as if you are a disgusting thing, Aemond pushes you in the dirt next to your sister. The blade switches necks. You feel it cold in your throat. ‘’You shouldn't have lied to me.’’ He hisses in your ear, forcing you to feel the blade taunt and slightly touch your neck. You whimper. You don't want to die.

‘’Y/n!’’ Diandra cries. 

Aemond ignores the protests. ‘’I've come to a wonderful conclusion: I will take this city, and I will take it in the name of my brother, King Aegon II.’’ That was to be expected.  ‘’So, since you are the ruling family, you will all bend the knee to me and I’lll decide what I’ll do with you traitors later.’’ You can’t imagine he will let your father live. Diandra has one final thing to say.

‘’You are a coward! You attack our home, you harass my sister and you kill my brother and for what?! Because we wouldn’t bend the knee to your drunken cunt of a brother?! You Greens claim that Rhaenyra’s children aren’t true Targaryens, but at least they aren’t true monsters!’

Aemond takes a deep breath once she has finished speaking. ‘’The little brat annoys me. Perhaps she needs discipline.’’ You freeze and watch as a soldier grabs Diandra before hitting her multiple times across her face until blood streams from her nose and tears roll down her cheeks. He smirks, folding his hands on his back. ‘’Much better.’’

You are horrified, still on your knees as Aemond presses you further down in the mud. You make a wordless prayer to the gods. ‘’As I said: I will take this city. I will bestow mercy on everyone who bends the knee.’’ Aemond says, and you can’t help but frown. Part of you know he is lying to the masses. He is lying and playing them. You’ve seen earlier that Aemond does not care about the people he kills. Your father nods, hestiant at first but understands you don’t have a choice.

You finally get up from the ground, carefully looking at Aemond for approval. He does not seem to care nor notice you at all anymore.

He gives his soldiers instructions. 

‘’Escort them to the bricks until I've decided that they can be released.’’ He speaks. ‘’Treat them with utmost respect. These people are nobility.’’ He warns the guards. A few nod, and your family is escorted away from you. Diandra cries your name when she is escorting to your home, where she will be held as a prisoner. ‘’Y/n! No!’’

Aemond sighs. The commander comes up to him. ‘’We rounded up around 300 survivors. And around 800 wounded men.’’ That is a joke compared to the troops that Aemond has. You don’t know his exact numbers but one glance behind you, and you don’t have to. You can count.

The prince thinks.

‘’Hm. Put the wounded out of their misery. And bring the survivors to the city gates.’’ He is going to kill the survivors. You know he is. That is why he wanted your father gone, he pretended to care so your father would go quietly.  Since Aemond is distracted with the surrender of your hometown, you easily slip past a few guards, quickly putting distance between you and him. 

You are almost at the gates when a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back. ‘’No! No, I don't want to go back!’’ You beg whoever holds your arm. You look straight into the face of the commander. He has a sorrowful pitiful look in his eye as he drags you back to Aemond who is waiting where you left him.

‘’On your knees.’’ He commands you the moment you are in front of him. He takes out the same sword he killed your brother with. He will kill you the same way.

‘’Why?’’ You whisper as a craven. ‘’I don’t want to die.’’ You confess softly.

His good eye rolls again, and he hisses at his soldiers. ‘’Help that simple woman.’’ He tells his guards and soldiers. Two men eagerly force you on your knees in front of the prince.

‘’I was so disappointed when I found out you had left my side.’’ He speaks the moment you are pushed on your knees. ‘’I thought you were smarter than to run away from me.’’ You are shocked for a brief moment. No one ever called you smart before. No one.

You huff, insulted and perhaps it helps that you know you will die: You have nothing left to lose. There is nothing you can say to hurt yourself even more. ‘’I saw the way you let go of me. You don't find me attractive anymore. I'm just a dirty bastard. Why waste your time with me? You’ll kill me eventually.’’

He chuckles, in a light, delighted manner. ‘’Kill you? No, no. That would be a shame of a pretty face.’’ Your face is touched, almost gently caressed and you are confused and terrified. You rather be with your family in a cell, than here. ‘’Now, I'm afraid that there is a punishment due for you.’’ He says, and he can’t hide his smirk.

You open your mouth to protest. Aemond takes the sword he killed your brother with, and makes sure that fresh blood is stained on the blade by running the sword, almost coating it in the blood of your brother by slashing open his corpse. The blade is now covered in crimson, red dripping blood. Aemond brings the blade to your face. He gently tilts his head and when he looks you in the eyes you know you have two choices. Submit or die. ‘’Lick my sword.’’ He says.

You hesitate. ‘’That is my brother. That is…disgusting.’’ You protest. Licking his blood, disrespecting his corpse and tasting his blood: it is all too much for you. You burst into tears.

Aemond sighs. ‘’As a Targaryen, I don’t quite see the issue.’’ He jests, causing the commander to chuckle, as well other soldiers. ‘’You can lick this sword or you can get on your pretty knees and die.’’ He says, carelessly. 

You hope he does not cut your tongue out with it. You lick the edge of the blade, softly careful not to hurt your own tongue. Aemond watches, his breath stuck in his throat as you gently lick the blood clean of his blade. You feel disgusted and sick after it, and you must to all you can to avoid throwing up. Aemond moves the sword,into his seath.

‘’You see that, men? These women have no self-respect, no dignity, no value. They are as sheep in the meadow, ready for a good ram to fuck them.’’ He speaks to the masses of the army he commands, using you as a example. You whimper when Aemond grabs you by the throat.

He throws you on your knees in front of him.

‘’Kiss my boots.’’ He hisses. ‘’Show me your obedience and you won’t be killed.’’ He promises you. ‘’Kiss them, or I will fly my dragon over your hometown and burn everything and everyone that you hold dear to ash.’’ You bend your head and leave two kisses on each his boots. You recoil when you taste the disgusting mud he walked through. 

Aemond grabs you from the ground, by the throat and roughly kisses you. You protest and try to flee him, but he holds you too tightly to escape. You are made a spectacle of. This is not desire, this is power.  ‘’Tell the men this one won't be hurt or touched without my approval. She's mine.’’  He barks at the commander and leaves with a posessive smack on your ass. You flinch, whimpering.

You understand your fate very well. The prince lifts your teary cheeks and kisses your lips, gentle and soft this time. A horse is brought to you both. ‘’You’ll ride with me.’’ He tells you. ‘’When we are riding through the city, you’ll hold your brother’s head for me. You hold it above your head, you show it around and you make sure that every fucking villager in this piss-forgotten-shithole understands who’s in charge now.’’ He groans in your ear.

You nod, terrified. His face and voice softens. ‘’I am so glad I found you before I sacked this place.’’ You hate that word with a burning passion. ‘’You might have gotten hurt.’’ He makes his voice soft when speaking to you, almost seductive and sweet. ‘’I might be staying a while. I hear the nights are dark and cold here. I need someone to keep me warm.’’

You don’t respond, not thrusting yourself to not cry. ‘’And who’s better fitted for that, than a nameless, bastard who dared to lie to me?’’ He lifts your chin so he can count the tears in your eyes, before they fall and roll down your cheeks.

‘’Get on the horse.’’ He says, commanding you. You clumsily climb on the horse, waiting for his further instructions. He climbs on the same horse, and wraps his bloodied hands around your waist, staining your dress. He takes the reins of the horse and directs it to where the majority of the survivors are rounded up.

You hold the head of your brother as a few soldiers from your father’s troops recognize you. Your hands shake yet you won't let go of your brother’s head. Aemond makes sure that you are surrounded by guards loyal to him before leaving. You remain alone at the castle gates, under guard. 

Aemond finally returns, with his dragon. He commands the survivors to be brought outside. You are forced on your knees in the grass, between bloodied bodies, missing body parts and arrows. Because he wants you to see and to remember well what comes next. He starts with the survivors who are the most injured. An old man around your father’s age can’t walk because of his bleeding legs. ‘’Let me help with you that.’’ Aemond offers the man a hand. The man smiles, through his pain. Aemond quickly takes out his sword instead, slashing at the injured leg until the plain muscle holding his leg together as thin threads is cut and the man screams. He collects the leg and feeds it to his dragon. After that, he feeds the man the leg belonged to.

