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huramuna · 3 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

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content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.”

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps.

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch.

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes.

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.”

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects.

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one.

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European.

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund.

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–”

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?”

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?”

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?”

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.”

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him.

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth.

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light.

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive.

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–”

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–”

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

–

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once.

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines.

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself.

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall.

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent.

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through.

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone.

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye.

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

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myladysapphire · 1 year

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His Sapphire Princess (IV)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,327

CW: violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

Visenya

Her brothers woke her in a panic, pulling her out of bed and dragging her through the halls of Driftmark, claiming Vhagar had been stolen.

“You can’t steal a dragon” she yawned, wiping at her eyes, confused as to what they meant.

“but she was mine to claim, someone stole my right!” Rhaena whined. of course, cloaking him, she hoped it was Aemond, though she would admit Rhaena should have been able to attempt to claim her, but if it was Aemond that truly claimed her she could find no fault in it.

“dragons aren’t inherited Rhaena, anyone could claim Vhagar, not just you” Visenya spoke, her tone harsher than she meant “I’m going back to bed” she went to turn back but luke jumped in front of her, his best puppy eyes on display

“Senya, please, what if it’s a bad guy, we need your help” Luke begged.

“fine” she sighed in defeat, she had her dagger she supposed if someone had actually taken Vhagar she could defend them, though she saw no point of this escapade.

Vhagar roared as she landed, her new rider, a beacon of silver in the night sky, climbing down her rope.

“it’s him” spoke Jace.

it was Aemond, just as she hoped. His face was smug, his walk confident. he was like a whole new person.

“Aemond?” she questioned softly, rubbing up to him, “you claimed her?”

his eyes glimmered as he looked at her, a true smile gracing his lips. He wasn’t a new person, he was still her Aemond.

“Vhagar is my mother's dragon” Rhaena stated.

“your mothers dead” he replied, scowling. “and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“Aemond” she chined, elbowing him softly.

“she was mine to claim” Rhaena declared.

“Vhagar choose her rider, if Aemond weren’t meant to claim her then she wouldn’t have allowed him to claim her” Visneya reasoned, trying to calm the group, though it was all for nought as shouts of protest were heard from the twins.

Aemond moved forward, placing her behind him “Then you should've claimed her!” he looked at Jace and Luke then back to Rhaena, “ Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride… It would suit you.”

Baela launched herself at Aemond, before being pushed off. “come at me again, and I’ll feed you to Dragon”

The next few moments were filled with yells and screams as her brothers and cousins attacked Aemond.

“stop!” Visenya demanded, moving to pull Baela off of Aemond, only to be elbowed and pushed against a rock.

“Senya!” Aemond and Jace screamed, the attack coming to a halt.

“it’s ok,” she tried to reassure, rubbing her head as she sat up “just stop fighting, it will not give Rhaena a dragon, nor will it take Aemonds away from him!”

“he stole Vhagar, she was mine to claim!” Rhaena once again insisted.

“yeah, yeah we get it ok! just stop this fighting!… please”

Baela turned to look at her, sighing as if ready to coincide before looking at Aemond. his hand rested behind Visenya's back, his face still smug.

she charged at him again, pushing him away from Visneya and to the ground. Jace followed punching him in the face before shoving them away.

she wasn’t sure what would happend next, her head pushing too hard, liquid filling her ears. the words flame and bastard sounded, her brother Jace in Aemonds hold, a rock to his head.

“no stop!” she screamed, crawling over, unable to find balance, her dagger falling from her pocket as she pulled Jace away.

Luke grabbed her dagger and dived at Aemond, Visneya despite the fact her blurred vision, she managed to jump in front of Aemond, the dagger driving through his eye and the side of her neck.

After that, it all went black.

The hall was tense as a maester worked with Aemond and Visneya.

No one dared to speak.

Several maesters cared for Visenya, her neck seeping in blood, her body still unconscious, and her brothers crying beside her. Luke begging for her to be alright.

Aemond had insisted on being as close to her as possible, refusing to let go of her hand, and only doing so when it became apparent it was interfering with the maesters work.

“How could you allow such as thing to happen?” Viserys demanded, furious “I will have answers”

“The princes and princess were supposed to be abed, my king” Ser Harold spoke

“Who had to watch” Viserys demanded

“The young prince was attacked by his cousins, your grace, and the princess by her brothers,” Ser Criston remarked

Outraged with these responses Viserys shouted “you swore oaths to protect and defend my blood”

“I’m very sorry, your grace,” Ser Harrold told him

“The king's guard has never had to defend princes from princes, your grace” Ser Criston spoke

The hall was quiet, the fury of the king growing. His granddaughter lay on the table, unconscious as blood seeped out of her neck, the Maesters still trying to locate the bleeding.

“That is no answer!” Viserys spat

“It will heal, will it not maester?” Alicent asked she knew that the eye would be lost, but she still had hoped the seven would be merciful.

Solemnly the maester replied “the flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, your grace”

Nodding, a tear falling from her eye, she looked towards Visenya “what of the princess maester?”

Giving a small sad smile the lead maester working on Visenya stepped back to look at the king and queen, “we cannot tell yet your grace, we cannot seem to locate the bleeding and until we do, we cannot say”

Letting out an anguished cry Alicent moved to Aegon slapping him “where were you?”

Recoiling away Aegon spoke “me? Ow! What was that for?” he complained, almost ashamed. He had been getting drunk whilst his brother and niece suffered, that was enough to sober him. He worried the sight would make him burst in tears.

Alicent sneered “that was nothing compared to the abuse your brother and niece suffered while you were drowning in your cups” looking down ashamed, all Aegon could do was whisper a small as sorry.

“Where is Rhaenyra, her daughter has suffered a grave injury at the hands of her sons… where is Rhaenyra!” Alicent demanded to the room. The people equally confused as to where the princess was, remained silent.

Lord Corlys and princess Rhaenys entered the hall, demanding what had happened “what is the meaning of this”

Princess Rhaenys quickly went to her granddaughters, before catching sight of Visneay on the table, a small cry leaving her lips “what has happened?” she demanded. “What has happened to my granddaughter” the silence once more filled the room, as no one could answer.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were the last to enter the room, Daemon smug and nonchalant, Rhaenyra confused and guilty. She was quick to tun to her sons, not even bothering to look for her daughter. “what happened? Jace, Luke? Show me, show me!” taking Luke’s face in her hands she asked, “where is your sister?” both boys looked down before pointing to the table surrounded by maesters.

“Oh, my sweet girl” Rhaenyra cried taking Rhaenys place next to her daughter, as Rheanys moved to her Beala and Rheana.

“They attacked us!” Aemond spat, causing the other children to being shouting contrasting statements.

“He attacked Baela”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“ENOUGH” Viserys demanded, his confusion only increasing at the children's ranting,

“He was going to kill Jace!” Luke shouted

“I didn’t do anything! And you’re the one who attacked Visenya!” Aemond shot back, furious, she was defending him from their attack, they were to blame not him. He had lost his eye, his Visenya was wounded and unconscious.

“Enough!” Viserys demanded, once again.

Rhaenyra had made her way back to her sons, allowing the Maesters their space to work, as they finally located the bleeding.

“It should be my son telling the tale” Alicent demanded.

Luke whispered what was said to his mother “he called us bastards”

Hitting his cane on the ground Viserys demanded once again “silence” moving to look at Aemond he demanded the truth “Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened, now!”

“What else is there to hear? Your son and granddaughter maimed…Her son is responsible”

“It was a regrettable accident” Rhaenyra spoke, she didn’t want to believe what Luke had done, let alone to his sister.

“The prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son, he might yet have killed your daughter” Alicent spoke viciously, how could Rhaenyra defend her sons after what they did to her daughter, to Aemond?

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves… Vile insults were levied against them” Rhaenyra declared

“What insults?” Viserys asked

Hesitating, knowing it was the unspoken truth, Rhaenyra replied “the legitimacy of my son’s birth was put loudly to the question”

“What?”

Speaking up, Luke has a tremor in his voice as he casts a look at his sister, guilt filling his body “he called us bastards”

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons…. Prince Aemond must be Sharpley questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders” Rhaenyra spoke

In disbelief at Rhaenyra’s audacity, Alicent spoke “over an insult? My son has lost an eye! What of your daughter what is your sons’ excuses for her!?” she demanded, looking over to Visenya, the Maesters had finally stopped the bleeding, but she was yet to wake.

“You tell me boy, where did you hear this lie?” Viserys demanded, he knew the truth, he was not blind, he knew they were not Laenor’s and guilt filled him that he did not give his daughter a husband who could give her more than one child, even that he doubted, that she had to look elsewhere.

Worried, everyone knew it was Alicent who spread the rumours “this insult was training yard bluster, it was nothing”

Ignoring his wife, Viserys asked again “Aemond, I asked you a question!”

Interrupting again Alicent asked “where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.”

“Yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

Rhaenyra admitted, “I do not know, your grace, I could not find sleep, I had gone on a walk.”

Alicent rolled her eyes and muttered “entertaining his young squires, I would venture”

Asking again, Viserys spoke “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Aemond shifted his gaze to his mother, “It was Aegon” he answered. He would not sell out his mother, even if they all knew it was really her.

“Me?” Aegon asked confused, he did not care nor ever mention if they were bastards. He was rather fond of Luke and Jace, they often had fun together. He could care less about their parentage.

“And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?” Viserys spat “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

Giving up, with a sigh Aegon spoke “We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them”

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it.” Viserys spoke.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, Visenya who knows if she will wake. ‘Good will’ cannot make Aemond whole” Alicent spat

“I know Alicent, but I cannot restore an eye,” Viserys said with a deep sigh, he looked to Visenya. Her face was terribly pale, her neck was being wrapped and her head stitched.

“No, because it’s been taken!”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return” Alicent declared, gasps filling the hall.

“My dear wife-”

Her eyes watered, her son, their sons’ eye had been taken and he does not seem to care “he is your son, Viserys. Your blood”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment” Viserys warned

“If the king will not seek justice, the queen will. Ser Criston… Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Alicent ordered.

Luke let out a nervous shout for his mother, moving to hide behind her.

“he can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son” Alicent spoke, Ser Criston stared down at her, unsure of what to do.

