#alice strange stark

[bucknastysbabe]

criston cole in a greens win au really is the kingmaker if he’s cucking aegon. slapped a crown on the king and now he’s making bastard kids to go on the throne. u go king.

Now I must write a blurb hnghhhh cuckingggg this is prob ass bc I’m sick rotting in bed with flubonic plague but OH WELL

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dayne!reader, greens win AU, Criston is dark and manipulative, Aegon sad sacking around the place, cukolding, exhibitionism, breeding kink, crispy creme pie, infidelity, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), pnv!sex, no beta I die like Ned stark, jealousy, one-sided-ish

Taglist: @starogeorgina @moncherri @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii

Do Your Job - C.Cole

Criston stopped caring long ago, pulling himself out of the layered filth of blood, gore, and dirt. Bodies of his men. The butcher’s ball they called it. Criston made sure that the Winter’s Wolves, Benjicot Blackwood, and Roddy the Ruin got a nice death by dragon. After some torture.

He saw through with that, as the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston had to attend to such matters. Such as what to do with Rhaenyra’s last child. Or the fucking mess that was Aegon. Aemond was still lurking around Harrenhal— said to return when his child was born. Aegon meanwhile, made Criston’s blood boil. Alicent was a maddened gnat in his ear.

Aegon had been recently remarried to a Dayne of Starfall, seeking out the ashen hair and Valyrian eyes of the Dornish house. She was gorgeous, eager to please, and could suck Criston’s prick under his desk for hours. The adorable queen had trouble with Aegon— considering the man was a bag of shattered bones and burns. The maesters had been attending to the two’s fertility plan.

She was not hard to woo, seeking Cole’s comforts as Aegon still wanted to hoard playthings and whores, uncaring much of his wife at the moment. He bedded her regularly— but they had to be careful with his bad leg and hip. Criston’s little star, beautiful as one, was the shiniest thing in the dreary keep by far. But horribly lonely, so he’d been keeping an eye, asking the Queen to help him with letters and tasks of the realm.

It wasn’t long before she was in his lap crying about how terrible the Red Keep was. Criston had his proverbial claws sunk deep into her by then. He meant his words of praise, how special his star was, and meant doubly on how much he too hated the Keep. Criston’s fingers crawled up her dress as he cooed, bringing the girl to likely her first orgasm since arriving.

They sat together in the Hand’s foyer, Ser Cole writing a letter to some raucous lordling. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, dark eyes meeting a strange indigo of sorts. “Have there been any advancements with the maesters and your womb?” She shook her head, blush dusting her cheeks.

“Go on, what’s the issue my star?”

She leaned over the table to grip his hands, pleading in her body language. “Do not grow wroth when I tell you this okay?” Criston nodded, there was no chance he would not be pissed. Just a feeling. The Dayne sighed, “He’s impotent but he swears it’s me, I don’t know, they’ve started transferring his, seed, into me. By now I’m not sure, he berates me about it.” Criston’s eyes narrowed and she squeaked.

The smaller figure was picked up by him, striding to the King’s chambers. Where Aegon was like to be making two court favorites defile themselves. The queen begged, “My lord, please, I know you feel strongly for me but-“

He growled, “No!,” then softer, “No. He’s being a fool, a lady’s desire should help the process. I’ll oversee you two. We need heirs to the throne.”

He kicked open the door, startling a half-awake Aegon. Criston gently laid the Queen on the bed then turned to a glaring Targaryen. Aegon’s burnt face twisted in annoyance, slightly slurring, “The hell is going on here Cole?” A goblet of wine sat in front of him— of course he was drinking.

Criston folded his arms. “You’re drunk right now? It’s barely even past midday.”

“Sorry, one tends to get bored when his wife would rather cavort around with the Hand,” he acridly spat back.

She protested from behind, “Alright, I can stay around, it’s fine!”

Criston eyed his star and back to Aegon. He asked “You have a beauty like that and can’t fill her belly with seed? You have the maesters stuff her like a turkey instead? Pathetic.”

Aegon’s form shook with rage, reaching for his crutch, Criston swiftly kicking it out of the way with a clatter. Aegon barked, “I’m your goddamn king, bring that back now! Maybe she’s the one barren, dirtied by lowborn seed!”

That little fucker! Criston’s eye twitched. He had not put his cock into her sacred place but now? Someone had to do the job— and it would be him. The taller brunette forced Aegon’s chair closer to the bed, the king hissing in pain, violet eyes wide. Cole chastised, “Since you’re so smart, I’ll do a little test, see if my lowborn cock has sullied her womb.” Aegon’s soft face pulled into a frown, squirming in position.

Criston began to pull at his gauntlets in quick snaps, then the bracers, and the chest plate along with the heavy shoulders. He decided to keep his chain of hands on as an ego boost. Lowborn cock raised to the second highest position in the realm, doing the highest position’s job.

Dayne stared at him, eyes flicking to the strangely silent Aegon, then back. Criston smiled at the queen, winding a tan hand into her ashen locks. He murmured, “Don’t worry dearest, we’ll have you feeling wonderful in no time, right your Grace?” Aegon remained stone cold— lips pouting.

The hand began to ease off the simple Dornish layers of her dress, baring that gorgeous body. How could she not be fertile? His star was all curves and soft skin, she would be great as a mother. Criston told her that, earning a whine, her legs wrapped around his waist. He panted to the king, “First, they need to be actually attracted to you.”

Cole pressed lush kisses to her neck and shoulders, his big hand testing the waters between her thighs. She was a little wet, not yet how he could get the Dayne, sopping. He rasped just for her ears, “Relax for me, he’s so jealous you might get an obedient king. Gorgeous star doesn’t know her own wiles.” She writhed a bit, tits pressed tight against flat chest.

“Oh, oh, there my Lord,” the blonde panted.

Criston was pumping one finger into her velvet heat, sliding in a second one to crook upwards. His thumb swirled around her swollen bud. He laughed carelessly at Aegon, whose scarred hands dug into the sides of his chair, puffy lips open. The brunette snarked, “See how easy it is not to be a selfish prick? It’s quite rewarding to make your lady come— although I think she’s already too attached to me.”

The king whined softly.

The queen moaned louder, crying Criston’s name and wetting his fingers further. The knight pulled from her full tits, purposely working her cunt over while asking. “Doesn’t that feel good little star? Don’t you wish your King would take care of you like that?” The queen gasped and mewled, cheeks a deep flush, eyes guiltily looking over at the squirming Aegon.

Criston patted her cheek, pressing a kiss over plump lips. Inky eyes and smug lips turned again to talk down to the Targaryen. He added in a dark voice, “Obviously you can’t do the fucking job so I will until you get it up and pump her with a blonde one. Although I am quite attached myself, she’s a wonderful little star. I’m going to fuck her good and thorough. Our first time too.”

Aegon whined, begging, “Ser, stop, I didn’t know, don’t!” But his hard cock was pulsing and the king had made no attempt to call for help. He couldn’t move either, the crutch out of his grasp. Aegon watched Criston work his wife into a peak, her pretty breasts heaving, thighs twitching. Utterly gorgeous. Jealousy swelled within his burnt chest.

The Dayne beauty sloppily mouthed against Criston’s mouth, trailing down to press kisses against his lower belly, grabbing his cock before asking. “You want to impregnate me sir? Give me an heir?” She could almost explode at the thought. Criston nodded, eyes hazy as her plump lips enveloped his cock, hands expert on rolling his balls and the other working in tandem with that warm mouth.

Aegon made a gutted noise.

Criston groaned deeply, watching his length disappear down velvet throat. The queen kept her indigo eyes on him, teary and wide. Fucking beautiful. He swallowed down a weak noise and rasped to Aegon, “She’s quite good at this, willing to please and eager to learn your Grace. But there you are, quickly back to your old ways.” She shuddered at the praise, Criston easing his star off so the real fun could begin.

He murmured, “On your back sweetling.” He pecked her once, shivering at the taste of him. The queen laid on her back, instinctively tucking a pillow under her hips. Criston rumbled, playfully giving her ass a smack. “Good girl, mmm, you just want to be a mama hm?” The shared noises of Aegon and his Queen made the Knight laugh.

He eased himself on top, making sure her thick thighs spread around his waist. The knight laid forward, grinning and nuzzling her nervous face. He cooed, “You’re safe with me star, pretty baby, doing so good.” Her arms slunk around his shoulders, their bodies fitting with together as Criston eased himself into her slick, swollen folds.

Fuck, she was tight and pulsing already, inner walls aiming to milk the man. Lady Dayne cried out, busty tits heaving as she was filled up by Ser Criston’s heavy cock. It was foreign, having so much care put into her pleasure. She moaned in surprise when he bottomed out, rasping nonsense against her neck.

Aegon sniveled now, watching his Queen get something he couldn’t possibly provide. Ser Criston, the crafty fucker, already worked his magic and cock into his queen. The blonde regretted many an action against his wonderful wife— seeing how she mooned over fucking Cole. Cole; a common born conniving oathbreaking madman, he truly enjoyed seeing suffering and agony. But there he was, giggling and gently fucking Aegon’s queen, the picture of chivalry. He needed more wine, and to tug his miserable cock.

Criston hiked her legs up, the back of her knees in the crooks of his arms— a mating press. She cried out, little hands scrabbling at his shoulders, eyes getting teary with pleasure. He moaned low, forcefully fucking himself inside her tight cunt, making sure she could feel every little drag and thrust. She mewled in ecstasy, “Criston, Ser, breed me, breed me please! Ohh I want it, need it!”

He grinned at Aegon’s sobs and pulling of his own prick. Criston teased “You want my seed star? Want to be all pretty and round, knowing your Lord Hand made you swell? Tits and hips so ripe for me, such a pretty mother you’ll make.” She tightened around him, arching her back, practically drooling. He focused on fucking her deep, swiping his thumb around her button, earning the cutest little mewls.

“Yes! Gods yes! Criston,” she howled, clamping down on his prick. He pressed his lips to hers, grunting as he fucked her to the point of no return. He cooed at his cute little star crying out her peak, gushing all over his still-moving cock. She weeped, “Please, give me your seed, want to be a mama, please!” Cole couldn’t deny her request, groaning long and low as his tummy tightened, emptying pump after pump of his cum into her tight pussy. He bit his lip bloody in the process, feeling feral, but the knight wouldn’t tear her skin like that.

He let go of her legs, gently holding her canted hips, humming, “How long do they say wait Aeg?”

A sharp cry, gasp, and tortured, “15 minutes.”

The Dayne didn’t even seem to be worried about her broken husband, smiling and holding Criston’s big hands. She kissed at each knuckle, eyes full of adoration and love. How they should be. How he deserved all along. What a special little star.

