#Lucerys is dead

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Warning: it's dark)

Aemond was crowned king after defeating Daemon, and he brought Rhaenyra and her son to the throne room, chained and gagged, her last son clinging onto her simple dress, like a boy everyone once knew.

She was forced to watch his crowning, forced to listen to the people cheer for their new king. Then, all of a sudden, he ordered the guards to bring in his new queen.

The crowd looked at the door, perhaps expecting Queen Helaena, his Baratheon betrothed, maybe even the bastard witch of the rumors, Alys. The crowd however, was not expecting to see such a familiar face.

Gasps and whispers filled the throne room when the guards carried in Lucerys Velaryon. He was a vision, wearing a splendid green gown embroidered with dragon scales, his neck adorned with pearls. His eyes were closed, his face pale, his body, limp.

To no one's surprise, Rhaenyra screamed, the sounds muffled by the cloth in between her lips, her eyes following the body of her dead son. The body she couldn't retrieve, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she searched.

Surprisingly, he didn't look like one killed by a dragon. His skin was unmarked by teeth or flame. His body, to everyone's surprise, wasn't decomposing or falling apart. In fact, if they didn't know of the stories, they would have thought he was merely sleeping.

The guards carried the body with extreme care, and the crowd held their breath, wondering what their new king would do with the body of the beloved son of their former Realm's Delight. Those who remembered his earlier words were alarmingly confused, because surely he wouldn't...the boy is...surely the new king wouldn't...

Aemond stood from the throne, took the body from the guard with surprising care, and to everyone's shock, placed the dead boy on the throne, and placed a crown, his dead mother's crown, on top of the boy's head.

Everyone looked at him as he, their new king, knelt, taking the boy's dead hand, kissing it gently. They watched as he stood, looking at his half sister, a faint smile on his face.

"Surely, you'd applaud, sister? After all, I just crowned your son as my queen."

Rhaenyra fought against the guards, though hopeless, her eyes told them what she truly wanted, glaring down at Aemond with the fury only a mother could have. She wished to tear him apart with her nails, to rip him with her teeth. She was a dragon incarnate, ready to attack for her son.

Aemond cared not for her reaction, turning back to Lucerys. He lifted the boy up, and placed him on his lap as he sat back on the Iron Throne, careful not to let the crown fall from his pretty head.

He then placed his mouth close to his ear, and though he whispered, everyone around him heard his words.

"I kept my promise nephew. I crowned you queen, as I intended. Now, won't you open your pretty eyes for me, just this once?"

Though no one had the courage to say it, everyone knew what the other was thinking.

Seven Hells. The new king is mad.

-------

Btw, if anyone is interested, this is what inspired me:

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #crazy king Aemond #Lucerys is dead

[darling-winnie]

If my ship isn't endgame in the fic I. DON'T. WANT IT. What's the point?!

#lucemond #finbin #finney x robin #aemond x lucerys #nace #ace x nancy #dead on main #jason x danny #steddie #steve x eddie #reddie #richie x eddie #stydia #stiles x lydia #everlark #katniss x peeta #punkflower #hobie x miles #jegulus #starchaser #james x regulus

[coeluvr]

Wait... MC's red eyes glow in the dark?! This is both very cool and also a little unsettling and adds whole new level of terrifying mystic to our character.

The eyes of royalty and mages glow in the dark. ^^ So expect the same for Fadiya, Helios, and Soarine.

#coe answers #luceris naima and faang too obv #catalina too if she isn't dead lol

[shortskirtloooooooooooongjacket]

a collage for if aemond saved lucerys

#what do you mean he’s dead? #lucemond #hotd #happy ending #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #the tower as in hightower #specifically otto #do you get it #and the page of cups as in cups with water #water as in velaryon #and there’s a fish on the card #pink dread #medieval aesthetic #aemond x lucerys #hotdedit #pinterest #photo collage #fanfic #pinterest shuffles #house of the dragon #my collage #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aesthetic #lord of the tides

[fanfictionroxs]

The ghosts of Harrenhall when Jace, Luke & Joffrey come to spend time with Harwin at his haunted house for the first time:

#harwin and alys are dying from laughter #theyre long used to the dead whooshing around #harwin is happy his kids are learning the ways of his family lol #house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #harwin strong #house strong #harrenhall #memes #crack #rhaewin #rhaenyra is going to be so cross lmao

[slvtforlizzie]

the way I know Jace, Luke, and joffery ABSOLUTELY BODY BACHATA!!! they got it from good ole daddy Harwin. no one else, daemon, Aemond, Aegon, helaena, alicent, or even rhaenyra can get the bachata moves down like the three boys. baela and Rhaena try to but they get aggravated. Rhaenyra likes watching her son's dance bachata bc it reminds her of when Harwin tried teaching her. I just know Jace and Luke dance to Propuesta Indecente by Romeo Santos in the middle of the night bc it always leads to sex.

#lucerys velaryon #house of the dragon #hotd #prince lucerys #jaceluke #rhaenyra targaryen #lucerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys #you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands #harwin strong #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower

[anothersarcasticdolphin]

Lucerys: *Returns to Dragonstone*

Rhaenyra: So how did it go?

Lucerys: ....

Lucerys: Lord Borros wasn't happy

Lucerys: AlsoArraxkilledAemondandIthinkIjuststartedawarImsorrymother

Rhaenyra: .... *Hugs Luke*

Rhaena: *Runs in* I just claimed Vhagar! *Twirls Lucerys around then drags him out to go see*

Daemon: *Sniffling* I'm so proud. More goats for Arrax

Caraxes: *Is also very proud*

Arrax: Is basking in the attention he has gotten for killing the evil uncle and resolves to kill more evil uncles in the future

#hotd incorrect quotes #this is a follow up to the other one #lucerys lives #aemond didn't #but that was the last one #lucerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #caraxes #arrax #rhaenys velaryon #was probably also in the room #and approves #though she probably would have killed Aemond in a more elegant way #but he's dead #and Arrax and Luke are back in one piece #so she approves

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter seven: the fate of wagging tongues

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 5746

“May I present Princess Maetilda Targaryen, first of her name, Lady of Runestone. Daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen and his late wife Lady Rhea Royce!”