Speaking to Criston Viserys demanded “you will do no such thing… Stay your hand”

“no, you are sworn to me!” she shouted at Ser Criston, as he stood unsurely “As your protector, my queen.”

“This matter is finished, do you understand?” Viserys spoke to Alicent, moving away before declaring “and let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed!”

“Thank you, father” Rhaenyra spoke, Alicent enraged moved towards Viserys grabbing his dagger and charging at Rhaenyra and her sons.

Shouts filled the hall, trying to get Alicent to stop, but she continued.

“you’ve gone too far” Rhaneyra spoke, grabbing Alicents arm, preventing the dagger from diving into her son's eye.

“i? what have I done but what expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you, please” Alicent spat in reply. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? And now you take my son's eye, and to that event, you feel entitled”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” Rhaenyra replied, seeing Alicent face drop and her grip on the blade began to loosen. “But now they see you as you truly are,” she said lowly, the dagger slipped from Alicent’s hand, down Rhaenyra's arm, blood dripping to the ground.

“This proceeding is at an end” Viserys declared.

next chapter

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aemonds-wifey · 1 year

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A Balm (requested by @moonchildrenandflowercrowns

Summary: You assist Aemond in something and it brings you closer.

You enter your chambers, gleefully still Happy at newlywed life. You and Aemond had been married for nearly two months. But out of that time you had noticed one or two nights where he was late to bed, you assumed he was obliging his royal Duties or visiting with his family , whom he was close to and there was nothing wrong with that. But it did make you wonder.

“Aemond..?” You ask looking around , he is nowhere to be seen. Not in the library, nor in your shared chambers- it is unusual at this late hour. You found yourself wondering the red keep, at this late hour it was rather eerie , though your worst fear was being cornered by Aegon and his drunken attempts to seduce you.

You heard a muffled moan, almost like someone was in pain down a corridor above where the skull of Balerion laid. You followed it and opened the door, you’re silent when you see Aemond sat on the edge of a table , his eye patch gone , and an elderly Septa stood over him with a bottle in her hand. Aemonds eye glows in horror when he sees you, the set gasps equally in surprise …you are confused.

“Aemond…?” You asked

Aemond faces away, covering his exposed eye with his hand , the sapphire you see is on the table next to where he sits.

“What is this?” You ask the Septa as she dips a curtsy “princess …I am just adding this ointment to ease the pain of his grace…”

Your eyes fell to Aemond who still did not look at you, you were confused- he had been so intiment with you but you had never seen him without the sapphire or the eyepatch.

You ignored the septa’s plea and stood by Aemond “Husband?”

You spoke softly

“Y/N. No I ..please leave…” he said looking away. Still

Covering his missing eye.

The septa moved to him And attempted to put some remedy to his pain, but you heard him wincing which made you interfere.

“Move your hurting him.” You said taking a step forward

“But princess i have to tend to the princes wound and I have for years.”

“Leave us.” You said with authority

The sister looked confused “Princess please let me-“

You waved your hand “Go. Now.”

Aemond said nothing, the Sept looked at him

For back up but he remained silent. She put the ointment bottle Down next to the cloth on the table and hurried out, the door firmly closing behind her. You heard Aemonds breathing which was out of rhythm, he was scared and could not escape this situation.

You gently took the bottle, you had no idea what it. You could only get hints of lavender and something sour mixed with it.

“Y/N please….I do not wish you to see me like this…” he protested as he heard you.

You looked at him, he still covered his face.

You dipped the bottle so the liquid was on your finger tips and you approached him. Lifting your index finger up he instinctively grabbed your wrist with his other hand, you held your breath and looked into his eye- you didn’t say a word.

He knew you would not hurt him , you only moved your lips to where his fingers gripped your wrist. Fear conquered his face and with a small urge of reluctance , he let go of your hand dropped to his thigh and ran your fingers through his hair - his large hand covered his scar.

“Please…let me help.” You whispered .

He inhaled sharply “You will not want to see-“ he began

You shook your head “Aemond…I am your wife. Let me help you…nothing will ever dissolve my love for you.”

He blinked a few times finally breaking the eye contact , he lowered his other hand - revealing the empty eye socket.

You did not make any noise, or expression as you quickly

Saw how he looked without the sapphire or the eye patch. You put down the bottle And gently took his face in your hands- strongly looking at him with fierce love you dipped your head forward and kissed around the eye that was now Empty. It was your way of telling Aemond you accepted him in any state and you wanted him to never forget this. It made your heart strings twinge at both sorrow and anger. Aemond did not deserve this , the strong boys needed to answer for their crimes- Luke especially.

You reversed round and picked up the bottle , putting a bit more liquid on your finger and gently dabbed the scar underneath where the sapphire would usually sit.

“You…you do not look away?” He asked quietly, almost ashamed

“Why would I want to look away?” You mused

He whimpered “Because I’m…hideou-“

You wouldn’t even let him finish the word as you silenced his sentence with another soft kiss to his scar.

“Aemond Targaryen …the man I married is the most handsome man , the most brave and the most-“

A scoff escaped his lips “You are only humoring me…”

You faced him, full on looking at his eye “I would never jest with you.”

He locked his gaze with yours “You do not find me repulsive even now?”

“No.” You did not even hesitate. Kissing him once again you felt his shoulders relax, he found a hand to your waist and held onto it very tightly.

You resumed your assistance and continued to Dab gently. His eye finally closed as you tended to his scar, you dabbed more ointment onto your finger tips and very delicately

“Is that better..?” You whispered

He nodded opening his eye , the look of fear and vulnerability seemed to have disappeared and evolved into a look of pure ardent glow mixed with relief.

“Aemond…?”

He looks as if he had to ask you something but fear gripped him again . You must Tread carefully now, your arm slowly rubs his shoulder.

“I…the pain…it is a lot…and only small remedies such as this help…but it is only temporary…”

You sigh, you felt an outpouring of anger and sad for Aemond. You could not even begin to imagine what Aemond felt day in and day out, to mask it as he does made you admire him even more. Nobody, not even your worst enemy should have to endure such hardships and constant pain.

You continued to be gentle with him, as you have him your full attention he watched you as you washed your hands in the bowl that sat next to the sapphire.

“I once heard the Maester at Winterfell speak of a concoction …when the winter comes the weather is harsh and some are affected with pains…he spoke of this remedy to help ease with chronic pain .”

you picked up with sapphire with your dry hands, standing in front of Aemond you handed it to him

“Let me write to him …see if I can re create it for you.” You suggested as you watched Aemond set the crystal blue gem in stead of his missing eye.

He looked up at you “You…you would do that…for me?” He asked

You nodded almost surprised “Anything for you…”

His eye curved into a sad but loving shape, the kindness you projected onto him was still something he was not use to. He wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you to him, his head firmly resting against your ribcage. He inhaled deeply.

“You truly are a wonder…the gods did not send me just a wife but a balm….an angel too I think.”

“The Gods sent me the most wonderful Husband. So powerful and truly …a good man.” You ran your fingers through his hair again, placing a gentle kiss on top of his head. You smiled as he looked up at you

“May I ask…one selfish thing ?” He spoke

You tilted your head “Of course.”

He paused for a moment as he tried to find the words “Would you…please…be the one to apply the remedy…to my eye…the septa is too rough she hurries yet you….” He remains focused on you “you take your time…you have a gentle touch and…it does alleviate the pain….”

You nodded “I would be happy to…”

He exhaled so sharply with relief you were sure you saw a tear escape from his eye. He pressed against you again and you held him there as he started to relax

“Thank you …my love.” He said against the cloth of your dress.

You rested your head against the top of his “I love you Aemond.”

Tags

@moonchildrenandflowercrowns @schniiipsel @chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @nolongereviliwantlove @motley-baby @arcielee @babyblue711 @namoreno @talesofoldandnew @lauraneedstochill @bbyaemond @tssf-imagines @polkadotsocks1993 @yentroucnagol @happilyhertale @actualhawkesworld @pearlstiare @afro-hispwriter

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gottagetback2u · 10 months

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✰ ateez doing ur makeup!

warnings: boyfriend ateez makes me very lonely. lighthearted joking! cursing, emojis used. established relationships! don’t expect too much from these boys lol. inconsistent use of correct spelling.

gotta match it up with the skz one 😋

-✰ seonghwa

im gonna guess that this man has memorized his own routine that the makeup department does for him, so doing ur makeup is no problem. he is honestly so good. u sometimes ask him to do ur base when ur tired bc he’s just that good. will take his sweet time with u, his boba eyes just holding so much attention to ur face 🥹

-✰ hongjoong

SURPRISE SURPRISE. this man is not tHAT good, i will say, but it’s the effort that he puts in that takes him up a notch. will definitely want to do something edgy, like black smudged eyeshadow all around ur lids, harsh contour and a lip color that stands out. nothing is perfect, but he’s so passionate about it! (if u ask nicely, he will try is best to do something more “soft”)

-✰ yuhno

menace. more than u think. it will start out with soft stares and compliments to ur complexion, until he gets to the “hard parts”. eye makeup is not his thing. will put a bright blue all over ur lids messily, stating that he just wants u to “try something different”. will be laughing the whole time too 😐

-✰ yeosang

another member that i think is surprisingly good! the application might not be the best (will put foundation on a brush before he puts it on ur skin 🥲), but he will blend it all the way out! even if it does look cakey at the end, he’s like “ur skin never looks like this, what did i do wrong :/“

-✰ san

tell him what to do, and he will try his best! it may seem unlikely, but he is really good at following directions 😭 especially if u show him an example first! wants to do his best for u, so will constantly ask u over and over “is this ok? it looks bad doesn’t it 😕” reassure him pls!