The first two came out with brown hair and eyes, sending a familiar shock across the keep. Then the third had ashen hair, just like the Queen. Mayhaps the Targaryen gene wasn’t that strong within Aegon, people whispered. Criston would smile, not indulging a secret. He’d rub her pretty bump alone, let Aegon play the daddy. He did alright enough.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #one sided feelings #aegon ii targaryen #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #Criston cole x reader #Ser criston cole imagine

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Mothers! HOTD/GOT (Cersei, Alicent, Sansa, and Rhaenyra) x Reader

Cersei Lannister

"You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child"

You are Cersei's first and only trueborn child with Robert.

Even though, your mother hates your father, doesn't mean you are hated, it is quiet the opposite.

Cersei would sacrifice everything to ensure that you stay by her side.

She would fight off any possible arranged marriages that Robert might have in mind for you.

Marrying you to Robb Stark? Cersei will make sure that Robert has horrible nights, until he removes this idea from his mind.

Joffrey doesn't dare to harm you in any way, because he knows what his mother would do to him if he touches a hair on your head.

After your younger siblings' deaths, Cersei becomes filled with paranoia that she might outlive you too.

She will make sure that you are kept safe even if it means stripping you away from your freedom.

Alicent Hightower

You are her favorite child without a doubt.

Maybe it is because you are not as drunk and perverted as Aegon or as vengeful and dangerous as Aemond or as dreamy and strange as Helaena.

Of course, there is also Daeron but he is in Oldtown, so he is not around as much for Alicent to favor him.

As a baby, you never caused tantrums when she came to spend time with you.

You consider her your friend, and tell her all your secrets.

Even that secret where you had a crush on a stable boy.

Strange how the boy disappeared the next day with a trance.

When Otto suggested the idea of marrying you off to Tyland Lannister, Alicent turned the idea down.

She would never give up your happiness, she would kill for your sake.

Sansa Stark

You are hers and Ramsay's daughter.

But you were given her last name, as Sansa didn't want you to be connected to the Boltons.

She thought she would hate you, but when she held you in her arms for the first time, she couldn't help but love you.

Like a little pup, you started following your mother around ever since you learned how to walk.

Sansa prefers it that way, you and her spending time together.

You filled the hole in her heart after her mother's death, she wants to have the same mother-daughter relationship with you as she had with her mother.

Everything was going on well, until Arya decided to visit Winterfall.

The moment your Aunt started speaking about her travels is the moment you realize you want to explore the outside world.

Sansa made sure that her younger sister is not welcome to speak to you again, especially after she accused her of locking you away like some bird.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Your mother turned into a completely different person after the death of your younger brother, Luke.

She announced the annulment of your marriage to Aemond, even though it was already consummated.

She has forbidden you from returning to King's Landing to get your daughter, claiming it was too dangerous for you, and that your daughter is better off with her father.

Rhaenyra can't bear to lose you just like how she lost Luke or Visenya.

When you try to escape, you are caught and your dragon is taken away from you, given sleeping herbs to put the beast to sleep.

When you called her a hypocrite for wanting to protect you as a mother, but at the same time, forbidding you from seeing your own daughter.

Rhaenyra would only hug you tightly and forcibly by grabbing into your head.

"You have to sacrifice for me, just like I sacrificed for you and your siblings"

This is when you realize that your mother truly deserves to be compared to Maegor the Cruel.

#tw: toxic relationships #yandere house of the dragon #platonic yandere #daughter reader #alicent x reader #rhaenyra x reader #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #sansa stark #cersei lannister

[sinisteryanderescribe]

Hello Sia I was thinking of what Norton's reaction if Nurse Reader if she got invited into the manor

Maybe in the ashes of memories timeline Nurse Reader is like an employee that the manor hired to help with Alice, because she isn't feeling well during the part 2

Then Nurse Reader saw Norton doing during the night or something

A Memorable Face

…………………………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………….

Norton is likely to experience a range of emotions upon encountering you at the manor. Given his experiences in the mines, he might initially feel a mix of surprise, confusion, and perhaps even a tinge of gratitude upon seeing you again. The memories of the explosion, as well as the care and kindness you showed him during his recovery, could resurface, evoking a sense of nostalgia and perhaps even a renewed appreciation for you.

Moreover, Norton might undergo a transformation as he realizes the significance of you being at the manor. He may be compelled to reflect on his past behavior towards you, recognising how you had treated him with kindness and respect despite his initial coldness. This realisation may lead Norton to feel a sense of remorse and a desire to make amends for his past demeanor. Even though you may be a class higher than him, he couldn’t help but admit to having a soft spot for you.

Norton's heart raced as he stepped into the opulent halls of the manor, his mind still reeling from the enigmatic invitation that had brought him to this place. The memories of the mine explosion, the acrid scent of smoke, and the agonizing pain that had wracked his body flooded back with every echoing footstep. As he navigated the grand corridors, his thoughts drifted to the you who had tended to him during those dark days of recovery, your unwavering kindness a stark contrast to his own initial aloofness.

Meanwhile, you who was just hired by a strange manor just walked out of Alice’s room after tending to her, a sweet but noisy little thing she is. As you wandered the ornate halls of the manor, a sense of anticipation mingled with trepidation, your thoughts inevitably turning to the enigmatic figure of Norton, whose distant demeanor had not dulled the empathy and care you had shown him during his convalescence.

You’ve always wondered what could have happened to the man. After the accident of the explosion the news stated that there were no survivors but there was a few who got heavily injured and some who were reported missing…

It was under the moon's silvery gaze that your paths converged once more. Norton, his troubled gaze scanning the dimly lit ballroom, caught sight of you, a familiar figure amidst the gathering. Time seemed to stand still as your eyes met across the room, a torrent of unspoken emotions swirling between them. The years had etched lines of wisdom and resilience on your faces, yet the bond forged in the crucible of adversity remained palpable, an invisible thread that connected their souls.

For Norton, the sight of you reignited a long-buried ember of gratitude and remorse. His steps faltered as he approached you, the weight of unspoken apologies and newfound appreciation heavy on his tongue. As he stood before you, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow on your features, he found himself at a loss for words.

…you were still as beautiful as ever.

In that fleeting moment, you beheld the man you had once nursed back to health, your hand tenderly cubbing his cheek, grazing your thumb on his cheek. His gruff exterior now softened by the passage of time. The echo of distant pain lingered in his eyes, yet beneath the surface, you glimpsed a glimmer of vulnerability that had eluded you before. As your gazes locked, an unspoken understanding passed between you, bridging the chasm of silence that had separated you for so long.

The touch of your soft skin stirred a tempest of emotions within Norton, kindling a fervent desire to express the depths of his guilt and remorse. Yet he didn’t know when to start.

With a reverent touch Norton gently wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into the shelter of his embrace. He found solace in the gentle curve of your waist, his touch a whispered vow of unyielding devotion. Pressing his lips against the crown of your head, his breath mingling with the soft tendrils of your hair.

“ Norton…”

The man said nothing but with a whispered sigh, he nuzzled his nose and face in your hair, inhaling the delicate fragrance that enveloped you. The heavy scent of your perfume stirred a symphony of memories, each note a testament to the enduring imprint you had left on his heart.

There’s so much to ask but right now, you stayed silent as you melted in Norton’s arms…

#idv #idv norton #idv norton campbell #idv prospector #idv x reader #idv norton x reader #identity v x reader #norton campbell fluff #norton campbell x fem reader #norton x reader #prospector x reader #norton campbell headcanon #norton x fem reader #norton campbell #x reader #fluff #idv angst #sfw

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark*Honey Cakes

Pairing: Robb x f! reader

Word count: 1830

Part Two to Cloak however can be read as a stand alone

Warnings: reader being jealous, secret relationship, but mostly just pure enemies to lovers’ fluff

Masterlist Here

At thirteen you despised Robb, more than anyone really, so why is it know you were sat down the table for him trying desperately not to stare at him? Your parents had originally tried to broker a marriage pact between you and the Stark however due to your mutual hatred of each other that plan fizzled and died. No one even knew you liked the boy. Well apart from Robb.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered in your ear, his breath tingling the nape of your neck as he leaned down so no one else would hear as he walked out the room behind you.

Sansa glanced back, raising an eyebrow when she saw the warm flush on your face, but you managed to wave her off. Instead of letting him torture you any longer you grabbed her arms, “Shall we go see if the kitchen has any spare lemon cakes?” you asked, and Sansa quickly grinned in agreement.

You sat in the kitchen with Sansa for a good couple hours, laughing and gossiping about all the people at Winterfell. “Well apparently Alice, you know that Manderley girl. Well apparently, she has a crush on Robb,” Sansa said, gagging at her brother’s name.

Your eyes widened but you soon covered it up as Sansa grimaced about someone potentially liking her brother, “Who told you that?”

“Jane,” she said, picking at the crumbs left of the cakes you had both scoffed, “Apparently, she was hanging around the stables waiting for Robb so she could ask for help getting on her horse. Bit desperate if you ask me. It’s not like Robbs anything special,”

“Huh that’s so weird. It’s not like Robbs dumb enough to fall for that,” You did your best to act natural, but you could see Sansa’s eyes narrowing. “Well, you’d hope anyway,”

“Yeah,” Sansa said, her voice trailing off for a moment, “Then again according to some of the ugh boys,” she said, shuddering meaning you knew she was talking about Theon despite also knowing she had a major crush on him, “he’s had some…women at his room,”

“Oh?” this time you couldn’t not sit up straight.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t tell anyone who. Theon thinks its some,” she paused to lean in and whisper, “whore,” she said, her eyes whipping around the room, “from the village,”

You sucked in your breath, trying hard not to either find Robb and kill him or cry, “He doesn’t seem like that kind of man,”

“That’s what Jon said but then who was in his room?”

“When was it?” you asked as if you wanted to break your own heart.

That was until Sansa said it, “Last Sunday,”

Fuck. Last Sunday after not being able to sleep and being too afraid of the nightmares to come you turned to Robb for some kind of comfort. Nothing happened but you did sleep in his chambers and then he helped you sneak back at first light. “How strange,” you muttered before trying to change the topic, but your mind still lingered on how good Robbs morning hair looked.

The cook eventually grew tired of your whispering and threw you both out the kitchen. Instead, you went to Sansa’s room to practise your needle point then eventually trudged back to your own room. When you entered your chamber, everything seemed normal. That was until you saw the honey cake sitting beside your bed with a note.

“I tried for lemon, but someone had eaten them all” – it read, making you laugh at the note. You sat on the bed, picking up the cake and smiling at the single wildflower he’d sat beside it.

-

The next morning you arrived at the dining hall before any of the stark children. Your parents were sat with the ned and cat at the head table, so you ended up plopping down in an empty seat and a near by table. “Morning,” an unbelievably smooth voice grinned as Robb sat himself in the seat across you.