There were more people gathered in the Throne Room of the Red Keep than she had ever seen gathered at Dragonstone, outside of tourneys. The crowd was similar in size to that of her late stepmother’s funeral. Oh, the delightful spectacle that was her family’s fate. The logic of it was painfully reasonable. Of course the Realm would care to know. The state of her family was thought to reflect the state of the kingdom. What troubled the Crown, troubled its people. A healthy royal family was more likely to bring forth a thriving realm. Reversely, every little argument or skirmish was the omen of their collective downfall. Nothing could ever just be what it was. Especially the Hearing. It was not simply the settling of an inheritance; it would also set a precedent. If Lucerys’s inheritance was ruled illegitimate, so too could his mother’s. Maetilda’s mind struggled to imagine what would happen without the favor of such precedent, but she knew the entire conclusion would be disastrous. She had entered the hall alone, and was announced on her own. She bore a title that her brothers did not. She held an inheritance that no one disputed, no one questioned. One that even the Arryns of the Eyrie backed. Their house and that of her mother had been respectful rivals for generations, constantly waged in honorable competition. They were the far less vitriolic Blackwoods and Brackens. The Royces of Runestone had knelt to the Arryns of the Eyrie at the end of the Era of the Bronze Kings. All because one Keep was easier to defend than the other. Yet they all knew who held more power. An older branch of the Royce family held the Keep of the Arryn’s winter home. Surnames of Royce could be found all throughout the Vale. Their blood ran deeper than any ocean or valley. Lady Rhea had been loved and respected, and thus her only child was too. If only the same treatment could have been extended toward the girl’s step brothers. Ser Laenor himself had loved the boys, and treated them as his own. No matter what the whispers had said.

The princess descended the front steps alone, just as she had entered, with no man on her arm to accompany her. It was a symbol of strength. A calculated move that her father had dictated long ago. It would especially help that day. Without his daughter’s own strength in legitimacy, his wife would have even less of a leg to stand on. While Rhaenyra had the King’s word, the King no longer sat present at court. Instead his prudent and pious wife and her shrewd Hightower father took his place. The two of them stared down over the court with owlish eyes, watching every move. Ser Otto stood higher up the steps than his only daughter, ready to sit when the proceeding began. Indistinct whispering filled the room as Maetilda made her way over to the side of the room where her father and stepmother stood. Eyes watched her steps for any sign of falter. Lucerys stood towards the front, next to his mother, in full view of the court. He tried to hide his nerves, but the princess could tell by the shifting of his weight from leg to leg that he was ready to run at a moment’s notice. Jacaerys stood next to her father. He was more impassioned than anxious. His shoulders rolled back in an honorable and confident manner. He looked dignified and respectful. Firm and just. Just as the heir’s heir should. Both princes were dressed similarly in red and black. Dragons decorated their surcoats, collars, and jewelry. The princess’s attire fit in well with theirs. Maetilda assumed the small spot next to Jace. Ser Gunthor flanked behind her in his full bronze armor regalia.

With a scan of the room, the princess quickly determined that they were all waiting on her cousin, Princess Rhaenys. The Queen that Never Was never seemed to miss an opportunity to make an entrance. She had no problem with making the Court wait. It was a quality, among many others, that the princess had always admired in her older cousin — her confidence, her poise, her style, her discernment, her cunning. Even when all of Court was waiting on her, the princess-by-title felt nothing but awe towards the woman. The day before, Maetilda had noticed in the brief moments she saw the three just how much Rhaenys’ likeness had rubbed off on Baela and Rhaena. They had each followed on Rhaenys’ sides like Laena-esque clones. Even down to the way that they walked, the twins replicated each aspect of Rhaenys. The princess-by-title’s twin sisters had been raised by their royal grandmother ever since Lady Laena’s funeral, while Maetilda was kept on a ball-and-chain close by her father at all times. She often wondered what her life would have been like if Princess Rhaenys had taken her in too, but those were only privy dreams. The princess-by-title anxiously turned her head to look at her sworn knight behind her. It comforted her to know that no matter what, she would always have her friend at her side. Even when her family wasn’t, her knights were. When her eyes caught a glimpse of Ser Gunthor and his beautiful protection rune-covered armor, the knight had already seemed to have his eyes focused on something. He was looking just beyond her, straight over her head. She followed his eye, turning back around to find Prince Aemond staring back at them from his place with his mother and siblings on the high steps. The sight caused her to jump in surprise, not expecting it. Her cheeks heated up as she caught the attention of Jace who leaned toward her.

“Did you just spook?” He whispered as he held back laughter.

“Like a bloody horse.” She joked.

The prince laughed at his step sister’s expense before turning to his mother and stepfather. The two were whispering to each other off in their own world, and it was clear he wanted to know what they were saying. He did not spare his step sister another glance. Something she was thankful for, no more attention drawn her way. Prince Aemond’s gaze was unrelenting. It had not budged. Nervously, she glanced back at her knight. He had not moved, his stare had not broken either. For a moment, she wondered if the two had simply been innocently staring at each other, but she knew better than that. None of her knights had ever shown interest in pissing contests, certainly not one with the King’s second son. It was something she had always appreciated. They had always been more concerned about each individual hair on her head than how their names appeared on the tourney lists. Yet in that moment, her gut could not determine who had started the stand off. It told her the culprit could not have been her knight, but she also could not understand why the prince would have cared to stare otherwise. Had Ser Gunthor overheard something that had angered him? Her mind raced with possibilities. A small part of her worried for the worst. Perhaps the Hightowers had forgotten themselves completely and he overheard them question her. Her name, her title, her inheritance. She would be beyond naive to think the green-clad family would avoid stooping so low. From the very state of the castle, they had already proved they were not above treason. Deciding that whatever the reason may be, she would agree with her knight, the princess turned back toward her cousin and glared back at him. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders for good measure. She watched as his interest visibly peaked at her actions. He even had the audacity to smirk. As if by some miracle, the doors to the Throne Room opened behind them all. It gave her the perfect excuse to break their trance.

“I present Princess Rhaenys Targaryen of Driftmark, wife to Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark and Ser Lord of the Tides. She is accompanied by her granddaughters, Ladies Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, daughters to Prince Daemon Targaryen and late Lady Laena Velaryon.”

The princess’s sisters and their grandmother were beyond elegant; they were ethereal and imposing. They took the breath away from the entire room as they descended the steps and took their place behind Rhaenys’s late brother-in-law’s son, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Gazes lingered on the three, including that of Maetilda’s, even after they had ceased walking. She wanted nothing more than to be like them, to be one of them. It was even harder to quell such feelings when she saw them together. Like watching a life she could have had play out in front of her eyes. A throat at the front of the hall loudly and pointedly cleared all obstructions in order to gain the room’s attention. Careful not to catch the prince’s eye again, Maetilda snapped her focus onto the Hightower as she turned.

“Though it is the hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.” Ser Otto began, his voice echoed across the hall from his position in front of her Uncle’s throne, “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

With finality, he sat his pompous posterior on the chair of a thousand swords, “The Crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Lord Vaemond was a proud man. She could tell by the glance he threw in her stepbrothers’ direction before he stepped forward before the court. His steps were slow and deliberate as they, too, echoed. His silver locks were pulled away from his face and he donned the ocean green colors of his house. He looked every bit the part of Lord of Driftmark. Perhaps Lucerys should have worn Velaryon colors too. Although she wondered if such a frivolous distinction would truly bring about a better outcome.

“My Queen,” The son of the second son bowed his head to Alicent before doing the same toward the Throne, “My Lord Hand.”