-✰ mingi

a mess. he’s more nervous about messing up than anything,, he just wants to do a good job for u :( if u ask him, he will INSIST that it has to start out with just concealer and powder, until he works his way up to a full face. u guys have a schedule once a week that he practices on u :’) quality time 😫😫

-✰ wooyoung

so sassy with it. doesn’t even want ur help, just brags about how he has seen it all before and knows what to do. next thing u know, powder contour is going on before foundation and he’s constantly putting more concealer over everything to “fix it”

-✰ jongho

doesn’t even want to do it. “who said this is a thing ur bf has to do 🤨” but, when u beg him for a bit, he lets up, agreeing to doing anything other than foundation. he has confidence in ur eye makeup, and if he messes up, just covers it with ur “sparkly eye stuff”. honestly turns out wearable and kinda cute! don’t ask again tho, he will say no

masterlist!

taglist: @strawberrimarchi

#sapphire’s log~#🤍#ateez #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong #ateez yunho #yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #wooyoung #jongho #atz imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fluff #atz drabbles #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines

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flashdoesahundredyarddash · 1 year

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Me sharing this first on Twitter and then walking over to Tumblr to post.......

POV...your friend who you're in love with gets a star sapphire ring after saving you...

literally....literally swooning. Hal, he LITERALLY swept you off your feet in battle...

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shutitk · 24 days

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Boat boys rot has destroyed me

Everytime I listen to Evil Anvil's "I turned Double Life into a song" and I hear

Joel: I don't know what to do

Etho: I'll go in unison with you

Joel: ETHO GET BACK THROUGH

*bmm bmm*

I start vibrating very excitedly

#sapphire rambles #trafficshipping #boat boys #double life #evil anvil #the brainrot is seeping guys #helppppp #(give me good fics pls)

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fluentmoviequoter · 15 days

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Me and the Ring

Part 2 of Me or the Ring

Pairing: Hal Jordan x fem!reader

Summary: After Hal broke your heart and failed his mission, the Guardians send Kyle to pick up where he left off. You can't trust Hal, but that doesn't mean you don't love him.

Warnings: angst to fluff, some suggestiveness/objectification (it's innocent, just Hal Jordan flirting), lots of DC Lantern lore references. ignore the incorrect timeline of the GLs

Word Count: 2.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC/Hal Jordan Masterlist

Coast City isn’t the same without Hal Jordan. Every time you see Green Lantern fly across the sky or a picture of him on the news, you miss your Flyboy a little more. Leaving Hal was the right choice, or so you keep telling yourself. As you walk out of a mediocre coffee shop, because you’re too nervous and heartbroken to return to the one where you met Hal, you accidentally bump into someone.

“Sorry,” you murmur without looking up.

“I’m not,” the man replies.

You glance up at his face before dropping your eyes again. He moves his arm, and you see something green reflect the sunlight.

“I’m not interested,” you say. “Excuse me.”

“Look, I know I started poorly,” the man continues, moving to block your path. “But let me start over? My name’s Kyle.”

“Okay. Kyle, get out of my way.”

“Where’s Gardner?” Kilowog mumbles. “Guardians sent ‘em both, but I ain’t seen him since we left.”

“I’m not worried about Guy,” Hal replies. “She keeps backing up. She’s different than she was with me. This is all my fault, Kilowog.”

“You’re right, poozer. But don’t give your apology to me.”

Hal sighs as he watches you. He can’t hear, but Kilowog’s Bolovaxian ears pick up every catch of your breath.

“Hal,” he grunts. “He’s taking her somewhere.”

Kyle sighs, and when his shoulder rolls back, you see the unmistakable ring on his finger. Another Green Lantern. As if one breaking your heart wasn’t enough, they still think you are guilty of some intergalactic crime spree.

“Kyle, I’m late for a meeting. Maybe I could give you my number?” you suggest.

Playing along seems like the best option. He smiles and moves again, blatantly showing off the ring. You accept his phone and input a fake name and a fake number.

“Now, lying isn’t nice,” Kyle says as he takes his phone back.

“What?”

“That’s not your name.”

You take a step back as your face drops in worry. Hal was never this pushy, and you wish he was here now. Before you can turn on your heel to run, Kyle reaches out and wraps a hand around your arm.

“If you don’t willingly go back to Oa and confess to your crimes, I will drag you across the worst planets I can think of on the way,” he threatens quietly.

You fumble with your phone at your side, navigating to your favorite contacts with only one name in mind.

“C’mon, you’re my girl,” Hal murmurs as he watches Kyle lean in to speak. “You know what to do. Don’t trust him.”

“She just said your name,” Kilowog announces.

A single second later, Hal’s phone rings. At the same time, a sapphire portal opens behind you and Kyle. Hal is angry for you, at Kyle, at the situation, but he doesn’t bother to answer your call as Kyle pulls you closer.

“Rayner,” Hal greets as he lands beside you. “Let her go.”

You lean toward Hal, and Kyle’s eyes remain on the opening portal.

“This isn’t over, Jordan,” he responds. “She’s coming back to Oa.”

“Don’t do this,” Kilowog says as he lands behind Kyle.

Your eyes widen at the sight of Kilowog, another Green Lantern. Hal steps closer to you, and you find comfort in his proximity. The other Green Lantern is large, but he seems to be with Hal, unlike Kyle.

“Last chance,” Hal tells Kyle. “Don’t make this worse.”

Sapphire sparks fly off the portal as it reaches its peak. Kyle hesitates before releasing his grip on you. His suit forms around him before he flies away, but you use your new freedom to turn toward Hal. You grip his suit, although you’re surprised you can actually feel it, and hide your face against his chest.

“This is Kilowog,” Hal says calmly. He presses a hand against your back to keep you close before promising, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, pretty girl.”

As Kilowog steps back urgently, you anticipate that Hal will break yet another promise. The portal begins shrinking suddenly, and Kilowog yells something before an unseen force pulls you closer to the pink circle.

When you open your eyes, Kilowog groans in a language you don’t recognize. You step back, out of Hal’s hold, and look around.

“Where are we?” you ask softly.

“Zamaron,” Kilowog answers.

“Why can I breathe?”

“My ring,” Hal says. “I can create an atmosphere for you.”

“How am I supposed to go home?”

“I’ll get you home, I promise.”

“Stop promising! Tell me how!” you demand.

Hal sees the fear in your eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t know yet,” he admits.

“Okay. What now?”

“Hal!” Kilowog alerts. “We’ve got company.”

“Hello,” a pink-skinned woman says as she lands before you.

Hal moves quickly to press himself against your back. You want to find comfort in the touch, but you’re terrified and don’t want to fall for another Hal Jordan trick.

“The Guardians- the guys who make the rings thought you were working with her,” Hal whispers.

You turn to look over your shoulder with wide eyes. The accusations have a new layer of unbelievability, now. There’s a sapphire ring on her finger, and when she doesn’t acknowledge the Green Lanterns with you, you tense your shoulders nervously.

“I’m sorry,” Hal adds.

“Save it,” you snap. “Tell me when you get me back to Coast City.”

Hal nods, and you turn away. There are more women before you now, and you unconsciously lean against Hal before he is pulled away.

“Take the men to their quarters,” the woman commands. “Welcome to Zamaron, human.”

“Where are you taking my friends?” you ask.

One of the women lays a hand on your back, but you step forward to preserve your personal space. They let you follow at your own pace, though they do not answer your question.

“Where did you take them?” you repeat loudly.

“Do not be concerned. Our atmosphere has adapted to your presence, so you no longer need the men to protect you,” someone answers.

“We are taking you to my palace,” the first woman says. “I am the current leader of Zamaron, and I would like to extend our hospitality to you.”

“I would appreciate a plane ticket home a bit more than hospitality,” you argue.

“In time. You will have the chance to return home, I assure you.”

You continue in silence. The palace appears as you turn a corner, and you wonder where Hal and Kilowog are. If you needed him, could he come? Would he?

“We have to get out of here, Kilowog,” Hal says before hitting the prison bars again.

“You know we can’t,” Kilowog replies.

“She is out there alone! I’m not going to just sit here and accept my fate!”

“I’m not tellin’ you too, poozer. I’m sayin’ that you need a new approach. You’re not a hero, remember?”

Hal nods as he begins pacing. “Right. I’m not a hero. But I am a Flyboy.”

Kilowog agrees before asking, “Is this a translation problem or are you making up words?”

“They’re going to offer her a ring, Kilowog,” Hal says. “I trust her, but she doesn’t know what the Sapphires do.”

“You broke her heart. If she accepts the ring, you’re her first stop.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“She called for help, Hal. Work on finding a way to do that.”

“You have strong emotions toward the human Lantern,” the leader of Zamaron muses. “Is there love?”

“Not anymore,” you answer.

“I see. My friends and I here are the Star Sapphire Corps. Do you know what that means?”

“I don’t. We humans aren’t well-versed in the whole ring thing.”

She chuckles, her laughter just as royal and majestic as her voice. “Star Sapphires are a race built on love. As our first members said, ‘Life without love is blasphemy.’ Tell me, what would you do for a life of love and power?”

“Work,” you answer. “Love and power aren’t given; they’re earned and created.”

“Poor child, you have no idea of the possibilities in the universe. Accept a ring, join our people, and the life you crave, the love you no longer have, can be yours.”

You shake your head, determined to get off of this planet. “I just want to go home.”

“And you may. A portal can be made available to you.”

“Thank you. Can I see my friends now?”

“I fear you misunderstand. We, women, are the only beings who understand what love truly is. There is no place for men on Zamaron.”

“You’re going to kill them,” you realize. “You kill all men.”

“We free them from their failed responsibilities. They cannot love, so they cannot live.��

“That’s not true.”

“Your Hal Jordan could not love you as you deserve. What proof do you have?”

“I- I can show you.”

“Green Lanterns are not to be trusted. Prove your worth with a ring or return home. Without your unfortunate friends.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before saying, “I would like a ring. Hal Jordan used me, and he must learn what life without love is like. He takes but never gives. It’s my turn.”

Your dramatic speech wins over the Sapphires, and the leader nods. Another Zamaron kneels before you and slides a pink ring onto your finger. Power surges through you as sapphire ribbons circle your form.

“Go and eliminate blasphemy.”

Hal makes using a ring look much easier, and as you shakily take flight, you wish he was here to help you. Here and now, it’s your turn to help him. Hal Jordan hurt you, but he doesn’t deserve to die on an alien planet. As you fly, you use the ring to scan the planet. It happens without much conscious thought, and when you find the prison, you raise your arms and increase your flight speed.

“Hal?” you whisper at the first opening.

“Pipe down,” a woman calls from inside the prison.