“Morning,” you said as you tried hard not to smile too largely back. “You’re almost as sweet as that honey,” you said, lowering your voice.

A faint blush covered his cheeks, “But not as sweet as you,” he said but as he opened his mouth to speak a gritty, irritating, annoying voice spoke up.

“Good morning, Robb,” came the sing song voice of Alice who you had never thought annoying until last night.

Robb barely glanced over his shoulder at her as she walked off, “Morning Alice,” he said as he turned his attention back to you. his eyebrows squinted at the now stoney look on your face, “What?”

“Nothing,”

“Cmon tell me,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me,” Robb rapidly repeating, grinning wider at each jab.

You sighed, “Fine. Its just,” you sighed again, “she has a crush on you,”

His face froze for a moment before he burst into absolute laughter, “Oh the gods,” he laughed, clutching at his stomach as both of your parents began to stare.

“Quit it!” you whispered, slapping at his head.

“You’re jealous,” Robb laughed, thankfully quieter, as he swatted your hand away, “Aw honey that’s adorable,”

“I’m not your honey,” you grumbled, “and I’m not jealous,”

“Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not!”

“Are too- “

“Youd think by now you two would grow up,” Sansa yawned as she sat beside you, and you were both forced to act like nothing happened.

-

Later that day, for no other reason you swear, you decided to go riding soon after you overheard Robb suggest the idea to Jon. Sansa was thankfully in lessons meaning you quickly changed and heading down to the stables.

“Robbie, could you help me- “Alice began to say as you walked in however, she hadn’t seen you.

Robb however did, “Oh hey!” he greeted, walking past Alice who now wore a deflated look, “Oh sorry Alice, Jon can you give her a hand?” Jon went to step forward, but Alice muttered something about her parents before turning and leaving. “Huh, weird,” Robb half grinned.

“You wanna come riding with us?” Jon asked you as he began to fix his own saddle.

You glanced at Robb before nodding, “Yeah sure lemme get my saddle ready first,”

“I’ll get it,” Robb said, moving to grab it before you could stop him.

Jon laughed and rolled his eyes as he finished his own horses’ reins, “So at what point are you two love birds gonna admit it,”

“Admit what- “

“Save it,” Jon rolled his eyes, “He stinks of your perfume, and you’ve accepted his help in the history of well ever,” he said as he flung his arm around your shoulder, “Aw sister,” he teased as he ruffled your hair.

“Fuck off,” you grumbled as you escaped his grip and tried to fix your hair.

However, Robb walked past and laughed, “Adorable,” he grinned as he kissed the top of your head before fixing your horse. It was actually nice to be able to be open about not hating Robb as you three went around the gods’ woods. However, after a very pointed look from Robb and a lot of teasing from Jon he finally decided to throw Robb a bone and go back himself.

“Are we ever gonna tell anyone we don’t hate each other anymore?” Robb asked, ruining the perfectly good conversation about how gorgeous he thought you looked today.

You grinned at him, “Who said I don’t hate you anymore?”

“The feelings mutual,” he laughed as you finally returned to the stables. “I’m just saying would it be so bad,” he asked as he jumped off his horse, quickly moving to help you down. You swung your leg around, so you were sat sideways on the horse. Robb moved to grab your hips, lifting you down. Your arms went to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t know. I mean maybe…” you started to say but trailed off as your feet hit the ground, but Robb didn’t step back. His warm breath fanned your face, tickling your cheeks. His hands moved slowly to the small of your back, pulling you in closer till you were flush against him. His lips were only a fraction away and it only took a couple seconds till you felt them brush against yours. you couldn’t wait anymore as you pushed up, closing the final gap.

Sure, you had been flirting all week, but this was your first kiss with him, and you melted into it. if his hands were not on your back you may have collapsed. Just as your hands went into his hair, which was unbelievably soft, you heard a gasp.

You pulled back to see Sansa standing in the stable doorway. “You’re the whore?!” she asked, shocked before her cheeks flushed red, “I don’t mean- “

“Sansa!” Robb half bellowed, turning round ready to tear his sister a new one when you grabbed his arm.

His head span round to face you and you mentally made a note to remember how good he looked with his jaw tensed, “Theres’s back story, I’ll explain later,” you said before turning to Sansa, “It’s not what you think,”

“You were kissing my brother!”

You sighed, “Okay it’s kind of what you think,” you said as you walked closer, “but not as bad as you think,”

“Oh?” she paused before her eyes widened, “Oh! Ew!” she grimaced. “That’s so weird. I thought you hated him,”

“I did but,” you paused, looking at Robb who smile down at you. you reached for his hand which he gladly accepted, squeezing yours lightly, “it’s different now,”

Sansa gagged before turning to Robb, “if you hurt her. I will kill you,”

“Aren’t you supposed to say that to her? you’re my sister,” Robb said incredibly.

Sansa paused for a moment before realisation dawned on her, “Oh you’re going to be my sister one day!” she began to celebrate. You laughed at her as she jumped into your arms but made no effort to stop her, “Do our parents know?”

“Not yet,” you said as you pulled back from her grip.  “Let us tell them know,”

Robb nodded as he pulled you over to his side, draping an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah. I get to brag about her first, not you,”

“No fair,” Sansa pouted but Robb ignored her as he looked down at you with a dopey smile.

“Can’t wait to tell everyone you’re mine,” he said softly, leaning back down for another kiss which you gladly accepted.

“Oh, gods I can’t,” Sansa shivered as she quickly left however you just laughed before turning back to Robb.

Your arms found their way back to his shoulders as his found the small of your back, “Now where were we?” you asked.

Robb smiled, leaning down slowly, “Somewhere around here,” he whispered before his lips fell back onto yours. how could you hate him now?

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#robb stark fluff #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark x you #modern robb stark x reader #modern robb stark #modern robb stark imagine #modern robb stark fluff #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #modern game of thrones #modern game of thrones imagine #modern game of thrones au #modern GoT #modern GoT imagine #modern GoT x reader #modern game of thrones x reader #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf x reader #a song of ice and fire x reader #a song of ice and fire imagine

[b00inazkaban]

MASTERLIST #2

Navigation!

Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)

Smut = **

What I will NOT write for under any circumstance: R@pe, incest, anything to do with pee or poo, hardcore bdsm or anything like that type of smut, kidnapping reader for love, anything stalker, abuse unless it’s for angst but I won’t go into detail about the abuse (though I will do like slapping/spanking for smut it cannot have malicious meaning behind it, and there is always consent for that)

Also let me put this by itself, pregnancy is also way off the table. It’s 6 feet underground. I understand it’s part of life and it’s beautiful , and that’s for people to decide but personally I find just the concept of that horrifying and gross. I do breeding kink yes, but no description of pregnancy. (No hate to pregnant people I just can’t stand the concept of pregnancy in any form.)

MARVEL:

☆ Tony Stark

☆ Steve Rogers

☆ Bruce Banner

☆ Natasha Romanoff

☆ Clint Barton

☆ Bucky Barnes

☆ Sam Wilson

☆ Peter Parker

☆ Thor Odison

☆ Loki Laufeyson

☆ Dr. Stephen Strange

☆ Peter Quill

☆ Gamora

☆ Drax the destroyer

☆ Rocket the Racoon

☆ Mantis

☆ Groot

Poly Requests:

STRANGER THINGS:

☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**

☆ Robin Buckley :

☆ Nancy Wheeler:

☆ Eddie Munson:

☆ Johnathan Byers:

☆ Argyle:

☆ Billy Hargrove:

☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader

☆ Dustin Henderson

☆ Will Byers

☆ Lucas Sinclair

☆ Eleven Hopper

☆ Max Mayfield

☆ Jim Hopper:

☆ Joyce Byers:

☆ Dmitri Antonov:

Poly Requests:

HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:

☆ Harry Potter:

☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader

☆ Hermione Granger:

☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader

☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader

☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**

☆ Draco Malfoy:

☆ Blaise Zambini:

☆ Enzo Berkshire:

☆ Mattheo Riddle:

☆ Theo Nott:

☆ Pansy Parkinson:

Marauders Era or Lighting Era:

☆ Lucius Malfoy:

☆ Narcissa Malfoy:

☆ Severus Snape:

☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:

☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :

☆ Evan Rosier:

☆ Pandora Rosier:

☆ Zahara Zambini:

☆ Regulus Black:

☆ Sirius Black:

☆ Remus Lupin:

☆ Lily Evans:

☆ Marlene McKinnon:

☆ Mary McDonald:

☆ Dorcas Meadows:

FANTASTIC BEASTS:

☆ Newt Scamander:

☆ Thesus Scammander:

☆ Jacob Kowalski:

☆ Queenie Goldstein:

☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):

☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):

Poly Requests:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

☆Aaron Hotchner

☆ Jason Gideon

☆ Spencer Reid

☆ Derek Morgan

☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau

☆ Elle Greenaway

☆ Penelope Garcia

☆ Emily Prentiss

☆ David Rossi

Poly Requests:

BRIDGERTON:

☆ Anthony Bridgerton

☆ Benedict Bridgerton

☆ Colin Briderton

☆ Daphne Bridgerton

☆ Eloise Bridgerton

☆ Simon Basset

☆ Penelope Fetherington

☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)

☆ King George (Young)

Poly Requests:

Queen charlotte x reader x King George

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:

☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet

☆ Raphael:

☆ Donnatelo:

☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader

☆ April O'Neil:

☆ Casey Jones:

Poly Requests:

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud

TOP GUN:

☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"

☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"

☆ Jake Seresin "Hangman"

☆ Natasha Trace "Phoenix"

☆ Robert Floyd "Bob"

Poly Requests:

THE HOBBIT/LOTR:

☆ Thorin

☆ Bilbo

☆ Fili

☆ Kili

☆ Dwalin

☆ Bofur

☆ Bard

☆ Legolas

☆ Tauriel

☆ Thuranduil

Poly Requests:

TWILIGHT:

☆ Carlisle Cullen

☆ Esme Cullen

☆ Emmet Cullen

☆ Rosalie Cullen

☆ Alice Cullen

☆ Jasper Cullen: CG!Jasper Hale x nb!little!reader

☆ Edward Cullen

☆ Bella Cullen/Swan

☆ Jacob Black

☆ Garrett

The Volturi:

☆ Aro

☆ Caius

☆ Marcus

Poly Requests:

THE HUNGER GAMES:

☆ Katniss Everdeen

☆ Petta Mellark

☆ Finnick Odair

☆ Johanna Mason

☆ Haymitch Abernathy

Poly Requests:

LUCIFER:

☆ Lucifer Morningstar

☆ Mazikeen

☆ Amenadeil

☆ Chole Decker

☆ Linda Martin

Poly Requests:

How To Train Your Dragon:

☆ Hiccup Haddock

☆ Astrid Hofferson

☆ Snotlout

☆ Ruffnut

☆ Tuffnut

Poly Requests:

Across The SpiderVerse:

☆ Miles Morales

☆ Miguel O'Hara

Spider thoughts!