An uneasy air filled the room in the moment of his pause. He was relishing in his moment, smugly confident. He held his arms behind his back as if he were ready for any challenge. His chin was pointed straight into the air as if her entire family sat below it. Something in her gut told Maetilda that he seemed too confident. Wondering if she had been reading the man wrong or over thinking matters, she spared a glance toward her family to gauge their reactions. She spotted her father’s sharp stance and hawk-like eyes immediately. It was clear that he was feeling similarly, which was slightly comforting. It was even better to see his anger directed at someone that was not her after the morning they had.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” His speech began, “When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that if they were to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name.”

As Vaemond spoke, the princess let her eyes move away from her family and about the room. From the looks spread across various faces, his words were resonating loud and clear. They seemed to hang onto his every word, cogs turning his sentences over in their heads. It was clear they held many meanings, both innocent and blasphemous. Her blood warmed at the thought of what he would say next. The faces of Court did not help to calm her. Before she could stop the thought from physically moving her muscles, she quickly glanced back at Aemond. His eye still had not moved. It seemed to have been fixed on her the entire time. An intense, unreadable stare.

The son of the second son fixed his surcoat before continuing with more diction, “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood.”

Jace’s body stiffened next to her. She could see Lucerys do the same beside his mother out of the corner of her eye. Had the King been present, the knight would have been treading on thin ice. But the King was not present. Those with the deciding vote shared in the knight’s sentiments. Her family had yet to shake the nest, yet the wasps swarmed regardless. The little green wasps had begun to bite and sting, yet she knew the worst was to come. Aemond only smirked at the son of the second son’s implications. Their eyes remained locked together as the princess stewed. Of course, Aemond had made his own stance on the matters clear the night that Lucerys had taken his eye. He had used the treasonous slur and was questioned by the King in front of everyone. Yet, there a man with lesser standing stood and hurled the same venom — unharmed and likely to be rewarded. It must have felt gratifying for him. Knotting her hands behind her back, she sent Aemond a pointed glare before glancing back at her knight. Ser Gunthor stood as steadfast as always, eyes still pointed directly at the prince. She hoped that he had at least blinked. By the looks of him, she could not be sure.

“The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.” Lord Vaemond stole her focus and attention back onto himself.

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra remarked, audibly rolling her eyes, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambitions.”

“You will have your chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard,” Alicent interjected firmly.

Not good. The green-clad peacocks would most certainly accuse Rhaenyra of hysterics if she continued with outbursts. They would claim she lacked foresight or patience. That was all they needed as proof. It would be all too convenient for them. As if to make her point, the son of the second son spun defiantly on his heel to face the King’s heir. Rhaenyra kept her gaze held forward at the Throne, not sparing a glance in the cocky man’s direction. Such attention would have only encouraged him.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

To punctuate his statement, he gave Lucerys a hard glance before turning back to face the Hightowers perched on the high steps, “My Queen, My Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my uncle’s successor, The Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.” Ser Otto smiled curtly from the Throne.

The entire hall was silent aside from the footsteps of the proud knight returning to his spot in front of Princess Rhaenys. The weight of his words took time to be fully realized. He had truly implied treason in front of the King’s heir, the Hand, the Queen, and all of Court. He had done so with his full chest with no hesitation or remorse. Not one person voiced a complaint, aside from Rhaenyra herself. The Queen had defended his right to speak. For a moment, Maetilda had wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. But of course, she locked eyes with her cousin once more. His brow was furrowed in concentration, only to rise in challenge when she looked at him. He was smug, he stood comfortably. Relaxed back with a majority of his weight on one of his legs. His arms were held behind his back. She wanted to slap the look off of his face, take her anger and uncertainty out on him. She wondered if he could sense it, her bloodthirsty rage. His face was getting harder and harder for her to read, more difficult than any book. Once again, she glanced back at her knight for reassurance. Was he seeing what she was? Did he know the castle well enough to smuggle her out if need be? He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. If any of the Kingsguard noticed, they could start an avalanche. She felt as if she were trapped inside a cauldron over a fire. The temperature would only grow hotter if she did not get out.

The second son on the chair of a thousand swords savored his next words. He rolled them around in his mouth with a proud smirk before he smugly granted, “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

The princess-by-title felt no more comfortable as the Realm’s Delight took her own confident and defiant steps forward. Her moniker almost seemed to serve as a mockery in that very moment. All of the Realm seemed to look down upon her like the statues of the Seven that towered to the ceilings of the hall. Her hands were fidgety like Lucerys’s, despite how much she tried to keep an air of authority. Maetilda admired her stepmother. If nothing else, she was an incredibly brave and resilient woman. She killed boars, rode dragons, challenged the word of arrogant lords, endured many deaths of those close to her, and had even jumped in front of a valyrian steel dagger wielded by the Queen. She was much more than simply a delight. She was a force to be reckoned with. However, the world had been flipped on its head. The Heir seemed pathetically powerless in comparison to the Hightowers on the high steps. Her hands were tied. Despite the strength he brought in spades, all her husband behind her could do was stand menacingly and glare. Maetilda’s hair on her arms and neck stood on edge as she put the pieces together in her mind. All they seemed to have was names and looks and words, no bite to accompany their bark. While they were at Dragonstone, they had been leashed. Without any sort of warning. If the Hightowers truly had already made up their mind, there was nothing Rhaenyra could say or do.

Her own proclamation started off in an exasperated tone, “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—“ Her words fell into nothing as the sound of the Great Hall’s doors squeaking open echoed above her.

The room simultaneously turned to the entrance, curious as to who would have the audacity to interrupt so late into their assembly. Tiredly bent in the center of the doorway stood the King. In all his grandeur. Maetilda’s heart skipped a beat before she dared to rub her right eye in order to assure she was not seeing anymore figures.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The page proudly announced.

The walking stick echoed about the room as His Grace made his dignified entrance. The entire room held their breath in awe before respectfully bowing their heads in greeting. Slowly but steadily, King Viserys limped down the steps and across the hall. His breath and pace were labored. His limbs shook from strain. His robe struggled to stay in place atop his frail, haggard shoulders. But he had never looked more strong, more kingly. The fires around the hall burned brighter as his presence blew a breath of life about the room. Maetilda stood straighter than she ever had before. She could not help the victorious grin that had spread across her face. The tables had turned. Rhaenyra’s words would no longer fall on closed ears. The King was there. Ser Otto descended from his unrighteous place to make way. His Grace huffed and puffed as he approached. Maetilda could have sworn she saw the Hightower tremble with fear. It filled her with the utmost pride.

“I will sit the throne today.” The King triumphantly declared.

“Your Grace,” Otto nodded.

