#HOTD AU

[maidragoste]

Chapter Three: He ruined it

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two

A/N: I'm happy to bring you a new chapter of this series, sorry for the delay in publishing and I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments or reblogs. Thank you for reading 🥰🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I’m always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 🤭💕

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

The elevator ride takes less than a minute since the training rooms are below the floor of your floor, but Jacaerys could still feel the tension in the air. He doesn't know if it's because you're nervous like him about seeing who they'll have to face in a few days or if, like him, you're upset because Larys told you two to spend all your time in public close to each other. Jace doesn't understand the reason behind his uncle's instructions, first, he made you two hold hands at the parade and now it seemed as if he wanted you to become friends while training. Jace doesn't like this, he doesn't want to get attached to you. That would only make things more difficult in the arena, but when he complained his uncle reminded him that he had already promised that he would do whatever he told him. He had to do it if he wanted to return home to Lucerys and Joffrey.

When they both get out of the elevator they find a giant gym full of weapons and obstacle courses. It's not even ten o'clock, yet you two are the last to arrive. The rest of the tributes are gathered in a tense circle, each one has a piece of cloth attached to their shirt with the number of their respective district. While they give his number, Jacaerys in a quick assessment realizes that you two are the only ones who are dressed alike. Was it another way to appear like a united front to others?

Once you and Jacaerys join the circle the head trainer steps forward and introduces herself as Atala and then begins to explain the training schedule, how each position has an expert in the skill in question, that some positions teach tactics survival and other fighting techniques. She also warns that it is prohibited to perform combat exercises with another tribute and that if someone wants to practice with a partner, there are assistants.

“We don't have to be together all the time if you don't want to,” you whispered to him, once Atala finished reading the list of skills and gave them the freedom to start training.

“But Larys said”

“Larys isn't here,” you interrupted, making him frown. “He's not going to know if we don't follow what he tells us one hundred percent.”

“If you don't want to train with me just say it” he snapped, feeling annoyed although it made no sense because he should be happy that you don't want to train with him either after all Jacaerys wanted to avoid spending as much time with you as possible.

“I'm not the one who complained at breakfast,” you reminded him, making him blush and feel ashamed of himself for his attitude. If he weren't so impulsive he would have at least waited for you to go to your room before complaining to his uncle.

“I'm sorry about that,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay,” you shrugged, downplaying it, but even so, your district partner still felt like a fool because of his attitude. “Where do you want to start?”

“Let's tie some knots,” Jacaerys responded, thinking that his uncle had said not to attract attention so he was forbidden to take a bow at least until the private session with the gamemakers. Besides, Jace had no desire to be around the professional tributes, who had gone straight to the weapons that looked more deadly and handled them without difficulty, nor the trembling tributes who received their first class of knives or axes.

The stall is empty so the coach seems excited when the two approach. When he realizes that Jacaerys knows something about traps, he teaches them how to make a simple trap that would leave another tribute hanging from a tree by their leg. They practice for an hour until they both master the technique well and then move on to the camouflage station. Jacaerys notices that you seem more excited in this position as you mix mud, clay, and berry juice on your skin. It also seems easy for you to braid costumes out of vines and leaves. The coach for this position is excited about your work.

"I make the cakes" you blurt out of nowhere.

"The cakes?" He had been concentrating on watching Royce Baratheon swing a mace directly into the chest of a mannequin.

"Those from the bakery. I make the decorations"

Jacaerys remembers those cakes, which are on display in the shop window, with flowers and other pretty designs on the icing. Before he went to live with Uncle Larys he was never able to eat one of those but since they lived with him there was always cake for special occasions like birthdays and New Year's. Every time they went to buy the cake Joffrey and Lucerys always argued about which one looked the best before choosing which one to take. If he came home he didn't think he would be able to accompany them back to the bakery. He couldn't see your father and brothers in the face again. Nor could he see the disappointment in his brothers' eyes when they saw that the cakes were no longer as pretty as before.

"They're cute, but you won't be able to glaze someone to death," he hadn't meant to sound so scathing but thinking about your death, your family, and his siblings put him in a bad mood.

"You never know what might be in the arena what if…?"

"Let's continue with another position" he interrupts you, he wasn't in the mood for some joke.

"Okay, go ahead with whatever you want, I'll stay here a little longer. I'll catch up with you later" you responded.

The smile on your face had disappeared and Jacaerys felt a tightness in his stomach but he decided to ignore it, he just nodded and went to the fire-making station. He is so focused on the coach's instructions and getting the technique right that he doesn't even realize that he has spent so much time there until they announce that it is time for lunch. Jacaerys looks at you with the idea of telling you to have lunch together. He frowns when he sees that you are no longer alone but are talking to Jason Mallister, the thirteen-year-old boy from District 4. What were you doing? Larys said not to attract attention and you found yourself talking to one of the professional tributes, of course, that would attract attention.

Annoyed, Jacaerys went to the carts that had been brought with food and began to serve himself and then sat alone at one of the tables. Professional tributes gathered around a table. They were loud, unlike the rest they seemed carefree, as if they were not afraid.

A few minutes later you sit next to him. Jacaerys can't hold his curiosity for long so he asks you.

“Why were you talking to him?”

“Stop frowning, we're supposed to be friends,” you scold him in a whisper and he struggles to put on a friendlier face. “He reminds me of Joffrey,” you admit.

“My brother is nothing like him,” the brunette denies instantly. He wouldn't tell you but when you two saw the District 4 reaping he also thought about his brother when Jason appeared on screen. But he couldn't allow himself to see his brother in one of his opponents, that would only hurt him in the arena, so he instantly forced himself to push that thought away from him. The only thing in common between the two of them was that they are both thirteen years old, he just repeated to himself.

"I just showed Jason how I made my camouflage and I remembered when I tried to teach Joffrey how to frost a cookie." Jace must have made some funny face in his surprise because you were smiling again. "He made a mess, I don't know how he ended up with frosting on his hair and face, the only reason my mother didn't get mad is because Joffrey bought the cookies he ruined. If you ask me, he didn't ruin them, he just took artistic liberties" You said the last thing as if you were telling him a big secret, leaning towards him and putting your hand a few centimeters from your face, hiding it from the other tributes, as if you didn't want to they will try to read your lips. At your antics and the image of his younger brother covered in icing, Jacaerys can't help but laugh.

"I didn't know Joffrey spent so much time at the bakery."

"And with you", he added in his head. He couldn't help but wonder why his brother never told him. Although he shouldn't be surprised because at home there is always some bread or cookie from the bakery, but he always thought that the one who was going to buy it was Uncle Larys. He might have missed some things by spending so much time in the forest and the Hob with Baela.

"Your brother is addicted to sugar so he usually comes often after school to buy something. He says he deserves a treat after spending hours locked up in hell."

Jacaerys notices the affection with which you speak of his brother and he can't help but feel warm. He has the feeling that you have even more stories to tell about his brothers and he wants to hear them all.

"Yeah, that sounds like Joffrey," he agrees with a smile.

During the rest of the days of training, Jacaerys feels a whole mix of emotions fighting within him. You two continue training together in some positions such as setting up shelters, recognizing edible plants, and throwing knives and spears, but at some point, you always end up separated by your decision because you want to train with a partner so you look for one of the assistants. In those moments Jace can't help but distrust you because for a while he sees you fighting with the assistant but then the next time he sees you you are in the same section as the professionals, he never sees you talking to one of them but he still can't avoid feeling restless. On the other hand, he can't continue denying that something is forming between the two of you; it's impossible not to form a kind of friendship after sharing so many anecdotes during lunch. At first, you were the one who did most of the talking, telling him more about Joffrey's visits to the bakery, but then Jace wants to know about you and starts asking you more about you and your brothers. And before he least realizes it, he is also sharing his own stories. He tells you how Uncle Larys once made them believe his house was haunted only to make them stop wandering around at night because they wouldn't let him sleep. You laugh when he tells you how he once challenged a bear to fight in the woods to keep a beehive and how his father had never scolded him so much.

On the second day of training before you go to train with an assistant you whisper to Jacaerys that he has a shadow. When he turns to see Rue, the little girl from District 11 spying on them, you encourage him to talk to her but Jace refuses because he has no idea what to say to her and also because he is afraid of meeting her and she will remind him of his brothers or Baela's little sisters.

When the private sessions arrive with the gamemakers it is evident that both you and Jacaerys are nervous because neither of you tries to have a conversation while waiting your turn or even when the two of you are alone after Rue enters.

"Good luck," Jacaerys wishes you as he stands up when he is called. He couldn't tell you later because once a tribute finishes the session he has to go to his apartment "Try throwing the weights, impress them."

"Thank you" It is evident that you were not expecting his words because you keep looking at him impressed "Lucky for you too. Remember to shoot well" you smile at him.

He nods and starts walking towards the door.

He ruined it. What the hell was he thinking? No, he didn't think about it. He just let his anger get the best of him, he was outraged that the guards had stopped paying attention to him after he missed his first shot, he was furious that he could die within a few days and they wouldn't deign to watch his entire performance, so he took the arrow and shot at the gamemakers' table. Of course, he didn't shoot any of them, his arrow hit right where he wanted it, in the apple that the pig had in its mouth. When all eyes were on him he sarcastically thanked them for their time while bowing. He didn't wait to be fired, he stormed out of the training room still feeling his blood boil. Only when he was alone in the elevator did he feel the weight of what he did, he felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest and his throat was burning. He ruined it. He hadn't tried to kill any of the gamemakers but maybe someone would think that. He was sure he must be the first tribute to do something like that. He lost any chance he had of winning the games. But what scares him the most is that because of his attitude, they will now punish his brothers. He would never forgive himself if something happened to them because of him.

When the elevator doors opened, tears had already begun to roll down Jacaerys's cheeks. He ignored the questions from Effie, who was waiting for him in the hallway, and locked himself straight into his room. It didn't take long for knocks to sound on his door and the woman's voice asking him to come out but he didn't move from the bed. When silence came he thought that he had finally given up and they would leave him alone. But minutes later he heard the cold voice of his uncle:

"Jacaerys, open the door. Stop acting like a child."

Jacaerys was about to ignore him but then he realized that the only one who could help him protect his brothers was his uncle. So he took courage and got out of his pile of blankets. He unlatched the door and nervously opened the door. For a moment he thought he saw something different in his uncle's eyes. He couldn't figure out exactly what but that only made him more nervous. Without saying anything he went to sit on the edge of the bed while he watched Larys enter and close the door again. Surprising him, did his uncle think that he would try to escape in the middle of the conversation?

Larys took the chair that was at the desk placed it in front of the bed and then sat down.

"I ruined it," said Jacaerys, his voice breaking when he saw that his uncle did not seem willing to start the conversation. "They are going to punish Luke and Joff because of me." The teenager's desperation was clear by how he tugged at his curls as he spoke."You have to do something, uncle, please. It's my fault, let them punish me."

"What did you do?" the victor demanded to know.

Then Jace told him everything, how the gamemakers were drunk and how after he missed his first shot they stopped paying attention to him, missing the circuit he made and how he hit the center in the rest of his shots, that he didn't think about his actions, that he got carried away with anger and shot at the apple that was in the mouth of the pig that the gamemakers were about to eat, gaining their attention again and how he left the training room without waiting to be fired but not before thanking them sarcastically for their attention. As Jacaerys continued speaking Larys's hand turned white from the strength with which he gripped his staff.

"I told you that you won't attract attention" his uncle's biting tone only made Jacaerys' discomfort increase and he couldn't help but take one of the blankets again and wrap himself in it. It's not like he expected Larys to comfort him but he also shouldn't have been surprised that the first thing he did was scold him. "But you can rest assured, they're not going to punish your brothers." There was that strange look in his eyes again.

"Are you sure?" The uncertainty in his voice was clear, he wanted to trust his uncle but at the same time, he couldn't help but think that Larys would tell him any lie as long as he kept concentrating on the games.

"If they are going to punish Lucerys and Joffrey, they would have to tell what you did in the entertainment center so that it has some effect on the districts, but they won't because it's secret," Larys explained with a little more patience. "The only one you hurt with your actions it's you"

Upon hearing that nothing would happen to his brothers, Jacaerys felt that part of his discomfort disappeared. He still had to worry because surely the gamemakers would now make his life miserable in the arena but at least he knew that his brothers would be safe.

"I know, the gamemakers will make my life miserable in the arena" he stated "And today they will give me the worst score so I won't have any sponsors" he sighed thinking that now it would be even more difficult for him to survive in the arena without sponsors, the food wouldn't be a big problem because he knew how to hunt but if he got hurt then he would need medicine.

"Don't worry about the sponsors, I'll take care of that," Larys promises and this time Jacaerys doesn't doubt his uncle because he looks too confident. "Well, it's done, it's not something we can change. Stop getting depressed and let's go have dinner before they give the scores."