☆ Peter B. Parker

Spider thoughts!

☆ Hobie Brown

☆ Gwen Stacy

☆ Spider-Noir

Spider thoughts!

Poly Requests:

Descendants:

☆ Mal

☆ Evie

☆ Carlos

☆ Jay

☆ Gil

☆ Harry

☆ Uma

Poly Requests:

MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:

☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup

☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup

꧁〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎꧂

I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗

#b00inazkaban #fanfiction #tmnt bayverse #tmnt fandom #fantastic beasts #stranger things #harry potter #poly marauders x reader #bridgerton #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer tv #hunger games #twilight #the hobbit #lotr x reader #lotr fandom #middle earth #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #bayverse tmnt #marvel #marvel x reader #marauders #httyd #across the spiderverse #descendents #atsv

[flowerandblood]

A Winter Beauty (19)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: mention of sex, pregnancy and giving birth, fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

Lady Stark woke up in her husband's bed in the Red Keep, feeling a strange, unpleasant pain. She sat up, trying to catch her breath. Aemond woke up, asked her sleepily what had happened. She got up quickly and ran to the table, grabbed the bowl and vomited. Aemond, terrified, immediately called the maester, fearing that someone had poisoned her.

Aemond waited impatiently beside the bed for the maester to examine her. The man looked at him.

"My Prince, I would like to ask you to wait outside for a moment." He said calmly. Aemond frowned.

"No. What does that even mean? Do you know what's wrong with my wife or not?" He said angrily at his impertinence.

"My dragon." His wife looked at him disapprovingly. He pursed his lips, turned and left without a word. Lady Stark and the maester were left alone.

"My Lady, I will have to touch your breasts." He said and slipped his hand gently under her nightgown. She shuddered, but let him do it, turning her face the other way, embarrassed.

"Have you bleed this month, my Lady?" He asked calmly, taking his hand out and looking at it expectantly. Lady Stark pursed her lips.

"No. But it has happened in the past that my bleeding has been delayed." She said softly. The man nodded and asked the servant to lead Prince Aemond back. He stared at him, angry and scared, waiting for an explanation.

"Your wife is expecting your child, my prince."

***

The whole Red Keep received the news with great joy. Alicent immediately came to congratulate her as soon as one of her servants reported what had happened. She thought Lady Stark had trouble getting pregnant and was glad her prayers had been answered.

The truth was, it wasn't because of the prayers. When they were in Harrenhal, he had come inside her, even though those weren't the days he could do it. He'd done it before, sometimes, during their great passions, but usually she bled every month anyway. This time it was different.

That day, he practiced sword fighting alone all day, striking the wooden opponent with great ferocity. He thought that the gods had sent him his wife only to mock him, to take everything from him again and leave him even more crippled for the rest of his life. Even his mother, seeing how he approached the matter, could not reason with him.

He was not like his father. He wouldn't cut open her womb to take out his offspring. But even if he didn't, they'd both die anyway. The thought of her, pale, dead in a pool of her own blood, haunted him and drove him to despair. He wanted to scream.

When he returned to his chamber, he asked for a hot bath and ordered that no one should disturb him. He stepped into the still-steaming water, felt his skin burn and his muscles relaxed momentarily. He rested his head against the back of the tub and stared at the ceiling. He pursed his lips as he heard the door to his chamber open.

"I said do not disturb me." He spoke coldly, but no voice answered him. He heard the door close and then the sound of clothes being removed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that his wife was undressing. The sight of her naked body, which constantly gave him so much pleasure, made him hard involuntarily.

"May I join you, my dragon?" She asked quietly, looking at him calmly and proudly. Aemond swallowed and grunted approval. Lady Stark approached the tub lightly. For a long time she was no longer ashamed of her nakedness in front of him and did not cover herself, allowing him to enjoy the beautiful view of her naked skin.

Aemond watched her as she put her foot in the water and sat down with her back to him, leaning against his chest. She felt his hard manhood press against her, throbbing. But she knew she wasn't in the mood for their games right now. She wrapped his arms around herself tightly, his lips involuntarily kissing her shoulder and neck.

"Not too hot?" He asked softly, placing wet and tender kisses on her skin. Lady Stark leaned back with a contented sigh, giving him better access.

"No, my husband. I love our hot baths, you know that." She said and he grunted contentedly as he ran his tongue over her neck. She shivered as he did so. She felt his nose pressed against her hair. They were silent for a moment, only the soft splash of water caused by their slightest movement around them.

"Forgive me." He said finally, he felt his throat tighten. Y/N gave him a pained look, turned to him and touched his cheek.

"I want this child, husband. Holding Helaena's children in my arms, seeing you carry them and play with them, I felt that I wanted this for us. I want to hold our child in my hands, give you an offspring and heir to your entire legacy. If we both choose to do so, we may not have any more children." She said confidently, placing her hand on his chest. Aemond took her hand and kissed it tenderly.

He didn't want to admit it, but as he watched Lady Stark cradle his nephew, he thought about what it would be like to hold his own child in his arms. What would it be like if he could teach his son or daughter the Old Valryian language, choose a dragon egg for them. He ran away from these thoughts, but they kept coming back to him.

After a few days, Aemond slowly came to accept that there was no going back. He entered the chamber of his wife, who gave him a surprised look, thinking that he should be at the king's council. Aemond held in his hand the dragon egg he had personally chosen for his child.

***

After the morning sickness that bothered Lady Stark in the first month of pregnancy, these unpleasant ailments stopped. Slowly, her pregnant belly began to show, so finally the ladies and lords of the keep gave her a break, ending the rumors that she could not have children.

Aemond was surprised to find that his pregnant wife was even more insatiable than before. During their walk in the garden, she would drag him into the bushes, pull her dress up and beg him to fuck her. Helpless against her charm, he never refused her, coming inside her with delight.

Lady Stark began to eat fruits in huge quantities and at all hours of the day. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night and start eating an apple, telling her sleepy husband that she couldn't stand it until morning, she wanted it so badly. She also ate plenty of plums, strawberries, and peaches, anything sweet, crunchy, and wet that made her hungry.

Her husband made her happy by bringing oranges for her from distant lands, which she loved so much. They were juiced for her, which she often drank instead of wine on dinner.

Aemond was very protective and condescending, and he would be the happiest men in Westeros if his wife lay in bed all the time and rested. He got mad when he saw her shooting arrows in the yard, but she explained to him every time that if she wanted to bring his child into the world, she had to have strong muscles and keep training.

He allowed her to be physically active, but he accompanied her every time. Slowly, items for the child began to be brought to his wife's chamber - a cot, toys, robes. Aemond was getting used to his new reality and tought he's about to become a father. One night, lying with his wife, stroking her slightly rounded belly, he asked her if she thought it was going to be a girl or a boy.

"A boy." She said without hesitation.

***

Throughout the keep there was anticipation of the impending denouement and the birth of the prince and Lady Stark's child. Y/N took a lot of cool baths, because with such a warm climate, the heat was unbearable for her. Her ankles ached and swelled terribly, which her husband tenderly massaged each evening, as did her back and shoulders.

Their baby was very active and constantly kicked her. It stopped when Aemond pressed his head to her stomach and hugged her. He would fall asleep like that sometimes while his wife was stroking his hair in the meantime.

Although the maester's instructions were different, they couldn't help but get physically close. It always started with them rubbing against each other and panting as they lay on their side with her back pressed against his chest.

Her husband's hand found hers wet and suffering cunt, clenching at his every touch. It always ended up with Aemond fingering her entrance, shoving his cock inside her, saying he wouldn't go all the way in, that he would only stay in her for a while, and then he would fuck her with all his strenght, unable to stop himself, to her and his delight.

Although Lady Stark felt like she was now carrying a huge barrel in front of her body, her husband thought she looked as beautiful pregnant as before. Maternity dresses beautifully emphasized her large belly and made it easier for her to move. She was no longer able to shoot bows, but went for walks every day, unable to sit still.

Everyone was surprised to hear of Lord Corlys Valeryon's likely death at sea. It turned out that his brother, Vaemond Valeryon, and Aemond's nephew, Lucerys Valeryon, will fight for the right to the Driftmark.

Lady Stark knew that Lucerys had taken her husband's eye. Her husband himself told her this story early in their marriage, even though she didn't ask him. Apparently, he didn't want her to hear about it from rumors, but from him.

It was then that he told her that the dragon could not be stolen, only that it had to be tamed. He did it first, denying Leana Velaryon's daughters the ability to inherit and tame her mother's dragon.

She hadn't told him that, but if she were Leana's daughters, she'd be furious too. But she knew that the past could not be changed, that her husband had had a difficult childhood, and that the loss of an eye only plunged him further into the darkness. She knew he needed her endless and unquestioning support and devotion.

Veamond Velaryon and Luke and his family came to Red Keep to present their case to the king. Lady Stark was able to see Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne for the first time in her life. After Lord Veamond's statement, she began to present her son's case on his behalf. Y/N thought she was a beautiful woman, her confidence and way of speaking impressed her.

She stared in shock and clutched her pregnant belly as Veamond shouted that her children were bastards and she was a whore. She felt everyone froze, her heart pounding like crazy. She screamed as she suddenly saw Veamon's head hit the ground and the rest of his body hit the floor. Daemon Targaryen was standing over him, a pleased expression on his face.

"He can keep his tongue."

Aemond watched this with a smile and involuntary appreciation for his uncle, which was why he didn't see his wife cringe in pain at first, unable to utter a sound. He looked at her in horror as she fell to the floor, all eyes suddenly turned in her direction. He knelt beside her, touching her cheek, terrified, she was panting heavily, feeling a wave of water run down between her thighs.

"Beloved wife, what's happened?" He asked, seeing her pale face, his heart pounding like crazy.

"Aemond, the baby is coming out."

***

Aemond immediately carried his wife to her chamber. His mother and Helaena told him to leave. To his surprise, as he left, pale and terrified, princess Rhaenyra, Beala, and Rhaena entered, closing the door behind them.

Aemond went to the window, leaning against the stone parapet and lowering his head. He heard his wife's muffled groans of pain and pressed his lips together, feeling everything tighten within him. Daemon walked over to him, seeing what he was going through, and looked down at him.

"Women are much stronger than men, nephew."

Meanwhile, inside, Beala and Helaena helped Lady Stark strip down to her nightgown. She felt very strong contractions and once in a while moaned in pain, breathing rapidly. She felt her heart pounding, she was afraid and trembling all over. Alicent had the pillows raised high on her bed for her. Rhaenyra walked over to her and put her arm around her.