Without another word, King Viserys began to climb the last set of stairs. He took to the first steps uneasily, stumbling back a bit. One of his Kingsguard rushed forward to assist him only to be exasperatedly shook off. The King’s niece had full confidence in him. He had made it all the way through the Red Keep already. The last steps would be the most familiar ones. Just as she knew he would, his Grace took each step at a time. But it was clear that the all-too-familiar steps seemed to be the hardest as his momentum was wearing thin. He hunched farther and farther over his walking stick as he relied on it to pull his body upward. Seeing him just turn down the knight, her feet felt planted in their spot. Internally, she prayed to the gods that had sent the black cloak away. She begged them to carry him up to his rightful place for all of the Court to see him. As if in direct answer, her father emerged forward. The rest of the hall seemed to be just as frozen as the princess. No Kingsguard reacted as he ascended the steps. The sound of metal clanking echoed from the front of the hall and up into the rafters, but the source was obscured by her father’s figure. As soon as he reached the King, the Rogue Prince gathered him before taking on a majority of his weight. The brothers finished the last steps together. The younger sat his elder in his rightful place and ceremoniously sat the displaced crown back onto Viserys’s head. With the most respect she had ever seen her father give someone, he bowed to the King before returning to the place he had previously occupied. The princess could have sworn she was still dreaming in her bed. Perhaps she had fallen asleep at breakfast. The King’s chest rose and fell with great effort as he sat up to begin speaking.

“I must… admit… my confusion.” He stated, “I do not understand why petitions are being held over a settled succession.”

The entire room shifted.

“The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The eyes around the hall were suddenly all on the Queen Who Never Was. She seemed hardly phased by them all. As if not a single one held any significance to her. She looked at no one, but her cousin. No other person was worthy of her knowledge or her gaze. It made one want to look at her all the more. Her presence was mesmerizing.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” She smirked before stepping forward.

Like a crane moving through water, she took soft, calculated strides to the front. Much like her husband’s nephew, Princess Rhaenys savored her moment. She assured that she had each and every ear and eye before she began, “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true-born son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

At her words, the entire hall lurched back in whispers and gasps. It should have been the reactions they had to Vaemond’s insults. Instead, it was in reaction to the King’s own will. Such a display nauseated the princess-by-title. The Kingdom truly had been turned on its head. But Rhaenys was not done.

“His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The Court had lurched back in shock before, but they completely dissolved into hysterics after that. The lords and ladies around the room tried pathetically to keep their voices at a hush as they gossiped into each others’ ears. It was a watertight proposal, two watertight proposals. They politically sealed much of Rhaenyra and her brothers’ claim. Their only other problems would be Aegon, his two small boys, and Aemond. But they were a bridge to be crossed upon arrival. The entire hall seemed to be buzzing, yet the princess-by-title remained frozen in place. Maetilda felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath her. All of her siblings of age had been betrothed in one fell swoop. She was happy for them, happy for what their marriages meant, but she was utterly terrified of what it meant for her. The last one left, the least desirable, the spinster. Her father had hated Runestone and everything about it, reminded her frequently. Perhaps no one wanted Runestone. Or worse, did not find the castle worth putting up with her. There had to be a deeper explanation. Her father allowed for his two other daughters to be engaged, both of them. But not her. She also felt guilty for thinking of herself in such a moment. A moment where she should have been congratulating her four siblings. Instead, she was thinking of herself and why her father did not love her like he loved her sisters. He had always spent more time with them, wrote more letters to them, and bought them more presents. She scolded herself for not seeing it coming sooner. Yet something about the entire arrangement felt too calculated. Like an internal pull she could not shake, her gut twisted with suspicion. Something wasn’t right. It did not feel right. Suddenly becoming aware of the dryness in her eyes, she blinked back out of her head. The King was wheezing as he spoke. He was listing off the titles that Corlys currently bore, likely proclaiming Lucerys to be the inheritor of them. She was not sure how long he had been speaking for, but the hall was eerily silent. Feeling an itch on her nose, she peaked at Aemond out of the corner of her eye to see if he had been watching her drown in her inner turmoil. He had been.

“You break law…” Vaemond stepped forward again with a menacing passion, “and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who desires to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

Once again, the entire room shifted. Was he mad? He was undoubtedly furious, but he had to have lost his head. After double checking that her knight was still located diligently behind her, the princess-by-title gawked at the son of late Lord Corwyn’s second son with an open mouth. It was like she could see the sword fight about to break out in front of her. Shoulders tensed, hands moved to hilts. The cauldron over the fire that they were all trapped in was about to boil over.

“Allow it?” The King dared, “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Vaemond stared at him blankly before shortly pivoting with an accusatory finger pointed at the boys, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra pushed her sons toward the doors before turning to the proud man, “You have said enough.”

The boys fell back, but moved no farther away. They were not children anymore. They would not run and hide at their mother’s command as they used to. Rather, they stood behind each side of her as she turned back to Ser Vaemond, ready to fight him with her bare hands alone. Her breath was heavy and uneven. Her fists shook with barely contained rage. She opened her mouth to spit insults back, only for her beloved father to start speaking in her place.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The King reminded him.

“You… may run your house how you see fit… But you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond seethed, “My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. Gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this—“

He was smart enough to hold his tongue from speaking any farther. The air of the hall felt so hot and thick, it was as if it were on fire. And like a burning fire, the princess could not look away. She stared wide eyed in hardly masked horror. Her gut screamed for her to run. Whatever happened next would not be good. But she could not move, it would be inappropriate of her. All she could do was watch.

“Say it.” Her father smiled a soft alligator grin.

“BASTARDS! The lot of them!” Vaemond bellowed.

Hot silence permeated the room as the Velaryon decided to throw all further caution to the wind while he gestured toward the future Queen, “And she… she is a whore!”

Gusts of wind blew through the windows. Rats squeaked and scurried through the walls. Servants tip toed about their responsibilities. It was so silent, one could hear all the other activity happening around the Keep. In the expanse of the Great Hall, not a single being or creature moved a muscle. Most held their breath. At the front of the room, from on top of his throne, the King’s chest heaved. With all the strength that he could muster, he unsheathed the dagger from his side and stood on shaky legs. It was as if Aegon the Conqueror had possessed his great great grandson himself. Pure fire poured from out of his eyes. His ears smoked. He fought to catch his breath amidst his emotions.

“I… will have… your tongue for that.”

Before the King could even enunciate his last word, Vaemond Velaryon’s head was sliced in two — right down the corners of his mouth. The top slid off the bottom. His legs remained standing in the seconds his muscles still held strength. Maetilda’s heart stopped as she watched the man’s body hit the floor, wincing with each individual splat. The sound of it echoed off of the walls. The hall remained silent. What a quick and final conclusion. There was no longer a matter to be settled. All arguments had turned into puddles on the floor. Wiping any blood or other bits off of the beautiful blade of Dark Sister and onto his pristine black surcoat, her father stood proudly at the dead man’s feet. His kill.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“Disarm him!” The commander of the Kingsguard declared after processing the moment. His subordinates unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at the King’s brother.

“No need.” As nonchalantly and unapologetically as a cat in the sun, Daemon stepped back and sheathed his sword.