During dinner, Jace barely joins the conversation and feels your worried gaze the entire time. It seems that Effy told you about the state he arrived in after his private session.

In the middle of dinner, Effy can't stand his curiosity anymore so he asks them both how it went. Jacaerys wasn't going to say anything until he heard you speak.

"I don't think I impressed them, some paid attention to me but others were more focused on whatever was on the table," you said resignedly.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry" he apologized, feeling guilty because apparently he had also harmed your private session.

"How is it your fault?" Cinna asked curiously.

"I shot them an arrow," Jace replied.

At first, he ignored Effy's indignation and the rest of the team's questions, focusing more on your reaction. You still looked at him with concern. He was relieved to not see you angry. The truth is, he couldn't blame you if you got angry with him after all his act had attracted the attention of the gamemakers when it was essential for you to have a better score.

"I actually shot an arrow at the pig's apple they were about to eat. They were drunk and I got angry because they weren't paying attention to me."

"And what did they tell you?" You asked anxiously and looked at the doors as if you were expecting that at any moment the peace officers would come in to look for him.

"I don't know. I left"

"Did you leave without permission?" Effie asked to see if she understood correctly.

"I gave it to myself" Jace replied and a laugh escaped your mouth, you quickly stifled it with your hand before Effie's gaze. Jacaerys was pleased to see the worry disappear from your face.

"Larys, aren't you going to say anything about it?" Effie questioned evidently expecting the victor to side with her and scold them.

"It's done, Effie. There's nothing we can do," he responded boredly as he buttered a piece of bread.

"What was their face?" you asked, looking at him curiously.

"They seemed terrified. A man stumbled backward and fell into a punch bowl." At the time Jacaerys had been so angry that he couldn't enjoy the watchman making a fool of himself but now he remembered it with fun.

Everyone laughed, except for Effie but she seemed to hold back a smile so Jace didn't take it the wrong way.

“Oh, I would have loved to see that,” you said with a smile. If Jacaerys hadn't been so focused on you then he would have noticed that his uncle seemed to be studying the two of you.

Once everyone finishes dinner they go to sit in the living room to watch the scores announced on television. How every year a photo of the tribute appears while Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith announce the score. What is striking with the group of professionals is that this year not everyone has a score between eight and ten like previous years, but the boy from District 4 gets a seven. The same score that Rue gets, Jace can't help but wonder how she managed to get that score. But any thoughts of the little girl from District 11 disappear and are replaced by euphoria when he hears Caesar announce his score. An eleven.

Applause and congratulations filled the room. Jacaerys smiles until he realizes that his uncle is quiet and doesn't look as excited as the rest about his eleven. He starts to feel the anxiety in his body and he wants to ask his uncle what the problem is but he doesn't want to have this conversation in front of everyone.

“Good” is the only thing Larys says after they also announce your eight. And Jace feels stupid for worrying so much, surely his uncle didn't say anything before because he was still hanging on to your score after all he wasn't the only tribute Larys had in charge. “You should go to sleep, you have a long day tomorrow” he ordered them while motioning to the avox to bring him more wine.

You and Jacaerys say goodbye to the entire team and head toward the hallway where your rooms are.

“Tell me, what does it feel like to break the bad streak of twelve and go down in history?” you said while leaning on your door.

“You're exaggerating,” Jace said, trying to sound exasperated by rolling his eyes, but there was no annoyance in his tone.

“I'm not,” you shook your head, smiling. You just beat the score of the professionals, I think it's impressive” you said while crossing your arms. “Surely the entire Capitol is talking about you and you are going to monopolize all my sponsors.”

Your last words brought Jace back to his senses. You two were in a competition and his live were at stake. He couldn't keep joking with you. He should be focused on making a good impression on Caesar and the people at the Capitol tomorrow.

“We should go to sleep,” he said abruptly, resting his hand on the handle of his door, trying not to feel guilty as he saw how the spark in your eyes seemed to go out at his tone. “Have a good night,” he didn’t even wait for you to respond before walking into his room and closing the door. His father would be disappointed in his treatment of you.

a/n: I'm grieving because I had to delete the scene I had with Larys and Sea Dragon bc if I left it, then there were going to be things in Cathing Fire that didn't make sense 😫

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, as I always say the comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🥰

thg taglist: @agqrtz @cookielovesbook-akie @klara-lily @husherstan @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @hanversace @xmagik @crazylokonugget @Illzarr @faesspace @lolabelle14 @wa801 @allyium @woodandwaxwings @multiversemayhemme @justanotherkpopstanlol @roseazura @matthiashelvarswaffles

@bogbutteronmycroissant @nowjillsandwich @qualitytimetravelruins @clairepotter @slutkoo @trashmouthsahra @nessjo @jacesvelaryons

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

#thg au #the hunger games au #jace velaryon x you #hunger games au #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys fic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd au #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #larys strong #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x reader #jace x reader #hotd jacaerys #hotd #jacaerys targaryen #the hunger games

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency! Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader) Sneak Peek

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: (Regency! Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Author's Note: So, about 2k words of this just kinda happened today...

Chapter 1: Loverly

“AAAAOOWWWW!”

Her knees pounded with pain, the edges of her vision pulsing black, but she pulled herself up to her elbows, focusing only on what was directly in front of her.

The flowers were scattered across the cobblestones, half already trampled on by people scrambling to avoid falling with her. Those had been the best blossoms, the ones she put at the top of her basket to entice people into buying from her. All that remained in her basket were the scant pickings she used just to make the basket look full – no one would want to buy those.

Nearly a full day’s wages, gone like that.

“What in the devil’s name was that noise, girl?” The bastard who ran into her sneered. She’d never before heard a voice so suited to sneering. She lifted her head to growl something back at him, but any biting words quickly died when she saw who looked down at her.

He was finer than any man – any person – she’d ever seen in Rosby. Not a single silver hair out of place, not a loose thread anywhere on his fine clothes, or a speck of dust on him. Well, except for the slight smudge of grime left on his deep green tailcoat from where he’d crashed into her. The sight of it made her want to crawl into her dirty basement and never come out again.

“You should watch where you’re walking, brother,” another man, standing next to the severe man who had run into her, said. The familiar resemblance was obvious in their coloring – the silver hair, the eyes so vibrantly blue they were nearly violet.

The severe man scoffed, his lip curling as he looked at her. “I was, Daeron. But the little wretch came out of nowhere.”

“I ain’t no ‘wretch!’” she shouted, indignation burning through her fear and embarrassment. “I’m a respectacled woman, I am!”

The man scoffed and rolled his eye, and only then did she notice: his left eye was entirely white, its milky paleness emphasized by the angry red scar stretching from his forehead all the way down through his cheek.

She didn’t mean to stare, really. But she had never seen a man who looked like him – scar or no. He was like something out of a fairy tale. Especially when his scowl deepened, and his one blue eye seemed to catch fire.

“Have you looked your fill?” he growled. She immediately averted her gaze, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t think of a single word.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan mitchell #what is broken #aemond targaryen au #hotd au

[prettymuchteddy]

Rockstar and Journalist Rhaenicent AU

Rhaenyra Targaryen is one of the most famous singers in the world. As a seasoned rockstar, she's part of the band, House of the Dragon, with her four half-siblings. Just as she's about to embark on a country-wide tour, she is approached by a journalist named Alicent. Rhaenyra doesn't see any harm in allowing the journalist to travel with the band on their tour, after all, she might even enjoy Alicent's company.

Alicent Hightower is a journalist from an up-and-coming magazine. The world is infatuated with Rhaenyra Targaryen and she wants to get the scoop as her band gets ready to go on their biggest tour yet. She offers to travel with the rockstar while keeping a professional distance, even promising to omit any personal details Rhaenyra wouldn't like. She is ecstatic when the star agrees. She'll get her scoop and maybe might like being on the road with Rhaenyra.

It's only a few months on the road together before they part ways. Surely they can remain professional during the tour, right?

Also kind of set in the 70s

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenicent aesthetic #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaenicent au #rhaenicent #hotd au #hotd aesthetic #70s rock #hotd moodboard

[rhaenyrashightowers]

Rhaenicent // Bed & Breakfast Owner & Handyman AU

#rhaenicent #hotd #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x alicent #house of the dragon #rhaenicent au #rhaenicentedit #rhaenicent edit #rhaenicent aesthetic #rhaenicent moodboard #hotd moodboard #hotd aesthetic #hotdedit #hotd edit #hotd au #house of the dragon au #house of the dragon edit #houseofthedragonedit #house of the dragon aesthetic #olivia cooke #emma d’arcy

[daemontargaryenwhore]

"two scared children spouting oaths they didn’t understand. all that was left of the mighty house targaryen."

#house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #hotd #hotd fanart #hotd oc #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd art #hotd aegon #hotd au #hotd edit #hotd fandom #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd fics #hotd masterlist #hotd fluff #hotd imagine #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #ewan mitchell fanfic

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

#harwin strong x reader #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #harwin x reader #harwin breakbones #ser harwin x reader #harwin x you #harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong x you #harwin strong fluff #hotd x you #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #harwin fluff #harwin angst #ser harwin angst #ser harwin x reader fluff #harwin lives au #hotd au #reader insert #reader #reader imagine #reader fic #house of the dragon fanfic #harwin breakbones x reader #harwin breakbones x y/n #hawrin breakbones x you #wife!reader #mom!reader

[weirwooddreams]

King Jacaerys & Queen Baela AU

(From left to right) Rhaena & Morning, Baela & Daemon (second son), Jacaerys & Rhaenys (first child and heiress) and Rhaenys

My commission, done by jota.saraiva.art

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon art #asoiaf art #asoiaf #jacaela #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #jace x baela #rhaenys targaryen #AU #hotd au

[ice-mint]

HOTD Beach AU

Alicent and her family have arrived at the beach. They realize after the two hour trip they have forgotten Daeron at home. They are not going back.

Rhaenyra has arrived with her family, the only food they have brought is a bag of cheetos.

Rhaenys has her granddaughters sorted already, only sunscreen left!

Daemon is moping in the ocean meanwhile.

Viserys and his least favourite daughter are having creative diferences about the sand Valyrian model. She wants to put pink seashells, he refuses. Alicent ends up scolding him.

The kids find out someone has finished all the ice-cream. Lucerys has been crying for half an hour. It was Daemon.

Helaena has found a crab she calls Herbert, no one wants to get near her. Aegon has passed out, being buried in sand as a punishment.

Rhaenyra has promised Aegon a beer if he distracts everyone while she flirts with Daemon. Viserys feels something is not right but can't figure out what. Jacaerys is just happy to be included.

The day at the beach was a success!!! No one was seriously harmed and everyone had fun.

Truly a first for the Targaryen family! ❤️

#hotd meme #Hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #baela and rhaena #jacaerys targaryen #hotd memes #hotd au #HOTD MODERN AU EDIT

[just-some-random-blogger]

Curse Of Womanhood

Daemon's Version

It's simple really. Your husband wronged a witch and insulted her womanhood, and now he was cursed to bleed every moon with you.

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, cursed fem!daemon, mentions of miscarriage/menstruation, men being men/misogyny/objectifying, Otto 'that's kinda hot' Hightower, crack fic, i hate my husband club member!reader, typos, etc.

A/N: my brain is fried so have some fried rice aka this fic. also idk at what time this would be set in canon so were just going to roll with it ok? ok.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa

The scream that left my mouth was immediately muffled by a hand covering it and what I recognized to be a string of High Valyrian curses.

My eyes widened as I looked at the woman. Her brows were furrowed, her jaw was clenched, her hair was undone, and she was clad in nothing but a loose dress shirt.

"It's me!" she whisper-yells, "you have to help me."

I yank her hand away and we begin to wrestle on the sheets. Her silver hair flies around, her bare thighs clash against mine. We struggle against each other for a moment, but I eventually manage to overpower her and subdue her by pushing her on her belly, ripping her arms behind her back.

I blow hair out of my face, "you ought to know I wrestle with my husband all the time."

"I am your husband!"

I scoff and scowl, "ahhhh. So this is his fucking idea. He sent a whore to keep me company while he's away."

The woman screams my name and demands to be released.

She whimpers when I pull her arms back forcefully, "watch your tongue, wench. My title is princess."

"Look at my scars!" she strangles out with a pained voice, "it's the same fucking scars I had as a man. Take my shirt off and-"

"Shut up!" I raise my brows in revulsion and disbelief, "GUARDS!"

She begins to sputter High Valyrian again and it makes me turn to her. I pull tight at her arms and she whines; her eyes begin to water.

"I took your maidenhead in your childhood bedroom!" she muffles against the sheets.

My jaw drops. I am mortified.

"I marked your neck so that your father would give you to me!" she cries.

My stomach churns.