The prison is full of men from different planets, but you don’t allow yourself to think about what will happen to them. They need help, but your mission is to free Hal and Kilowog. When the bars beside you shake, you follow the sound of impact around another corner. A large, green bulldozer is ramming into a wall of bars, and you shake your head in concerned amusement before raising your own ring. You form a pink coffee cup, which causes the green machine to disappear.

“Whoa,” Hal says in place of greeting. His eyes are wide at the sight of you, and he asks, “Is that a new outfit?”

“Shut up,” you demand. You haven’t looked down at the skin-tight pink bodysuit more than once, but the mention of it makes you shift uncomfortably. “We need to get out of here.”

“The door won’t open. I’ve tried everything.”

You grab a bar and open the door with minimal effort.

“Your ring’s the wrong color,” you say.

Hal and Jordan step out, and you lower your gaze to the ring momentarily. You shake your hand, and all of the cells open. The men walk out before running for cover.

“How do I get this ring off, Hal?” you ask.

“You have to prove you love and are loved at the same time, with the same person,” Kilowog answers.

“How do you know that?” Hal asks.

“Did you mean any of it? What you said at Ferris Air?” you interrupt.

Hal turns toward you and nods. “I meant all of it.”

You look into his eyes, and he sees that yours have a depth and a hurt that he missed. The hurt is his fault, but what lies behind it caused him to fall in love with you. With your eyes locked, you think about everything that Hal has done to prove he loves you, and then admit to yourself that despite his seeming betrayal and how he used you, you love him, too. The sapphire ring hits the prison floor with a clang and Hal rushes to adjust the atmosphere for you.

“You did it!” he cheers before pulling you into his arms.

“Hal, something’s wrong,” Kilowog says.

You try to agree, but everything goes black before you can.

“Ma’am are you okay?” someone asks above you.

Your head pounds until you open your eyes. The Coast City sky above you is clear and bright, and you sit up quickly at the sight and feel of earth. There’s a crowd around you, but Hal and Kilowog are nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Green Lantern?” you ask.

“He hasn’t been seen in days,” the man kneeling beside you says. “Did you hit your head?”

“I have to go,” you say as you push yourself up to stand.

Several people yell for you to wait, but you run past the coffee shop where you first met Hal on your way home. There’s a list in your mind of things you need to do. First, you have to find some comfort, and then you can worry about Hal and where he is.

“Don’t you people know how to make a phone call?” Hal complains when he realizes he and Kilowog are on Oa. “We would’ve come if you’d just sent an invite.”

“Quiet, Green Lantern Hal Jordan of Sector 2814,” Ganthet demands. “This is a trial, not a debate.”

“A trial for what?” Kilowog asks. “Bein’ imprisoned?”

“The Intergalactic Court sent you to find a woman guilty of murder, yet you allowed her to take you to Zamaron. She has been sent back to Earth, where Green Lantern Guy Gardner will do what you failed to do,” Sayd explains. “Failing in a mission that was requested is punishable to the full extent of Rimbor law.”

“We didn’t fail!” Hal argues. “She is innocent! She saved us from the Sapphires; would a killer do that?”

“Have you any proof?”

Kilowog grumbles before summoning a hologram from his ring. A blurry video of your arrival in the prison plays for the Guardians, who then turn to one another and whisper.

“Can you send me that video?” Hal whispers as he leans toward Kilowog.

“Focus, poozer,” he replies.

“The Guardians have decided to investigate this occurrence in more depth. Green Lanterns Jordan and Kilowog, you are free to go. Be prepared to return to Oa at a moment’s notice,” Ganthet announces.

“Go,” Kilowog demands. “Or you can watch that video in your dreams.”

“I think I’ll do that either way,” Hal says before disappearing into the clouds.

“Where are you, Hal Jordan?” you ask as you click another search result.

Plenty of people have claimed to see Green Lantern today, but none of them are your Flyboy. Someone knocks, and you ignore it as you add “Coast City” to the search again. The knocking continues, and you groan as you stand.

“Coming!” you yell.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Hal says as you pull the door open.

“Hi,” you reply softly. “You know, when I called you this morning, I didn’t expect anything.”

“I’ll always be here for you. You can hate me, tell me you never felt anything, but I’m yours.”

“Hal, I-“

“No. Look, I’m not going to pretend like I know what I’m doing or that I’m relationship material. But I love you, and I will help you no matter when or where. Not because of the ring that I wear, but because of who you are and how wildly in love I am with you.”

You raise your brows as he speaks, and when he finishes you say, “Love. Do you know what that means?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you know I feel the same way. But I can’t let you use me again, Hal.”

“I never thought you were guilty, and I was trying to convince the Guardians to let it go. I’m sorry that I failed and got you into even more trouble.”

“It worked out,” you remind him. “Because I love you.”

Hal smiles and grabs the jacket you’re wearing – his jacket, you remember suddenly – to pull you against his chest. “Thank you,” he murmurs before kissing you.

You grip Hal’s shirt and return the kiss, giving and receiving love at once. Your life hasn’t been short of love since Hal walked into it.

“I love you,” you say as you pull back. “I’m sorry for reacting like I did.”

“I don’t blame you for that. Walking away wasn’t,” Hal hesitates before finishing, “It didn’t change anything for me. Except make me hate myself a little for hurting you.”

“Consider it forgiven and forgotten.”

“You,” Hal says. “I choose you. Tell me that you want me to prove it and I will throw this ring into the sky and let it find a new bearer.”

You purse your lips as you consider how the ring works. When Hal raises his hand, you wrap both of your hands over his knuckles and the ring.

“This ring is part of you, so I love it, too,” you promise.

“You really do love me,” Hal says with a smile.

“Obviously.” You gesture dramatically to his jacket on your arms to reiterate your point.

Hal leans forward and drops his voice to ask, “Enough to find a sapphire outfit? To remember old times?”

You roll your eyes before walking farther into your home. “You wish, Flyboy. The jacket’s as good as it gets for you. At least until you put a ring on my finger.”

#hanna writes✯#hal jordan x fem!reader #hal jordan x reader #dc comics x reader #hal jordan #hal jordan fic #hal jordan imagine #green lantern #kilowog #green lantern corps #star sapphire #star sapphire corps #fem!reader

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mothfables · 7 months

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Violets and Rabbits

Legend and Ravio reunite after months apart.

It had been a long, long few months. The Chain had had little time for rest and they’d been nowhere close to finding reprieve with any friendly faces in any of the eras they’d been dumped in. Everyone was tired, sore, and more than a little grumpy as they pushed themselves through yet another portal. They kept their weapons at the ready; being dropped in the middle of a monster camp or hostile situation one too many times had made them more than a little wary.

It was thus an unexpected surprise to step out into an empty clearing, the surrounding woods quiet except for the echo of birdsong. No one relaxed just yet, though- they’d been caught off-guard enough in similar situations that a moment of peace was suspicious. After a few tense minutes passed without something happening, however, weapons began to lower as the Chain cautiously allowed themselves to relax.

“Anyone have an idea for whose Hyrule we’re in?” Time called after a quick headcount. Everyone except Four and Hyrule seemed to be doing fine, and even those two were recovering quickly. One less thing to worry about, then. The Chain took that time to look around and see if they recognized anything in their immediate surroundings.

“...It’s mine,” Legend confirmed after about a minute. He went to take a step only to stagger and have to brace himself on a nearby tree. He swore under his breath, waving off a concerned Warriors. “Jus’ my stupid joints. The constant portals made ‘em worse than usual. Gimme a minute, I’ll be fine.” The admission didn’t stop Wars’ hovering but he did at least try to stop being too obvious about it, knowing the Vet hated being coddled.

Eventually they started moving, Legend taking the lead with Warriors right behind him. It didn’t take long before they found themselves leaving the cover of the trees to step onto a firm dirt road. Legend took a moment to look around before setting off down it, his expression settling into badly-hidden hopeful excitement. The rest of them hurried to keep up, Twilight and Warriors exchanging grins. That expression could only mean one thing.

Sure enough, within minutes a cozy little cottage came into view, smoke puffing merrily from the chimney. A large sign decorated with purple lettering sat on the thatched roof, and plants flowed over the walls and along the path. As they drew nearer, the door opened to reveal a person in a hooded purple robe, and Legend’s breath caught.

The figure looked up and gasped. “Link!” The Chain exclaimed in surprise as Legend broke into a sprint. The hooded figure did the same, running up the path to meet Legend halfway.

They collided, wrapping their arms around each other with relieved sounds. They stayed like that for a moment before Legend pulled back, taking Ravio’s face in his hands and looking over him worriedly.

“No one tried anything, did they? The knights-?” Ravio shook his head.

“No, no, I’m okay. What about you?”

Legend gave a short, bitter laugh. “Who cares?!”

“I do!” Ravio leaned forward and kissed away the tears that had gathered in his partner’s eyes. Then he gave a surprised laugh as Legend grabbed his waist and lifted him up to spin them both around.

The Chain watched in surprise as the two of them spun, laughing in delight. They slowed after a few moments, Legend putting Ravio down but not letting go. Ravio wrapped his arms around him again as they leaned into each other. He pressed a kiss to Legend’s hair, humming contentedly. There was a moment of peace before Twilight whooped and Wind let out a piercing whistle, making them jump.

Legend grumbled, burying his face in Ravio’s shoulder. “Your family is easily amused, Mr. Hero,” his partner chuckled. “Aren’t you going to invite them in? It would be rude to just leave them out here, you know.”

The Veteran just growled. “If I don’t look at them, they’re not there.”

Ravio burst out laughing. He pressed one last kiss to Legend’s temple before pulling away and waving to the eight heroes standing further up the path. They quickly made their way towards them, laughing and jeering good-naturedly. Legend just scowled, though he brightened when Ravio took his hand, which only elicited more teasing. The Veteran ignored them and started walking, tugging the merchant back towards the house.

“Feel free to make yourselves at home! I won’t even charge for room and board!” Ravio called over his shoulder as they passed through the door. The heroes gladly took the invitation, filing after the couple and settling in with the knowledge of at least one night of safety and comfort. Packs and weapons were leaned against the wall and shoes piled in the hallway at Ravio’s insistence.