Maetilda could not peel her eyes away from it. Sounds of the King’s groaning and the Queen calling for maesters were muffled in her ears as her senses numbed to hone in on sight alone. She had never seen inside one’s skull before. She had seen blood and entrails before, always at a distance from her place in the royal box at tourneys. She had seen the mangled flesh of Aemond’s eye socket as the Maester at Driftmark sewed it shut with careful hands. She had seen her stepmothers’ multiple childbirths including the passing of the afterbirth. Yet never before had her eyes gazed upon that which belonged inside someone’s head. She could have sworn it was still moving and twitching — thinking. The pink and dark red muscles and nerve endings that were once tightly coiled together started to sag out of place from where they once were. There was so much blood. It leaked like a water vase full of hairline cracks. The man’s body that was once so full of life and anger and passion was left limp and sagging and motionless on the Throne Room floor.

The same shoes that once stood at the dead man’s feet began to move towards her, careful, quick steps. It sent her heart into a panicked race. She was next. It was her turn to pay the price. It was her fault. She had disobeyed orders and now the man was dead. She could already hear the words coming. Her own shoes backed away in the direction of her knight. She hoped and prayed that he had remained to protect her. Her eyes lost focus as the blurry figure moved forward. The breaths in her chest scratched at her throat as it tightened. She needed to run, she needed to get out. Her blood pumped quicker as her limbs itched for movement. She should fight back. The blurry figure halted suddenly, she did the same. The blob’s shoulders bounced with angry breaths. Her breathing only got harder. Desperately, the princess clutched at the stays covering her chest. Where was Ser Gunthor? Why wasn’t he coming to her aide? The figure attempted a second approach, but she evaded it once again. She put more space between them this time, backing up until her back hit that of another person. Forgetting her manners, where or who she was, the princess did not turn to apologize. Instead her gaze focused on the black leather shoes. Not knowing how to fight back, she shook her head ‘no.’ Fear, relief, confusion, panic, despair, paranoia, a confusing conglomerate of it all. She wondered if that’s what Vaemond was feeling before he had died. She wondered if he looked down upon them then. If he floated idly over the scene while he waited for the Stranger to come and take him. If he knew what was to happen to him, would he have still spoke the words he did? Would he have expressed remorse at a trial? Were his words truly worthy of death? What crime could ever be worthy of such a sentence?

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve written so far!! (there are some even longer ones locked in the arsenal) This is also the first chapter that’s majorly based on one of the scenes from the show. You like?????

oh and also, I may or may not talk up the importance of House Royce for my own convenience, let’s all just enjoy this ride together 0:)

xoxo messy

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #hotd #hotd aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd jacaerys #hotd lucerys #driftmark #house velaryon #dead men and the divine #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #dad!daemon #targaryen oc #vaemond velaryon

[sincerelyourswhistledown]

Lucerys doesn’t remember much of the outside world.

There are faint memories, flashes of silver streaks and high pitched giggles. A faceless brown haired boy with a hand always held out for him to take. Lucerys remembers feeling warm, a lightness to his otherwise empty chest as he chases the high of his dreams.

Aemond tells him it’s his overactive imagination. That the outside world wasn’t good, that their childhood was nothing but pain and despair. That’s probably why he never lets Lucerys out of the house.

Every morning Aemond leaves him with a peck on the lips and a promise of return. During that time Lucerys is left alone to his devices, cleaning the house and playing with his kitten, Jace. Never mind that Aemond absolutely hates the cat, he’s not the one stuck at home bored out of his mind. At exactly five in the afternoon, Aemond comes home and Lucerys is there to welcome him. With open arms and a hearty dinner.

It’s repetitive but it’s all Lucerys has ever known. All he’s ever remembered since the accident. Aemond doesn’t like talking about the accident. Whenever Lucerys tries to ask about it his lover’s expression becomes unreadable and he’d have to deal with a brooding Aemond for the rest of the day. Sometimes, when Lucerys pushes too much he wouldn’t see Aemond until the next morning. The idea of cheating had never crossed Lucerys’ mind, usually by then he’d been too inconsolable. His separation anxiety turning him into a sobbing mess and only Aemond’s warm arms and comforting hum could make him stop.

There was one time when Lucerys had managed to summon the courage, he’d asked Aemond where he went to every Friday. And why he came home so late. He didn’t expect much, in fact he’d expected it to get ignored. The same way all of his questions about the outside world was. Much to his surprise, Aemond had stared into Lucerys’ face with an expression that was absolutely devastated.

‘To a dear nephew.’ He confessed. That night Aemond had told him about a beloved nephew who had been in the same accident as Lucerys, except unlike him the boy never woke up. He’d explained what the doctors had said, that he may never wake up ever again. Forever caged to his hospital bed and connected to wires. After that night, after seeing the devastation and despair in his beloved’s face Lucerys never asked again. He didn’t like seeing Aemond like that.

“My Aemond is so handsome,”Lucerys teased, tying his lover’s tie with expert fingers. “It almost makes me want to tie you to our bed and keep you here forever.”

The older man chuckled, his sapphire eye glinting in the morning light. With his long arms he encircled them around Lucerys’ waist and pulled him closer. “Promises, promises.”

Lucerys eagerly accepted his kisses, basking in the affection before his beloved once again left him for the day. It almost made him want to pout and charm his way into keeping Aemond home today, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. It usually took some effort and the man was nothing short of disciplined but with enough kisses and suggestive petting, he’d find himself back in bed and a playful Aemond on top of him.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucerys rested his forehead on Aemond’s and sighed. “Are you sure you have to go to work today?”

The pale blond almost looked apologetic, giving him another peck on the lips. “I’m afraid this meeting is impossible to reschedule, my dragon.”

Although unsurprising, Lucerys found himself grumbling as he begrudgingly untangled himself from the older man. He could do nothing but pout as he went back to straightening his beloved’s crumpled suit, determine to keep Aemond looking sharp and put together no matter how much he wanted to tear the suit off and not fix it. “What do geneticists even talk about in meetings? Don’t you guys just stare at microscopes and petri dishes all day?”

Aemond let out an amused huff, shaking his head at the younger boy’s adorable grumpiness. “Silly taoba, do you really want me to stay that much?”

Lucerys stayed quiet, stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. If Aemond didn’t want to stay with him today then he wasn’t going to force him. He wasn’t some dumb doll created solely to rely on Aemond and fawn for his attention. He had more pride than that, thank you very much.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aemond grin in amusement. A gentle hand on his chin coaxed him to look up and Lucerys once again found himself staring at the breathtaking view of his love’s pale lilac eye and the blue sapphire.

“Don’t worry my love. Once I finally prove to them that human cloning is impossible then I can finally shut this research down. That means more time for you and me.” Aemond cooed, bringing the younger boy back into his arms.

“Promise?”Lucerys asked, his voice tiny but hopeful.

“I promise.” Lucerys beamed at his lover’s quick response, feeling warm all over.