"You told me to bring you back a sword when I returned!" she hisses, "and I said I'd stuff my sword down your throat if you touched yourself while I was away."

I gasp and release her when she says this.

She groans and slowly unravels her arms, "fucking bitch."

I crawl back and watch the woman sit up. Her violet eyes were glassy as she rubs her arms. I stared at her, examining the lines on her face, the curve of her nose, the cut of her cheeks. My face begins to twist, "who are you?"

She ceases rubbing her arms when she turns to me. My stomach drops. I knew those eyes.

She suddenly lunges at me, shoving me down on the bed. She shoves herself between my legs and pushes me down. She pins my hands together overhead with one hand. She rips my nightgown up and huffs, "I should remind you of you place, stupid girl."

My heart races at her words.

She gasps when she touches herself between her thighs. In an instant, she releases me and slowly pulls her hand up. She is mortified. Her eyes widen at the sight of red on her fingers, "I'm- I'm bleeding."

She topples back on her bum then looks down at the sheets. A blot of red was stamped beneath her, blood was dripping down her thighs.

The horrified sound she makes horrifies me as well.

"I'm bleeding!" she turns to me in panic.

I sit up and watch her cheeks get soaked in tears. I am deeply unsettled by her reaction. I mutter, "it's alright. It's normal-"

"THAT FUCKING WITCH CURSED ME INTO THIS GODFORSAKEN BODY!" she snaps, shaking her hands erratically. "I should have killed her," she sniffles roughly, "I shouldn't have spared her. She will pay for this!"

I flinch when she begins to wail and scream.

"Keep it down!" I grab her in panic.

"HOW CAN WHEN I HAVE A CUNT THAT'S BLEEDING!"

I grab her face and make her look at me, "you made no issue when my cunt was bleeding."

She freezes at the words. She looks at me and thinks. She eyes me with disdain, with anger, with offence, "that's different."

"How is that different?"

"You lost a child."

I rip away from her, feeling my heart leap into my throat. It really was him. No one but Daemon and I knew this. I whisper, "Daemon?"

She tenses then melts into defeat. She falls into me, forehead crashing onto my shoulder. I whimper as I pull her in for a hug. She reluctantly embraces me back.

"Daemon," I mutter.

"It's me," she snakes her arms around my form, "ziry iksos nyke, ñuha jorrāelagon." It's me, my love.

"Oh, my prince," I pull her in, "what have you done to yourself?"

Her arms tighten, "I am your prince. Please believe me."

I nod and brush her hair, "I believe you."

She nuzzles her face into my neck and begins to cry. We sink down onto the cushions and she finds herself between my legs again.

"What did you do to the witch, Daemon?"

She growls and sniffles, "I burned that cunt's village to the ground and made her watch."

"By the Seven, Daemon!" I try to look at her. She refuses to let me pull away.

"I'll burn her next."

"No!" I push her off, "we need to find her and make her undo her curse."

Daemon rips away and looks at me with bloodshot eyes. I feel uneasy with how she looked. There were traces of my husband, certainly, but it was so familiar yet so foreign. I mutter, "I will have Ser Harwin take us to wher-"

"Harwin?" she exclaims, "what need have we of that Strong moron? I will take us both to-"

"We are two women!" I grab her face, "two princesses," I raise a brow, "I will come with you to ensure your temper does not get the best of you, and Harwin will be there to ensure no one gets any ideas with us."

After nearly an hour of arguing, Daemon remembers I am the wife in this relationship and always get my way in the end.

All at once, we go to Harwin's quarters and wake him. I had asked my handmaiden for a dress and made Daemon wear it. Daemon fussed over how itchy it was, saying I should have just gotten one of my dresses for her, and how I didn't have to wrap her hair behind a headscarf. I told her to shut up and follow through with my precautions or else be a woman forever.

Harwin, Seven bless him, asked no questions other than where we had to go when I told him I needed an escort at that hour.

Daemon eyed him the entire way to the stables, declined his help when Harwin offered to help her up a horse, and rode between Harwin and I, unwilling to let me answer any of the questions he had, which, to be fair, were mostly about directions, and I did not know them at all.

To my horror, the moment we got there, the witch was waiting for us, grinning at the she-prince. Daemon was furious and lunged out of her horse, charging at the witch. Harwin immediately stopped Daemon when she very much tried to kill the sorcerer.

One thing led to another, the witch taunted Daemon, practically begging to be killed; Daemon got close to doing so, then the witch laughed and said her death would make the curse irreversible. Harwin managed to grab Dae-- Demi, my stupid handmaiden, and threw her over his shoulder.

I ended up doing the talking. As Harwin wrangled with blazing Demi, I begged the witch to fix my husband. She was moved by my desperation and devotion to my 'vile dragon of a husband'. She explained to me every curse had an expiration and Daemon's was on the next crescent moon. I paid her a hefty amount to convince her not to extend Daemon's curse.

Needless to say, Daemon was furious by how things ended.

That morning, I was met with a myriad of complaints and a wholehearted unwillingness from her-- from him, from my husband to comply with my plans to hide his identity. He didn't want to keep up appearances as a handmaiden and demanded to wear one of my dresses instead. The fool made me think of a way to make his idea plausible. I figured if we darkened his hair, I could pretend he-- she, gods, this was confusing, was a distant relative coming to visit.

For the most part it worked, no one questioned me about it, not even Ser Harwin, who was surely incredibly suspicious about Demi. But I knew him to be good at keeping secrets, which was why I always liked him. That, and well, he was rather strong. Daemon did not like that additional explanation when he asked why I trusted Harwin.

I knew the unquestioning nature most people had stemmed over the fact my word as princess could nary be questioned, but of course, there would be some that still questioned. And by some, I meant the Lord Hand, who would not let the sudden appearance of a distant relative of mine be left unnoted.

"Princess," Otto Hightower greets me as we cross each other's paths in the halls. I mask my annoyance over the encounter with a smile.

Daemon, who was standing beside me, squares up. I do my best to keep Otto's attention on me as I greet him back, but he rather instantly turns to Daemon, eyeing his dress, his dyed black hair, and his piercing violet eyes with far too much interest. Otto rakes my husband's form then nods, "my lady."

I hold back a face.

Daemon does not; his lips curl in disgust, "Hightower."

I shoot a glare at the woman. Daemon continues to try to burn Otto with his glare.

Otto looks at Daemon, top to bottom, with a raised brow, "I've not met many women of your stature. You are nearly as tall as I."

"I'm sure you've not met a lot of women in your lifetime."

"Daem-"I hiss but manage to stop myself. I turn to Otto, "pardon my cousin. She is not from here, and has learned to protect herself using her sharp-tongue."

Otto turns to me, "your cousin seems to be unaccustomed to the graces of King's Landing."

Daemon crosses his arms and sniggers. I cannot help but smack and eye him dirtily. Otto watches this closely. My husband turns to me, then back to Otto, "ah, yes. King's Landing is so unfamiliar to me. I fear I would get lost on my own."

Otto cannot help but rest his eyes on Daemon's chest, the exposed, soft flesh pushing up with how his arms were crossed. Daemon's face twitches when he notices it, then immediately unclasps his arms. He feels anger and embarrassment burn up his ears at the blatant ogling. Had the gaze been directed to his wife, he would have struck him, and yet the scrutiny on his she-body left him debilitated.

"The Keep is not that hard to navigate," Otto mutters, "if you ever lose your way, I am sure you will find many willing to help a lady such as yourself."

Daemon's insides burn, so he spits out the fire, "and would you ever help me, my lord?"

The level of disgust Daemon feels when he catches the subtle curve of Otto's lips is insurmountable. Lord Hand nods, "if you insist."

I cannot shake the chill that runs up my spine. I play it off by chuckling, "most generous of you, my lord. But I assure you, it will not come to that. I will not let my darling cousin out of my sight."

Otto turns to me, "a pity," he turns back to Daemon, "what was your name again?"

Daemon curses roughly in High Valyrian. It makes my heart leap into my mouth and I scramble to say, "Demi! Demi!"

"Demi," Otto tests the name on his tongue, "an uncommon name for an uncommon girl."

Daemon's eye twitches, "girl?"

"She is not from here!" I quip.

"As you've said once before, princess," Otto steps forward, "where are you from, Lady Demi?"

"Se trūmāje ripo hen nopāzma," Daemon steps forward. The deepest pit of hell.

I grab his arm, pulling him back. Unlike in his natural form, it was slightly easier to handle Daemon like this. He topples backward.

Otto tilts his head, "that's quite a name for a place. I've not heard it before."

My husband laughs, "trust me, my Lord-"

Otto and I are shocked at how Demi pats Otto's cheeks twice.

"-you'll find yourself going there soon enough."

I yank Daemon back again. Otto is stunned still in his spot. I quickly bid farewell to the Hand and reel us both out of that horrid conversation. I violently pinch the stupid woman beside me as we scurry down the halls.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x modern!reader #hotd au #daemon crackfic #harwin fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #fem!daemon

[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

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

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

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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#thg au #jacaerys fic #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys targaryen #the hunger games #jace velaryon #prince jacaerys #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #the hunger games au #jacaerys velaryon x you #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd au #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #larys strong #hotd #thg

[azperja]

Modern! aemond because I cant get enough of him 🤲🏻

#artists on tumblr #aemond art #aemond fanart #aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #hotd #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #rkgk #digital painting #modern aemond #modern!aemond #modern aemond targaryen #modern hotd #hotd au #hotd fanart #hotd modern au #modern!aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #digital art #digital illustration #digital aritst #digital doodle #azperja art

[fairysluna]

drabble #5

All those little times you said that I'm your girl, you make me feel like your whole world.

Pairing: Maegor I Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

TW: smut (dacryphilia, m!oral sex, p in v, creampie, size kink), basically porn without plot lmao, reader being maegor's favorite wife bc im projecting here, is a bit long. if something is missing pls let me know!!

Tag List: @borikenlove @jvpit3rs @silverwinged @babyosferth @ilikeitbetterangsty

MASTERLIST

Your eyes were glistening with tears as you stared up to the man in front of you. Your gags were echoing in the room, being followed by the grunts and praises from your beloved husband, whose cock was fucking your mouth.

His big hands were grasping the sides of your wet face as your hands were looking for support in his thick thighs, his hips moving slowly but deep enough so you would feel him in the back of your throat. You were looking at his body as if he was some kind of god, someone who deserves your entire devotion and love, and you had no trouble in providing him those things. Your knees were sore and already bruised, Maegor looked down at your state and the devilish grin on his face almost made you cum untouched.

"So fucking pretty," he moaned, thrusting inside your mouth, "you look- fuck. You look so fucking beautiful with my big cock in that tiny little mouth of yours…"

You whimpered in response, so reactive to his praise, so sensitive to his raspy voice. He would always say things like that; that you were his favorite one to fuck; your cunt was tightest and most pretty of them all, that his other wives stood no chance against you because you were simply better at pleasing him. His words would always put a smug smile on your face whenever you're around the other wives… or whenever he fucked you in front of the other wives.

Suddenly he pulled away, and you gasped after feeling your mouth empty, already missing his taste. He forced you to stand up by pulling you towards him, manhandling you with such easiness that it made you seem as if you were lighter than a feather. He was so fucking strong, so huge.

His mouth covered yours in a messy kiss where his tongue licked your own, biting your lips and making you even more needy than you already were. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands squeezing your arse as his fingertips slightly brushed against your drenching folds, and your swollen clit rubbing against his abdomen. You moaned against his lips as soon as you started to hump him, eager to feel some friction that might provide you with the much needed pleasure.

You heard Maegor's laugh, so low, so deep. A sigh escaped you when it reached your ears.

"Look at you, my little girl, so desperate for me," he growled, creating a trail of wet kisses towards your neck, which was already filled with violet and reddish bruises from the prior nights, "you sucked my cock so well that I might give you a reward… what do you think?"

"Yes," you answered breathlessly, feeling his fingers wandering between your tight holes, "yes, please, I've been so good…"

"Mhm… so good. My good pretty girl," he looks at your eyes, and a smile crossed his face as his thumb collected your tears, wiping them to then put it in your mouth, "have I told you how pretty you are when you cry? Your face almost as wet as your cunt."

"Maegor…" You purred his name before he pressed his thumb in your tongue.

"Sh…" he whispered, "I'm going to fuck you right now, and I won't stop until I see more of these tears on your face, is that good?"

"Yes, please," you gasped.

He takes you to the bed, dropping you carelessly into the mattress and you quickly bent your knees, giving him a good sight of your glistening pussy; clenching around nothing and begging to be filled. Maegor hummed with delight at the view, getting closer to you, stroking his cock slowly as he let out a shaky breath. His mischievous grin never left his face.

"Such a tiny little hole you have, love," he murmurs as he starts rubbing his red and leaking tip on your swollen pearl, covering your folds with his precum. Your hips twitched at the action, "are you sure you can take my cock, sweetling?"