As for their hosts, the two of them put themselves to setting up the house for their guests, passing between the hall closet and the living room where most of the Chain was gathered. They rarely strayed far from each other’s side, keeping some form of contact at all times: from a hand on a shoulder or waist, to linked arms, to a gentle headbump once or twice when their hands were too full.

The gathered heroes couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Their prickly brother rarely allowed himself to be so soft or physically affectionate, so it was a rare treat when he did.

By now, Legend and Ravio had moved to the kitchen - shooing Wild out from where they’d attempted to start dinner - and from the sound of it had started their own preparations. A few moments later soft humming drifted through the house, interspersed with muffled laughter and chatter.

Warriors leaned back in his chair as he listened to the sounds of his brother’s happiness, closing his eyes with a soft smile. Already he could feel himself unwinding, the stress from the road melting away in the warm, homey atmosphere that enveloped the house. He could only imagine how it felt for Legend. It was clear how much he loved Ravio, and try as they might their brothers couldn’t compare to the feeling of coming home to a loved one. The Veteran had been away from home longer than the rest of them, and looking back it was easy to see the distance and separation taking its toll.

His musing was interrupted by the subject of his thoughts reentering the room, followed by a fragrant cloud of what smelled like fresh bread.

“Dinner’ll be ready in about an hour,” Legend announced, moving to sit on one of the plush chairs by the fire and sinking into it with a relieved sigh. By the looks of it he didn’t plan to move anytime soon; Wars couldn’t blame him. Between the numerous fights and constant walking, the Veteran’s joints must be making their displeasure known with a vengeance. He was sure someone - at the very least Ravio or Hyrule - would make sure Legend took something to ease the pain before bed. Nobody liked seeing one of their own hurting.

Speaking of Ravio, he appeared from the kitchen to sweep through the living room with a swish of purple robes to Legend’s chair, waiting for his partner to lift his arms before sitting on his lap and cuddling close. Legend wrapped his arms around him with a soft smile.

“So, Link tells me you had an exciting few weeks,” Ravio mentioned. Wind immediately groaned, taking a deep breath to complain extensively about their recent travels. The rest of them chuckled, settling in for a night of good food, comfortable beds, and more-or-less pleasant chatter. Warriors glanced at the couple across the fire and caught Legend’s eye, giving him a smile. His chest warmed when it was returned, and he sat back to enjoy the evening surrounded by his family.

#moth’s tales #fanfiction #linked universe fanfiction #linked universe #lu legend #lu ravio #lu warriors #legend and ravio are in a queerplatonic relationship in this!#warriors made himself a worrier and wouldn’t leave #that’s okay though i love him #so does legend. he just won’t admit it #fun fact: this whole fic was inspired by ruby + sapphire’s reunion in steven universe #qpr legend x ravio #queerplatonic relationship

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multicolour-ink · 5 months

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Okay I have a question for the MerMario AU: would Luigi know about Mario's plan to see the sea witch? Would he go with him to try to stop him? (Kinda like how Flounder and Sebastian followed Ariel) or would he support his decision despite his own misgivings about the whole thing? I have so many questions gah! I really don't know where to start! LOL 😂 I want to learn everything about this AU! I guess this ask is as good a question as any and I am curious what Luigi's presence there would mean for Kammy's plan or if it would just play out the same as in The Little Mermaid.

@sapphire-light02 @keylovesstuff

Well the thing is, Luigi doesn't know Mario is going to meet Kammy - but it all happens by accident.

Mario is pretty down after his fight with Pio (especially after the latter said that he had been dragging Luigi into this 'obsession' long enough), and late that night he goes a little ways out to think things through. How can he stop Bowser from harming Peach and her kingdom? How can anyone not care that Bowser is about to wreak destruction to the surface?!

And then Kammy comes out of the shadows. Mario knows who she is - Kammy was a former resident of Atlantica, after Bowser's first downfall and banishment to the Great Depths. However, Kammy was soon kicked out of Atlantica for clearly showing her allegiance to Bowser, as well as her use of dark magic (which is outlawed in the kingdom).

Knowing this, Mario is more than aware that he shouldn't trust her.

"You are desperate to help them?", she asks. "I can help with that."

There's a lot more to it, and she and Mario both know it. Mario isn't a fool, but he is desperate. He wants to help Peach, as well as the surface and the ocean, but doesn't dare want to get his family involved - let alone allow them to know what he plans to do.

So he follows Kammy to her lair.

Meanwhile Luigi, who has been asleep back in their room, suddenly wakes up with a start, and clutches his moon necklace. Part of the bros' mer-magic is that they can sense where the other is through their bond. It's an unshakable link that has existed since they were born. And Luigi knows Mario is in trouble, and quickly swims as fast as he can towards his brother, desperate to save him before anything terrible happens!

Meanwhile, the scene with Mario and Kammy plays similar to The Little Mermaid, except Mario has to give up his mer magic rather than his voice, which is transferred into his sun necklace and kept by Kammy.

As soon as the spell is done, Mario is overcome by an incredible pain. His lungs suddenly start letting in water rather than air. His tail is split into a pair of legs. It's agonising - and Kammy is doing nothing to help him.

Abd then, just as Mario is about to feel like he's going to suffocate, a flash of green pushes Kammy aside, grabs Mario, and holds him close, as they swim as fast as they can to the surface.

The air is fresh and wonderful on Mario's body. He coughs and gasps as he takes in a lungful of air, and then collapses in exhaustion as Luigi carefully guides them to shore...

* * *

And that's that ^^ What follows of course is a similar scene like in the movie, where Mario wakes up on the beach and discovers his legs. The only difference is that he and Luigi have a long overdue talk 😒.

Long story short, Luigi states he's going to help Mario from afar - he's not going anywhere when his big bro needs him!

#I truly apologise for taking so long with this #first I wanted to describe it - then I wanted to make a fic #but after some time I decided I would leave the fic until much later when I write the full story #so I really am sorry for keeping you both waiting #super mario #mermaid au #the little mermaid #mario #kammy koopa #luigi #sapphire-light02 #keylovesstuff #multicolour ink answers #tw drowning #tw suffocation

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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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hey! I was just passing by and wanted to know if your requests are still open? If so, I would like to request one about Aemond x yn (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) yn is visiting Kingslanding, she is seeing Viserys and begins to receive "timely" visits from lords who want to ask the king directly for her hand since Rhaenyra has not been able to convince her to marry one. She ran away from all these suitors since she was a little girl and Aemond helped her when they were kids but the adult Aemond doesn't want to do such "childish things" so she keeps coping, eventually he gets fun by the ways she scares them away everyone, until he sees a persevering one who is still there and when he sees him talking to her, he feels jealous and scares him with Vahagar, she is happy and thinks that in a certain way, they can still be united as when they were children. After that she has no visitors (Aemond is in charge of scaring everyone away with Vhagar) and spends time with him, eventually she returns to Dragonstone and he appears one day and finds her hiding because she heard that she would receive a visit of a new suitor, he helps her hide while she talks about how she will scare off the new idiot who comes to ask for her hand, how he will make his stay in Dragonstone a hell and Aemond is just there, watching her with a smirk while hears her bc he's the idiot who came to Dragonstone to ask for her hand. sorry if this is too long or specific, but i was thinking in this idea so long and i don't found one with this dynamic i just want a Aemond with a soft spot with a sunshine and witty reader that is his opposite. Thanks! x

Catch Me If You Can ~ Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

note: I absolutely loved this idea! all my lovely requests are always so creative, I'm enjoying writing these so much! Also haven't been tagging people on requests - is that something people still want me to tag them on? just let me know, happy to do so! word count: 2.3k masterlist warnings: mentions/descriptions of fainting 💚requests are open💚

The first lord who tried to kiss you returned to his father with a blackened eye. Your grandsire, King Viserys had laughed, a sound deep within his chest at your angered expression and reddened knuckles.

“The blood of the dragon burns fiercely in your child, Rhaenyra,” he told his daughter while placing a loving hand atop your head. Rhaenyra had smiled weakly at her father, knowing the trouble you were likely to give her was a lot like what she gave her father.

Though you were a small child, lords flocked to your mother desperate to arrange a betrothal for your hand. As the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra, it was quite the competition for your hand. Your mother looked for your counsel, wanting to share with you the same autonomy her father had allowed her.

“I do not wish to marry,” you told her, a fierceness in your small voice. You sat atop your father’s lap, as the maester applied a salve to your reddened knuckles. Ser Harwin stood close behind you, inspecting the damage done.

“Sweetling, you need not be wed for quite some time,” she assured, “but a betrothal-”

“Ever.”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted and she looked towards your father and Ser Harwin. Laenor shrugged, while Ser Harwin chuckled, a soft expression on his face as he gazed upon you.

“She shall grow out of it,” Laenor insisted to Rhaenyra later that night, “look at us, we said very similar things and are married.”

But Rhaenrya knew her daughter well.

As more lords approached Rhaenyra, more attempted to court you. Lords laughed at Jacaerys and Luke, saying they were unafraid of the young princes, lest they attempt to scare them off from marrying their sister.

“It is Y/N you need be fearful of,” Jace and Luke would say, causing faces to drain of color.

You were a clever child, evading suitors in the gardens, hiding within the walls of the sept. There was even a time you told a lord of the Reach to meet you down near the black cells. The boy left screaming, causing you to snicker.

Your uncle Aemond would help you with your antics as well. You often pretended to have fainting spells, as many maidens did in hopes of wooing a suitor. You did so far less gracefully. When your mother forced you on a stroll with a lord from Riverrun, you crumpled to the ground as soon as he began talking of his adventures fishing.

Aemond was quick to your side.

“I must apologize for my niece,” he said, scooping his arms underneath you, as though to drag you from the scene.

“Is she quite well?” the lord asked, a look of concern on his face.

“Yes quite, she shall be alright,” Aemomd insisted, as you let your legs hang heavy as though weighted with lead, your head hanging over your shoulder. You fluttered your lashes holding a hand to your forehead. Aemond suppressed a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Oh uncle, I had the most terrible dream,” you said as he dragged you away, “ a rather large fish was trying to swallow me whole!” Aemond burst out a sharp laugh before composing himself.

After the events of Driftmark, your mother does not bring up the matter of a betrothal for many years. Rhaenyra requested the help of her father to set you up with a match and sends you to the Red Keep as you reach maidenhood. This is unknown to you, as your mother has you believing you are going to the capital to spend time with your grandsire.