“Besides,”Lucerys feels more than hears Aemond’s voice from where he’s pressed his cheek on the taller man’s chest, “Human cloning should be left as it is. Who knows what kind of crazy things sick fucks would do if it was possible.”

Lucerys hums along in agreement.

#lucemond #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #hotd #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #aemond x lucerys #if you don’t get this short Drabble #it’s basically aemond cloning lucerys #the accident aemond talks about is the same accident where aemond chases Luke’s car with his own and Luke ends up in an accident #the original Lucerys is in a hospital and in a coma #at this point the doctors are unsure if he’d even wake up #he’s like two inches from being brain dead really #with this news Aemond spirals into madness #and he basically clones his own healthy Lucerys to keep him sane #this is why Lucerys never gets out bc if any of the family finds out then it’s the coo coo ward for aemond #I’m sorry but I feel so bad for clone Lucerys #he doesn’t even know he’s a clone #someone free clone Lucerys !! #also I’m making it canon in this universe that should the doctors officially declare original Lucerys as brain dead #then aemond would 100% kidnap his body so that no one can pull the plug on original comatose lucerys #don’t mind aemond it’s just him his lover clone Lucerys and comatose Lucerys chilling #if anyone wants to expand this universe please do #idk Aemond just gives me STEM kid vibes #please don’t ask me to get into the scientific details #I’m an accounting major pretending to understand science #also Lucerys’ brother worship for jacaerys definitely passes on to clone lucerys #clone Lucerys basically has all of original Lucerys’ memories but it’s muddled and difficult to understand

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God

Chapter 1: Harrenhal

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

General Warnings: 18+, death and violence, attempted murder, grief, trauma, revenge, angst, eventual smut, dub-con, hate sex (sort of) enemies to lovers, they're at war and it's hot ok? Dead dove: do not eat.

Warnings for this chapter: angst, grief, brief mentions of smut, minor Aemond x Alys Rivers.

Words: 1930

A/n: Originally posted on AO3, posting to Tumblr before I get back to regular updates.

Each night he is tormented by dreams of Lucerra Velaryon.

This is not unusual. In the years since Driftmark she was all he dreamt of. The fury in her plump face, each piercing scream she gave as she ran at him with determined little fists, the way she struggled when he grabbed her by her throat.

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did, bastards!” 

It had felt good to put the Strongs in their place. He had spent his entire life as the subject of their cruel jests, even if it was under Aegon’s influence, and sweet little Luke was hardly innocent. If Jace told her to tie feather wings to a pig, she did it. If Jace told her to present the swine to their uncle as a gift, she did it. Then she would giggle along cluelessly, looking up at her brother with those wide doe eyes.

Such is the nature of younger siblings. Daeron was the same with him and Aegon, following them, absorbing every word they said as though they were septons delivering a sermon.

He never imagined the confrontation in the cave below Hightide would go so far. Jace pulled out a knife. One of the motherless girls screamed. Aemond shoved his nephew to the ground and held a rock above his head.

For once he did not feel powerless, the high of his first dragonflight still ignited in his blood, his Strong nephew at his feet and the girls cowering in the shadows.

He wouldn’t have done it, at least that's what he told himself.

As a child Luke was never vicious, but she was impulsive, and utterly devoted to her brother.

She took up the knife and the two of them were transformed in an instant, with a slicing through flesh, a spurt of blood and an eye lost forever.

For years he would find himself waking in a feverish sweat, with a searing pain in his skull and her furious battle cry echoing in his head. 

His dreams changed after Storm’s End. Now when he slips into sleep he is met with wind and rain. When he sees her, he reaches out for her, as though he can save her. His efforts are always fruitless. Vhagar’s claws close around her dragon and she falls back into the storm, followed by torn wings and chunks of flesh.

She didn't scream as she fell, and he often wonders why.

He feels something cold against his cheek and before his eye opens he reaches for the knife he has under his pillow.

Now that he’s awake he realises who’s throat he is holding the blade against. A pale face of sharp features, a small pointed nose and bright green eyes, framed by waves of dark hair. He has an affinity for Strong bastards it seems.

“Is this my reward for your care, my Prince?” She says, still managing to bring a mocking tone to her words when he could end her life with such a simple motion.

“You startled me is all,” he grumbles, carefully removing the blade and dropping his head back against the pillow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re sweating,” she says, pressing the dampened cloth over his brow, “I thought you might have a fever.”

It is soothing, not that he’ll admit it, so he allows her to continue.

“Do your dreams still trouble you?”

He groans in response.

“Tell me what you saw.”

“You’ve been warned not to make demands of me,” he says, and waits for a witty response, but it doesn’t come.

Alys is stubborn and it makes for a refreshing change compared to the snivelling knights and soldiers who cower before him these days.

“I saw a storm. I saw her die.”

“Die?” She repeats.

They’ve had this conversation before. She tells him dreams and visions can be one in the same, and that he must be specific when he recalls them. He finds it infuriating. It's bad enough he has to dream of it, let alone say it over and over again.

“Die,” he snaps, feeling a dampness streaking from his remaining eye. “Lucerra Velaryon is dead and I killed her.”

It has been just short of a week since they took Harrenhal, or rather, walked into the castle without challenge. Simon Strong and his family have been confined to cells, despite Lord Larys’ loyalty to their cause. Trust and loyalty are fickle things, so he has come to learn.

Cole oversees their questioning, demanding why they allowed Daemon to hold the castle, when he left, where he might be headed.

Fear is a feeling Aemond finds he is now accustomed to. The war has gone quiet these last weeks, since the massacre that was the Battle of the Gullet, since the deaths of Jacaerys and young Viserys. Rhaenyra could be paralysed by grief, or else she is simply looking for the right time to strike.

He decided they shouldn’t wait out the silence in King’s Landing, but upon discovering Harrenhal abandoned, he can’t help but feel they’ve been ensnared into a trap. Cole has been insisting they should go back to the capital, but Aemond says otherwise. Another march would exhaust the men, make them look disorganised and unsure. So they wait.

The days slip by and Aemond spends most of his time in the Lord’s chamber, fawning over maps, thinking and calculating until his head is sore. The servants bring him bread and stew every day but eating is a duty which rarely crosses his mind.

When he tires of war strategy he summons Alys. She intrigued him from their first meeting in the courtyard, as the men and women of house Strong were lined up before him. The other women wept, but she stood there with her hands bound and her head held high. He found himself drawn to the defiance in her eyes, the slyness in her smile, her indifference to him, as a Prince, as a one-eyed monster baying for her family's blood.

He likes listening to her talk about- well he doesn’t care what. She recounts her life, a bastard and a nursemaid, and tells him of her fascination for superstitions and ghost stories. Mostly she tells him of her dreams, and asks about his. His response is always the same, because these days he only has one dream. 

He likes her dark hair, the way it fall around her shoulders as she prods at the fire, pulling on it as he fucks her, seeing it beside him when he wakes each morning. He knows why he likes her hair. It reminds him of the girl lost- no, the girl he murdered. For that he feels ashamed, but it is the truth.