Aemond forces around dozens of people to his dragon. Some are roasted first, screaming as they burn in their armor. Some are chopped up, cut up, slashed up, everything to make the meal sweeter for Aemond’s beloved Dragon. You remain on your knees, sobbing with every new victim for mercy by Aemond. Instead of doing so he grins, leaning and gives you his even more bloodied sword to lick clean. ‘’Save your voice, little Y/N. You are going to need it badly once we are alone.’’

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

''But Vhagar didnt you already publish-''

I did rewrote it. Aemond did not took the eye in the orginal one.

I found that a ...neat little addition:))

#tags #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Smut #dubcon #violence

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter twelve: Depravity

Previous ///// Next

Summary: the realm gathers to mourn the death of a child they had long forsaken. As the commit her to ash and quickly send their condolence to the distraught heir, one question lingers in the air, what had happened to princess Daenerys?

A/n: Filler chapter, a lil something before the end of Act I!

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: Rated +16, Death, Denial, implied rape, religious punishment.

Masterlist

The silent sisters, the strangers' wives.

Stood clad in grey around the charred body of the young princess. Hands carefully adjusting the position she was burnt into, folding her curled hands over her chest, pushing her spine gently down so that it would straighten, adjusting the remaining bent leg to lay down against the cold stone, seeming terribly indifferent to what they were doing, for they had seen every horror left behind by their cruel husband for them to clean. 

They began their work, to their fortune it would not be long, for all that was left was bone and shrunken flesh. No organs to pull, nothing to stuff full of fragrant herbs and salts to hide the smell of rot. They placed a roll of hay where her right leg should have been, to make the wrapping part ever so slightly easier.

The tired Rhaenyra stood back as she watched the silent sisters set to work. Her wavy hair cascading down her back and hanging around her gaunt face, donning a mask of defeat with her black robes and velvet headpiece etched with embroideries of red. 

They grabbed a long strip of cloth and began at her foot, tightly wrapping it, ensuring it would not slip from its place and making their way up.  

Rhaenyras eyes stared at the head, it had been days before she had allowed for the Silent Sisters to begin their work. She did not even move to console her children in the short time since her daughters return. She had spent those days raking the blackened corpse for some inkling of her daughter.

There was not a thread of her chocolate brown curly hair adorning her scalp, no flesh covering her once full cheeks, and no lips to curl up into a smile nor a frown that Rhaenyra would have given anything to see again. 

Her gaze moved up to her eyes, or atleast where they should have been. The two inky wells making doubts curl around every nerve that controlled reason, where were her eyes? She would ask herself, as she remembered their glow and their ethereal nature. The flecks of blue and yellow that would shine within the pools of purple in the right light. 

This was not her daughter.

It could not have been.

While her daughter glowed, this body absorbed all light around it, a void. A void that called itself her daughter.

This was not her daughter.

While her daughter approached the world with open arms, this body greeted its home with curled ones.

This was not her daughter.

While her daughter's eyes gleamed with wonder, those two hollows radiated a terrible omen.

This was not her daughter. 

“Rhaenyra.” 

Her eyes fluttered as she drew her attention away from the body, instead landing on the face of the man she chose.

Daemon bowed his head, not meeting her gaze, not ever meeting her gaze since her daughter was returned to her. He was ashamed, for he had failed to fulfil his first promise to her as her husband, the husband she had chosen to protect her to strengthen her.

A certain anger at herself licked at her heart, this is who she had chosen, this is the man she had long longed for, and it only cost her only daughter's life.

She glanced back towards the table back at the body, but now it was wrapped in a beige fraying cloth, tied together by brown leather. There was truly nothing left for her to recognise only a body she was supposed to assume to be her daughter.

This is not your daughter.

“It’s time.”

A tired breath left her lips before she moved away towards the door, without Daemon. He sniffled as she walked past him, paying him no mind, driving the poisoned dagger he impaled into his own chest further.

Her handmaidens patiently awaited her outside, gentle as they fixed her up, brushing away the wrinkles in her gown, tucking stray hairs behind her ears, she had not let them do anything else to her mane. 

Elinda, her youngest and newest handmaiden stepped forth as the others all stepped back, her face a mask of sorrow as she pulled the black veil over Rhaenyras face. 

They parted a path for Rhaenyra to tread, towards the field where everyone had waited, all the guests she did not recall sending letters to, excusing her from bothering to greet them.

Her children waited at the door with big glassy eyes beyond it. The poor boys received no comfort from their distraught mother and barely any consoling from their now step father.

Their grandmother had offered them and their cousins her shoulder, doing all she could to soothe this terrible grief.

But besides that they had no one other than each other.

They were not told how she had died, a decision of the kindest intention, but it had left them to imagine what horror must have taken the life of their sweet sister.

The sombre and sniffling Jacaerys held his brother close to his side, a sombreness he found difficult to maintain. He knew he needed to be strong for Luke and for Joff, but who was to be strong for him, his sister was gone, his mother was beside herself, he was alone. 

Footsteps came from behind him prompting him to look away from the outside and towards the hallway. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the shadowy silent sisters breeze past, in their arms, the shrouded body of his elder sister.

She was so small, so still, so quiet. 

Lucerys sobbed as he saw her, his voice so broken as her name fell from his quivering lips, calling out to her as though she would arise. He moved towards her but his brother's tightening grasp kept him in his place. 

Rhaenyra walked behind the three sisters, her red eyes staring blankly ahead of herself, refusing to meet the figure in the arms of the strangers' wives.

“Dany?” 

A quiet voice came from her right, she turned to look towards the source, her eyes landed on the curly head of hair that belonged to her son, Luke, how red his thin cheeks were, how deep the lines of his anguished frown had embedded themselves into his young flesh.

Her eyes then landed on the arms around him, trailing up and meeting the startled face of her now eldest child, a truth that tasted bitter on her tongue. 

She searched around them looking for the third head of brown hair but it was not there. A space marked where she once stood between her two brothers, a space that seemed so noticeable.

Lucerys sobbed, a fresh wave of tears flooding his still wet cheeks as his sister moved past. 

“Luke,” his mother called.

His vision was too obscured to realise the figure to be his mother, she was shrouded in so much black cloth that he had mistaken her for a fourth member of the silent sisters.

He tore himself away from Jace and ran to his mother. His arms tightly wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled his face into her stomach, wetting her dress with his unending tears.

Her hand moved from her side and rested on his head, brushing through his curly locks while she continued to emptily stare at the empty space between her sons. The faint sound of her dragon’s roars outside, ringing in her ears.

Daemon joined her side, hands tightly wrapped around Dark Sister “īlon līs ōregon kostōba gō zirȳ,” We must hold strong before them he muttered beneath his breath to Rhaenyra who snapped her head towards him.

She refused to look at him as he did her, instead nodding in acknowledgement and placing her hands on Luke's shoulders, gently prying him away and lifting his chin up to look up at her. Holding a stiff lip as she saw his face aged by grief “it’s time,” she grabbed his hand in hers, to which he rested his other hand upon as well pushing himself into her side, Frowning and squirming in discomfort at her coldness “Jacaerys?” 

Jace looked away from the body as it was set up upon the yet to be lit pyre, his eyes remained agape with horror as he looked back towards his mother who offered him her open hand.

He slowly made his way to her side, staring at the ground as he felt her brush his head before grabbing his limp hand in hers.

A shuddered breath left her lips and she moved forward with her sons in hand, to bid an unwanted farewell.

The sisters descended into a field of stone that overlooked the angry seas. The sky was as solemn as those who had attended, there was no joy in attending the committal of a child. An itching guilt gnashing at their skin. 

As they passed the king a shudder of terror past his lips, for he had yet to accept the truth of this nightmare. Tears began to swell within his eyes again for his eldest granddaughter tightly wrapped in fine cloth, lifted to rest upon a bed of wood and wilted flowers.

Alicent refused to look, her wide eyed gaze plastered to the ground as she clenched the star that sat heavy on her chest. Whispers of safe travel for this poor child's soul falling endlessly from her chapped lips. 

Her whispers were challenged by the whispers of her disturbed daughter, who muttered beneath her breath a riddle over and over as she swayed around on her feet, knees daring to give way. Seemingly in disbelief of its falseness as she stared at the corpse ahead of her.

“The darkness has called and the seas have roared, to the tides she succumbs and from the tides she will rise, thrice more.”