"Y-yes…" you whined, moving your hips involuntarily, trying to create more friction, "Gods, please, I need it."

"You need it?" he repeats mockingly, still teasing you, burying his tip in your dripping hole and then pulling out. His actions had you purring like a cat, squirming under his intoxicating touch.

"Please, please, please," you cried out, already mumbling nonsense, "fuck, please!"

"What is it, darling?" he questioned, you saw that damn devilish smile which only made you desire him more. "Tell me what you need."

You tried to speak, but you yelped once you felt his hardened cock slapping your sensitive bud, over and over again. A gasp left you as you closed your eyes, your chest moving rapidly as your hips twitched.

"I can't hear you…" he said, and you sighed.

"You!" a mumble came out of your mouth, growing desperate, your pussy throbbed with expectation, "I- I need you… I need you so much. Gods! Please, please, please!"

Maegor saw the tears starting to stream down your face once again, and a wide smirk appeared on his lips almost instantly.

"Mhm…" he purred, "there it is."

His fat head spreaded your walls in one single movement, your eyes widened as your mouth dropped open, gasping for the air that he just stole from your lungs. Your nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, holding them pressed against your body to keep you open for your husband.

"Oh, Gods!" You moaned, "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're taking my cock like a good girl," he chuckles, "look at that pussy, so fucking delicious."

He started to move, slowly at first going in and out at a tortuous pace that made you whimper and mewl. You could feel every vein, every small twitch. The obscene sound of your juices coating his cock reached your ears, making you blush; it embarrassed you the fact that you were already soaking.

His hand grabbed one of your breasts as the other remained on your hip, using it for stability to start speeding up his thrusts; action that made you roll your eyes and moan freely, not worrying about someone hearing you.

Your eyes were able to see the godly shape of the man between your legs. He was staring down at your greedy cunt swallowing his cock, almost drooling to the sight of it; almost coming once he noticed the creamy ring around his thick shaft.

"Oh fuck, my girl," he said in a sight, "I'm gonna fill this fucking pussy until it's leaking."

He grabbed your legs, pushing them further against your chest, and then he leaned, pressing his body against yours, starting to move again. Harder, faster, almost making you lose your mind. The slapping sound of his body smacking against yours was getting louder than your cries, his heavy balls slapping against your arse, adding another stimuli to your already sensitive body.

"F-fuck! Oh, Gods, yes…" you whimpered with a choked voice. His cock reaching deeper inside of you, touching that sweet spot that made you drool, whine and moan a bit too loud.

Your walls started to flutter around him, and he knew you were getting close. Your abused cunt was starting to try to push him out at the overstimulation, and Maegor grunted, slapping your thigh as he thrust harder.

"Don't," he muttered, "don't fucking push me out," he leaned closer to your face until his nose brushed against yours. "I know you're close, cum on your King's cock and I'll fill you up."

"Maegor…" you whispered, "Oh, fuck, I'm going- Gods! Please!"

"Is your pretty little pussy gonna make a mess on my cock, huh? Are you gonna milk me like the good little girl you are?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, fuck!"

"Go on then, show me why you're my favorite…"

His thumb reached your clit, rubbing circles in it with the pressure enough to bring your orgasm. It was messy; your walls tightening around him and forcing him to stop moving. He let a hoarse grunt escape from his lips as his whole face contracts with pleasure. His seed being freed deep inside of you, his face buried on your neck as your body shook under him.

"Take it," he sighed, "show me how good my pretty girl is and take it all."

"Thank you," you cried out, still feeling the overwhelming ecstasy of your release, "thank you, my king."

He attacks your lips once again, clicking his tongue against yours as he moves his hips softly, emptying himself in you, struggling a bit since you were still squeezing him tight. Your hands touched his sweaty chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and making you clench around him once more before he pulled out.

You whimpered at the feeling of being empty again, and you felt Maegor's hands fondling the soft skin of your arse. Soon his thumbs started to tease your entrance, caressing your puffy lips, spreading them apart to watch his seed leaking from your tiny hole.

"Such a pretty girl I have…" he purrs, hypnotized by the sight as you sobbed, "my beautiful, beautiful girl."

A moan escaped you thanks to the praise, and another amount of his cum leaked out of you. Maegor smirked mischievously, while the pride grew inside your chest and your cheeks flushed furiously.

You always felt the happiest this way; his eyes on you, your breathing unsteady, your cunt filled, and his sweet praise reaching your ears.

#drabbles #maegor targaryen smut #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor the cruel #maegor x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x y/n #maegor targaryen x you #maegor targaryen fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd au #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd x y/n #hotd x you

[sapphire-writes]

ceilings ~ modern!Aegon x Reader

summary: You and Aegon are friends, but there's always been something between you. This summer, it all comes to a breaking point.

warnings: 18+ (smut, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, kissing, semi-drunk s*x), drinking, partying, angst

word count: 4.8k

note: hi. uh oh. modern Egg angst. I hope you enjoy ❤️

masterlist

In a different world, you and Aegon Targaryen probably wouldn’t have been friends. You were different. He was reckless and careless; you were cautious and calculated. 

If it weren’t for a minor run-in with the law, your paths wouldn’t have crossed at all. Lucky for him, the Targaryen family has a lot of connections. So when Aegon, at the ripe age of 16 decided to rob a liquor store, he was issued a slap on the wrist and community service. 

Which led him straight to you.

Working with you, to be more specific. You had needed a summer job for some much-needed extra cash, and Aegon needed someone to sign off on his community service hours. 

All the staff were your age, and you’d quickly bonded with everyone. Rhaena became one of your closest friends, along with Aegon. You’re not sure how exactly you became friends; most likely he told some tasteless joke you’d scolded him for which in return caused him to say something even raunchier just so you’d keep paying attention to him. 

Aegon Targaryen was nothing if not a negative attention seeker. You’d fallen into that dynamic rather quickly, Aegon poking you, you poking back. It was gentle, playful even. 

In the middle of that summer, after a drunken night at Danny Greyjoys, you’d received a text from Aegon long after the party ended. You’d introduced him to your friend Sara who you brought along, and he’d appeared to hit it off with her. 

Give me Sara’s number, he’d sent, she’s super cute.

You’d rolled your eyes, watching more bubbles appear on the screen.

But also I’ve kind of been in love with you since the beginning of the summer, he wrote. 

Your heart stopped. The bubbles came back—then disappeared. Then came back.

He didn’t send anything else. 

You never talked about it.

In fact, you and Aegon moved on like he’d never sent it. 

It was always hard to say goodbye to him at the end of the summer. While Rhaena and Sara joined you at the local high school, Aegon joined his siblings across the country at Dragonstone Academy. 

But even after Aegon completed his community service, he kept coming back each summer. It wasn’t like he needed the money, his family was well off. He just liked the job, liked the company of his friends. 

Liked you.

You’d dated a few coworkers on and off throughout the years. Cregan Stark, Will Tyrell. But Aegon you’d always seen as a friend. At least that’s what you told yourself. 

Even when you’d accepted your college placements; Aegon at Citadel University, you at Winterfell State, you’d always return to King’s Landing in the summer months. 

You’d always come back to each other. 

Always teetering the line between friends and something else. Holding hands, cuddling, laughing, and joking, but nothing further. 

Just friends. 

Then, months into your junior year of college, Aegon’s dad died. You’d known he was sick for a while, a horrible slow deteriorating sort of death. But it still felt sudden. Like, the family had known he was going to die for so long, they almost forgot. 

He’d been different this summer. More distant. Drinking more. You knew he was grieving still, even if the relationship with his father was strained. Relationships are complicated. And that was still his dad. 

You’d sat in his car one night after work, just talking. He’d been tapping on the steering wheel with one hand, the other near his mouth as he worried the skin around his thumb with his teeth. A nervous habit. 

“You know, you and Hel are the only ones I can talk to,” he’d admitted, referring to you and his sister, “No one else…no one else really understands.”

You’d taken his hand in yours, sitting in comfortable silence as the engine purred and the sky grew darker. 

“I love you, Egg,” you’d told him, as you always did. 

“I love you too,” he said back, the words falling easily from his lips. 

Aegon was due to head back to Citadel University early the following week as summer came to its inevitable end. You’d all be parting ways soon enough, heading back to your college campuses for your final year of school. It was this fact that led Danny Greyjoy to insist on going out for drinks after work. A little hole-in-the-wall pub with darts and pool tables.

“We can go back to mine later,” Aegon had insisted, as you’d ordered another round of drinks, “Mum’s out of town on business.”

“Won’t Aemond mind?” Danny asked.

“He’s visiting his girlfriend,” Aegon insisted, “C’mon let’s get fucked up! Summer’s almost over.”

Danny agreed, shrugging and finishing his drink. Aegon had always been a bit of a party boy, but since the death of his father, you’d noticed an uptick in his recreational substance use. Alcohol; sometimes something harder. He’d shown up to work a few times violently hungover, or perhaps still intoxicated. You really couldn’t tell. 

You worried about him. 

You head to the bathroom to freshen up, fixing your mascara in the mirror when the bathroom door swings open and Aegon pushes inside. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face as he digs in his pocket, pressing his back against the door. You narrow your eyes, attempting to move past him but he blocks your path. 

“Stop it you weirdo,” you joke, laughing at his antics.

“Take this with me, c’mon,” Aegon teases, revealing two nips from his pocket.

“I fucking hate Mcgillicuddy,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at the clear bottle with its bright green label.

“Pussy,” he goads, smiling showing all his perfect teeth. 

Your heart skips a beat, as usual, and you snatch the bottle from him. You narrow your eyes as you crack the seal, before holding it between your teeth as you tilt your head back. The menthol-flavored liquor burns a path down your throat and a feeling of warmth blooms in your chest. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, taking his own and mimicking your movement. 

You cough slightly, watching his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. He discards the empty bottle, reaching for yours. 

“You’re coming to the after-party, right?” he asks, his Cheshire grin still on his face. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “It’s one of my last nights, I’ve barely spent any time with you.”

You smile slightly. Not a complete lie. Aegon spent the better half of the summer chasing Aliandra Martell like a lost puppy. They had a brief, passionate affair that fizzled out rather quickly as she returned to Sunspear the previous week. 

“And who’s fault is that?” you tease, “If you weren’t so preoccupied….”

Aegon lurches forward, grappling at your waist, tickling your side. You squeal, pulling yourself away from his grabbing hands, cheeks burning.  

“Fuck off,” he interrupts, looking at you with more intensity in his violet eyes, “Please come.”

Something in the air crackles between you. A new wave of energy.

“Alright,” you tell him, “For a little bit.”

“You bitch!” Rhaena screams, trampling you in a hug as you arrive at Aegon’s. 

She’s already had a few drinks; dirty Shirley Temples most likely. Rhaena has one hell of a sweet tooth. She smiles, her lips slightly tinged red from the grenadine. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, I thought you wanted to sleep,” she says, only slurring a few words. 

You hold onto her, giggling at her carefree state. Rhaena is usually so poised and collected. 

“Egg made me,” you tell her, “Where is the bastard?”

“Living room!” Rhaena giggles, “You look so cute!”

You glance down at your jeans shorts and the small black top you’d chosen. Going out top, Sara calls it. You’d gone home to change before heading over to the Targaryen-Hightower mansion. 

“Thanks, Rhae,” you tell her, as she places a sticky kiss on your cheek. 

Moving past some people, primarily acquaintances and other coworkers, you make your way into the living room. The music is blasting, people lounging on the couches and sitting on the floor playing some sort of drinking game. A table has been set up, and you spot Jace and Cregan engaged in a game of beer pong. Multicolored lights flash around the room bathing everyone in a kaleidoscope of colors. 

Aegon sits on the couch furthest across the room between two girls; a blonde and a brunette you don’t recognize. They’re curled into him, laughing at something he says. His eyes meet yours from across the room, lighting up as he recognizes you. You walk over, shaking your head at him. So broken up over Aliandra, it seems. You laugh, rolling your eyes before standing in front of him as he reaches for your hand.

He calls your name over the music as his fingers lace through yours. His eyes are red, you’d assumed he’d been drinking more since leaving the bar from the incoherence of his texts to you. Aegon was quite impatient as you went home to change, your phone dinging continuously from his texts. 

“You started without me?” you tease, and he tugs on your arm, pulling you closer. 

Aegon leans forward, pushing his back off of the couch. Your eyebrows cinch together as he pulls you closer, face nearing your own. Heart racing, realizing what is about to happen as your faces come closer; So close you’re able to count each of his silver lashes framing those violet eyes. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” you blurt out, seconds before he does. 