You fill your days with visiting your grandsire, whose health is steadily declining. You sit in his chambers and read to him often, though you are unsure if he can hear you. Soon after you begin this, Queen Alicent begins depositing lords to sit by Viserys bedside, keeping you company. You spot the trick right away, furious.

You have just stormed out of your grandsire’s chambers when you run into your uncle. Aemond looks down at you, a smile playing on his lips as you crash into his sturdy chest. He has grown to be a fearless warrior, the years of training have hardened him. He towers above you, looking like a knight from a song with his long silver hair, and eyepatch that covers the memory of years ago.

“You must help me,” you tell him, and Aemond raises a brow.

“With what, niece?” he questions, taking in your blushing cheeks and annoyed expression.

“There is a plot to marry me off,” you tell him, glancing behind him and seeing the lord walking down the hall attempting to catch up with you.

“Quickly, I shall faint,” you whisper to Aemond, who holds you upright as you begin to lean into his lithe frame.

“Stop that foolishness,” he insists, wrapping his fingers around your forearms, “you are not a child anymore.”

You frown at him, tearing your arms from his grasp, cheeks burning at his insulting tone.

“Princess Y/N!” the lord says, standing next to you, “I had thought I lost you-”

You cut him off with a sharp stomp on his foot. The lord yelps in pain, hopping on one foot as you speed away from him. Aemond raises his eyebrows in surprise, watching as you dash away.

Though Aemond refuses to take part in your antics, he does find humor in them. You enlist Helaena to help, having her cover you in fuzzy caterpillars one morning during a walk in the gardens. The lord you are with turns green as you place a caterpillar on his nose.

It is all in good fun, and Aemond enjoys watching how you laugh and laugh when one by one the suitors disappear. He doesn’t believe any of them are worthy of you anyway.

That is until a lord of the Westerlands comes to win your hand. He is a dashing fellow, with a sly smile and golden locks who sets his sights on you as though a lion cornering its prey. The lord takes your antics in stride, the first is you knocking a goblet of wine on his white shirt during supper.

“I do apologize, my lord,” you told him, “I am a terrible klutz you see, hardly a lady who can be expected to run an estate.”

“Nonsense, it is no bother,” the lord says, “besides, you are a princess, you behave how you like.”

This shocks you, and to Aemond’s displeasure, the lion lord keeps up with you. Even when stepping on his toes while dancing, even when arriving late for dinner. The lord simply smiles and continues to dote on you.

You grow frustrated and worry that Queen Alicent will send word to Rhaenyra that this is a good match. You try to concoct a plan one day and take him to visit your dragon at the dragonpit in hopes she shall scare him off. The lion lord is not easily frightened and instead calls your young dragon sweet. You frown in displeasure.

As you exit the dragon pit, a shadow covers the entirety of the clear blue sky. Your lion lord looks up, stricken with a fearful expression. You follow his gaze, a wicked smile appearing on your face.

Vhagar is a monstrous beauty. She is far too large for the dragonpit, and she lands instead behind it. You look at the lord’s face and take his hand.

“Come now, let us greet my uncle,” you say happily, dragging him behind you.

As you reach Vhagar you watch as Aemond descends.

“Niece,” he says, “my lord.”

Aemond had watched you on your way to the dragonpit, an uneasy feeling of jealousy in his stomach. He had observed your attempts at ridding yourself of the lion lord, and how desperate you had become. Aemond had seen your dragon; your dragon would not scare a small dog, let alone a man. Aemond told himself he had no choice but to come from your aid.

“Uncle!” you say, smiling so wide Aemond feels his heart nearly stop beating, “would you care to introduce Vhagar to my lord?” you say, gesturing to the man beside you. His knees have begun to buckle, his face is pale as he looks at Vhagar.

Aemond’s smile is feline and Vhagar roars loudly, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You laugh as she does, a sharp joyful sound.

“Come my lord,” Aemond says, beckoning the man forward, “though I must warn you, Vhagar is very temperamental. The last time she met someone she did not like, it ended rather unfortunately for them.”

The lord’s eyes nearly pop from his skull. He shakes his head and Aemond scoffs.

“My lord,” he says, in a disapproving tone, “you wish to marry a dragon, and yet you cannot face one?”

Your grin is wicked as you watch the lord’s mouth open and close, a squeak leaving him. Aemond chuckles darkly.

“You are more of a house cat than a lion, my lord,” he sneers, “run along now.”

The lord leaves hurriedly with the permission of the prince, racing back towards the streets of King’s Landing. You laugh and laugh, much to Aemond’s pleasure. The sounds send warmth throughout his body. You look towards your uncle, a strong feeling of unity in your heart.

After that, you do not have any other visitors as you spend most of your days on dragonback with Aemond. Those who try to gain your affection must face a trial to deem them worthy of you. This mainly includes Aemond introducing them to Vhagar. Not one lord lasts long when staring down the beast that lived beside the Conqueror.

Eventually, Queen Alicent writes to Rhaenyra that the efforts are fruitless and you are summoned back home. You depart King’s Landing, promising Aemond you shall write to him, as you have greatly enjoyed his company during your stay. The last month has rekindled a fire within your heart for the one-eyed prince. Aemond hates watching you leave, your presence in the Red Keep was a warmth that is not easily replaced.

Weeks go by, and there is no news of any suitors coming to visit you at Dragonstone. You spend your days flying and attempting to learn High Valyrian, something that has not come easily for you.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra calls, “come here my love, we are to have a visitor.”

You freeze with fear as you hear your mother’s voice from the great hall. Slowly, you back down the hallway urgently trying to find a place to hide. Rhaenyra knows Dragonstone like the back of her hand, better than you do. You curse at the thought of her finding you and presenting you to another dreary lord.

As you pitter-patter down the hall away from your mother’s calls, your back hits something sturdy and warm. You turn and to your surprise, come face to face with Aemond.

“Aemond!” you say in a hushed whisper, relief flooding through you. You smile at him, throwing your arms around him. He hugs you close, burying his face in your hair. Reluctantly you pull away.

“Thank the gods you are here,” you tell him, taking his hand in yours, “you must help me.”

You pull him towards a nearby veranda, as a smile plays on his lips.

“With what, dear niece?” he asks, eye flickering all over your face. He has missed the sight of you this past month.

“A suitor, how mother keeps finding these fools is beyond me,” you whisper, gazing over the edge of the veranda, “perhaps this time I have a spell, I shall fall over here.” You motion to the edge of the balcony. Aemond looks at you, an amused look on his face.

“You mean to throw yourself to your death?” he asks and you shake your head.

“You shall catch me,” you tell him, smiling eagerly, “ride below on Vhagar and you shall be my savior.” Your eyes are aglow with glee at the thought.

“Ingenious, I know,” you tell him, “the fool shall wet himself with fear. Surely that shall be enough, lest I am sure you and I can make his stay here dreadful.”

Aemond cannot keep the smile from his face as he watches your face light up with mischief.

“Y/N, I cannot,” he says, though reluctant to deny you. Your smile falters, brows knitting together in confusion. Aemond has always proved to be your partner in crime in the end, and his denial of your wishes sends a stabbing pain in your heart.

You believed you would never feel ready for marriage, wanting nothing more than to fly on dragonback for the rest of your days exploring the pleasures of the known world. But after your stay in King’s Landing, you decided marriage may not be so bad if your husband enjoyed similar pleasures.

“Please uncle, just once more,” you beg, clasping your hands in his. Surely he wouldn’t let you slip away from him, not when he had so willingly scared away previous suitors.

“I cannot,” he repeats, and you feel like screaming.

“I do not understand,” you tell him pouting, “you have helped so much before-”

“I cannot help because it is I who has come for your hand.”

You blink, looking up at him, your lips parted in surprise. You look down at your hands that are still intertwined with his.

“I am the fool,” Aemond tells you, an amused smirk on his handsome face.

He lifts your hands towards his mouth, placing a kiss atop your knuckles, violet eye never leaving yours. Aemond watches you closely, sizing up your reaction to his reveal. You do not speak for several moments, as a blush forms on your cheeks.

“I feel quite faint,” you whisper, and Aemond chuckles.

“Do you jest?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, a dreamy expression on your face as you smile.

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” you say and Aemond drops your hands, snaking his arms around your waist to press you against him.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, placing a kiss atop your head. You can feel him smile into your hair.

“I shall catch you.”

#sapphire requests #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x strong!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #aemond stannies #aemond fic

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 4.8k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features.

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek.

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly.

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter.

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.”

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own.

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that?

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away.

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set.

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive.

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?”

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure.

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you.

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him.

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock.

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand.

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly.

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night.

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet.

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle.

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.”

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond.

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’.

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it.

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand.

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies.

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape.

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be.

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought?

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you.

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking.

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn.

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been.

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying.

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly.

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–”

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached.

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off.

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes.

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red.

What had you done?

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myladysapphire · 1 year

Text

His Sapphire Princess (V)

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 1,536

CW: abadonment

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

Visenya was in and out of consciousness for four days before waking fully, she had hoped for Aemond to be by her side or at least her mother and brothers. And yet she woke to find her room empty.

There were no sounds of nurses or maesters tending to her. Of anyone praying for her to wake. She was all alone.

In truth, she did not remember how she got here, or that night at all. Just the feel of a knife slicing her skin, of blood coating her hand. Why and how that happened she had no clue. She did not know of the guilt of her brothers, the maiming of her uncle, just that she was alone, and in pain, with no one to care for her.

The only sign that anyone cared was a short note left on her bedside, besides it a flower, and an evening star (her favourite). Aemond.

It was his handwriting, and only he knew of her favourite flower.

Her throat was sore and dry, with no water in sight. Her eyes were unfocused, and her vision blurred.

She felt weak, drowsy and in pain. If she had received milk of the poppy it was clearly wearing off.

She tried to call out and catch the attention of a maid walking the halls, but a sharp pain greeted her at even the simplest of movements. Leaving her only option to lay there and wait.

Luckily for her, a maid entered shortly after, gasping and running off at the sight of her awake, before returning with a maester and her grandmother.