She searched those words for comfort but they offered her none as the proof of their falseness was laid before her, so she decided to shut her eyes to the truth and trust that it would soon be proven a lie.

Aegon was quiet, uncommonly quiet, he stared at that corpse with trepidation in his eyes.

Beside him was his younger brother. Who stood tall by his brothers side, lips twisting and turning as he battled with his feelings for her. 

A twisting hurricane of hate and anguish swirled within him. He was anguished for having lost her, an anguish that denied him having ever come to hate her, but his hate for her kin, her craven brothers and her sorry excuse of a mother. It was their fault she had died, they had not kept her safe, he would even assume they had not treated her kindly. For why else would she have ever left? 

He wished that she had come to King's Landing, he wished that she had taken whichever ship headed that way. He would have kept her safe, and if she so wished it, he would have hid her away from her mother if she had come for her.

He had no sympathy for them for what right had they to grieve. ‘Twas their fault, may they suffer for it.

Many bowed their heads respectfully as Rhaenyra and her children passed by cutting through the field of umbrellas as they made their way to the front.

Syrax’s cries grew ever louder at the sight, crying out to the child that lay still and unmoving. Her song planted fear and sorrow within those who were around to hear it, some winced at how familiar it sounded.

Lances neck ached as they passed by, his chin touching his chest as he bowed his head, standing beside his father and brother. He discarded his armour for a change of noble black robes, lined with yellow. 

Rhaenyra stood ahead of her father, paying him no mind for she was too focused upon the unlit pyre. Preparing the word to fall from her tongue, but it seemed as though her mouth went dry the closer she had gotten.

The king frowned with worry as his daughter walked past. Glancing down to the two boys at her side “Jacaerys, Lucerys, here my boys, come here.”

The two sniffled as they looked his way before glancing up to their mother who squeezed their hands assuringly before letting them go, to huddle around their downhearted Grandsire.

Two more steps and all behind her had disappeared from her sight, leaving her feeling alone as she stood before that body. This felt all too familiar to her as she squirmed in her place, only now she had not her father to blame, only herself for this. 

She swore she could still here her yells, her shouts, her anger but it was all in her head.

What she would give for that corpse to rise and yell at her with her daughter's voice, prove to her that this was her daughter.

But no such confirmation would arise from it and hence, it made her next action so much easier.

“Dracarys,” she commanded her grieving dragon.

Syrax was reluctant to obey, turning to look towards her rider, croaking at her, as though she were advising her not to, to not turn what was left of her forever to ash.

A furious look crossed Rhaenyras tired face, tearing back her dark veil as she faced her dragon commanding once more “DRACARYS SYRAX!”

Syrax flinched at her command but complied nevertheless, stalking down from the stone hill she had stood on whining as  she grew closer to the pyre. A final roar passed her lips before she bathed the pyre in flames, making quick work of turning this already charred corpse to ash. 

The stiffness of Rhaenyras face quickly fell as she saw the pyre disappear into the flames. Taking steps towards it, reaching to grasp the ashes flowing about before being smited by the drops of rain pushing them to the ground.

A hand wrapped gently around her arm, pulling her back. 

She shook her head as she saw the flames clear, revealing nothing left but a broken and charred pyre. 

There was nothing, nothing left, all was gone, she was gone. 

Her body began to shake with sobs as she began to curl into herself, her mouth hung open as silent cries fell from her wet lips. 

Daemon wrapped his arms tightly around her, keeping her upright, keeping her strong, trying to be the pillar she could lean on when her knees gave way. But nothing could stop the wails that poured from her lips as she cried out her daughter's name, clutching at her rounding belly, that had begun to feel so terribly hollow.

A green little dragon looked curiously about the field as it watched from afar, croaking as a familiar scent reached its snout.

Many had returned back inside, away from the rain as the downpour grew heavy.

 

Rhaenyra sat beside the hall's hearth, staring blankly into its flames, her face still red with grief and her fingers bruising each other as they tugged at her rings. 

Daemon had left to wallow in his failures, finding no strength to stand by Rhaenyra after his terrible shortcoming.

Her sons had long departed her side, instead embraced in the arms of their grandmother, who had taken to comforting both them and their cousins.

Baela and Rhaena were beside themselves, exhausted by all this loss, only months ago they lost their mother and uncle, and now whatever hope they had for their cousin not meeting the same fate was so quickly smited.

In hushed whisper some have into their curiosity and began to speculate what terrible fate the young princess had succumbed to. Some said she was found beaten beyond recognition, the only thing that proved it was her were the shine of purple within her clouded eyes.

Some said she was found discarded in an abandoned house, her face untouched but her body defiled, and her eyes plucked out.

Some were daring and said she was burnt alive, spurned in her attempts to claim a dragon, Aegon would deny having entertained such speculation.

Lance kicked his feet against the ground as he stood beside his father and brother. Still a nagging shame gnawed at him every time he heard a sob fall from one of the Velaryon childrens lips. 

His younger brother, Alan, eyed him worriedly from the corner of his eye. He held himself tall besides his much taller elder brother. So that his elder brother would not be mistaken for being the heir to honeyholt.

He bowed his head towards his father “Might I fetch you some wine father?”

Lyman’s eyes fluttered before his face softened “that would be appreciated my boy.”

He gave him a tight lipped smile before grasping his brother's arm and pulling him along to the wine table.

Lance was surprised by the action, trying to pull his arm back from his brother. He may have had height but his younger brother had great strength. 

Alan let go once they stood before the assortment of wines, opting for honeyed wine, a favourite of his fathers.

“I know the occasion is solemn, but never would I have expected you to be in such low spirits brother,” Alan remarked as he poured three cups, offering one to his brother before taking one for himself “It has been a terribly red and wet spring this year.”

“A child has died Alan, tis not something to be pleased with,” Lance chided.

Alan raised his hands in the air “am I jumping and hollering?” He sardonically asked his brother “I am empathetic, I understand the weight of such a loss, but you, you’re acting as if you knew the princess.”

Lance squirmed, looking down at his cup as he recalled that night, feeling sick as he recalled the sound of her leg crumbling beneath his foot.

“I was one of the many that were appointed the duty of finding her,” he quickly excused, twas no lie “I am only dismayed that we had not found her sooner.”

Alan pursed his lips at his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder “You’ve been appointed an impossible task brother, for in no way does a girl survive a world like this alone,” he explained, trying to meet his brothers avoidant gaze “as bad as this may sound, I am thankful for your failure in your search, gods know I am not ready to mourn you and father yet brother.”

Lance felt a cold roll through him as he recalled hearing what had become of Mychael, felled by the hands of the Rogue and cruel Prince. Face caved in by his own helm. Lance swore he could still smell the coppery blood that had seeped and dried into the floor's surface.

“Why father and I?” he frowned as he asked, trying to forget the terrible fate of his superior.

Alan did well to hide his chuckle “Gods know his old heart would not be able to take it.”

A weak smile cracked the sombre expression on Lance's face, bowing his head as he shook it. 

Alan smiled at his brother, happy to see him smiling. He then hesitantly offered “I will be returning to Honeyholt after this, I had hoped you would join me, there is a place for you at my side, as my guard if you so wish to keep your sword and armour.”

Lance pondered his brother's offer, before recalling a task he had yet to fulfil “as thankful I am for the kind offer, I’ve still much to do here.”

Alan frowned, dismayed by his brother's answer “what else do you have to do?”

“Tis a difficult task to explain,” Lance said.

Alan breathed out a heavy breath through his nose, worry etched upon his brow as he whispered “tis not safe for you here, the dragons thirst for a toy to play with, and knights seem to be their favourite.”

Lance frowned, he would not deny the inkling of fear that had existed within him, but it was not enough for him to forget his mission. One appointed to him by the very man, who he owed his life to. He took his fathers cup and left his brother to continue his protests behind him.

Alicent moved through the ground, the desire to leave this suffocating room growing so great. She felt the room's judging eyes bore into her as she lifted her seventh cup of wine to her lips. Her composure fraying at its seems as she shrunk beneath their stares. 

Do they know? She would ask herself, do they know of my prayers, do they know of the vengeance I had pleaded from the father?

A sudden breeze came from beside her and she froze, feeling the discomforting presence of a looming Larys. 