Aegon’s lips are soft and warm, his tongue parts your lips before dipping inside of your mouth. He tastes like vodka, like summer, like…

You pull away, and he lets go of your hand, falling back onto the couch, looking up at you through hooded eyes. The blonde next to him continues talking, as though nothing had happened. Aegon turns to her, smiling and continuing their conversation. 

You’re not breathing; he stole the air from your lungs. You turn on your heel, heading straight to the kitchen. A bottle of tequila is the first thing you see among other various bottles and cups on the counter. You grab the bottle, taking a long swig, not caring who’d drunk from it before you. Your heart is beating erratically against your ribs. 

Aegon just kissed you.

Aegon.

You take another swig before placing it on the counter. 

Holy shit. 

It’s the strangest feeling; like something that was meant to happen finally did. You’re stunned, standing stuck as Aegon enters the kitchen, moving by you and filling his cup with water from the sink. You march over to him as he turns on the faucet.

“Aegon,” you say to him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes,” he says, glancing at you, turning off the faucet.

“You just kissed me,” you tell him.

“Mhmm,” he agrees, placing his cup on the counter, fingers curling along the edge of the sink. He stares forward like he’s contemplating something. How is he not freaking out as much as you are?

“You just kissed….me,” you repeat, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning forward and kissing you again. 

His hand finds your waist, the other cradling your jaw as he deepens the kiss. You kiss him back this time, arching against him, tangling your fingers in his short silver hair. His tongue pushes past your lips and you sigh as it enters your mouth. 

This is Aegon. You’re kissing Aegon. Yet you don’t really want to stop, not when his lips feel so soft and warm molded against your own, his palm moving to your lower back and then over the swell of your ass. 

Then someone enters the kitchen and you pull away from each other quickly, as though someone physically pulled you both apart. It’s Sara and Cregan laughing about something. Cregan spots Aegon and clasps him on the shoulder before pulling him back toward the living room demanding he be his partner in beer pong. 

Sara notices your flushed face and blissed-out, shocked expression. You reach for the tequila bottle again, taking another swig letting it burn trying to get the taste of Aegon out of your mouth. Her eyes narrow suspiciously as she comes closer. 

“Whoa there,” Sara says, holding out her red solo cup, “You okay kid?”

Swallowing the mouthful of tequila you stick your tongue out at your friend.

“Aegon just kissed me.”

“Wait….what?” Sara asks, eyes wide. 

You place the bottle on the counter and remove Sara’s cup before taking both her hands in yours. 

“Aegon. Aegon just kissed me,” you repeat, staring deeply into her eyes. 

“Okay….well,” Sara shuffles from one foot to the other and you frown.

“Well, what?”

“Did you like it?”

Fuck.

“Like it? Sara, he’s like one of my best friends here,” you tell her through a forced chuckle. 

“Oh c’mon. You and Egg have had this tension for years. Like yeah, you’re friends but…friends don’t look at friends the way Aegon looks at you,” she says while reaching for her cup and taking a sip.

Your heart pounds as you think about it. All these years, the harmless flirting. The love confession. That weird feeling in the pit of your stomach every time he was with Ali. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell her, shaking your head. 

“Liar,” she calls you out, “And don’t think I don’t see how you look at him. The whole Ali thing this summer?”

“What?!”

“Girl, you were jealous,” she says, exasperated, “Jealous of her being with Egg.”

Okay, so maybe you had been a little jealous. 

“I mean…I don’t know,” you admit.

“Do not tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Sara tells you, “The boy’s been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“Okay stop,” you tell her, face warming, “I don’t…I don’t know what to do…he’s going through it right now and he’s leaving soon. I just…I don’t think it’s the right time.”

Sara scrunches her nose, making a face. 

“Looks like Egg thinks it is,” she challenges.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth, unable to rid yourself of the feeling of his kiss. 

“Look, whatever happens,” Sara says, reaching out to touch your arm, “I think you should go for it. If that’s what you want.”

That’s always the question, isn’t it? 

What do you want?

There are no more surprise kisses as the night goes on. You play games, drink cheap liquor to get a little buzzed and laugh with your friends. You catch his eye briefly from across the room but nothing more. Helaena arrives at one point with her girlfriend Cerelle, blissfully stoned out of her mind and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek in greeting. 

People filter in and out as the night wears on. Rhaena is in no condition to drive home, and you hate driving home this late. You, Sara, Rhaena, and Cregan all decide to spend the night, fighting over which couch everyone will sleep on. Rhaena curls up on one with Sara, their legs intertwined. 

Cregan mumbles something about taking the floor, offering you the other. 

“Are you sure?” you ask and he nods, scratching the back of his neck, “You’re a gem.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, finding a spot on the floor.

You giggle softly, heading to the kitchen for more water. You hate hangovers and paced yourself rather well this evening, making sure to drink plenty of water between drinks. Your buzz is already fading as you fill your cup. 

You take a big sip, draining it halfway before filling it to the top again. You know you’ll be desperate for water in the morning and want to keep a full glass beside you. Plus, if Rhaena wakes up needing some you can offer her your cup. You shut the faucet, turning around and meeting the eyes of Aegon. Your heart skips a beat. You’d thought he’d gone to bed. 

“Hey,” you tell him, placing your cup on the counter, “Listen…Egg….”

He moves towards you, hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for a heated kiss. You kiss him back and it’s different this time. He tastes like water this time around, his movements less sloppy, more controlled. 

He’s sobered up, you realize as he moans against your mouth. 

Everyone’s gone home. Everyone’s asleep. It’s just you and him. 

He backs up, taking you with him, and dragging you down the hall. His hand laces through yours as he guides you into the hallway and into a room. His room.

The door shuts behind you and you keep kissing him, keep fisting the front of his shirt as he backs up knees hitting the bed and sitting down. 

You straddle his lap easily, as though you’d done it several times before. His hands move to your waist before dropping lower to palm your ass. You roll your hips against him as he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh. 

Your hands loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. This is Aegon. You’re kissing Aegon. Reluctantly, you pull away from his greedy mouth as his hands fall to your jean shorts, unbuttoning them and pulling down your fly.

“Are you sure?” you breathe, nose pressed against his cheek. 

Aegon’s breathing is shallow, one hand still firmly on your ass as he kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“I’ve wanted this since forever,” he admits, sending butterflies fluttering in your belly. 

He waits, not moving his hand; not going any further but also not taking any steps back.

“Me too,” you whisper and he presses his lips to yours once more. 

The kiss is hungry, stoking a fire of need deep in your belly. Aegon’s hand brushes against your lower stomach and the muscles of your abdomen contract as he breaches the band of your underwear. Fingers dipping lower, he circles your clit already wet and sensitive from your heavy makeout.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you manage to squeak as Aegon sinks two fingers into your wet heat, curling them inside you.

He moves his fingers in and out at a torturously slow pace, the heel of his palm grazing against your clit with every thrust. 

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he comments, kissing you once more as you grind down against his hand. 

A whine slips past your lips as his lips move to caress your jaw, before kissing a hot trail down your neck. You can feel his smile against you as he speaks, “Shhh don’t wanna wake anyone, do we?”

He’s cruel with his comment, the pads of his fingers rubbing perfectly against your sweet spot sending sparks of pleasure down your legs all the way to your toes. Your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers causing him to chuckle.

“That feel good?” he asks, kissing right below your ear.

“Yes, feels s’good,” you mumble, fisting his hair harshly. Aegon groans as you ride his fingers, chasing the release building in your abdomen. 

Each curl of his fingers stokes a fire in your belly, and soon you’re trembling on top of him, falling apart as he silences your desperate cries with a kiss. Gently removing his fingers from your slick entrance he flips you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He pulls your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion, tossing them to a corner of the room.

“D’you have a condom?” you ask breathlessly as you yank your tank top over your head. You unclasp your bra as Aegon removes his shirt, his violet eyes hungrily eying your freed breasts. 

You rest back on your elbows as he watches you. “Egg?”

His eyes snap back up to yours before he grips underneath your thighs pulling you toward him, “Sorry, yes, fuck,” he says, kissing your inner thigh, “Have to taste you first, please.”

Your face is on fire but you nod at his pleading as he buries his face in between your thighs. Aegon licks a thick stripe up your drenched slit, swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. You throw your head back against the pillow as he continues to feast on you, alternating between dipping his tongue in your entrance and suckling on your clit. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, “So fucking good Egg shit--” 

He moans against you, fingers digging into your thighs and soon your legs are shaking around his head, trapping him between your thighs as you come with a muffled cry. Aegon crawls back on top of you, kissing you fervently, the taste of you fresh on his tongue. You scratch down his back, pull him as close as you can to you. 

“Condom,” you gasp, feeling the hardness between his legs pressing as you through his jeans, “I need you--”

“Right here,” he says, leaning to his nightstand. He yanks the drawer open so hard, it crashes to the floor with a thud. You both freeze before descending into giggles.

“Shhh,” he cautions and you cover your mouth as your laughter continues, “Seven hells--” he reaches to the floor retrieving a condom. 

“Stop it,” he says with a smile, removing your hand to kiss you again.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, trying to hold in your laughter. 

Aegon slips his jeans down, followed quickly by his boxers freeing his long, hard cock. The tip is flushed pink, weeping precum as he lazily strokes himself. You wet your lips as he tears open the condom wrapper, rolling it down his generous length. Once he’s done, you’re quick to pull him back into a kiss, feeling his heavy cock slap against your inner thigh. 

“You’re sure?” you ask again, and Aegon nods.

“I’m sure,” he confirms, “Fuck, are…are you?”

“Yes,” you tell him, reaching to guide him toward your aching center, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He sinks inside your tight, waiting pussy and you gasp at the way he stretches you out. You’re so tight around him, it’s nearly painful for a moment as you adjust to his girth. 

“Fuck,” you hiss as he bottoms out, “Seven….”

“You okay?” he mumbles, placing a wet kiss on your neck.

“I’m good,” you confirm, fire blazing in your belly as he rolls his hips against you, stealing the breath from your lungs, “Gods…”

Aegon keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, you can feel his hot breath against your skin in between the kisses and love bites he adorns you with. Every rock of his hips winds the coil in your gut tighter and tighter until you feel as though you’re a bowstring about to snap. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he murmurs, “Want you to come again, baby, c’mon.”

Nails digging into his shoulders you’re thrown over the edge, the coil in your gut snapping as white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your pussy clenches, milking his cock for all its worth as you feel him twitch inside of you; Aegon moans as he reaches his own release. 

You hold onto him for a moment, letting yourself bask in the pleasure he’s given you, feeling the weight of him resting on top of you, his softening cock still buried within you. Slowly, the tingling sensation of your orgasm begins to ebb, the sheen of sweat that coats your body causes you to shiver as you grow cold. Aegon rolls off of you, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He runs a hand through his hair, back still facing you. 

You sit up, watching him, suddenly feeling very exposed in your naked state. Aegon removes the condom, ties it, and throws it in the trash can beside his bed. Then he reaches for a pair of shorts. Heat blooms in your cheeks as you rise, searching for your clothes. 

Aegon doesn’t say anything, just watches you out of the corner of his eye. You grab your bra and shirt first, throwing them back on. Panic rises in your throat suddenly at what’s just happened. 

Oh gods.

You’ve ruined everything, haven’t you?

Why isn’t he saying anything? Aegon stands, running a hand through his hair.

“We’re okay, right?” you nervously ask as you slip your shorts and underwear back on, “This won’t change anything, right?”

You can’t read his expression. He gives you a wry grin before nodding. 

“Course not,” he says, grabbing your hand, “C’mere.”

He pulls you gently toward the bed. You curl up next to him, his arm underneath your head. He falls asleep first, you can hear his gentle snoring in your ear. You can’t sleep. You just stare up at the ceiling counting each inhale and exhale. 

“Aegon?” you whisper, turning your head.

He doesn’t answer, still lost in sleep, and you’re left staring at the ceiling once more. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Sara says the following morning. 

You’d gone with Rhaena and Sara for breakfast, leaving the others behind. You had gotten up, returning to the living room before everyone else woke up. Cregan was the only one awake, eyes narrowing as you lay on the couch. 

“Could’ve slept there,” he’d mumbled, before rolling over. 

Rhaena is slumped over her eggs, rubbing her temples as Sara excitedly shouts as you reveal what happened. 

“I’m serious,” you tell them.

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah, it was good,” you confirm.

“What does this mean?” Rhaena asks with a groan, “Fuck I think I’m gonna be sick..”

“I mean, I think I need to talk to him,” you admit, “About…this.”

“Well, I have to go back to the house anyway to pick up Cregan,” Sara says, lacing her fingers together, “Come with and you can talk to him.”

Nervous anticipation pools in your belly.

“Okay,” you tell her.

After dropping Rhaena at home, you and Sara head back to the Targaryen mansion. It’s quiet when you arrive, walking in the door like you both live there. Helaena and Cerelle are curled up on the couch watching a movie. 