"Do not be afraid. Walk a little. It'll speed things up. Breathe deeply." She said, circling the room with her, breathing with her, reassuring her. Y/N thought she needed any motherly care and support and immediately felt her hand tighten around her waist.

"We'll get through this together, easy." Said the princess, her voice firm and composed, just what she needed now, when she was all panicked. Alicent watched this scene with tenderness, herself full of emotions.

Lady Stark screamed loudly in surprise, feeling the contraction stronger than before, she sobbed softly, but felt that the baby did not move.

"Tell me if you want to lie down. Breathe, breathe." Rhaenrya spoke, holding her hand tightly, his arm still around hers. Lady Stark fell to her knees and sobbed as another brutal spasm ran through her body. She had never felt such pain in her life before, she knew it was close.

"Lie down, come on." Rhaenyra said, helping her up. Y/N lay down breathing heavily, Rhaenyra adjusted the pillows behind her back so she could be in a semi-sitting position. The midwife spread her legs apart to see what was going on.

"Start pushing, my Lady, when I tell you." She said looking at her. "Now, my Lady! Push!”

Lady Stark squeezed her eyes shut and cried out with the effort, trying with all her might to dislodge the child. She threw her head back, Rhaenyra brushed her hair away from her sweaty face, squeezing her hand tightly.

"Very well, sweet girl, you're doing great." She said in a reassuring, firm voice that calmed her.

She felt her whole thighs tremble with fear, tears of great exertion flowed down her cheeks, she was afraid she was going to die, she wanted her mother to be with her. She gripped her hand tighter and screamed loudly as the midwife ordered her to push again. She felt the baby inside her move.

She threw back her head, the princess told her to breathe deeply with her whole chest, she showed her how to do it, and they breathed together. Helaena took a bowl of cold water, put a cloth inside and then placed it on her forehead, giving her a sudden feeling of temporary relief.

"You're doing great, my Lady, you'll be fine, just a little longer." She said reassuringly, Beala sat next to her and fanned her with a fan to keep her cool on this hot day.

"Push, my Lady, now!" Said the midwife. Lady Stark pursed her lips, gathering herself and began to push hard, a loud moan of despair escaped her lips. She threw her head back on the pillow and shook her head.

"I don't have the strength, he doesn't want to leave." She sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut, tears flowing from her eyes and she couldn't see anything anymore. Rhaenyra kissed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Just a little longer, hold on, you'll be fine." She said it with conviction and emphasis, as if she was trying to convince herself that it was true.

"My Lady, push!" Said the midwife. Lady Stark clenched her fists with the last of her strength and screamed loudly, pushing with all her might, but again she felt nothing. She sobbed loudly, panicking, unable to calm down.

"Aemond!" She screamed loudly and wept, Rheanyra combed her hair, trying to calm her down. She suddenly heard the door open.

She saw her terrified husband standing in the doorway, all pale, his eye red as if he were crying too. He just stared for a moment, frightened by the sight that had been haunting him for months. He approached her from the other side of the bed and knelt beside her, taking her sweaty hand, which he began to kiss.

"Don't leave me." He whispered helplessly, his voice breaking. The sight made her, when the midwife told her to push again, squeeze her eyes shut and do it with all her might, screaming loudly and sobbing.

She thought that she would not give the gods satisfaction, that she would not give herself to the Stranger, that she would survive. She pushed again and again, feeling like she was making the most titanic effort of her life. Aemond stared at her in horror mixed with admiration, his face glued to her clenched hand.

"My Lady, I can see the head, don't stop! Now! Push!” Lady Stark screamed loudly and lingeringly, sobbing in pain, feeling her baby literally tearing her flesh as it came out of her, and then she was relieved when something suddenly slipped out of her.

She heard soft whimpers and cries. She laughed in disbelief, panting and sobbing at the same time as she saw her baby, all red with blood, squirm in the midwife's arms.

"Congratulations, my lady. You gave birth to a healthy prince."

_____

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @namoreno @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93 @hangesprofessionalashholder @lilostif16 @sirenangelroyal @aonungs-tsahik @xmaiaaa @writingaboutlove1998

#aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x original female character #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fluff #hotd x reader

[two-white-butterflies]

dragon rider| daemon targaryen x reader

Description: Your father was a proud man, he cared more about himself than he did his children. After a lustful night with the Prince, you are left with the consequences of both of your actions. What will the proud Otto Hightower do? requested by @chalamala-bing-bong​ 

sorry for not adding the smut part of your request, i’m not really good at it 😭

Now it both dawned on them, that there were certain consequences to their actions. 

Prince Daemon sat beside her as she kept her lips pursed, a strange frown now pasted on her face. “Was the maester certain?” she inquires as he places his hand on top of hers. “Yes, I made sure he’d stay silent about it.” he comforts as she lets out a sigh. 

Y/N Hightower wasn’t as honorable as the Starks, nor was she as cunning as her father. She knew that in due time, an explosion was about to occur. And she was the one who’d have to deal with the blunt of her father’s sword. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you are carrying my heir.” he states as he leans on the chair and crosses his arms. She rolls her eyes, “I am engaged to Lord Tytos Lannister, my prince, and your reputation doesn’t really make me confident.” she spat as he chuckles and places a hand on top of her shoulder. 

She stares at his face, his bright purple eyes piercing her soul even deeper. Y/N has heard a lot about him, how he’s killed his wife; Lady Rhea Royce. And now he’s moved unto easier prey. 

“Yet you carry my seed.” he chuckles as she shoves his hand away. “There are healers in Volantis that can help me with this problem.” she remarks as his eyes slowly darkened. “And tis’ not your choice to make.” she adds as he places his hand back on her shoulder. 

He bites the insides of his cheeks. He’s heard a lot about the healers in Volantis, his mistress, Mysaria visited there and never returned. His spies told him that she bled from her wounds, according to other stories women who visit there never bare children again. Y/N has always dreamed of having children. 

“Y/N,” he opens his mouth as she places her palms on her head. Her eyes threatening to spill a thousand tears. “I’m the one who caused this, allow me to deal with my actions accordingly.” he promises, an air of seriousness now looming between the both of them. 

“I have sullied you. It is not something an honorable prince would do. Allow me to ask your father for your hand in marriage.” he pleads as he wraps his arms around her, resting his head on the top of her’s. 

---

“You have been sullied! Ruined to the highest degree!” he screams at her as he throws another vase in her direction. She was never her father’s favorite, she wasn’t as beautiful as Alicent and he couldn’t control her openly. 

He was just finding reasons to hate her. 

“I’ve spoken to Prince Daemon, he wishes to take responsibility.” she defends herself as he throws another cup at her way. “You have ruined everything you stupid girl!” he scolds her as she wipes the tears away from her eyes. 

He’s been planning to set her up with The King. Teaching her ways to seduce him and covet the throne, but now it seems like she’s seduced the wrong Targaryen. “Your son could’ve been king, and now he is just a no good heir!” he yells once again as her tears flow freely. 

She shudders, her breath now becoming hitched as she clutched her stomach protectively. “I do not understand the need for your ambition!” she argues back as his palm lands square on her face. 

She falls unto the floor as she silently wiped her tears away. He points his fingers at her in a scolding manner. “You are the one who ruins your life, now you must deal with its punishments. You will marry Prince Daemon in a fortnight,  and I do not care if you agree to it or not.” he announces. 

TAGS: @mypatrochilles​

#otto hightower #prince daemon x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader

[lemonhemlock]

Rhaenyra v Cersei: Battle of the Bastards

Lo' and behold, looks like I'm not done with bastardposting after all. For this piece, I would like to compare and contrast the two main situations that the general public has been exposed as far as the issue of illegitimate children is concerned within the ASOIAF-verse: Rhaenyra v Cersei.

The parallels are obvious. Rhaenyra has three bastard children, Cersei has three bastard children. Let's see how they handle it.

Rules

According to Westerosi law, bastards can't inherit. It doesn't matter if they're the husband's or the wife's, the King's or the Queen's. Children born out of wedlock to any spouse are explicitly excluded from the line of succession.

Only the King can legitimise bastards via a royal decree. Enough of these "Roose legitimized Ramsay" lies. It's patently untrue. Tommen legitimized Ramsay.

In order to be legitimised, the children in question first have to be declared bastards. You cannot legitimize trueborn children. You cannot secretly legitimise bastards. "Viserys claimed Rhaenyra's children were trueborn, ergo he implicitly legitimised them." No, he didn't. He never admitted they were bastards.

Why does this matter? Because it is unclear where legitimised bastards fall in the line of succession. If they maintain their place by birth order or if they are relegated to the back of the line, behind any and all other trueborn claimants.

There are no genetic tests available in Westeros. People have to prove adultery or rely on common sense.

1. Cersei has a distinct advantage over Rhaenyra, since her children look like her. She can very easily argue that they favour her, as their mother, and this is exactly what everyone believes for years, including Robert. Since Jaime is the male version of Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella can look like no else. Catelyn's kids look like Catelyn and no one bats an eye. Only Arya and (to Catelyn's irritation) Jon look like Ned. However, Ned doesn't ever doubt his children are not his.

Rhaenyra's kids look nothing like Rhaenyra and nothing like Laenor. They, instead, share distinct physical traits with her sworn shield, a man seen very often in her presence. People are not idiots. There is no plausible deniability here. You can bet your bottom dollar that if Cersei's kids were, say, Dornish-looking, people would be calling her out for her bullshit.

There is a way you can reasonably get away with passing over your bastards as someone else's, but that is 100% not Rhaenyra's way. This is why Cersei is chilling in the Red Keep, living her best bad bitch life, while Rhaenyra is running away to Dragonstone when the rumours are nipping at her heels. They are not the same. There are no paternity rumours to quell Cersei's girlboss vibes. She is sly enough that even Robert is convinced he inseminated her (gross).

2. I'm not going to get into the intricacies of Ned Stark's Scooby-Doo, Hercule Poirot mystery plot of unraveling Cersei's misdeeds. Ned has his own beef with the Lannisters and is convinced they are up to no good. He investigates them like the meddling kid he is and comes away with a suspicion. He knows nothing (heh) for certain until Cersei verbally confirms it for him. yOuR bRoThEr Or YoUr lOvEr. boo!

Had Ned not been on the Lannister trail from the very beginning, a fair assumption can be made that he never even would have suspected anything untoward. He never questions the children's paternity when they visit in Winterfell.

Again, this is distinctly different from Rhaenyra's situation. No one believes Cersei's children are bastards,* whereas no one believes Rhaenyra's children are trueborn. Pretending otherwise is very, very strange.

*at the beginning of AGOT, at least

3. Robert claimed Joffrey all his life and specifically named him his son and heir in his will, under dictation, to Ned. In turn, Ned deliberately changed Robert's words and wrote them down as "my rightful heir".