“Such tragedy…” he spoke, a note of pity in his often unnerving indifferent voice “such potential… wasted,” he went on, pursing his lips as he reminisced “she was a favourite of my late brother’s.”

Alicent tensed shuddering as she felt her hands go cold, downing another gulp of her wine to feel some warmth.

“I can only imagine what must have happened…” He nonchalantly trailed off playing with the handle of his staff.

Her eyes snapped to look towards him, a shuddered breath leaving her parted lips as she recalled their ominous exchange on the ship returning from Driftmark “you didn’t…”

He frowned, as though offended. “I would do no such thing my queen, your wishes have not lowered themselves to such depravity.”

Depravity, that word had nauseated her.

He watched her face pale, tilting his head credulously as he asked, curiously “have they?”

Her head began to vigorously shake in denial, before quickly making her way back to the kings chair “I shall retire to my chambers for the evening, my king.”

He frowned as he looked up at her, disappointed that she had yet to approach Rhaenyra to express her condolence, he waved her off.

She was quick to leave that room, tears flooding her eyes as she felt Larys’s slimy gaze follow her out of the room.

She felt disgusted.

She ignored the worried look from Ser Criston as he tried to keep up with her as she rushed to her rooms.

Entering she saw her ladies in waiting and roared for all of them to get out, tears already beginning to streak down her face.

She slammed the door behind them and fell against it. Sinking to the ground as she began to sob and cry. She was not depraved, she was a woman of faith, she would wish no such harm to befall a child.

Her palms began to bleed as they gripped the star on her chest tightly, the point of the father, the mother, the maiden and the stranger all piercing her palm. A punishment she would happily take if it would allow her to atone.

Taglist: @takemetotheweirdness @grungegrrrl @paininmyasgard @deadunicorn159

#House of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #aegon targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #dragons #helaena targaryen #hotd #Rhaenyra Targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #aemond targaryen x reader

[chaoticallymuse]

 Aelin Ashryver Galathynius

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—­and she would not be afraid.

- Heir of Fire

She was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. She was Aelin Fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.

- Queen of Shadows

A living god - Mala's heir and conqueror of the known world.

- Empire of Storms

#aelin ashryver galathynius #Chaol Westfall #Dorian havilliard #Elide lochan #Fenrys moonbeam #Lysandra #Throne of glass #Sarah j maas #Queen of Shadows #Heir of fire #Manon blackbeak #Rowan whitethorn #Rowaelin #Sam Cortland #Quotes

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt.15

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV

Words: 2260

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

The blisters on your hands were healing and becoming strong calluses the more you trained. You could see the improvements already and it made you ecstatic. Never once had you imagined that you would be sword fighting alongside your brother.

Smiling to yourself, you absentmindedly listen to Rhiannon’s voice and the others in the choir. Rising up to the high ceiling of the Red Temple while the scent of incense relaxed you. The spot beside you was empty as Jaime didn’t particularly like attending services. He would much rather be out on the grounds with the others. You would have preferred that too but as Azor Ahai reborn, you were expected to attend every so often so that other worshippers could see you. High Priest Benerro was in the works of preparing you for your revealment so that not only the worshippers at the temple knew who you were, but the whole of Volantis. Benerro insisted upon it so what could you do?

He had you seated atop near the altar and between two iron torches that were alive with flames. A flowing red robe that threatened to fall off of your shoulders as you had to pull them up every so often. Gold bangles adorned your wrists and a large scarlet ring shined on your thumb. The robe was rumored to have been worn by Azor Ahai himself; kept in a glass case and well taken care of for centuries. Gold threading kept the robe together, catching the light from the fires around you. Kohl outlined your bottom lid, red powder on top; Inanna said it showed the duality of light and shadows and how they intertwined. It brought your thoughts back to the darkin. He was still out there. Waiting for you to come out of the temple. That’s when he would attack. You hoped you would be strong enough then to fend for yourself. You remembered how fast he was though, hopping from shadow to shadow. He nearly had you too had it not been for Sirvart. Trapped by your very own shadows at your feet. You had felt utterly powerless and had accepted your death. Coming face-to-face with death so many times already, it didn’t phase you one bit at the moment.

Lions.

Poison.

Fire.

You had survived them all. Perhaps by sheer dumb luck or otherworldly help, you honestly didn’t know how you were still alive.

“Ñuha kosh.”

You lift your face up. She was beautiful. Pale skin with long red hair and an even redder gown; another red priestess that must have just come back from her missionary visits to the rest of Essos. Her Common Tongue was exquisite with only the slightest hint of her native accent.

Bowing her head an inch, she turns her abnormal red eyes up to you. “Ñuha kosh, it would be an honor to introduce myself. I am Melisandre.” Melisandre spoke softly as to not disturb the choir’s singing. Many of the red priestesses had made it a point to introduce themselves to you.

“The honor is mine to meet you.” Putting on a friendly smile, you allow her to kiss the base of your pedestal as so many others had done before. The act was still embarrassing for you but you figured that if they didn’t mind, you wouldn’t stop them. You had to accept the importance you had to them, whether you disagreed or not.

Her heart shaped face was hard to deny anything to. Around her slender throat you noticed she had a similar necklace to Alizah’s. A choker styled necklace that held a large ruby stone in the middle. Rhiannon had explained that those necklaces were special. She had her own chain necklace with a garnet gem, but the chokers were only given to those who had demonstrated their ability to read the flames. Something Thalina would have acquired had she stayed in Volantis. Thalina could have done so many things if she had stayed. She met an early demise with you.

“I hope you will accept my assistance with your darkin problem. The high priest has informed me of your run in.” Offering her services, Melisandre continues to stay on her knees in front of you. “The darkin rose from my homeland of Asshai. I have more knowledge than others about them and the Darkin Society.”

You sat up a little bit in your seat. “Really? You're from the shadow land?”

Dark red lips turn up. “Yes, Ñuha kosh. I am 0ne of few children who were actually born there and thrived. Asshai lacks children and life. Those who manage to survive, well, they have a natural affinity for magic.”

Magic rang through her eyes. You could see that much. It reminded you of the chilly blue eye of the darkin. So pale blue that it could almost blend into the whites of his eye. Melisandre continues “Darkin and shadowbinders alike originate from Asshai.”

“I would love to learn more.” Replying breathlessly, you find yourself leaning forward in your seat. You would find yourself against him once again surely, it was best you learn everything you could about the darkin. Rhiannon had already helped you plenty, but there was only so much she knew about them.

“My services are at your disposal, Ñuha kosh” She bows once more before leaving.

“Is it too heavy?” Rhiannon asks you as she adjusts the ceremonial headdress on you.

Jaime was sitting at the table in your room, drinking and smacking his lips as he enjoyed his red wine. “Geez, that thing looks like it’s made out of solid gold.”

Inanna laughs, tucking the sash to your robe. “Because it is.”

You stifle a laugh and try to keep your neck straight. “Only a little bit.” The tassels on each side of the headdress tickled at your cheeks making you swat them away. “Did Azor Ahai himself wear this too?”

“No. This is just for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to wear this into battle. It is merely for your ceremony.” explained Rhiannon, taking a step back to assess how it looked.

A soft smile makes her eyes warm. “Beautiful. Now you look like a goddess.”

Examining yourself in the mirror, you felt yourself growing self-conscious. Rhiannon was right. You did look like a goddess. Or at least someone of great importance. You hadn’t even looked as pretty in your wedding dress, and that had been an exquisite piece of clothing made by the best craftsmen in Westeros. Red, gold, yellow, orange and black hung from your body yet were still able to define your feminine curves. And although the headdress would be considered gaudy back home, here in Essos it fit right in. A heavy gold headband with spikes sticking straight up to the sky to resemble the sun’s rays.

You glance at your discarded sheet of paper on the table where Jaime was at. For the past couple of nights you had tried your best to come up with something to say to the people of Volantis. Something a champion would say to their people. You were stuck with your words though, for as often as people called you their champion you still didn’t feel like one.

Rhiannon notices your dispodent glance and takes it upon herself to grab Inanna’s arm. “Come along, Inanna. We shall go to the high priest and inform him that everything fits well. She will be ready for the ceremony.”

Nodding without question, Inanna and Rhiannon leave.

“Have a drink, sister.” Jaime smiles at you and holds out his chalice. “It’ll settle your nerves.”