“My brother still here?” Sara asks and Helaena raises her head from Cerelle’s lap.

“Mhmm, they’re in the pool,” she confirms, “Aegon tried to host a darty, not many people showed up yet though.”

“Of course he did,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Sara nods to you and you follow her to the back door. The Targaryen backyard is a prime party zone, with its waterfall pool, large stone patio, and massive green yard. You spot Cregan right away, tossing a cursing Aly Blackwood into the pool. 

Your eyes scan over the dozen people before your heart drops into your stomach. Aegon’s in the pool as well, silver hair slicked back, a lopsided smile on his face. That’s not what makes your heart lurch, rather it's who is attached to him. 

Cassandra Baratheon clad in a deep blue string bikini straddles his waist, playing with the sunglasses on his head. She takes them off, putting them on her own face before Aegon lifts her up, setting her on the edge of the pool. She giggles, hands on his shoulders before giving the sunglasses back. Aegon squeezes her thighs, no doubt leaving indentations of his fingers on her porcelain skin. 

“Oh fuck,” Sara whispers, “Y/N…”

“What?” you ask, tearing your gaze away, “What? No…no it's fine… that's nothing. I’m good.”

Sara’s eyes are sad, “Honey…”

“Seriously, Sara, I’m good,” you insist, chest tight with emotion, “I’m just going to grab a water…”

“Give me five minutes,” Sara tells you, “Let me tell Cregan I’m taking you home.”

You give her a wordless nod as she moves toward her brother. You walk past the pool over to a cooler, grabbing water. The sun suddenly feels uncomfortably warm, a dull throbbing beginning behind your eyes. 

Someone comes up next to you, reaching into the cooler. Aegon shakes his head, droplets of water flying this way and that. You stare at him, watching as he grabs a can of beer. He glances at you after cracking the can and taking a long sip. 

“What?” he says. It’s friendly but different. There’s a new edge underneath the question.

Nothing will change, right?

Your throat tightens and you can feel tears prickling behind your eyes. Aegon just stares back, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Nothing,” you tell him, “I was just leaving.”

“You should stay for the party,” he suggests casually. 

You gaze at him, searching his violet eyes for anything, anything at all. 

“I’m tired,” you admit, “I’ll see you later.”

Aegon watches you leave, Sara wrapping her arm around your shoulders. There’s a moment of pause as the door closes behind you, and then Aegon finishes his drink and returns to the pool.

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[daemontargaryenwhore]

“do something else” and he did alcoholism

(Aegon version)

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[huramuna]

even in undeath - chapter 1.

lich king aemond x reader a 'world of warcraft' AU. prev | next

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge. Consisting of thousands of walking corpses, disembodied spirits, beasts of the north, and damned mortal men, the Scourge is a terrifying and insidious enemy.

word count: 2.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, DUBCON, smut, heavy heavy angst, graphic depictions of violence, allusions to cannibalism, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, suicidal thoughts and ideation, mutilation of corpses, obsessive aemond, dark aemond, a happy ending is not in our future. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS! This story will be pretty dark.

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It was dark and cold. There was a faint dripping of water somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t quite see where. The echoes of whimpers ricocheted off of the craggy walls, stinging your eardrums. 

This was the descent into madness, wasn’t it?

You weren’t sure how long you’d been chained up for— how long had it been since your village burned to the ground? Since you watched the ghouls rip apart the cow farmer from down the road. Since you watched hellhounds crunching on little Mary Jay’s bones. Since you had watched your mother and stepfather plead and beg for their lives, for forgiveness, for mercy, for absolution of their supposed sins before the death knight’s sword lopped their heads off. 

How long has it been? 

Shifting slightly, the chain tied to your throat clinked against the wall. There was no light, no passage of time to be had in the dank, pitch black cave they stowed you and a few select others in. You only had on a ragged potato sack as a dress, the sensation of dirt and grime caked on your hair and under your nails making you feel less than human. 

But— you were still human. For now. The Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms without mercy, swiping through the North and South like a fast traveling plague, curdling and damning everything it touched. Hordes of undead zombies, ghouls and hellhounds were the first to raze the cities, driving out the people like mice from the walls. Then the banshees came, along with the necromancers to raise the dead, adding them to a forever amounting army.

Not even Quel’thalas had been able to resist it, an ancient elven city hewn in magic.

What chance did you have? 

More than most, evidently. Your mind wrought itself over and over as to why— why were you alive? Why were you still human and not merely a risen thrall? 

The clinking of armor scared you as it ascended the hallway. You pressed close to the wall and closed your eyes. 

Please don’t stop here, please don’t stop here. 

Clink, clink, clink… closer… closer… 

Then it passed, descending further away. You let out a breath, your blood still pumping in your ears. 

Clink, clink, clink. They were coming back. Clink… silence. You felt bile rise in your throat as you shook, the chains rattling noisily. You knew they were standing there, you knew they were here for you. 

A harsh tug upon your chain, your head hitting the floor— some words were mumbled, the voice sounding far away and broken. Your eardrums rang with the ferocity of your fall, drowning out any semblance of what your jailer was saying to you. Then, you were tugged upward, the cool metal of the collar biting into your skin as you were dragged like a petulant child away from your cell… 

You didn’t want to open your eyes. You couldn’t face the horror you knew was around you— corpses, living ones and dead, the clatter of bones, the heavy breathing of gargantuan abominations, bodies and faces of countless people stitched together into a new body, hewn with thread and necrotic magic until it gave way to something else entirely. Something unnatural, something made of nightmares. The dermis of those who were used to make the monsters would still twitch, reach out on its own, and if it had a mouth, it would be twisted into a scream. You swore that you heard them whispering as you were dragged by. 

The monstrosities were one of many abhorrent creatures at the Scourge’s disposal. Hellhounds, ghouls, gargoyles, wraiths, crypt lords, geists, banshees, and other things of horrific nature were only some of the power wielded by the Scourge. It felt like it was all pulled out of a child’s fairytale, changed and twisted and defiled into what it was now. 

It all felt like a very bad dream. 

Your eyes opened on their own and you took in the image of death knights, former paladins who served a higher power, the Light— now are nothing but undead heretics, glowing eyes and gaunt stares that bored through you. 

Some of the monsters chittered as you were dragged past them, leering and looking hungry. 

‘Scrawny that one. Perhaps she will suffice for hellhounds to pick their teeth.’

‘Speak for yourself, her skin will do beautifully on a new abomination.’ 

‘She won’t be knighted. Merely a maid’s bastard, I’ve heard.’

You forced your eyes to close once more, the sudden light stinging them. You forced yourself into another time, a better memory than what you were experiencing. 

They were right, you were a maid’s bastard. Your mother had served in the royal keep for years, with you under her feet. You didn’t know who your true father was, nor did you care.

You became attached to the second son of the King— Aemond Targaryen. He was a sprightly boy with near white hair and luminous violet eyes. The two of you were attached at the hip. 

Childhood friendship blossomed into more as you grew into teenagers and young adults— you shared your first kiss together, you held hands and shared sweet nothings. As he trained by day to become a paladin of the Light, he held you close by night, vowing to never let you go. You were both terribly in love and so terribly, terribly naive. He was your first in everything– your first friend, your first kiss, your first lover. You promised yourself that he would stay your first and only.

‘You can never marry a maid’s bastard, Aemond! You’re a prince of the realm-‘

‘I don’t care! I want her, father. I’ve always wanted her!’

Your mother quit her job at the castle— moreso, threatened into quitting by some of the King’s advisors. She was given a considerable amount of coin and told to take you far, far away and to not contact the prince again. 

Heartbroken, you left him your sapphire ring, the only thing of value you ever had, which had been passed down through your mother’s family for generations. 

It was left on his desk with a note of few words but much feeling. 

‘I love you. I’m sorry.’ 

That was over ten years ago. You hadn’t seen him since, but you missed him horribly. Especially now. You wondered if he was still alive, fighting against the Scourge like his knightly vows dictated. 

Maybe he was married and moved across the sea to Kalimdor where it was safer. 

Or maybe he was dead. Dead like almost everyone else you knew. 

You heard a rumor, fleeting and without much more information, that his father had died– no, that his father had been murdered. The fall of the king, Viserys, is what started the Scourge war. Did Aemond know, wherever he was? 

You imagined him holding his arms around you, kissing your neck and fanning his breath over your skin. He liked to encompass you completely with his body when you laid together— you never could emulate the feeling with heavy blankets and pillows, as much as you tried. Putting yourself back into that memory, you wrapped your arms around yourself, willing warmth into your body. 

But you didn’t feel any warmth. All you felt was cold, cold down to your bones. They felt brittle, like ice, splintering into shards as you were thrown on the floor again in a different room. Pain bloomed in your arm as it cracked at an awkward angle. Broken. 

Your ears rang again as your mouth opened into a scream, tears of pure anguish squeezing from your eyes. But you didn’t hear a thing besides the rush of blood dampening your senses— and the sickening crunch of your broken bones. 

‘What have you done to it, Lady Deathwhisper? It looks broken.’ 

‘It’s human bones are so brittle, it was merely a slip of the hand. I cannot help that their living constitution is so weak.’ 

‘His grace will not be pleased if it is broken beyond repair.’ 

‘Worry not, Lady Alys. Most things can be mended— and if not, it can always be raised.’ 

‘Physical defects aren’t the only issue. What of its mind?’

You feel an acute sensation over your skull, reaching into the depths of your cranium. Its cold, but not stinging— like a soft caress upon your brain as your mind is rifled through like a tome. You can feel your memories being perused, all of the most intimate moments of your life flashing in your head like playwright’s prose. The physicality of your mind being invaded wasn’t painful, but the act of your memories being ripped from you was damning. Tears fell down your face on their own, your mouth opened into a silent scream.

‘She is the one— I saw it. You are lucky that you did not break her mind completely, Lady Deathwhisper.’ 

‘As are you. You do not have a deft hand when it comes to memory perusal, Lady Alys. I am surprised that it still has a brain in its skull.’ 

‘Shut up and bring her to him. He will be pleased she is still alive. Barely.’ 

You felt yourself being moved again, still reeling from the invasion of your mind. You tried to put yourself back into the safe haven of memories, but they were… locked. Locked behind an iron door with no keyhole. They were lost to you. 

What were you trying to remember? 

Flashes of white hair and violet eyes flitted behind your eyelids, soft caresses and kisses, heavy breathing and love filled promises, the sensation of skin to skin… 

Your eyes opened, vision bleary. A helmed woman followed behind you, wings outstretched. You could see the glint of green eyes under her helm. Val’kyr. The woman behind you was a Val’kyr, a spirit guide who defected to the side of the Scourge. They could move between the realm of living and dead as simply as taking a breath. 

“The little human is awake,” she mused. “Your mind isn’t broken after all? I do see a glint of intelligence behind those eyes. Keep them on me, you shan’t wish to look upon Lady Deathwhisper.” 

You didn’t want to speak, words caught in your throat like food stuck in your craw. A val’kyr was basically an angel of death and talking to one must mean you are dead. 

You wish you were. 

The chains scraped against the floor, which was no longer stone like before, but rather, hardened ice. You were ascending upward, it seemed. The architecture of the building was nothing like you’d ever seen— dark metal was plated upon the walls, inscribed with glowing runes. The runes looked… familiar to you, somehow. But the memory that contained them was locked away, or mayhaps stolen by the Val’kyr, Alys. 

The temperature was cold, you were being lofted upon ice, of course, but you didn’t wholly feel it. You were partially numb, heat radiating from your broken arm. You knew you should be feeling pain— but you were just… numb. 

Your escorts stopped in front of two large doors, inscribed with the same glowing runes. Against Alys’ advice, you glanced at ‘Lady Deathwhisper’. She was skeletal, floating upon the ground with no legs to speak of. Her robes were purple fabric, molded around an incorporeal body. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand, the scratchy voice of hers coming out of a bone skull, but the mouth wasn’t moving, maw open as the words came out. 

You should have listened to Alys. 

The door opened with a rumble, opened by ancient magic, likely imbued by the runes, as they flickered and flitted above your head as it opened. The room beyond was open and bereft of almost anything, except for a throne. A throne forged of ice and swords. 

Someone was sitting upon it in a lazed position, one plated gloved finger tapping on the arm of the throne.

“We’ve brought her, your grace,” Lady Deathwhisper growled, shoving you forward. You skidded across the floor, which felt slick like grazing atop an ice-capped lake. “Alys confirmed it is her.”

The clinking of armor caught your attention, the sound of metal grazing against ice. It was irritating and made you grind your teeth. As whoever was on the throne got closer, the force was oppressive. Whimpers and tiny cries were ripped from you as they walked towards you, the aura exuding from them causing you to fall flat to the ground, feeling as if someone was sitting atop of your chest and not letting up.