She was too weak to walk, speak or even move her head too much, leaving her to spend the next week lying in bed, with books as her only distraction.

Every few hours someone would come and change her bandage. Her grandmother would visit her often, though the ruling Driftmark often dragged her away.

It took a week before she could bare the pain of speaking. Though everyone refused to answer her questions.

She had managed to read Aemonds letter.

‘Dear Visenya,

The maesters told me you may not remember what happened that night, that the damage to your neck may damage your brain and your person as a whole. I will not tell you what happened, I believe it best you do not remember the horror of that night, of me.

I will miss you greatly Senya, I have been told we will not meet till the moon of our wedding if your mother does not succeed in her endless attempts at ending our betrothal.

Write to me when you can, and every day after that, I will be waiting.

Yours, Aemond’

She only had more questions after that.

‘Dear Aemond,

I woke up a week ago, though I have only just gained to strength to read your note.

Indeed, I do not remember that night, every question I ask has gone unanswered, and now I am told of everyone’s wishes to keep me in the dark. And on top of that, we shall not see each other for years to come.

I do not believe my person was damaged, though memories are blurry. I remember little of that night, only blood and the slicing of a night.

I beg you Aemond, what happened? Why does everyone look at me with pity? Why did my mother abandon me?

My questions are endless.

I have been told you claimed Vhagar, I am so proud of you! it is wonderful news, I cannot wait to take to the skies with you by my side. Though the maesters worry I will not be able to ride for some time. The damage in my neck seemed to have affected my arm, it acks and jolts as if it has its mind, the maseters feat I will not be able to gain full control of it again, so I simply must learn to do everything one-handed!

Oh Aemond, I do wonder if your claiming of Vhagar anything had to do with this, I remember my prompting of claiming the she-dragon. or was it you? either way, I am proud of you no matter what, and I will miss you dearly.

I woke alone and heard no word from my mother or brothers, only my grandmother remained by my side.

I hope we meet soon, not in years to come.

Yours, Visenya’

on the tenth day since waking, she found her mother had left for dragon stone, they had not even waited a day for her to wake, she felt as if they were hiding from her. It was even worse when she found she would neither be returning to KingsLanding or Dragonstone, instead, she was to be warded at Winterfell.

‘Aemond,

I know you have most likely yet to receive my first letter yet, but I write with urgent news.

My mother has left me and has no plans to see me! I will be sent to Winterfell for a year and a half, in a moons time. I do not know what I have done, or what she has done for this to happen.

You spoke of my mother wishing our betrothal to end, and I pray this has no link to it.

Why would she send her heir, the future princess of Dragonstone to the wasteland that is the north? What use do I have there, but a lordlings wife and my brother made heir in my stead!

I have no purpose there, what would she even gain from it? Support? There has never been a stark who broke their oath and yet, she abandons me, with no farewell.

What of me? What of my happiness?

I wish I could see you, I wish I know what caused this split, I had hoped that Driftmark would be the cause of a reunion, and yet we are more divided than ever.

I will miss you Aemond, write often I beg, you are the only person I seem to have left.

Yours, Senya.’

A week before she was set to leave for Winterfell, after receiving a letter from Jace, would she finally begin to receive answers.

‘Visenya,

I am so sorry for what happened, that we left. Mother insisted our departure was urgent, that we could not stay any longer, and that you may not survive the journey.

So much has happened since we last saw one another, and I am sorry for not writing sooner, Mother insisted you needed to recover, so we waited, but she told us the news today and I could not let you got to Winterfell without telling you.

The night we arrived at Dragonstone, Mother and uncle Daemon were wed!

I know, so soon after father’s death-‘

she had stopped reading then, no one had told her, and no one had hinted.

Her mother and daemon wed, Laenor dead, perhaps killed. She would not put it past them, if the rumours of Daemon were true it made perfect sense.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, barging into Rhaenys solar.

“What?”

“My father is dead, my mother remarried. What happened? Why am I told nothing?” she demanded, voice near tears.

“Darling, come here” she beckoned over. “We…I had hoped your memory would return, but the maesters fear you may never. It was a traumatic night, there were great losses, and only more losses followed…”

And like that, Visenya was told the truth. Of how Aemond claimed Vhagar, of how the twins and her brothers fought him. She was the peacekeeper it seemed and yet was attacked, head bruised, and throat slashed. Of how she would not wake, of how her mother left like a coward in the wind, despite her brother’s tears. They left mere hours after her father’s funeral, her father was murdered by his lover. And mere hours after their return to Dragonstone her mother was wed.

She was at a loss for words. Tears building, in her eyes.

And only more tears would follow in the week coming. She received no letter from her mother, only reading the rest of Jace’s letter, and the small letter Luke had written to her, pleading his apologies. She did not know what to think.

Her Aemond was hurt, she did not remember what happened, but she knew Luke was at fault.

Was it true? did Aemond try to kill Jace? or was he simply fighting back in a 4v1 fight?

The day she left for Winterfell, the sky was cold and grey. Fighting seeing as that would be all she would see of the next eighteen moons. At least she would finally get to see snow, and perhaps Direwolves.

“It won’t be so bad” Rhaenys reassured “and if it is truly terrible…you have a dragon, you can always fly back”

She nodded, face glum, Aemond had even written to her, reassuring her. Saying her grandsire would never allow her mother to displace her as heir, that going north will give her much-needed space from her so-called ‘family’. And he was right, she did not think she would be ready to face them for some time yet. And who knows perhaps the north wouldn’t be so bad.

next chapter

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

His Sapphire Princess: @cathy1514 @iiamthehybrid @melllinaa @aleemendoza2425-blog @cassandra1999-blog1 @deltamoon666 @aelora-a @riyana99

HOTD: @taragryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

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gilded-sapphire · 4 months

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emilyshiba · 4 months

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a wonderful little sapphire and a shitpost

#i love and miss them everyday #i finally updated an old fic on ao3 too yay #also beryl not understanding the worm question is because he is aroace. not taking feedback on this #beryl and sapphire #xiao lu he xiao lan #小绿和小蓝

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stargirlstudio · 1 year

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Citrine and Sapphire [Part 1]

☆ Aemond Targaryen x Princess of Leng!Reader

☆ Physical attributes canon to Lengii people (golden eyes, black hair, skin tone is implied to be darker than pale - but non specified)

☆ 1st/3rd POV, she/her pronoun usage, no y/n

☆ WC: 3k

☆ Summary: A princess from the Isle of Leng sets off on a journey to Westeros in search of adventure and knowledge, but other players are out for their own agenda. Aemond Targaryen, the shy boy who eventually becomes her friend and greatest ally, is more similar to her than she thinks.

☆ Guide:

[ ] - Lengii language

{ } - YiTish language

Part 2 ⇨

If the princess had known the journey to Westeros would be this long and arduous, she would have planted myself in the sands of the docks and never left. Traversing through the rich provinces of YiTi was fun, familiar even.

The sea journey provided a temporary solace from the bustle of the people on land but soon gave me the worst temperament. She woke up and went to sleep with a pit in her stomach — She was not a mariner. There can only be so much gruel and dried shrimp she can eat. A servant in the back of the ship expelled what seemed to be this morning’s meal — rice porridge and salted egg. Rice porridge, while a commoner’s dish, used to be her favorite meal to wake up to. Leng’s thousand suns, as they say, sweltering outside while they get to eat the soft meal with leaves fanning their back. Roasted and dried YiTish salmon and fermented vegetables on the side. She despised the smell bile produces, mixed with the saltiness of the dark sea. The water would mist into her mouth, and sometimes if she closed my eyes, she could taste the salty radish.

Many times she prayed to the Old Ones when large waves drowned the deck. The YiTish sailor screamed what she assumed to be a word a princess should not repeat at his fellow sea folk. Leng servants rushed underground, wet with their fabrics clinging to their skin. Today is the day of her birth, but no one knew that except her handmaidens. If she were home, she would eat all the sweets she wanted. Roast pig and quail would be on the table. Though, not too fond of quail, but she would do anything to take a bite.

Her fathers would be playing with her, and her mother would be dancing. The princess’s brothers would be chasing her sister around. [“I want to go home!”] She cried. The older handmaidens wiped her tears and told her to sleep. A man with dark hair and a prominent brow ridge ran past the window. [“The window is going to break!”] She panicked and cried. Snot ran down her nose and chin. Her chest hurt from the wailing. She should be brave, but the young girl not stop herself. The screaming from below and above only made it worse. The maidens, wide-eyed and frightened, take a step back. The only one who does not is the oldest maiden - with her graying, straight hair. Deep wrinkles in the fat of her face and eye bags protruding further than her own eyes.

[“Whoever let the princess course on waters should be fed to the hogs,”] One of the newer handmaidens spoke.

The older handmaiden spoke softly, {“Would you like the sleep milk?”} The princess continued to sob, not paying attention to her question. She sighed and walked over to the chest. A blood-curdling scream came from outside, and she battled to drown out the others. The older handmaiden sat next to her and tapped on her lips. She opened her mouth before the cool white liquid droplets melted on her tongue.

Sleep milk was the only thing that could calm her down. After her fall…She used it to temper her dreams. The medicinal women have told her that when she fell off the cliff years ago, it must have caused terrible dreams. The milk helps her fall into a deep sleep when she panics. She doesn’t know how long she can be like this, but her mind sullies those thoughts as she falls asleep.

Three weeks later, flies buzzed beneath the deck - a rotten stench coming in waves as the latch opened and closed. I stare at the open latch, nothing to be seen but darkness. Two men carried a servant, her skin was gray, and her body was stiff. The whites of her eyes yellowed, and a green liquid fell from them, staining her face. A trail of the same color liquid trailed from her ears, sticking her hair to her face.

“Do not look at them, Princess,” Xhoha said as he turned my seat around. “You do not need to see that,” Xhoha was my advisor. My mother insisted I needed someone fluent in Westerosi and familiar with their culture. Xhoha was from the Free Cities but traveled around. He will not tell me what he did before he came to Leng.

[“Will we have Westerosi lessons again?”] I asked.

Xhoha sighed, “Remember, it is called Common Tongue. We will have more lessons than usual to prepare. Food poisoning swept through the ship. We are docking at Qarth. We were lucky to even make it this far from Leng,”

[“Did you say you were from Qarth?”] I asked. He chuckled, plastering a grin.