This is a parallel to show!Alicent, who misunderstands Viserys' dying words and him naming his son Aegon as heir. If Alicent didn't have the right to muddle the King's meaning, then neither did Ned. However, no one in their right minds is arguing that Ned is a traitor to the Crown. I wonder why is that?

I have already pointed out the circular logic in arguing that Robert only said that because he didn't know the children weren't his.

4. So what does this mean? Can anyone just accuse anyone they don't like of being a bastard and, thus, endanger that person's entire social status?

No, of course not. But, unfortunately for Cersei, Ned and Stannis aren't just some randos in a tavern. Ned is the Hand of the King. Stannis is Lord of Dragonstone and on the Small Council. These two men have a stalwart reputation and are renowned for their obsession with justice, duty and, in Ned's case, honour.

If Ned Stark stands in front of the Iron Throne and proclaims Joffrey a bastard, risks his daughters' lives and literally ends up losing his head as a result of this,

if Stannis Baratheon sends letters throughout the realm claiming Cersei's children are illegitimate,

the people of Westeros are going to pay attention.

These two very important men using their public platform to denounce Joffrey and starting wars over this? Say what you will about them, but they are not oathbreakers and they are not liars. No, they don't come with DNA tests, but for a lot of Westerosi, this is enough. They believe it.

Is this foolproof? No, of course not! But it convinces enough people that they are willing to band together to support rival claimants to the throne, thus igniting the War of the Five Kings. Speaking of political headaches, this is a huge one!

That being said, while Cersei is playing in the Champions League, Rhaenyra is fighting for her life in the relegation zone. She doesn't even need a Ned or a Stannis to cast doubt on her because no one believes her kids are not bastards.

Moreover, Vaemond obviously parallels Ned in this story. He tells the truth in open court and loses his head for it. In the show, Daemon and Viserys play the same role as Joffrey. In the texts, Rhaenyra and Daemon are stand-ins for Joffrey. This is not meant to be a triumphant moment of girlbossery. This is an abuse of power and an act of terror.

All in all, I'm sorry to say, but Cersei wins this hands down. She is savvy enough in her choice of sperm donor and can maintain plausible deniability without looking like a goddamn clown and the entire circus to boot. She holds the capital and has access to all the emblems of state after Robert dies. In contrast, Rhaenyra is floundering across the Blackwater Bay, yelling at the dragon gargoyles that her children are trueborn.

Why is this issue important in the story?

a). No one has a problem with Jace being King.

If people had a problem with Joffrey being King, enough to go to war over it, it would be narratively inconsistent for them to just accept an obvious bastard as King. It would contradict the internal logic of the fictional world we're talking about. That's quite some level of suspension of disbelief just because some fans like Jace. This isn't about him being amiable or a good kid.

b). They're still Rhaenyra's sons / it's a Targaryen internal matter and concerns no one else / the concept of Jace being King doesn't personally affect anyone else, so why does anyone care?

Because it's the freaking law! The name of the crime Rhaenyra commits is high treason! Punishable by exile or death!

No, the crime is not adultery, it's not having bastard children, it's specifically putting said bastard children in line to the throne. In that, Rhaenyra is as guilty as Cersei is.

It absolutely does affect others, since Rhaenyra actively steals the inheritance of House Velaryon for Luke. How is that not a crime? I would even go so far as to say that Laenor and Corlys are complicit in it and should be punished as well.

Contrary to bafflingly-popular erroneous beliefs, the monarch can't just do whatever they want. Even in absolutist monarchies, the sovereign serves the vital social role of upholding the law and the rights of their subjects. Rhaenyra breaks said law by committing theft, murder, high treason and destabilizing the entire system of inheritance.

c) Rhaenyra breaks the social contract

Jock Locke argues for the "right of revolution" in the Second Treatise of Government. He writes that when the government acts against the interests of its citizens, then said citizens gain the right to overthrow it and replace it with an authority that will protect their interests.

I am not trying to impose 'progressive' understandings of the political process anachronistically, in a medieval fantasy; my thesis-statement is that we have already seen this concept at play within the world of ASOIAF: the Faith Militant uprising against Aenys I and Maegor due to their practices of incest and polygamy and Robert's Rebellion, caused by Rhaegar kidnapping a noble lady and Aerys II carrying out executions without due process. The people of Westeros are not unfamiliar with opposing monarchs who don't abide by the law.

The question of Rhaenyra having bastards is framed in a lot of commentary through the lens of her right as a woman to have extra-marital sex and not be demonised for it and to find fulfilling love within the constraints imposed on her by her station. While debating the personal individual freedom of women in a patriarchal feudal society is not to be side-lined, her fundamental fault is that she is demanding rights and exemptions for herself, while the rest of the country have to abide by an entirely different set of rules.

The laws of inheritance, as unjust as they may appear to our modern eyes, are in place to prevent crises of succession, violent conflicts or even large-scale wars from starting every time someone's estates are passed on. Illegitimate children suddenly gaining access to inheritances threatens the political and economical calculations that predicate many Westerosi marriages.

Imagine paying a handsome dowry for your daughter, just so her husband's bastard birthed by some high-born mistress to make use of his maternal family's resources and cheat your legitimate grandchildren out of theirs.

Imagine being married to some lord and now his random bastards threaten the inheritance of your lawful children. Because, hey, the Queen acts like this is fine! This is Catelyn Stark's worst nightmare.

You think you can just sue your husband? What a silly notion. You think you can sue the bastard claimants after your husband is dead? Tough luck, your liege lord may rule in their favour by taking a leaf out of Queen Rhaenyra's book. You think you can appeal to Queen Rhaenyra? How are you going to travel all the way to King's Landing? Good luck with that, maybe you're built different and don't die during this dangerous and expensive journey.

Is this fair for the illegitimate children? Hell no, but Rhaenyra and Viserys are not planning on reforming family law in any meaningful way, because they know what a hassle it would be and how much opposition it would meet!

It reeks of rights for me, but not for thee and I, for the life of me, don't understand the stronghold she has on the liberated feminist brigade.

and finally

d). The Green Coup is not dependent on the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children.

No. But her committing high treason earns her an automatic disqualification from her right to rule, rendering her claim null and void.

#anti rhaenyra targaryen #cersei lannister #house of the dragon #asoiaf #anti team black #team green #stannis baratheon #hotd meta #bastardposting #ned stark #cersei is the one true queen of westeros don't let anybody tell u different #forgive me queen for dragging u thru the streets like this #u remain the no1 messiest baddest bitch in my heart

[hasaniwalker]

A word about Alice

“Have you seen that evil Alice in Wonderland game at best buy?”

That was how I was introduced to it. A game that would stay with me for years after. I had no idea what the person was talking about at my high school in the A.V. room. I was there frequently, editing my first stop motion film (An adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s the Raven).  They told me she had a knife and there was a thin cat next to her. I was intrigued and the next time I was at best buy I wandered to the Computer Game department and found the box.

That’s when I was introduced to American McGee's Alice.

I feel like I should mention, I was not and still am not really a PC gamer. I do console games mostly and reserve my computer for animation and editing. This game however, I needed to play it.  I was gripped by the image. The stark red background. The haunting stare of the character. the hand on the knife. It was unapologetically dark and I was obsessed. 

I went online wanting to learn more. It was early 2000 and my home internet was still dial up. I still recall going online to the Alice website and finding a countdown page. It was a music box, a child singing in the background, a terribly broken  tune looping as the box threatened to open. It was haunting and perfect.  I’d come home from school and for the short moment while I was the only one there, I’d go to the site and let that strange tune play though the house. At the end of the countdown, the box opened to reveal a decaying baby doll head (All of this is from memory and may be distorted by time. I unfortunately can’t find any images of the countdown page.) It stirred something in me to see that page come to life. It was the early days of internet. The time of MySpace. So the site was crude by today’s standards, but it was the most amazing thing to me at the time.

I’d leave it open on one of the computers while I was in A.V. at school. friends would come and we’d watch Alice move (sitting up from her seat, marveling at her blade, dusting off her dress.)

And of course, take time to show anyone the trailer.

I remember this time of being a teenager entering adulthood, feeling misunderstood, anxious, scared, and losing myself in the music of Garbage, Poe and Crystal Method. Alice fit right in to the aesthetic of everything I saw at the time.  If Wednesday was the goth friend saying and liking macabre things, Alice was the older teen sister angry with the world and ready to scream at it with you. She was grunge, she was dark, she was frightening and wonderful.

I couldn’t afford the game, but I could afford the soundtrack. I ordered it from Amazon. A site that was also in it’s early days at the time. I hadn’t ordered much form the site, but I needed this.

I’ll always remember when the email alert came. My package had been delivered. There was a storm that day. I lived in Phoenix Arizona, and when we have storms it looks like the world is ending. The sky was dark, the thunder was loud. You had to get inside. I came home and went to the mailbox. The CD shape of the package nearly made my heart stop. I knew what it was, but holding it felt like an achievement.  I listened to that music daily.

Now, so you know, I didn’t just admire this game from afar. I did get the game for my birthday one year. I had talked about it so much that it was almost certain my mom would remember. It was the first computer game I owned. I was terrible at using a keyboard for games and couldn’t get through the first few levels without a huge amount of struggle. It was a lot of getting used to and I loved it.  

From the opening cinematic, the menu screen, the sound of the bell when you start the game. It was exactly what I wanted.

At the time I couldn’t think of another game like Alice. It felt tailored made from people with my mindset. A frightful game with a deep story and a character I immediately identified with. At a time where games had very action oriented goals, Alice gave a backstory of an asylum even coming with a patient log for Alice. All of it detailing the terrible fire, her mental state, and the struggle she was going through.

The best part of this was that I wasn’t alone in my admiration for this story. You could walk into Hot Topic and Tower Records and be greeted by large Alice statues modeled from the box art that captured my imagination from the start.

I wanted to see more of this character. I dreamed of seeing a movie someday.

And it almost seemed like I would get my wish.

There was news that a film was being developed of Alice with Wes Craven directing and possibly Natalie Portman or Sarah Michelle Gellar playing Alice. part of me hoped for an animated film with the original voices, but I was still gripped by this news.

At the time, I didn’t consider myself a horror person (feels weird to write that now since I think I’ve always really been one). I didn’t really seek out horror films and avoided gore. But I wanted Alice to by a disturbing and imaginative experience. I wanted to be scared watching this while feeling for the main protagonist and wanting her to reclaim her mind.

In a world where this film went the way I hoped, people would have movie nights today of Midsommar, Pearl and Alice. It would be a film that would take you somewhere you were afraid to go, but couldn’t look away from.

But then...I heard the movie wasn’t happening...and news of Alice stopped.

I never stopped thinking about that macabre girl and her journey through a tattered land of her mind. I listened to the music, revisited the game and also drew her now and then. lines from the game even made it into my typical dialogue (”Promise only what you can deliver” wise words).