The steel plated boot was in front of you now and your hair was grabbed rather harshly, pulling you up. 

Don’t look, don’t look. You cannot look.

“Look. At. Me.” the voice growled. It was quiet but commanding at the same time, rattling in your bones and making a home amongst the marrow. It felt familiar… so… 

You lifted your bloodshot eyes, not out of your own volition, but from the authority of the voice.

“Hello, little dove.” he mused.

It was him. It was… it… Aemond. You knew him so well, even with ten years gone. His chiseled jawline and chin and the dimple of the tip of his nose… 

But his eye was missing, a jagged scar bisecting it. In its place was a sapphire. The sapphire from your ring, grown into something to make home in the socket.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, your stomach flipped and flopped like a fish hoisted from the sea, sputtering for air. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t–

Your best friend, your lover, the one you vowed to never forget, to never forsake.

Aemond Targaryen. 

Aemond Targaryen was the Lich King. A defiler, a mass murderer, an unholy being in his own right.

“Now you won’t be able to leave again, will you?” Aemond murmured, his violet eye roving you. It was glowing slightly– his skin was a pale gray pallor, cheeks sunken slightly. He was undead.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, vision going black.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing #even in undeath #hotd au

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Jace is delulu, tiny!Aemond is kind of a jerk in this one, Dark Themes, shit is going down, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also, translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also, I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: I'M BACKKKKKK! I am so sorry for leaving this story alone for so long! I have been getting into other fandoms and making new stories because of those fandoms. But the two new trailers for HOTD season 2 brought me back! I swear I will be better at updating this story! But on the bright side, I made this chapter over 5k word length! I own only the plot and OCs of this story, please do not repost without my permission.

Despite living in the Red Keep for nearly your entire life, you still felt hopelessly lost as you walked down the corridors beside the prince. Like you and Aemond, the sight of you walking side by side with the heir of the Iron Throne’s firstborn son made for an unusual sight for the courtiers of the Royal Family. But this was not the case with the serving staff, which comprised smallfolk. Your mother was a favored companion by Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. Despite coming from such humble beginnings, Doreah of Essos became a highly regarded member of the serving staff belonging to the House of Targaryen. All the maids respected your mother, while most stewards who served under knights idolized your father. And as your mother’s daughter, they were very used to the vision of one of their humble sewists’ children playing with the Royal children.

As a result, no one so much as batted an eye when they saw you walking down the halls directly beside Prince Jacaerys. It would have made a much more unusual sight if your presence was absent by either his or his uncle’s side. The older staff bowed their heads in respect to the prince while also flashing a small but kind smile at you. The younger serving girls were still too new in the ways of the court and beamed with broad smiles at the sight of you before acknowledging Jace. You grinned back as you inwardly beamed at the knowledge that Head Septa Marlow was with you.

She would have scolded those girls fiercely if she had caught them greeting an apprentice seamstress before the prince.

You turned your head to glance at your childhood friend, who happened to be second in line for the Iron Throne, as you both made your way to his mother’s chambers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in the troubled expression on his face. Just a few minutes ago, he was practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you left Aemond alone in the Godswood. But now it felt as if he was a thousand miles away from you despite being so close. Having been by his side since his birth, you always felt a sense of protectiveness toward the young prince. No matter his station, you were a month past your third name-day when he was brought into this world. It was natural that you were perspective to his shifting moods.

“Jace?” you softly called out to him. You were relieved to have brought him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Jacaerys stopped in the middle of the stone corridor. Staring at you with those large brown eyes, he looked much older than his actual age. When someone as happy and bright as Jace became somber, it was always a reason to worry. Was Rhaenyra all right? Had he been listening to those awful rumors of his true birth?

“Ashi’,” he began, “what were you and Aemond discussing in the Godswoods’ Heart Tree?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about.

You inwardly grimaced as you realized how foolish you were to worry. With Aemond and Jace, it was always something one did to the other. And almost every time, it was up to you to stop their squabbling by being forced into the middle. You were not as blind as everyone in the castle liked to believe you were. You knew that both boys had an unhealthy attachment to you for whatever reason they conjured in their minds. Reasons that were only encouraged by their mothers.

You were still cross when they interrupted you and your mother’s reunion with your father. The matter was really very stupid. Jace had made fun of Aemond for not having a dragon during their family supper with the King. However, Jace only did so because Aemond and Aegon were snickering to themselves about how fat Princess Rhaenyra had grown due to her third pregnancy.

It didn’t make any difference to you, in all honesty. All you remembered from that time was that your time with your beloved father was forcibly cut short. To make matters worse, the two boys’ outbursts startled your mother, and the stress was so terrible that it nearly caused her to faint.

As a result, you decided not to speak to either boy for nearly two weeks. It had grown to the point where Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra practically begged you to forgive their sons—but even a royal command would not budge you. It did not matter how many blueberry tarts or honey cakes they gave for your forgiveness. You made it very clear that you would resolve never to speak to either boy unless they sincerely apologized to your mother for the awful fright they gave her. You finally resumed your friendship with them after your mother asked you herself to forgive them after Aemond gifted her a lovely bouquet of blue and purple hyacinths, and Jace gifted her a basket full of her favorite honey lemon cakes.

“Jace,” you groaned, “you cannot be serious.”

“Ashi’, you’ve been spending so much time with him lately. I feel like I don’t ever get to see you anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him as you sped up your pace to reach their destination. You only made it a few meters from where you were earlier before Jacaerys caught up to you and firmly grasped your wrist to keep you in place.

“I’m serious, Ashi’!” he insisted. “Unless it’s for fittings or when the Maester seeks your help teaching us High Valyrian, I rarely ever see you anymore!” His eyes had a wet sheen in the light, and his lip quivered slightly. “I miss you. Luke misses you. And so does Mother and Father!”

If the pitiful sight was enough to fill you with guilt, his next question nearly broke your heart.

“Do you – do you still consider me your friend?”

“Oh, Jace-” you pulled your younger friend into your arms “- of course I do. I’ve been so busy with my duties and my mother’s health. She and Princess Rhaenys have been so concerned over Lady Laena’s pregnancy and are trying to convince Prince Daemon to travel to Driftmark for the baby’s arrival.”

Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, eager to feel your warmth. If the gods were kind, time would stop, and he and you would stay like this forever. But he became sad at the mention of his Aunt Laena. He had heard his father recount hundreds of stories of their time together at Driftmark in their youth. Jace knew his father missed his sister terribly, and he was sure she missed him the same.

You noticed your friend’s change in behavior. You looked at him with concerned eyes, and his heart began to race at your care for him.

“Oh, Jace,” you whispered, “have I upset you somehow? I did not mean to!”

Jace frantically shook his head. “No, Ashi’! I just wondered…do you think I’ll ever meet my Aunt Laena?” he softly asked. “Do you think she’ll like me? Can you tell me more about my cousins?”

You rolled your eyes at his request. He had yet to do so despite your advice for Jace to send a raven or two to his cousins. You hadn’t seen the twins for many years, but the three of you wrote to each other so often that it felt like you would recognize them by how they spoke alone.

“I’m sure she and your cousins will adore you, Jace. Baela is excited about her new sibling. She says she’s close to riding Moondancer! Once she gets big enough, she hopes to ride her with Rhaena!”

Jace wondered how you’d react if you knew he didn’t write to his cousins because he was scared they wouldn’t like him. To be honest, he didn’t really care about them at all. He only cared about the way you smiled at him, and only him, when he asked.

“Mother!”

Still seated at her dark-stained ebony-wood desk, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen scribbled away with her black swan’s feather quill, nearly hidden behind stacks of dusty tomes and piles of scrolls from across the Seven Kingdoms and, despite being heavy with child, remained to be one of the most exquisite beauties across the realm. Hearing her eldest son’s voice, she looked up from her papers and smiled at the two children standing in her chambers' doorway.

“Jace! You made it and brought our little Lady Ashirri with you.”

You looked down at your feet as your cheeks slightly pinkened at the attention brought to you. Princess Rhaenyra was one of your mother’s closest friends and one of the few belonging to the noble houses that approved of your father’s rise in status. But his title was only in name, and so many in the keep look down on him with ill-hidden disdain. And as a result, many in the keep looked down on you with the same contempt and disgust.

The image of Lord Otto Hightower’s cold and judging eyes gazing down at you with arrogance came to mind before you could block it out.

You lifted your skirts and bowed in a deep curtsy in respect for Princess Rhaenyra. “Yes, my princess. Prince Jacaerys told me that you required my assistance with something?”

Princess Rhaenyra warmly smiled and laughed. “Yes. My husband seems at a crossroads in deciding which fabrics best suit his sister. Although, as you can see, he is being unnecessarily picky about it all.”

Her husband, Prince Consort Laenor of House Velaryon, stood beside your mother with his arms spread wide apart. On each arm were textiles of luxurious materials and superb stitching patterns. His close friend and confidant, Ser Qarl Correy, stood close behind him. The crown princess spoke truthfully as the entire room was filled with dozens of fabric bolts, from brilliant orange-marigold Dornish satin to iridescent light-azure Yi Tish silk. Your eyes were filled with excitement and wonder at the magnificent sight. You raced to touch the imported textiles.

“Is this silk truly from Yi Ti?” you softly whispered while carefully stroking the surface with one finger. “It looks almost too pretty to be real. This color would beautifully complement Lady Laena’s complexion and silver curls.”

Your mother and Prince Laenor smiled in agreement. It was softer than anything you’ve ever touched. Yi Tish silk was famous for its textile quality. One bolt was worth double your mother’s monthly wage at the Red Keep. The color alone was mastery at its finest. You knew from personal experience that blue was an incredibly tricky dye to handle. Although it was a primary color, it was rare in nature. You had to devote hours, if not days, to find the correct materials to yield the desired tone and shade properly. But that work is useless if the dye ends up damaging the fabric. Dark blue was one matter – it was still stunning, and many nobles would pay a hefty amount of coin for it. But to own such beauty, you wouldn’t dare imagine the price for a few yards, let alone an entire bolt.

“Fine eye as always, little lady,” Laenor jovially laughed. “Yes, I’m sure at least one of these fabrics will make a suitable dress for my sister before she gifts me another niece or nephew. I’m afraid your mother is very cross with me at the moment. Any delay in choosing the fabric will result in her being unable to finish the dress before the baby is born.”

“Lady Laena will need it to be loose and not so tight around her waist,” you spoke matter-of-factly. “Muña says that most pregnant women have rashes and inflammations after giving birth, so the dress must be made of a fabric that won’t cause irritation. Let’s see…excuse me for a moment?”

 You took out the small leather-bound journal Kepa gave you as a gift from one of his many voyages with Lord Corlys that you kept in your dress pocket, along with a small stick of charcoal. You drew out the image as quickly as possible whenever inspiration struck, regardless of the time or place. It was a habit that could lead to horrible misunderstandings, but being scolded and berated mattered little to you if it meant you could train yourself to be half as talented a seamstress as your mother.

After flipping past all your previous ideas, you finally spotted a blank page. Racing to your mother’s side for help, you excitedly shoved the journal in her face.

You thought aloud and drew out the concept simultaneously. “I think it should be blue. Even if Lady Laena married Prince Daemon, she is still a Velaryon by birth! Maybe if we chose a material that looks like water, it would make her feel closer to Driftmark and Lady Rhaenys!”

Doreah beamed from ear to ear as she crouched down and took you in a tight embrace. It filled her with such joy to know her daughter had developed such a tender and compassionate heart. You were a deeply empathetic girl who always considered the needs of others before your own. Her little pearl had a heart of gold that shone through the darkest storms. She planted a loud kiss on your cheek before letting you go.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my little pearl,” her eyes twinkled as she cupped your cheeks. “I have just the fabric in mind for it.”

Lady Doreah Pyke pulled out a large bolt of shimmering azure blue silk velvet. The rippled pattern and texture matched the transcendent and melancholy shores that surrounded High Tide. You gasped in delight at the sight of it. It was exactly the color you imagined! You gently caressed the hand-pleated panels, expecting it to feel crinkly and cheap despite its luster. But the fabric sheen and its soft, velvety texture made you want to wrap yourself with it like a warm blanket.

Your mother thoughtfully inspected the fabric. “Yes, this will be perfect. However, I think instead of a dress, it may be better to be used as a cloak. If the result is as beautiful as my little pearl envisions it to be, it would be a shame to be a dress for one lady. If it is a cloak, it can be passed down from mother to daughter.”

“An heirloom cloak…” you murmured in excitement. Your mother was a genius. “It sounds so romantic…the waves should be hand-painted and glass beads strung and stitched into the fabric. Oh, Lady Laena will look like a sea goddess! Would she like it enough to pass it down to Ladies Baela or Rhaena?”

Doreah chuckled at your delight and booped your nose. “She will love it, my darling – especially because you will be helping me make it.”