You shake your head and pat down your ceremonial garb. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to risk staining this.”

“Like anyone would notice with all that red.” He chuckles and takes a sip himself while with his free hand he grabs your speech paper. Watching him for his reaction, you take the seat across from him.

“What do you think?”

Sighing, he puts the piece of paper back down. “It doesn’t sound like something you would say to be quite honest.”

The honest truth made you groan. “I know. But I have no idea what to say. I was trying to think of what father or Cersei would say. It still doesn’t feel right though. I’ve never had to be in front of so many people and give a speech. I asked the high priest what the speech should be but he said that was up to me. Something to introduce me to the people of Volantis as Azor Ahai reborn.”

“Maybe it would help if you thought of your speech in Valyrian. Not so straight forward like the Common Tongue. I’ve picked up a few words here and there. Valyrian is a language much like poetry. No wonder I’m no good at it.”

“You would be if you had the patience. You were always so fidgety as a child. If it didn’t have to do with swords or stories about battle, you wanted nothing to do with it.” You point out with a giggle as Jaime puts on his grumpy frown.

“Battle is my language.” Your brother acknowledges with a nod.

Pondering over the piece of paper, you remove the headdress as it was starting to put a strain on your neck. “In Valyrian. . .”

Jaime shrugs. “It’s the language of the people you’ll be speaking to.”

You lean back in your chair and think of the scripture and creed of R’hllor. What you were meant to be for thousands of people.

“Hey,” Jaime grabs your hand and you feel him pull you back to stability “it’ll be okay I know you. You can do this. You’ve proven many people wrong so many times. Done the unimaginable. When I rescued you from the fire, there wasn’t a burn mark on you whatsoever. It’s like even the flames didn’t want to harm you. You are a champion, (y/n).” His fingers weave with your own until your palms comfortably rest against the other. “And I’ll be by your side. Probably in some eyesore of an outfit.”

That managed to make a laugh bubble up inside of you. “That would be quite the sight. I hope they put you in a matching headdress.”

Jaime pointedly makes a face at that. “Yeah, no thank you.”

“And what are you doing here?”

You look up at Vidarr’s amused face. That face of his that always broke your heart a little bit each time. His face was too much like Rhaegar’s sometimes that it was hard for you to look at him at certain moments. The eyes were different though. That was enough to remind you that your husband was thousands of miles away, back in Westeros. Vidarr wasn’t Rhaegar. Lacked those captivating purple eyes that you loved so much. From your hands and knees you grin at him and drop the piece of fish you had tried to tempt a stray cat with. At his presence the cat had immediately fled, not caring about the delicious morsel you had to offer. His silver hair was tied back into a high ponytail, signs that he had just finished with his practice. In that stance he reminded you of Rhaegar.

Standing, you brush off your knees from dirt. “I saw it from my balcony and it looked hungry. Figured I would share since I don’t have much of an appetite.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “That cat eats plenty. The grounds are littered with rats and mice alike. Plus they steal from the local fishmongers.” Dark eyes notice something that had fallen from your sleeve pocket. Nimble fingers snatch it before you have time to register what you were missing.

You squeak and reach to grab it but Vidarr has a good foot advantage over you.

“Your speech?”

“Well, my attempt at a speech. For my revealing ceremony.” A thought comes to you and you stop trying to retrieve it from him. “Jaime suggested I try thinking of the speech in Valyrian. Maybe that would help me.”

In agreement, Vidarr nods. “The Golden Knight isn’t as dull as he seems.”

“That’s not nice. Jaime is plenty bright. He just prefers to use steel rather than his brain. He got us all the way to Volantis.”

An apologetic tone takes over. “My apologies. I only tease as he is so fun to poke. But he is right. Your audience will most likely all speak Valyrian.” In Valyrian he adds “And it is a much more beautiful language than the Common Tongue.”

“Jaime says it’s poetic.” You giggle and allow Vidarr to look over what you had written so far.

His frown has you worrying. “There is no heart in these words. Like someone else has written this for you.”

“I know. I don’t feel much like someone important. Someone worthy of a ceremony.”

Vidarr snorts making you furrow your brow at him. “That’s nonsense. You don’t need me to tell you that you are worthy. You should know by now. Your brother has told us of your travels and dispairs. You have survived and that is more than admirable. And you fight with such heart and fire.”

Weles would beg to differ. He had said you lacked fire. But. . . You manage to smile with dewey eyes at him. In reply Vidarr returns the gentle smile. With his index finger, he presses it against your chest making you blush a little bit at how close it was to your breasts. “Gaomagon bona rōva prūmia hen aōha's, ñuha kosh (Use that big heart of your's, my champion).”

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@domoron

@yentroucnagol

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fandom #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones reader insert #asoiaf fic #a song of ice and fire x you #a song of ice and fire x reader #a song of ice and fire fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #from the ashes

[leiawritesstories]

She was the Heir of Ash and Fire and she would bow to no one

-Heir of Fire

just a little something based off how I imagined Aelin coming out of the darkness in HoF

@rowaelinscourt

#my art #heir of fire #hof #rowaelinscourt #just a lil idea I hd #ik it's sloppy please ignore

[boooklover]

“She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.”

Sarah J.Maas, Heir of Fire

#book quotes #books #bookshelf #bookworm #booklr #bookaddict #quote #booklover #heir of fire #throne of glass #celeana sardothien #aelin ashryver galathynius

[phoenixrising0308]

Meet the Garcia's: El Otro (Part 2)

Books: The Royal Romance 1-3 to Royal Heir and cross-over characters from other choices universes.

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: Hazing &  🍋  

Pairing: Liam Rys x Jessica Garcia (MC)

Agent Phoenix Forged in Fire Series premise: This is a canon divergent series set after TRR 3 Tariq is never found. Liam’s duty to his country forces him into marriage. Jessica and Liam enter into a Cordonian arrangement. Both of them wanted to have a life together. However, various obstacles prevent him from a divorce and having the life they both want together. With dreams of a future crushed, Jessica leaves Cordonia. Despite a five-year absence, they are still heartbroken and unable to forget each other and the life they once shared. When Jessica’s career path takes an expected turn, her duty to her country pushes her to Cordonia, back into the society that burned her, and back into Liam’s sights. Will she rise from the ashes or once again go down in flames? Catch up here  

Disclaimer  

*This is a one-shot was created for this ask. Daisy is an OC and her and Leo may or met and the events that occur in this story may or may not occur in the actual timeline.*

Chapter Summary: Jessica secret is exposed to Liam and Daisy and Leo have a fun night.

Word count: 3,500 *please excuse typos and grammatical errors*

Reading time: 10 Minutes

Song inspiration: Smooth - Santana featuring Rob Thomas

The Garcia’s Home - Kitchen

Jessica smiled at Liam and said, “Liam, can I take you somewhere? We are going to meet Daisy.”

“Love, you can take me anywhere.” Liam pulled her close and kissed her on the lips.

Jessica said, “Leo do you want to-”

Leo interrupted and said, “Yup!”

Jessica said, “Okay, let’s go, guys!  She is going to be there in about 40 minutes”

Mateo threw Liam his car keys and said, “Take my car. I want you guys to have legroom. Since you are going to be around, hang on to it. Liam, take care of my car!”

Liam nodded and said, “Thank you. I will.”

Jessica sucked her teeth “A chevy Malibu is not a clown car.  It’s not my fault these two are giants. I didn’t exactly buy my car for potential love interests.”

Liam’s jaw clenched at Jessica’s choice of words ‘Love interests? There can only be one and I’m it.’

—

Jessica, Liam, and Leo walked to the driveway

Liam coldly said, “Is it parked in the street or driveway?”

Jessica said, “Driveway.”

Liam hit the keypad to open Mateo’s black GMC Yukon.

Leo smirked at Liam and jumped into the back seat as Liam and Jesica lingered outside of the car.

Outside…

Liam crossed his arms and huffed  “Love interests? Jessica, are you serious?“

“You seem upset…Liam are you upset?” Jessica arched a bow.

Liam pouted “Of course I’m upset you said love interests. Moments ago a taser was aimed at my crotch, then we just had sex in a treehouse. Refer to me as your boyfriend, your significant other, your soulmate… your man.”

Liam took a deep breath and said “Anything besides 'Love Interest’ J-e-s-s-i-c-a" he said as he enunciated her name, put up air quotes, and furrowed his brows.