Outside the window the sky is black, save for a final sliver of sunset lining the horizon. Alys brought him a plate of cuts of beef but they remain uneaten on the table. For now he lies against her, skin to skin, resting his head on her breast as she strokes her fingers through his hair. 

"You never look at me when you fuck me," she says and he can hear her grinning.

He wrenches himself away from her hold and stands to reach for his clothes, discarded on the floor around the bed. "If it bothers you, I can release you from my service," he says dryly.

She hums in mocking contemplation as she watches him dress. "Fear not, Kinslayer, I am not jealous of a dead girl."

He could have her tongue for that, but then he'd have to find another companion to distract him.

"Besides," she says, as she cleans the stains from her stomach and slips a night shift over her bare body, "I'd rather be the whore of a Prince than a servant in my own home."

She has told him of her mistreatment at the hands of the Strongs, the years she has spent as an outsider in the castle she was born in.

He takes a letter from his desk, a letter from Daeron, who tells him of the march east from Oldtown, while Alys goes to huddle on the floor by the hearth. He would offer her a spot on the settee beside him, but leaves her to the visions she claims to see in the flames. He is past the point of wondering if she's a witch, or if she is simply delusional.

Alys has a tendency to speak in sparse, vague musings, the same way his sister does. Helaena says she sees much in her dreams and before her waking eyes, and he has always entertained her because no one else does.

She mutters something, and he doesn’t quite catch it. He looks up from the small piece of parchment and her head is turned to him.

“What?” He demands.

“I saw you,” she says.

“As you see me now?”

“No.” She turns back to the flames.

He rises with a huff and stands over her, keeping his eye on her hair. She reaches for his hand and pulls him to his knees beside her. The heat of the fire is intense, burning against the scarred side of his face. He watches as the light dances over her face and ignites in her eyes.

“What do you see?” He asks softly.

“A ghost,” she says. 

(And she chides him for being vague?)

“A ghost of what?”

“The ghost of a dragon. It was damaged, and is rebuilding its strength through anguish.”

A thousand thoughts flood his mind at once as he tries to decipher her words. Rhaenyra, damaged by the loss of her children. Daemon, preparing to avenge her grief. Aegon, rotting away in his bedchamber, still not quite recovered from the battle at Rook's Rest.

Damaged. He finds his fingers brushing against the scar that cuts through the side of his face and the sapphire that sits in his socket. “I thought you said you saw me."

“I did.”

He gives her a moment to continue but she doesn’t. “And?”

“You are impatient.”

“I am a Prince, I was not born to be patient.”

“And you are proud,” she adds, “but you will not always be.”

He takes a breath. For a moment he imagines he is back in the Red Keep, that it is Helaena sitting beside him, before this war turned her into a shadow of herself. For that girl, with the dreamy eyes and the distant smile, he could always find patience.

So they sit for a while, listening to the hum and crackles from the fire. He fights through the restlessness by drawing his thumbnail against his fingertips.

And finally she turns to him. “Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The ghost.”

He thinks of Luke's eyes, dark, vast and endless, glaring at him across a dinner table, across the hall at Storm’s End. He remembers how she looked up at him as he held a blade to her cheek the last time they met. “My blood is precious uncle, if you want it you shall have to earn it.” Her eyes were wide, pleading, but never fearful.

Then, her lack of fear enraged him, drove him to mount his dragon and chase her above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay. Now...

She did not deserve to die, and he has found a new hatred for himself every day since.

Alys reaches for his hands, stroking her fingertips over his skin. She frowns, as though she can read the pattern in his palms. “Retribution will come with fire and fury,” she says in a voice like ice, “and so it will be your salvation.”

#dead dove do not eat #karma is a god #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x fem!lucerys #fem!lucerys #aemond x original female character #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd fanfiction #hotd #my fics

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, where Rhaenyra dies from Alicent's knife)

Rhaenyra died protecting Lucerys from Alicent's knife after she tried to take his eye.

After that day, Alicent was supposed to be executed, however Otto pulled strings, and though Viserys was extremely reluctant, he was forced to imprison her in her chambers indefinitely, with no one allowed to visit her, instead.

She has gone crazy, screaming that she didn't mean to, that it wasn't her intention. No one cared what she had intended. The Heir is dead. The Queen killed her. That is the truth that rang all throughout Westeros.

Corlys and Rhaenys, angered that Viserys allowed the green queen to live, immediately sprung into action. They told Viserys that Rhaenyra's children are not safe while the murderer, her followers, and her children lived in the Red Keep. They asked that they would live with them, in Driftmark instead. Unsurprisingly, Viserys was adamant that they'd stay, that he had already lost his (only) daughter, and that he refuses to lose her children too.

Daemon then appeared and the three fought to convince Viserys to send Jacaerys and Joffrey to Dragonstone, where Daemon will personally raise and train them alongside Rhaenys. Rhaenys, who was trained since the beginning to be the heir to the king, unlike Viserys, can teach Jacaerys everything he needed to know about ruling. And Joffrey would be taught under Daemon, to raise and train him as a prince and a warrior.

Corlys would have Lucerys in Driftmark, to be raised and taught the ways of the heir of Driftmark. Though Viserys was at first adamant to keep them all there, even going so far as threatening to imprison them, he eventually agreed when he saw the three boys and their cousins gathered together, crying their hearts out.

And so, they left, and it was a horrible thing, to convince both Jacaerys and Joffrey to let go of Lucerys so soon after they lost their mother, and to hear Lucerys crying, begging them not to separate them, but it had to be done, and so they were separated, with Lucerys only having Baela as company. Together, they mourned their losses.

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

Time passed, and news spread. The two princes in Dragonstone grew, both presented as an alpha, but the one in Driftmark...

He presented as omega. What shocked the people was the fact that Corlys was insistent in keeping Lucerys as heir, despite it all. But they remembered how he fought for his wife's claim, and now, it was less than surprising that he continues to fight for his grandson's. Unfortunately, he had to fight once more in the Stepstones, calling Rhaenys and Rhaena back to Driftmark, with Lucerys already acting as heir despite his age.

It was to no one's surprise that Vaemond, coward that he is, decided to go against his brother's claim after ensuring that his brother is injured in the Stepstones. He plotted with Otto, who managed to keep his position despite everything, and the hearing was set.

Daemon, Jacaerys and Joffrey first arrived, and everyone was curious to see how much they changed. Jacaerys was calm and collected, a charming man, he had the stance of a proud general, one that is used to leading and fighting, a perfect mixture of one taught by the Queen Who Never Was, and the Rogue Prince of the City. Joffrey, unfortunately, was taught entirely by Daemon, and it showed. It was like the second coming of Daemon, a charming little boy, but there was a viciousness hidden in him.