“A wonderful idea!” exclaimed Laenor. “Who better than our lovely Doreah and her little pearl to complete the task?”

“Really?” you gasped. To work beside your mother on such a prestigious project…was like a dream too good to be true. “Mother, do you…do you truly think I am ready?”

Jace jumped to his friend’s side to hug her. “Ashirri! This is wonderful! You and Lady Pyke will make the most beautiful cloak in the Seven Kingdoms - I know it!”

Rhaenyra and Laenor glanced knowingly at their son’s support for his dearest childhood companion. Everyone in the Red Keep knew of Jacaerys Velaryon's infatuation with Ashirri Pyke. If only the gods had allowed their stations to be so different. It seemed cruel to let two young souls meet and grow beside one another without the hope or possibility of love being borne.

You beamed at Jace with a brilliant smile that shone with so much radiance that looking at you felt nothing less than sin. You took his hand in yours as you squeezed his hand in silent thanks and appreciation for his words. In the young prince’s eyes, you were more heavenly than the Maiden herself. He hopes to be seen as strong as the Warrior in yours one day.

“Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros,” you said in your mother’s native tongue, softly stroking your thumb on his skin as a rosy hue bloomed on Jace’s cheeks. “Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī!”

You were about to leave before stopping and tracing back your steps to bow to Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Laenor quickly. Your cheeks were bright red from embarrassment from forgetting such basic etiquette.

“My princess, my prince, forgive me for not remembering to thank you for granting me this opportunity and forgetting to leave before you dismissed me. I was too caught up in my excitement. But, I swear that I will not let you down.”

The adults in the room shared amused expressions at your excitement. Ashirri Pyke’s transparent honesty and sweet nature were so refreshing to not only the Targaryen Princess and her prince consort husband but also the entire Royal Family. She was the perfect combination of her parents’ personalities. From Hotho, you adopted your father’s unwavering honesty and sense of justice. From Doreah, you were your mother’s copy in sweetness and purity. You were a highborn noble in all but birth and title.

Rhaenyra waved off your apology and nodded. “No need for apologies, little pearl. Run along. There is work that needs to be done, and your mother and I still have things to discuss between old friends.”

You pouted to hear that your mother would not be joining you. After all, this was a very important job, and you had hoped this would provide an opportunity to learn more of your mother’s secrets in her trade. But who were you to refuse a princess’ orders? You bowed once more before waving goodbye to Jace and everyone in the room before racing to your chambers. The disappointment you felt moments before was washed away by the jittering and buzz of your creativity rushing through your mind.

The waves would have to be hand-painted – that goes without saying. But should you paint silver instead of ivory for the sea foam? And did you have a steady enough hand to replicate each pattern perfectly? You were going to need a template to trace it.

You were going to need dozens if not hundreds, of beads ranging from violet to turquoise to teal. Were there any artisans in Kings Landing that could make such a large quantity? Were there any skilled enough to ensure the glass and crystals would yield such clarity and durability? You may need to ask Kepa if he made any glassmaker friends from Essos or the Free Cities.

Could you dip into your personal collection of sea crystals and pearls? Mother would be cross with you, but it would look so splendid against the fabric!

While racing down the many halls and past the flurry of chambermaids and squires, you came across Aemond. His trademark frown on his freckled face quickly turned to a kind smile.

“Ashirri! Mother wants to–”

But you did not have time to stop and quickly ran past him. You interrupted him with an apology.

“Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie import! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon!”

Aemond owlishly blinked before realizing you had spoken to him in High Valyrian. He took a few moments to mentally translate what you said before calling out your name and asking you to explain.

“Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?”

But when he turned, you were nowhere in sight, and he was left alone in the middle of the stone corridor. His shoulders slumped in deep disappointment at seeing you running away from him. But he supposed that such a slight could be forgiven since you were his loveliest and dearest friend. On the plus side, he was gifted with the sight of how the sunshine rays peering through the windows darted your glossy locks and wrapped you in a warm halo that brought out even more of your natural charm and prettiness.

As soon as you reached your room, you shut the door and grabbed every colored charcoal stick you’ve been gifted since you began learning your letters. Grabbing your big sketchbook, you immediately began jotting down your vision. By the time your mother joined you, your entire floor was covered with pages filled with a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, violets, and silver. Doreah was ecstatic of the display of your budding talent and took you in her arms for a tight hug.

The next few weeks were the most thrilling of your young life. You would spend hours on end with your mother, going over and debating which colors would match the tone of the cloak. Your mother found out about your idea to incorporate your pearls in the stitching, and she gave you a lecture that put all her past scoldings to shame. Eventually, you relented. In truth, you were a tad reluctant to part with your pearls. Each pearl was a gift from your beloved kepa for each country he visited. He said it was his way of giving you a tiny part of the world to his little pearl.

Because you were so busy trimming and stitching, you barely had time to read with Aemond under the Heart Tree in the Godswood or watch Jace practice his sword fighting with Ser Harwin Strong. You and your mother could only be removed from the cloak when either Queen Alicent or Princess Rhaenyra ordered your presence. They often expressed their woes at your decreased presence in court. As a result, your mother would take small breaks to share tea with Queen Alicent to discuss your progress as a seamstress, or she would get called by Princess Rhaenyra to her chambers so that they may speak their most private thoughts and troubles in High Valyrian.

You would often escape their orders by spending time with Princess Helaena. She would sneak into your workspace to bring her own embroidery and ask for your guidance with the more intricate patterns. While most of the court found the second princess a bit…odd – you took to her presence like green to pink. The two of you greatly differed in personality, but that made your friendship with her all the more special. You always made sure to treat her with kind words and common courtesy.

The most rude you had been to her was when she showed you a massive spider in her hands, and you loudly shrieked before crawling under your bed as a reflex. It took a few minutes before you could rejoin her. When she asked if you liked to hold Gerald the Spider, you took your father’s thickest riding gloves before you went near the beast.

You only held Gerald in your palms a few moments before you cried and begged Helaena to remove him from your person. But despite the terrors you got from Gerald the Spider that night, it was worth it if Helaena could smile as happily as she had when you agreed. She was so pleased that she didn’t correct you when you called her by the nickname you made for her, ‘Hel.’ In fact, you were almost certain that the nickname made her happier than you holding the spider.

But despite the peace these past few weeks have brought you and your family, such joy was not granted to the rest of your friends. Trouble was brewing in the Red Keep for House Targaryen – a fact you were unaware of until much later. You were returning from the rookery after being notified of receiving a letter from Baela. She was so excited about the arrival of her new sibling. You were reading the letter until you heard soft cries in the library. Searching for the source, you were shocked to find Aemond crying in a secluded section of the Royal Library. Distressed at your friend’s tears, you immediately knelt and hugged him close to you.

Clinging to your arms like you were his anchor, you could only make out the words: ‘pig’ and ‘dread.’ When you voiced your confusion, Aemond explained once more.

“They gave me a pig!” he barked, wiping away the angry tears from his violet eyes. “They said they found a dragon for me, and it was a pig! The ‘Pink Dread’ they called it!”

You lowered his head to the crook of your shoulder. “Aemond, who’s ‘they’?” you softly asked.

“Aegon! Who else?” he exclaimed. Your simple linen frock muffled his yells. “My sister’s bastards were there, too!”

Your blood chilled. He couldn’t mean…Jace wasn’t…

“Aemond, you can’t say such things,” you warned. “It’s considered treason by your father’s laws.”

But Aemond wasn’t listening. “I hate those bastards. They shouldn’t carry the Targaryen name. Their last name should be ‘Waters.’ It’s the name that bastards born in the Crownlands carry. Northern bastards are called ‘Snow,’ ‘Sand’ for Dorne, ‘Flowers’ for the Reach–”

“‘Pyke’ for the Iron Islands,” you snapped and let him go. “Am I a bastard, Aemond? Am I what you hate? Do you hate my father?”

Aemond was shocked at your venomous tone. When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to make amends.

He shook his head. “My pearl…no, no, no,” he said. “You aren’t a bastard. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about–”

You clenched your fists and stood on your feet. “I know who you were talking about! That does not make it right!”

Aemond was getting angry. Why weren’t you taking his side? Had his whore of a sister already poisoned you against him? Had Jace already dirtied you with his filthy, bastard blood? He stood up and stared you down with fury in those beautiful violet eyes that you once so adored. But all you saw was his grandfather.

“Your father is a bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “He was a bastard from the Iron Islands that Lord Greyjoy didn’t want! He wasn’t worthy of his noble father’s house name, so he is named ‘Pyke’!”

You shook your head. “There is more to family than names and blood. I am neither a Targaryen nor a Velaryon. I do not carry a speck of your noble house’s blood, but I consider you and Jace my dearest friends! To me, you are my brothers! You and him are my family because I love you, not because of blood! Does that count for anything?”

“I never thought of you as a sister,” he spat out. “Not once did I consider you family.”

Devastation overwhelms your broken heart as tears flood your and Aemond’s eyes. He reaches out to hold your hand, but you step back. Once more, he tries to keep you closer to him, but you turn around and run to the door. When you reach it, he calls out your name and begs you to let him explain. Once more, you turn to face him to see he has not moved an inch. You feel so small and insignificant underneath the massive stone framework, but you summoned the sea of hurt and rage crashing inside your heart.

“I used to wonder how a horrible and mean-spirited man like Otto Hightower could be the grandsire of such a sweet boy,” your voice trembled, but you continued to steel yourself. “I thought…you were smart enough not to listen to such horrible things. I thought you were my friend. But I was wrong. I was so horribly wrong. What your brother, Jace, and Luke had done to you was cruel and unfair. But Aemond…what you had become…I-I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

With that being the final word, you raced to your mother’s chambers. You cried into her skirts and told her what happened – of the Pink Dread, Aemond’s cruel transformation, and the ruin of your friendship with him. You sobbed out your wish to leave the Red Keep and never return.

Doreah Pyke immediately thought of what Princess Rhaenyra had informed her in the afternoon. ‘Nyra told her that she would be moving her family to Dragonstone. Each day since her failed attempt to match Jace with Helaena, the Red Keep feels less safe and more hostile to her and her children. Since Harwin assaulted Ser Cole, tensions between the princess and the queen have reached an all-time high.

“Come with me,” her princess begged Doreah. “Come with my family to Dragonstone.”

“Oh, ‘Nyra,” whispered Doreah, “I don’t know. Dragonstone is so far from King’s Landing. And Ali would never–”

“Alicent is becoming more like her father each day,” Rhaenyra interjected. “She wants to put her son on my father’s throne – both she and her father are conspiring against me.”

Rhaenyra clasped Doreah’s hands in her own. “I know you want to believe she is the same girl from our youth. But Otto Hightower has sunk his poisoned claws in her and will stop at nothing to crown Aegon when my father passes. I need people I can trust by my side. People like you, my sweet Dory, and your husband.”

“…But Ashirri, my pearl,” sighed Doreah. “She will be so devastated. She grew up running in these halls, playing in the Godswoods, exploring this castle’s corners and shadows. This is her home.”

“Your daughter will flourish wherever she goes,” insists Rhaenyra. “She will never be alone – not with Jace, Luke, and Joffery by her side. And forgive me for what I am about to say, my friend, but…King’s Landing no longer agrees with you as it used to.”

Doreah sighed and gazed out the window with slumped shoulders. What her princess said was true but hard to hear. As she grew older, she found the air and noise outside the Red Keep more sour and rancid. It made her miss the clean and fresh sea breeze in Essos. Rhaenyra was not the only one who had noticed Doreah’s melancholy. Hotho, her beloved Iron Knight, has remained in King’s Landing after learning of her despondence. Her husband implores her to care more for her health – if not for herself, but their daughter.

Doreah waved off their concerns, but perhaps…they had a point. Stroking your hair to calm you down, your mother asked if you would be open to the possibility of moving to Dragonstone. She reassured you that she and your father would be there with you and that you would still be around Jace, Luke, and Joffery if you ever felt lonely.

You agreed before she finished and immediately started packing. By the end of the month, you had not spoken another word to Aemond and left with Princess Rhaenyra and her family to Dragonstone. You did not look back. You wanted to leave King’s Landing and Aemond as soon as possible. You wanted to leave this wretched castle and have peace once more.

While others stared at the obsidian castle with trepidation, you felt hope. Unpacking your things from your trunk and knapsack, you were determined to leave behind all the political headaches and focus solely on stitching with your mother and sailing with your father.

If only life could be that simple.

Translations:

Muña - mother

Kepa - father

Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros…Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī – “Thank you, dear friend…Mother, we must get to work at once! I will bet going first!”

Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie importance! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon! – “I am sorry, Aemond. But my mother and Prince Laenor gave me something of great importance! I have to get to work right away!”

Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” – “Wait! What do you mean?”

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