“Hmm, my man?”

“Yes, your man.”

Jessica said, “ You didn’t exactly say ‘Jessica be my girlfriend’ or anything.”

'Fuck! Damn! Okay, fix this Liam.’ Liam cleared his throat and said, “It seems as if I have overlooked a major milestone in our relationship. And I deeply regret it.“

“It would appear so. I guess you made this crazy assumption that you didn’t need to ask. So, until that moment happens, you are a love interest.” Jessica teased.

Liam cleared his throat and said, “Jessica.”

“Yes.” Jessica batted her lashes

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“Let me think about this,” Jessica smirked.

Jessica cupped Liam’s cheek “ I just love it when you’re flustered. Yes. I want to be your girlfriend.”

Jessica looked around and bit his ear and said “Solamente mío.”(You are all mine)

Liam blushed and said, “Solo tuyo mi amor.” (Only yours love)

Leo got out of the car first, using his time to make himself presentable to Daisy.

Bronx Botanical Gardens

Liam began to get out of the car and Jessica put a hand on his thigh and said, “I used to think that this was the best garden in the whole damn world … then I saw your mother’s. I know this might be plain, nothing to write home about since you have seen the world, but it’s a piece of my childhood.  I hope you enjoy walking through it with me.”

Jessica and Liam exited the car.  Jessica shouted, “Daisy!”

Leo looked straight ahead and saw her. She had long dark hair with loose curls, she wore tight black jeans, a v-neck blouse, and boots, with a Canon camera around her neck. She waved at them and made her way over to where Liam, Jessica, and Leo stood. Shouting at them as she walked over “Jessie!”

Liam took Jessica’s hand and intertwined his fingers with hers and kissed it. “Jess, I have seen the world, but when I look at things whether they are new or old  reflected through your eyes it’s never plain – it’s always beautiful and exciting.”

Jessica began her walk towards Daisy and the two women held each other in an embrace. Jessica held Daisy’s hand and said, “Liam, Leo this is my cousin Daisy.  She is a photographer and makeup artist from Chicago.”

Liam gave Daisy a hug. “Daisy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Liam.”

Daisy smiled and said, “Ahhh the boyfriend… So he asked?”

Jessica said, “He just asked.”

Daisy said, “About time.”

Jessica said, “I know.”

Liam looked down at Jessica and said, “Really? Why didn’t you tell me this was an issue?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have to ask BUT you love me I love you and you're my boyfriend.”

Liam smiled and kissed Jessica sweetly “Yes, Yes I am.”

“Great!  Jessie and Liam I’m going to love taking pictures of you two! Just go around doing whatever you want and I will go around taking a bunch of candid photos. I will trail behind you with this handsome guy. Honestly, you both look like you are princes or something.”

Daisy extended her hand toward Leo and said, “So that makes you Leo, the brother?”

Leo was speechless. 'God she is beautiful.'

Jessica let out a whistle and said, “This is the part where you say hi I’m Leo…”

Leo rubbed the back of his neck and blushed and said, “Hi I’m… I’m…I’m-”

Liam smirked it was the first time that he saw his brother awestruck “L-E-O, say it with me hi my name is L-E-O”

Leo cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Um hi, my name is Liam. I mean Leon. Shit I mean Leo.”

Daisy smiled and said, “Okay…now that that settled, let’s make the rounds.”

30 minutes later…

Jessica and Liam held hands as they walked around the gardens with Daisy and Leo trailing behind.

Daisy said, “… It's not a typical 9 to 5. I freelance here and there. Lately, it’s been makeup and styling for ChicagoStyle Weddings Magazine. How about you?”

Leo said, “ Well, I’m taking a break from things. I did Motorcross for a second. I can practice law if I want to. Don’t know if I will go back to it.”

Daisy said, “Why not?”

Leo said, “ I just don’t think I’m really good at it, you know?”

Daisy stopped and took a picture of Liam and Jessica. Liam has his hands around her waist, whispering in her ear as Jessica bit her lip.

*click* *click*  *click*

Leo said, “One time, I made a mistake on a marriage contract. I married one guy to two people so it was a legal mess. The guy is kind of a big deal back home.”

*click*

Daisy continued taking pictures and said, “How did it end?”

*click*

Leo smiled “It hasn’t yet.  If I ever get invited to the real wedding, maybe you could be my date?”

Daisy turned around and looked at Leo and said, “Will I get a front-row seat?”

“I think you will have one of the best seats in the house.”

“Well, I accept your invitation.”

“Daisy?” Leo took a deep breath and said, “Mind if I try?” as he pointed to her canon camera.

“Sure. Why not? I’ll show you.” Daisy walked over to Leo and handed him the camera. He took it from her hands and felt the smoothness of her fingers. They pause, gazing at each other for a minute.

Daisy said, “Oh! Right! Picture.  So you can adjust the lens like this with the button…

As Daisy explained how to use the camera Leo’s mind drifted, getting lost in her brown eyes and how the sun hit her features with just the right amount of light. 'I haven’t felt like this in such a long time.’

Daisy smiled and said, “Now, you try!

Leo took a few steps back and held the camera right to his eye getting ready to focus.

“Sorry!  Let me get out of your way.”

Leo said, “Actually, I wanted to take a picture of this flower. Don’t move the sun is just hitting all the right spots.” *click*

“Oh! Let me see!” Daisy said with excitement in her voice. She walked over and looked at the digital display. Daisy looked at Leo apologetically and said, “Oh, I totally blocked the flowers when I moved. I’m sorry, Leo. Let’s try again.”

“Actually, no I think it’s perfect. I wanted to take a picture of a really stunning flower named Daisy.”

Daisy smiled and said, “ Thanks. I would love to take some pictures of you on a bike. I am trying to build up my portfolio. I want to do other types of photos. I think you, on a bike, would be kind of sexy and I could do something other than wedding-related stuff.”

“You’d take pictures of me?” Leo smiled at her.

Daisy put her camera up *click* *click* “Why not? You are really handsome.”

“Well maybe… I can take you out as my fee for my services as your model. I collect upfront. After that, we can talk about setting up this photoshoot. But, how do we get a bike?”

Daisy laughed and said, “Easy.”

Leo quirked his brow “What do you mean?”

Daisy whistled and Jessica turned and said: “What’s up?”

“Can I borrow Lee?” Daisy asked

Jessica bit her lip and looked at Liam. “Borrow me for what? Like, get something off a high self type of borrowing me?”

“So … don’t get mad,” Jessica said.

“Oh no,” Liam said with a look of panic.

Garage

Liam looked at Jessica and said, “Jessica, I’m going to have a stroke. You know how I feel about this. You broke your ankle and I almost killed Leo over it. You promised you would never get on one again after you laid on the floor at CVS. You told me to move with my life and leave you there because you were tired from using crutches. That was 30 minutes after you were discharged from the hospital”

“I’m failing to see your point here,” Jessica said as she rolled her eyes.

Liam took a deep sigh and said, “Let me remind you a few months ago you recently took out my side mirror and dented the door of a McLaren P1 that was custom made for me. I’m using your words here love, that it was 'Too fast’. How is this any better?”

“Baby, I know. But I came back to the states and I learned.  It’s great! I don’t use it often. When I’m away Adam and Mateo drive it, just like they do with my car, and make sure it’s not sitting around.”

“Can you tell me why you call it Li? You never call me Li.”

Jessica raises on her tiptoes and whispers in Liam’s ear, “Well, it’s Lee, two 'Es’. The instructor said this would be the best ride of my life. So I sort of named it after you. Because this is like the second-best ride of my life.”

Liam stood in silence trying to figure out what she meant and then it hit him “Oh…OHHHH.”

Jessica handed Leo the keys to her Harley Davidson Sportster Iron 883.

“Wow! I can’t believe you, Jessie. A fucken Sportster! Like the one, I have back home– in black denim! Jessie, we have matching bikes.”

Liam began to pace around the garage with his hand on his hip, nodding and shouting “NO! I know where you are both going with this! NO!”

Jessica ignored Liam and said, “Yup. Ain’t she a beauty?” She handed Leo and Daisy helmets and said, “Now, you two crazy kids be careful out there. Take care of my Lee, Leo.”