“If this is another attempt at you trying to get details of my life, I guess I’ll give you some satisfaction. No, I’m from Pentos. The closest Free City to Westeros,” He mused. [“Let us start speaking in Common Tongue,”]

I nodded. Common Tongue has made no sense to me. I struggle with every word; Xhoha remarked that I sound Dornish when I speak Common Tongue. He is highly insistent that I should try my best to adopt the dialect spoken in King’s Landing. He pulled out a Westeros map and tried his hardest to teach me about each city and its notable people, but every detail mixed with another. I have only held onto the reliance of Westerosi people from the texts given to me by monks.

The most extensive text is on Corlys Velaryon, who is still alive. I traced the indented lettering on the book, The Snake of the Seas, by Monk Hattenu. A young man with hair of alabaster set his feet upon the Leng sands. With a YiTish translator by his side, he negotiated agreements. For resources, he would offer a favor — of any kind so long as it was reasonable. In the personal texts saved by the monks, in my aunt’s diary, it seemed that she was…smitten with him.

The priestess aboard the boat had come to interrupt my lessons, “Pardon me, your majesty, it is time for you to pray,” She said. I nodded and hopped off my chair.

“We will continue after you are done,” He said. I followed her to the back of the boat, weaving my way around the men carrying bodies. The stench was foul. The priestess and I sat on our knees, facing eastward to home. I followed her movements as I picked up the reserved sand creating an arch around me.

“Princess, who shall we pray to today?” The Priestess asked. “I suggest Ah’Vannika for the health of those on board. Or Ah’Jan for safe travels,” She suggested. The Old Ones are the gods I pray to in Leng. It is believed they live beneath us. There is no gender assignment to the gods we revere, as they come in many forms. Ah’Vannika - the god of health, may come to someone as a hummingbird. A woman cloaked in white or an old man with a gray eye. In a coastal Lengii city, the people wear white and silver to honor Ah’Vannika. I have my doubts about the Old Ones. Some have claimed to see the form of a god, but who’s to say their form isn’t just some regular person? Or maybe someone is lying?

“I think Ah’Jan has heard enough prayers for our safe travels,” I said meekly. “Let us pray to Ah’Kasaya, for good weather?” The Priestess nodded. “And Ah’Vannika for good health,”

That night, I tossed and turned in my bed. I was watching the sea mist rain against the window. I closed my eyes, covering my ears to drown out the crashing waves. My mind blanks, and suddenly, I’m falling to my death, the cold and dark waters engulfing me. A hand grabs my ankle and pulls me deeper until I wake up screaming again.

Aemond’s POV

Aemond stood with his family on the day of the Princess’s arrival. The young prince felt nervous, he knew of the delays but now that the guest us finally here he did not know what to do.

“More than half of her servants, unfortunately, passed away from this illness,” Viserys continued. “The Maesters suspect that perhaps they are not used to the known world, succumbing easily to such illnesses,” The room had fallen silent. Aemond’s mother, Alicent, silently moved the food around. “Horrible really, the letter spoke of yellowed eyes and fluids coming out of every orifice. Awful…,”

“The princess may not come at all if she also falls ill,” Aegon jokes.

“The God-Empress of the Isle of Leng has been kind enough to extend her hand. The isolationist Leng has made a pact with House Velaryon for Corlys Velaryon’s kindness during his Nine Voyages,” The stout man says. A cheer erupts amongst the crowd - much to the man’s annoyance. He continues, “God-Empress Citra welcomes you to a ceremonial performance and for you all to welcome her daughter, second to the throne, the princess,”

Performers with white face paint and bold makeup came fluttering in. Their flowing gowns and tilting hands excited the guests. The music, a solemn fanfare, transitioned to string-dominated and hopeful melodies. Gasps came from all sides of the room. Aemond glanced at his older brother, his smile curving upwards. One of the performers supplanted themselves before the family. A cloth held up by their fingers blocked their faces. The performer, with their red dipped fingertips, danced the fabric in front of them before dropping and making a funny face. They watched as the performers circled the other people, interacting with them and causing them to laugh until they disappeared into the entrance.

Numerous performers, YiTish and Lengii, came back into the hall and out. Some animals that had survived the journey were also shown off to King Viserys. A striped stallion and a baby spotted back ape, like the ones in the books the Maester had him read, were also shown. The ape had started causing some trouble, but it was quickly forgotten amongst the existing performances. Halaena, who usually had her head turned away, was entranced by the spider performer, which seemed to be two women holding a rattan-crafted spider body. She giggled at their slow movements and their jolts.

The dancers all began to leave in two lines which tall guards quickly replaced. They formed into two lines blocking the guests - creating a direct pathway to the family. The music slowed, and the musicians bowed their heads slightly. Aemond squinted to see four girls walk in. He focused on the one in the front, who could not be older than him. The three other girls mimicked the same head bow as the musicians and the guards, while the youngest girl held her head high—her crown, with peaks no longer than her face, accompanied by weaved flowers in her dark hair. Her golden eyes match the crown on her head. Deep red fabric draped around her.

“I’m surprised. I think we all thought she would be old,” He paused, lowering his head closer to Aemond’s ear. “The seafarers get younger and younger,” Aemond ignored his brother, watching the princess and the rest of her subjects follow suit with gifts in hand. He heard his mother gasp. Some performers held silks; others held more jewels and what seemed to be spices. Items to be most prized.

Lord Corlys had acquired his great wealth during his Nine Voyages. One of the places he had sailed was to the Isle of Leng. At a meeting with the small council, he announced the letter from the Empress of Leng.

“To Lord Corlys Velaryon, The Revered Mariner, Friend of the Crown,” He repeated once at a dinner. “When you came to visit our lands, you made a promise to my mother, the late God-Empress Kanitara of Leng, that you would extend a favor and your support in exchange for our resources,” He paused. “My daughter, a fourth born, second in line, wishes to explore beyond Leng. She heard many stories of your adventures and wished to visit Driftmark and the rest of Westeros. There is no crown for her here, as she is not my eldest daughter. I fear that she may find more success beyond these gates. I wish to send her to you, where she will be in your care and teaching. If you accept, I will be sure to give you our treasured valuables,”

The princess bowed, taking two hands to touch her forehead and bringing them toward the family—a greeting reserved for other royals. A translator came right beside her. “Princess of the Isle of Leng, second daughter to God-Empress Citra and Lengii Emperor Consort Kiet, commander of the armies,” Aemond noticed some guests wincing at the idea of an emperor consort. “Offers her extended gratitude for inviting her to your kingdom. She offers great gifts and valuables to House Targaryen and House Velaryon,”

The translator droned on, but Aemond looked at the young princess. Her hands scratched at her thighs with her head bowed.

The celebration of the Princess’ arrival at King’s Landing was filled with more festivities. It was a week-long celebration. Performers, both Lengii and YiTish, put on their theatrical shows. Dancers in face paint and shadow theater performers entertained the nobility of Westeros. Aemond stood by, watching the Ladies secretly ogle at the Leng men. Their arms were bare and muscular, their hands hovering over their eyes to shield themselves from the sun. Aemond and his siblings sat next to their mother, while the princess and her advisor sat next to his father.

“The Princess wanted to apologize for her delay. It was a dangerous journey to Westeros,” The advisor said. He was not from Leng, at least by appearance. The man had pale skin, with freckles marking almost every inch of his skin, with shoulder-length brown hair. His long mustache wiggled with every movement of his mouth. He sounded like the traders from Pentos.

King Viserys laughed, “You need not worry. You have brought our family gifts, and most importantly you are intact,” He gestured to his family. “We welcome you,” The Princess smiled.

“Thank you, your grace,” She spoke in Common Tongue. “You have such beautiful children,” She said, lingering her gaze on Aemond, who looked away abruptly, shying his eyepatch.

“Thank you, dear Princess,” Alicent said. She gestured for the princess to come over, reaching out to hold her hand. “I did not get to see your face earlier. Such a beautiful girl,” His mother admired, the jingling of her bracelets filling the silence from the children. Aemond finally turned his head, having avoided eye contact with the princess. She stood still, a smile plastered on her face. Soft pink fabrics draped around her body, creating a loose fitting silhouette. The extra fabric draped over her shoulders, lined with small beaded floral embroidery. Local flowers had been weft into her hair along with gold pins. The princess had a strong, pleasant scent. All of the people of Leng do. The perfumes and oils saturated their skin, adding a glow.

“And you are a beautiful Queen,” She said back; Alicent had squeezed her hand. The King had announced the tourney would be taking place soon, with the family being dismissed first. Alicent held Helaena and the Princess's hand as Aegon and Aemond trailed behind. The Princess turned her head to look at Aemond, who looked away again. She turned her head forward and moved her fingers anxiously.

For the next few days, Aemond sat near the Princess. First, watching her wince at the tourney, sitting next to her at feasts, walking near her around the grounds with Helaena. The Princess does not have a name.

“The Princess has a name, but in her culture, it is forbidden to use the name with strangers,” Her advisor explained. “A shortened name is often used with their people,”

“Then how shall we address her?” A Lady asked Xhoha.

Another Lady interjected, “Lady Leng seems proper!”

There had been times when the princess had tried to speak with Aemond.

“What are you holding?” “How are you?” What are you doing?” but she was met with a hmm or a few words. Eventually, she didn’t talk to him at all. Aemond didn’t mean to ignore her, but he felt…anxious around her. Perhaps it was because she was a stranger. Everyone was focused on her; the Princess’s arrival was important enough to garner a week-long celebration. He dug his fingers into his palm, watching her from a distance as she was invited to dance with a young lord.

“Lady Leng,” The cropped haired boy asked. “May I show you how to dance?” The Princess accepted his offer. She giggled, accidentally stepping on his toes. Aemond walked away, only hearing fragments of apologies.

—

☆ A/N: A long overdue part 1 for my Leng princess fic! If you want to see more and would liked to be tagged, please comment! Also I would love comments about what you enjoyed or any potential plot ideas!

#fanfic #fanfiction #fic: citrine and sapphire #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x leng!reader #se asian!reader #asian!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #fem reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen reader insert #leng #isle of leng #island of leng #fics

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