Then came Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, and Lucerys. The crowd that gathered couldn't help but stare at Lucerys. Ignoring his coloring, he was the mixture of both Rhaenyra and Aemma, his face schooled like Rhaenys, calm, without a hint of anxiousness. Like he just came to visit instead of the truth, where he had to defend himself and his claim. He had long lost his need to hide behind the people he loved. Corlys ensured that he would be able to stand on his own, to have pride in himself.

He wore a dress his mother would have worn, a dress with the designs of old Valyria, but instead of black and red, like his brothers, he wore blue. What made it all scandalous was the fact the he, an omega, came into court collarless.

Jacaerys and Joffrey all but ran to him, and his facade cracked, revealing a sweet smile reserved only for them.

Jacaerys and Lucerys walked around the castle walls, Daemon had a hard time taking Joffrey away, since they needed to see his brother, the King, and Daemon did not trust Joffrey out of his sight.

Jacaerys and Lucerys strolled around like they had lived in the Red Keep all their lives, ignoring the stares, and eventually made it to the training grounds, where they saw their uncle Aemond defeating Cris Cole, apparently not caring for tourneys.

When he turned to see them, he ignored Jacaerys, and his eye lingered on Lucerys. Specifically on his shoulder and unprotected neck. Lucerys and Jacaerys glared, for him, their mother died. He owed them a debt, and sooner or later, it will be paid. They soon entered the courtroom, and glared at Otto, who dared to sit on the throne.

When Vaemond was finished with his bouts, Lucerys began his own, until Viserys came to defend his grandchildren. Viserys reinstated Lucerys as heir to Driftmark, ignoring Vaemond's words, angering him enough to call the three bastards, and Lucerys, an Omegan whore.

He kept his tongue, the rest of his head, however, separated from his body, and Dark Sister was fed with blood again.

------

With the dinner comes the problem. Alicent, for the first time in years, was allowed to leave her room, to the anger of every single person besides the greens.

The argument started when Viserys decided to betroth Lucerys and Aemond.

All hell broke lose, however, when Alicent called Lucerys "Rhaenyra", and he asked if she planned to kill him too.

-------

So, thoughts? Violent reactions?

If anyone wishes to create a full fanfic with this setting, please tell me!

#aemond targaryen #aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #alpha aemond #omega lucerys #rhaenyra is dead #alicent went insane

[minteaspoon]

BASED OFF OF “A Masterpiece of Mistakes”, author is anonymous

••••••••

What if in a modern au, the Targaryens and Hightowers find out that Luke - whom they had disowned from their family when he was finally let out of their control, and years of being subjected to hate from Green supporters - alongside being drugged constantly - had been dead months after his disownment. His official cause of death being a car accident, ramming his car into a tree after being struck by another vehicle.

The Velaryons had known, as they had been there in his last moments where Luke told them of his wish to not inform his family of his impending death. As a result, the Targaryens, specifically Luke’s former immediate family, go on an independent investigation of finding what really happened that led to his death, and find the person responsible.

However, it’s Aemond who’s the most disturbed and determined to find out who killed his nephew, whether it be intentional or not. He finds out that the accident seems to be semi-fabricated, and finds plot holes and inaccuracies in Rhaena and Baela’s claims, suspiciously cleaned up by Corlys and Rhaenys - his investigations were always thwarted, disturbed or distracted from by the Velaryons, who always seemed to gaze at him with such contempt, hatred and anger - barely concealed by a lie of forced politeness.

He knows they know more than they say, and he intends to find out what really happened to his nephew. And whether he’s really and truly dead as the Velaryons claim.

#lucemond #oooooh spicy drama #is luke really dead? #that’s for y’all and aemond to figure out;) #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #corlys valeryon #rhaenys velaryon #hotd au #modern au

[coeluvr]

“Coe you must be working so hard”

Me:

#coaaf if: luceris #but cat #crown of ashes and flames #coaaf if: memes #memes is so dead I always forget this tag

[unusual-raccoon]

Had a gross A/B/O Lucemond idea where Aemond baby trap’s Luke!

#local raccoon found dead #honestly it’s such a yucky idea #but it’s also eating my brain #Lucemond #lucerys x aemond #aemond x lucerys #happy accidents au

[lockandkeycake]

In the middle of the night - Chapter 22

It's 9k words of angst.

It's Jace Interlude time.

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #dead dove do not eat #omegaverse #jacemond #but you didn't see that tag ssshhh

[goddessofroyalty]

I was catching up on blood for blood with the new chapter and had a though. If Lucerys other fathers were still alive would he have still ended up married to Aemond?

Short answer: Yes. Probably.

Funnily enough whether Laena is still alive is more likely to have an effect than Leanor and Harwin because if she's alive Aemond doesn't have Vhagar so is a bit less of A Threat. However I feel like even if she did he would still end up with a dragon at some point and become the Capital-P Problem.

And then that's the thing - Aemond is a Problem and one that marrying him to Luke does kind of solve. For similar reasons to in the fic that once he is married to Luke (and especially once Luke gives him a child) he can no longer encourage the bastard rumors because Luke's inheritence is his inheritence (and his child's inheritence).

In some ways Laenor living would make Alicent's side less inclined to the marriage. Because with Laenor still in play it's going to be even harder to put a young kid on the seat and have Aemond as Steward (they have to get rid of Leanor as well as Lucerys and Corlys). But Viserys has final say in that side and he's going to be in support of the marriage. And honestly it becomes a smarter play for Rhaenyra's side - even more likely to end in their advantage than disadvantage so they kind of have to agree to it.

It's what happens after that becomes the question. With Laenor still alive there's less need for Corlys to take Luke (and Aemond) back to Driftmark because there's less urgency to get Luke ready to take the seat - Laenor is still going to inherit first. However getting Aemond to Driftmark is strategically the smartest move (staying with the House most loyal to Rhaenyra's side and harder for his mother/grandfather to get messages to without interception). So they probably still send them there with the justification of teaching Luke what he needs to know for when he rules... eventually.

The biggest change is that Luke gets that bit more of a buffer from the pressure resting solely on his shoulders. He doesn't feel like he has to learn how to govern and figure out how to handle Aemond in as little time as possible.

Although side thing - I think getting Luke to not be passed over for Joffrey is going to be harder. Because the reason in the fic he gets it is because Laenor made Corlys promise he would before Luke presented (and Corlys agreed assuming Laenor would change his mind if Luke presented omega only for Laenor to die soon after the promise was made). It would be interesting to see what would be the card that makes Luke still inherit - "it's the best way to remove Aemond as a Threat" is not going to convince Corlys and I don't think they're so progressive to want to keep an omega heir when there's a beta boy also available.

#lucemond #lucerys x aemond #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #GOT omegaverse #omegaverse #HOTD #House of the Dragon #Ramblings of the Goddess #Q and A with the Goddess #Anon question #Jace is obviously inheriting the crown #so he's like a non-consideration for Driftmark #but Joffrey is very much a consideration once Luke presents #If it was just Luke then yes I think they would support his claim #but it's not and I could see them going non-omega sons over daughters/omegas #if not for the fact Corlys' now dead son made him swear