Liam put his hand on his hip and looked at Jessica and shook his head “Get rid of it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Want to bet?”

“Sure, the words are coming out of your mouth! That doesn’t mean I have to listen!”

“Get rid of the bike!”

“Is that your position?”

“You better fucken believe it!”

“Last position on anything or anyone you are taking tonight!”

“Wait…No Jessica let's talk about this.”

Jessica and Liam continued to argue while Daisy and Leo climbed on the bike. Daisy took out her phone, typed in an address, and said, “Follow the prompts. It’s gonna take us to a few places.”

She put her hands around his waist and said, “How long do these fights last?  Jessica doesn’t give up.”

“Liam’s not winning that fight. He lost the minute he told her 'get rid of it.'”

“That’s the start of the fight.” Daisy laughed.

Leo said, “That’s my point.”

—

Leo felt Daisy’s arms around his waist and he melted into it. They hit a red light, right before the entrance of the Brooklyn bridge.

Daisy was a rather impatient girl, which became apparent when she shook his shoulders for stopping a few moments before the traffic light said to. “We could have made it!” she huffed, sitting back up again to look at her surroundings. Leo looked over his shoulder and laughed, shaking his head fondly at her impatience. “You’re right. But what’s the rush? We have all night.”

Leo looked around, impressed by the beautiful sight. It was truly amazing. His eyes lit up at the view. “This is amazing. Woah,” Leo whispered. Daisy puts her hands on Leo and accelerated the bike up a bit. He didn’t even notice at first, but even when he did, he didn’t stop her. They rose above the speed limit, revving up further. Daisy leaned into him when it came to turns, holding him closer. He drove to the first exit, smiling to himself.

When they hit a red light  Leo looked over his shoulder and pulled up his visor and Daisy did the same so they could look at each other. “Daisy, come on, don’t do that.” raising an eyebrow with a smile on his face. He couldn’t stop smiling at her and she gave him a playful smile.

“But the adrenaline rush!” Daisy bit her lip. Leo looked at her amused and she said, “I like instant gratification … get used to it.” Leo smirked.  She poked her tongue out a bit past her teeth when she laughed, a habit that Leo had noticed. She began to shake his shoulders again when they were good to cross, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Leo parks the bike when they arrive at a Greek street fair. He held her hand as they walked toward the fair, the food smell filling the air. Daisy smiled and said, “SO this happens a few times a year. Jessie and I would come to them all the time. A few years ago, we got this crazy idea to go on a cruise and backpack through Europe.”

“Oh, did you ever get to go?”

Daisy smiled, “Yes! It was so beautiful. I didn’t stay long. I wish I could have. Next time I will bring Jessica because she speaks fluent Greek now.”

Leo nodded “Yea, she does.” They walked toward a food stand. Leo gave a friendly smile at the woman running the stand. “Boroúme na échoume merikés keftedakia, favokeftedes, kai tyropita?” Leo ordered with a friendly smile. His accent was perfect. While it was friendly and casual, Daisy felt a bit turned on by it.

She looked over at him fondly, considering asking him to speak in Greek forever. “Oh my God, you speak Greek?!”

“Yes. So does Liam. BUT I’m hoping maybe you could consider me an option for your tour guide.” Daisy smiled. The woman at the counter handed Leo Keftedakia, Favokeftedes, and Tyropita.

They sat down nearby, feeding one another until they had eaten it all. It was undeniably sensual, the tension rising as they eyed one another. “Don’t get too full, we’re not done yet. We’re going somewhere else,” Daisy said, her voice dipping slightly into seduction as she eyed him with a little, cunning smirk.

They make their way back to the bike and yet again she puts in an address and they get back on the highway.  After 30 minutes, they slow down. Now on city streets, they both pull their visors up. Leo began to notice the Italian pride apparel and flags as they went further down the street.  “Welcome to Little Italy,” Daisy confirmed his suspicions, a smile on her face as they went a bit too fast, jostling the both of them when he slowed down. They sailed past the walking crowds, Leo looking at them eagerly. He was so excited to drink up every single sight.

Daisy tapped his shoulder. “We should go there!” she shouted, pointing to a bakery ’Ferrara Bakery & Cafe’. It looked cute and cozy, even while crowded with people.

Leo pulled the bike into a spot and he felt a hand brush up against his. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he initiated holding a woman’s hand.  Whenever he’s found himself holding a woman’s hand, it was because she reached for him. But now he found himself doing something that he hadn’t done since Katie.

Leo held the door open for her. It smelled great immediately, sweet and savory aromas from the different bread and pastries floated through the air. They got a table quickly, sitting down across from one another. Leo went up to order what they were getting, a chocolate mousse heart-shaped cake. They were quick to receive it, along with two spoons. Daisy took one, digging in. She let Leo have the first bite, putting her spoon to his lips and watching as Leo moaned at the taste. Instead of finding it amusing, Daisy actually found it pretty hot, chewing on her bottom lip as a little smile took over her features.

“That’s really good,” Leo mumbled, looking up at her. He smirked upon seeing her slightly frazzled features. “You alright?” he asked knowingly, taking a spoonful of the dessert and putting it to her lips, making sly eye contact with her as she took it into her mouth. She had the same reaction as he did, a small affirmative moan. Leo seemed affected by this, leaning forward a bit to gauge her reaction further. “That good, hm?” Leo asked, looking at her lips and then her eyes. Daisy nodded, smiling a bit.

“Really good,” the whole conversation had taken a sensual tone, knowing smiles and sexual innuendo passed around the table. Daisy reached over and put her hand on his thigh to gently caress over his leg. Leo was suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth that blocked their legs from view. Daisy gave him another spoonful, watching as his eyes got dark as he took the bite. It was a sudden change of emotion, and it made her shudder. It was like a cold chill had run over her.  The dessert was not the only thing she wanted to sample. Leo fed Daisy in turn, the hand underneath the table moving towards the bulge in Leo’s pants. She moaned, purposeful and hot.

“Daisy, do you–”

“Yes”

Jessica’s Apartment - Garage - the back seat of Mateo’s car,

Leo helped Daisy get out of her jeans and slid down her panties. Daisy got and gasped as Leo kissed her intensely, and she tangled a hand in his hair. Leo groaned against her lips, thrusting his finger in and out of her quickly. Her hands flexed in his hair, halfway yanking it. Leo moaned at that, curling his fingers, he hit her spot perfectly. The precise thrusts to her spot had her whimpering, squirming unintentionally in his grip. Luckily, he kept her rather still with his strong arms, holding onto her waist hard enough that it would probably bruise her pale skin.

“More, I need more,” Daisy panted out, grinding her hips onto his fingers. Leo nodded, indulging her by adding another finger. Leo’s fingers were so big, so much bigger than her own. His fingers reached spots inside of her that she could never reach herself when she pleasured herself.

Leo continued to curl his fingers with experience and mastery, and Daisy was actually coming close to her climax. Leo noticed and pulled his fingers out, mumbling something about how he didn’t want to stop too soon. Daisy panted as she backed away from the edge, nodding in agreement.

Leo unbuttoned his jeans, rubbing over his thick length. Daisy was so excited to have him inside of her, and the anticipation was killing her. Leo spread her legs further, flipping her so she was on her stomach instead. Daisy was caught off guard, but she arched her back for him anyway. Leo moaned at how eager she was, spreading her legs slightly so she could take him easier.

“Ready?” Leo asked. Daisy nodded and he entered her slowly, making both of them moan. Leo began to thrust in and out of her, holding tightly onto her hips.

They moaned together, Leo’s holding onto the front of her thighs as he continued his calculated and quick thrusts inside of her. Daisy cried out, tightening around him and arching her back. Daisy felt so tight and hot around Leo’s length, and it was driving him crazy.

“You’re so fucking tight, it’s unreal,” Leo moaned out in bliss. He wasn’t the only one feeling the bliss, though. Daisy could practically feel Leo in her stomach, and it drove her crazy.

“Fuck, Leo! It feels so good. I love how your cock feels. You’re so fucking big, damn,” Daisy panted. Leo left a quick slap on her ass, making her yelp and rock forward slightly. Leo was quick to hammer her hips back down onto his cock, making her cry out. She’d never felt pleasure like this before, it was almost overwhelming. She couldn’t even wrap her head around how good it was. Her wetness was practically sucking him in as they rocked together, moaning in tandem.