I also still dreamed of seeing a film someday and would imagine who would play Alice (for a while I kept seeing Emma Watson as the character, but also still like the idea of an animated Alice.)

Then, one day, watching Attack of the Show on G4. I saw the most unexpected image.

Alice was coming back, and this time she would be on consoles.

The thrill was back, and as soon as a trailer came out, I immediately shared it with everyone.

I was quick to buy the game when it came out, and it was wilder than I could have hoped. A gripping story with tragedy, beautiful animations and moments that sent a chill through me. The kind of chills that made me pause the game and take in what I was seeing. The sight of a monstrous train rampaging through wonderland was a gift. The way Alice’s mind would unravel things was mesmerizing. Seeing life in London through her eyes and getting more of the history of the character (and the twist of the Red Queen’s identity) it was perhaps the only game that really pulled me in fully. I love games like the Arkham series, Bioshock, Horizon, Silent Hill, and so on. Alice to me felt like something more. I wasn’t trying to save a city or save someone, I was playing to help retain someone’s sanity.

The fascination with this character and world was just as alive as when I first saw all of it. I bought the art of book and still go through it and use it as a bit of inspiration if I have a creativity block.

 I carried my love for the character all the way to my work in animation and even built a stop motion puppet while I was working on Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio film. A character who I was so taken by in high school now stood on my desk.

All this is to say that this take on Alice Liddell and her fantasy world has had a great influence on me. I was prepared to continue following this story and I hoped to someday see her find her way to the big screen and have a final story where she would come to peace with what happened to her.

The news that the tale of Alice is not going to continue is devastating. It’s troubling to see so many stories be brought to an abrupt end. for finales to never be given and answers to questions to be lost forever. 

There are a lot of stories that I believe deserve to be told, but we’re constantly given entertainment that’s simple, easily digestible, with nothing to say except to reference nostalgia and trend online. It’s hard to find something that you can connect with. Something that you need a moment to think about after you’ve seen it. Something that gets you emotionally. These things are found mostly in the passion projects of creatives. The projects they pour so much into and want to present to the world.  The projects that are not just made with earnings in mind, but also how you’ll connect to the audience. I think these projects are important. They push us to look further in and to question how we connect and interact with a story.

Too easily these types of ideas are thrown aside now and it’s harder for anyone to finish the tale they wanted to present to the world if it doesn’t fit with what a studio algorithm says. It may be a dark time to be a creative right now, but I’ll remember the stories that I connected with. The ones that hit an emotional part of me and made me stop and think about a new perspective on life, fear, depression, joy and how I connect to these things.

Thank you American Mcgee and the Alice team for taking me and many others through a Wonderland that reached into our very soul. 

#alice #American McGee's Alice #Alice Madness Returns #Alice Liddell #games #american mcgee #stop motion #hot topic #stories #nostalgia #films #wes craven #emma watson #wonderland #alice in wonderland #pinocchio #Guillermo Del Toro #hasani #hasani walker #music #trent reznor #amazon #2000s nostalgia #2000s aesthetic #2000s childhood #wednesday #goth #horror #fear #creatives

[deathbyathousandspiders]

𝕸𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝕷𝐈𝐒𝐓 & 𝕹𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

a guide to me and my page <3

!!! QUICK CREDIT !!!

all of my dividers are from @firefly-graphics & the gifs as of rn are from other tumblr users until i can finish the ones im making :,)

🕊️ — content masterlist ;

here’s everything i’ve written so far !!

• 𝕴𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.

REQUEST! a sign or something: mcu!peter parker, deaf!reader | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you and peter become an unlikely pair at midtown when he shows interest in learning some sign language.

REQUEST! boy in the bubble: mcu!peter parker, stark!daughter!reader | genre: angst, light fluff | IN WHICH your walk back from school goes wrong when peter parker doesn’t walk with you, & your father has a thing or two to say about it.

REQUEST!BLURB! catching cold: mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you cuddle peter back to warmth after he returns from patrol in the midst of a blizzard.

REQUEST! daddy issues: mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: angst, fluff | IN WHICH it feels like your father has more love for his protégé than you nowadays, and you’ve reached a breaking point.

REQUEST! geeky tangents; mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff, ?smut? | IN WHICH you find it important to prove how sweet & adorable your boyfriend is.

REQUEST! meet–cute: mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH a knock on the sanctum door interrupts your task of housesitting for dr. strange.

REQUEST! security system: mcu!peter parker, stark!reader | genre: fluff, ?smut? | IN WHICH peter & you avoid telling your father, tony stark, about your relationship, only to find out that he’s known for longer than you’d thought.

twenty–bucks: mcu!peter parker | genre: angst, fluff | IN WHICH the avengers had their theories about you & peter’s secret pining, but they never realized just how serious it was until a mission went south.

• 𝕾𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

REQUEST! cuddle–bugs; mcu!peter parker | genre: fluff | IN WHICH you & your best friend fall asleep on the couch together, & the avengers can’t let go of the obvious chemistry.

| part one | part two | part three | part four | final part |

🐚 — request boundaries ;

i’m fairly comfortable w anything! i’ll explicitly say if something makes me uncomfortable, like this:

i’m not comfortable writing about real people (actors, influencers, etc) or specific characters/types of characters (psychotic, psychopathic, serial killer, hobie brown, dark!characters, etc). i will not write pedophilia, incest, or any social issues.

i am comfortable writing headcanons, scenarios, imagines, angst, fluff, smut, au’s, and any kind of pairing!

leave a request here !!

🥥 — characters & fandoms ;

marvel | peter parker, steve rogers, yelena belova, gwen stacy, miles morales, loki laufeyson.

outer banks | jj maybank, john b routledge, topper thornton.

harry potter | cedric diggory, draco malfoy, harry potter, ?james potter, remus lupin, serius black?.

stranger things | steve harrington, robin buckley, ?eddie mudson, billy hargrove?

twilight | edward cullen, jasper hale, alice cullen, rosalie cullen, charlie swan.

leave a request here !!

🪷 — about me ;

my name is elle :) [ pronouns: she/they] i’m a college student who finds comfort in writing 🫶. my favorite color’s green, i’m in love w tom holland, and my favorite band is the neighborhood !!! i also have three cats!!

#🫧 .゜𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕿𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐙. #🪷 .゜𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒. #🕊️ .゜𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕽𝐄𝐐. #🥥 .゜ 𝕬𝐒𝐊 𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄. #🏹 .゜𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐍. #🪷 .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒. #🕊️ .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕽𝐄𝐐. #mwah <3 #masterlist

[bucknastysbabe]

For the kink bingo, rimming and/or pegging with Aegon x wife!reader (maybe twin sister-wife if that’s something you’re okay with writing)?

Uh yes you got it!

Kink Bingo - Rimming

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Incest, Sub!Aegon, Twin!Wife!Reader, Aegon is a little chubby in this one, Hightowers In The Back, analingus, she runs the show and the actors yup

For anyone that asked, King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name did not bow to anyone. Simultaneously everyone knew he bowed to his twin sister-wife like a loyal servant. They just didn’t utter it aloud, lest the dowager queen or the hand sent Ser Criston to personally cut out their tongue.

Alicent and Otto carefully crafted the image that her son was not a drunk and clung to his wife like a babe. He’d always had, even when Aegon was running the streets of Flea Bottom. The Kingsguard would escort the sniveling prince back to his sister’s quarters in the morn so he could nuzzle at her and wrap up under her sweet-smelling blankets. After she made him wash of course.

The Hightower’s couldn’t have supporters of the late Rhaenyra whispering of putting her Velaryon bastards on the Iron Throne. Still, Aegon was easy to shirk his duties before being dragged by his ever present twin to court. She carried all of the self-confidence and smarts Aegon floundered with.

So the greens had owed her a little bit of gratitude for keeping the king in check, especially Otto who doted on his granddaughter. Alicent, ever pious and holding strange feelings about women in power could be acrid to the pair.

The sister-wife in question laughed in the face of all the flying rumors and her mother’s outdated thinking. Why would it matter when she basically sat the Iron Throne by fucking her brother silly every night. Aegon listened to her, worshipped her, cried for her love. He sat at her feet now, begging, “Sister, my love, something- anything please.” His eyes were glassy with tears and the drink.

His discarded cup of red sat beside the pair on a table. The woman thumbed his cheek and hummed, “What do you want me to do Aegon?” Her husband’s matching violet eyes looked to the side in thought. Aegon worried at his lip, dumbfounded on his response. She was pretty sure he wished for everything under the sun, greedy whore.

She smiled and sighed, “I always have to do the thinking for you, don’t I sweetling?” Aegon pouted, still arching into her touch needily. Pulling on curls that looked exactly like her own the queen ordered, “Go get on the bed and strip down. Don’t touch yourself.” Her other half scrambled to the huge bed, drunkenly pawing and ripping at his clothing.

His wife watched in amusement, taking a drink from Aegon’s discarded goblet. He was so pretty yet so, so vapid. She tilted her head, shifting minutely while watching Aegon fuss with his belt. The annoyed king whined and pulled on the constricting piece.

“Got too plump for it, my king,” she teased meanly, “Lay off the wine and feasts, mayhaps love?”

Aegon cast an annoyed look in her direction, throwing the belt down and yanking off his jacket. He looked down at his padded hips and fleshy stomach, swallowing in panic. He jerked his head up and whined, “Why didn’t you tell me I was growing stout?”

She shrugged and finished the cup, “I never thought you cared, it’s normal for the king to grow a bit…soft.” The female Targaryen eyed him with heat, pointing toward the bed. Personally she liked the extra flesh, made him more sensitive and soft in her opinion. Aegon complained on, glaring at his body and pinching, “I must ride Sunfyre more.”

“Or actually take your lazy ass to the training yard. Get on the bed already or I’ll leave you there.”

Aegon huffed and clambered onto the bed. His twin lowly whistled at the sight— pallid skin and sweet curves stark against the covers. She undid her gauzy nightgown and carefully placed it on the chair. She complimented the trembling Aegon, “I don’t mind it, not really, you’re so beautiful sweetling.”

Hopeful purple eyes peered up at her, looming over his prone form. He whispered, “Do you mean it?” Carding her fingers through his curls she cooed, “More than anything in the world. My perfect brother.” He happily nuzzled into her hand, fighting to stay still.

The queen slung a leg over the side of the bed to settle between his calves. She stared down at his pale ass, cute and bubbly. The twin asked, “Did you clean up like I asked?” He bobbed his head in quick movements. So eager.

She groped one cheek and smacked the other, grinning wildly at Aegon’s sharp yelp. The Valyrian murmured, “Should I eat your greedy cunt tonight?” She expected his wanton response.

“Please oh gods please fuck baby,” he panted.

She smacked his ass again, watching the pink handprint bloom. Of course Aegon wanted that tonight, she always knew what he wanted. They were one and the same, shared a womb, shared a bed, shared their heart. Always meant to be.