Daisy knew she was getting close to her climax, and Leo knew that too. He reached down to rub at her clit, earning a moan from her. “Fuck!” she cried out, her face pressing down further into the backseat of the car. She let her eyes flutter shut for a moment, seeing white as Leo continued his calculated and quick thrusts inside of her, knocking her forward with each one.

When she did cum, it was intense. It hit her suddenly, catching her off guard. Waves of intense pleasure rolled through her body so strongly that they almost hurt. She gasped, her head lolling to the side as he fucked her through it, chasing his own orgasm. Their loud moans echoed in the backseat.

They laid panting in the back seat of Mateo’s car for a few minutes trying to catch their breath.

Jessica’s Bedroom…

Jessica laid on her side as Liam kissed her shoulder

“Fine. But I have a few conditions.”

“Okay, let’s hear them.”

“You are always in safety gear from head to toe. You use the stuff from the armory. It’s better than anything you can get on the market … Yes, I will get it customized for you.  You’ll have a lighter tint on your helmet, so I know you can see better. You use a bike that I get you and that meets my safety criteria. This also means Drake has to ensure that you are 100% capable of driving it. AND you always tell me when you’re going to use it. You never ride alone; so you are accompanied by either Drake or Leo on their bikes. Lastly, NEVER EVER get on that bike after a fight or when you are upset.”

“Ok. Just to be clear, I’m keeping Lee?”

“Yes.” 'How did we go from Jess I don’t want you to have a bike. To yes, I’m buying you one?’

Jessica rolled on top of Liam and straddled him and aligned herself with Liam slowly sinking into him. She stood still for a second’s and slowly moved up and down his shaft. She tossed her head back and Liam grabbed her waist, biting his lip as he moaned out loudly. He looked up at her and she looked down at him – both looking at each other with lust in their eyes.

'That’s how… she is the best ride I’ve had before. God, I just love everything about her.’

A few days after Jessica leaves for Cordonia

The Garcia’s Home - Driveway

Mateo was cleaning out his car and became absolutely livid when he saw the four open condom wrappers in the backseat of his car. “What the fuck! My fucken car, Liam My Fucken Car! Now I really do have to taser your dick. Four condom wrappers!!”

[vaeycllas-archive]

SHE  WAS  THE  HEIR  OF  ASH  AND  FIRE.  SHE  WOULD  BOW  TO  NO  ONE.

#x. self promo #indie asoiaf rp #indie game of thrones rp #indie fantasy rp #indie historical rp #indie period rp #indie witcher rp

[only-we]

It was stifling, being among so many people. The streets stank of manure, and not only of the horses, but wolves and human chamber pots too. Her nose scrunched up and she firmly pulled her hood lower. For such a grand place it was filthy, and stripped bare of any natural beauty. There were few trees within the town surrounding the fire King's castle.

Anja waited among others. Some merchants. Most farmers. All seeking an audience with the King himself. It was a day for settling petty disputes and considering requests. By the time it was her turn to enter the throne room, he had already seen perhaps a hundred others.

She padded barefoot. Feet caked in mud and other undesirables, no doubt, and for a moment she paused to simply look around. His halls were larger than any building she had seen in her life. Befitting a King, she supposed, but it all felt so bare and devoid of any warmth. A place for business. Not a home.

"State your name and your business." Miller prompted.

Anja glanced back to him. Her eyes trailing away to instead focus on the King. She did not bow, nor did she curtsey. But she offered a smile.

"I bring a prophecy for him." Her head lifted in motion to the so-called dragon. "You will reduce the world to ashes, that I have seen. Your heirs will fall and your wards will be bled out." Anja shifted, showing both her palms. A small act to convey she meant no harm. "Cast your eyes where the flowers grow. You will find her there. A flower maiden, soft and small. She will break your fate."

Jacob gave little credit and attention to those who claimed to see the future. he always had. because there were more frauds among them than on the illegal markets that flourished in the darkest alleys of any bigger town. They harped on someone's fears and doubts. They fed into them. Nourished what was just small. And with that they slung their strings around their victim, making it their puppet.

Jacob did not intend to end up being a mere puppet to some little wretch.

So after she had finished her 'prophesy', Jacob sat still on his throne for a few more moments. He could hear the soft shuffling of little feet behind his throne. There were a few doorways, one leading to a room where the twins usually resided when he had business here. They read. By a warm fire. He called them sometimes to learn the ropes of leadership here. But they hadn't been called now. Still, they seemed to be drawn in by this woman's presence.

'Stay.'

The thought was an order and one that Jacob was never sure, whether it reached Ariadne and Vergil, but usually their ability grasped for every mind around them. So they better listen. They were safe back there. From attacks and from false fearmongering.

Slowly, Jacob stood to his full height, staring down on this stranger.

She was shrouded in her hood. Looking mysterious. Anonymous.

A sharp grin split his beard.

"A flower maiden you say? Soft and small? And she is to save all of our souls and lives?", he scoffed, his voice deep, resonating in his broad chest. Shaking his head, Jacob threw a brief glance to his sons, who witnessed this all from the sides. They were old enough to know such words meant nothing.

"You did not even state your name, stranger and yet you come here and try to harp on fear and threats of death. Towards me. And my family. That is very thin ice you step upon... and what would you have to gain from doing this, apart from trying to worm your way into a cozy position here as some kind of advisor? I bet you would be just great to find this flower maiden... no doubt a sister of yours. So. Tell me your true business. Your motivations to come here. Or leave without a further word. I have no time for charlatans."

@anjaofthewild

#anjaofthewild #AU | medieval

[inlovewithquotes]

She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.

-Heir Of Fire

#quotes #book quotes #literature #books & libraries #sarah j maas #throne of glass series #heir of fire

[codenamebooks]

My Favorite Quotes from Heir of Fire

by Sarah J. Maas (Throne of Glass #3) | Goodreads

"Dorian entered her workroom, and Sorscha looked up from the table and smiled, broadly and prettily and... well, wasn't that exactly the reason he found excuses to come here every day." page 138

*

"if he'd sensed that she was truly uncomfortable, he'd have kept his distance. This was more... flustered. He liked flustered." page 139

*

"she has told me that her dearest friends are characters in books." page 242

*

"It could all go to hell tomorrow, but she had to know what it was like, just for a little while, to belong to someone, to be wanted and cherished." page 249

*

"'Maybe we could find the way back together.'" page 304

*

"She tried to embrace him, but he would have none of that, and told her as much. Still... she'd snuck behind his chair at the worktable and planted a great, smacking kiss on his cheek... she had the suspicion that he'd let her get past his defenses." page 376

*

"'I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn, I don't care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.'" page 428

*

"the gold and red and blue flames utterly hers, this heir of fire." page 472

*

"She knew it would work. She had suspected it for some time now. They were carranam." page 473

*

"Then they would set about changing the world together." page 496

*

"She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one." page 499

*

"'Until my last breath, and the world beyond. To whatever end.'" page 517

*

"Yet no matter what happened tomorrow, or next week, or next year, she was grateful. Grateful to the gods, to fate, to herself for being brave enough to kiss him that night. Grateful for this little bit of time she'd been given with him." page 538

#heir of fire #sarah j maas #throne #my favorite quotes #fantasy #young adult #romance #magic #young adult fantasy #fairies #fae #fiction #new adult #high fantasy #adventure

[forsakenlegacy]

I have no threads yet, but I wanted to post this just because.

#// because she's gorgeous #// is there any other reason needed? #// I'm just saying #|| out of convictions || { ooc } #|| the fire in her eyes spoke of a story she'd never tell || { images } #|| she was the heir of ash & fire & she would bow to no one || { about ranna varik }

[starkbirthed-a]

Brunette Bombshell Part 2 !

#.ﾟ☆ﾟ. my own little work of art ‹ edits. › #.ﾟ☆ﾟ. she was the heir of fire and ash / she would bow to no one ‹ visage. › #partners can reblog !

[soldottiir-a]

Selena Reinulfsdottir. 

Guild Master, Nightingale, Nocturnal’s Champion, Dragonborn, Speaker of the Black Hand

#.ﾟ☆ﾟ. my own little work of art ‹ edits. › #.ﾟ☆ﾟ. she was the heir of fire and ash / she would bow to no one ‹ visage. ›