“Ass up then, my king.”

She sucked in a breath at his pink twitching furl, always so pretty for her. Aegon’s ringed fingers gripped at the silken sheets desperately. He quivered eagerly, awaiting his love’s tongue. She breathed over his most intimate part and cooed, “Good boy. No touching your cock, it belongs to me.”

He clenched his eyes and whined, “Only you!”

Aegon’s wife grabbed a handful of his fleshy cheeks and laved a hot stripe from taint to tailbone, him shouting and writhing at contact. Aegon’s head fell down as she began to kiss and lick deeply, working his tight hole open with ease.

He whimpered at her tongue flicking over his sensitive rim, thighs clenching wildly. She dug her fingertips into his ass greedily, wanting to eat her brother whole. Sloppier and quicker Aegon’s wife ate and lapped at his cunt, moaning like she was the one getting eaten out.

Aegon had to swallow back the drool collecting in his mouth, squirming and panting. Sweat began to bead all over his body when she pointed her tongue and began to spear his entrance. Aegon babbled, “Love, fuck- fuck! S’good s’goodGODS!”

She wickedly kissed at his hole while tongue deep, one of her hands coming down to grab his heavy balls. Aegon pathetically moaned, rocking back onto her tongue— crying her name. The wife softly rolled his balls while slurping at his loosened hole, sucking in his whimpers and moans like the air she breathed.

“M’close sister, gah, I love you!,” he cried.

She grinned and licked harder, swiping her tongue in playful circles while massaging his sac. Aegon’s sweet belly tightened and rolled as he curled into himself at the nearness of climax. He was close to tearing the sheets. His cock twitched and weakly spurted out pre.

She smacked his ass again for good measure, sending the king over the edge with a bonafide wail. He shook and clenched around her tongue, balls drawing tight. He came on his shaking belly and the silk sheets, crying for her like a maiden. She eased off his rim and cooed, “Good boy, my sweetling cums so pretty, love you.”

He mewled at the last few spurts of his overtaxed prick, sinking back onto the bed into his mess. She clicked her tongue and rolled the worn king over on his back. The woman grabbed a discarded article of clothing to wipe his soft belly, her other hand stroking his pale thigh. Aegon panted and watched her with lidded eyes.

“I love you,” he repeated.

She grinned. “And I love you Aegon.”

He petulantly pulled her into his body, needing her warmth and love. It made him happier than wine— which was saying a lot. Aegon murmured, “I’m so lucky to have you,” he smirked, “And your tongue.”

She jested in return, feeling up the fatty part on his hip, “I’m lucky too and I’ll include your slutty mouth for measure.”

He pouted, “You like my slutty mouth.”

“I’ll put it to good use for me soon, my king.”

His cock twitched again in earnest.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #asks open #hotd smut #kink bingo

[written-in-flowers]

oh my! time for a request! I imagine something like, maybe, a Stark girl coming to King's Landing and she's all fierce and trains with ser Cole (or maybe uses bow and arrows idk) and Aemond sees that and is like "I want that, that's wife material" and just like falls for her and wants her. I know it sounds stupid but I believe you will write it beautifully.

The Dragon and The Wolf

(Note: I have SO MANY OC characters for this universe, so I'm definitely putting them to use lol)

***

She didn't like King's Landing, she quickly realized. The city was too hot and too crowded. It took their wheelhouse ages to get into the city, let alone up to the Red Keep. felt the heat through the holes in the windows; so much so, she removed her furs after a while. Peeking out the windows, she realized how disgusting the city looked. Buildings leaned on top of one another, creating narrow streets. Children ran barefoot or half-dressed through muddy, stinking streets. The worst smells back home were in the stables. Dyana missed the cool, crisp summer air; the tall sentinel trees that filled the forest and their godswood. She missed her brothers and little sister, who stayed behind because only she'd be leaving home.

To make a proper political alliance, Lord Stark and King Viseryes decided to bind their houses through marriage. She found it strange, since northerners married northerners or people from south of the neck, like her Riverland-born mother. Her mother tried convincing her marrying the prince would be beneficial to everyone. Yes, everyone but her. Dyanna did not mind doing her duty to her house. She always knew she'd marry a lord, run his castle and bear his children. She did not mind it at all. Dyanna might enjoy roughhousing, riding horses, and shooting her bow, but she liked dressing for balls, dancing with fine gentlemen, singing songs and reading and writing poetry. She became the noble lady her mother expected and her father approved of.

But, a part of her felt disappointed as the wheelhouse arrived inside the Red Keep's courtyard. She'd hoped to marry in a Northern lord, who'd understand her nature and customs. A southern lord, a prince no less, might not approve. He'll expect her to be a dutiful, compliant woman who will honor and obey him. Dyanna supposed she had no choice. Women in her position did not have one.

The wheelhouse stopped in the courtyard, and her father climbed out first. He didn't very much like the south either, but he wouldn't be living here like her. He'd go home to Winterfell, where snow covered the ground and hot water ran in the walls. She stayed frozen inside the wheelhouse, not moving even when he offered his hand to her. If she hid inside the carriage, maybe she wouldn't have to marry. But, that logic did not work on a grown woman.

"Dyanna," her father whispered, "Come now. You cannot sit in here forever."

"Father..."

"The King is waiting on you."

Dyanna took a deep breath, and stepped out of the wheelhouse. In front of her, a few yards away, stood House Targaryen. King Viseryes sat in a chair, a golden half mask covering the particularly nasty part of his face. Leprosy, she heard, claimed the king's eye and parts of his cheek. He appeared half out of his mind, someone drooped to one side on his chair with a walking stick. Dyanna pitied him. It must be difficult living in such a condition, where every moment was filled with pain. Beside him was the queen, Queen Alicent, wearing a green silk dress and emerald tiara. She truly was beautiful like people said. A proper queen, she stood tall and proud with the seven-pointed star of The Faith around her neck.

She saw the princess, Helaena, with two blond children at her sides. A dress of pale pink and gold, she seemed shy and timid. Dyanna figured she might as well get to know her, if they'd be sisters soon.

The prince Aegon, Heaena's husband and brother, was beside his father. His square face somewhat cantankerous and sleepy, she saw all the signs of a man post drink. She'd heard vile things about the king's first born; it made her sick considering they might be true after all. 

Then, she saw Him. Standing straight, arms crossed behind his back and feet apart, Prince Aemond exuded power and strength. The first thing she saw was the eyepatch he wore on his left eye. She spotted the scars leading out onto his forehead and on his cheekbone. His long blond hair fell down past his shoulders, and shone in the sunlight. Ladies she knew said he scared them. He did not smile or show any emotion other than coldness when she approached. A soldier. That’s what he reminded her of. 

Her father, the King and Queen all exchanged pleasantries. When he introduced her, she curtsied and thanked them for inviting them to their home. She was then led down the line, being introduced to the rest of their household. When she reached Aemond, she’ll admit he did frighten her. Not because of his eye, but because of the cold stare in his one good eye. She tried not focusing on the patch. She didn’t want her betrothed thinking her rude. She’d heard he was deadly with a sword, and flew the largest and strongest of their dragons. 

“I heard you fly Vhagar,” she said, finding something kind to say. 

“I do.”

“She is the mightiest of them. I’ve read all the stories.”

“Hmm.”

She’d punch him if they let her. The King then led them inside, being carried in his chair by footmen, saying they must be tired from their journey. Queen Alicent led them to their quarters herself. She asked after her mother, who she’d met months ago. Dyanna remained polite and cordial like her father expected. She never mentioned her dislike of the city outright. She simply said she found the captial interesting. But, it wasn’t the keep she wished to see. 

It was their training yard. 

After settling into her quarters, Dyanna slipped into her breeches, shirt and under bust vest. She told her septa she’d be in the yard, to which the woman protested as she rushed out the door. Calling on some of her father’s men, she led the group outside where she heard the familiar sounds of clashing swords. She spotted people watching her as she rushed down the steps into the courtyard. She saw men in leather armor dancing around one another with swords, morningstars, maces, and other weapons. Dyanna smiled, feeling the adrenaline rush beginning to flow through her as she reached the armory section. The man there told her the yard was no place for a lady, to which she and her men chuckled. 

“Trust me, good ser, I am more than capable.”

She took up one of the lighter swords. She weighed it in her hand, and flipped it as she tested its balance. She expected nothing less from the King. Dyanna came back into the space, seeing all the men in front of her. She noticed a small crowd gathered around one side of the yard, catching the sight of two figures in the center. She recognized the white blond hair of Prince Aemond, and the dark figure she knew to be Ser Criston Cole, a member of the kingsguard. Dyanna came closer, the people moving aside as they lady appeared. Ser Cole waved around a mace, while the prince did his best to dodge. No, not his best. He expertly moved out of each swing, blocking one with a wooden shield that the weapon broke right through. He tossed the shield aside, and worked with only his sword. Dyanna admitted he was good. It reminded her of her older brother, a great swordsman in his own right. Finally, the prince took one more dodge from the mace and then went around Ser Cole and put his blade to the man’s throat. 

“Well done, my prince,” Cole said, yielding to Aemond. “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” he replied. He flipped is sword handle and turned to Dyanna, “My lady, what brings you here?” He noticed her attire, and appeared confused. 

“I wish to see your yard and to train with Ser Cole.”

Ser Cole looked at her quizzically, “Lady Dyanna?”

She smiled, realizing her recognized her, “Hello, Ser Cole. It’s been a while.”

“A very long while,” he agreed. They shook hands, and he turned to Aemond, “Lady Dyanna is quite the swordsman, Your Grace. I saw her spar against one of the Baratheon boys at Maidenpool.”

“A woman wielding a sword?” it was not discouraging or judgmental. He sounded curious, though he tried to hide it. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“My father says I have wolf’s blood in me, Your Grace,” she replied with a grin. “I picked up a sword as a little girl, and never put it down.”

“Your lord father allows it?”

“He does. My mother doesn’t approve exactly, but as long as I keep up with my lessons and womanly duties, she tolerates it.” She looked back to Ser Cole, “I’ve been waiting for us to meet again, I will confess, ser. We never got the chance to go toe-to-toe at Maidenpool.”

“No better time than the present, my lady. That is, if His Grace doesn’t mind?”

Prince Aemond stared her up and down. He studied her, she knew. She tried standing straighter, putting her shoulders back and chin up. “Not at all,” he said, “But none of us are responsible if you are injured.”

“I don’t expect anyone to take responsibility except myself.”

She did her best to not appear disagreeable. Dyanna met men like Aemond all the time. Men who doubted her skills. She enjoyed proving them wrong. 

***

It amused him to see her standing there, sword in hand and wearing boiled leather. Not because she was a woman, but because she appeared so confident. When his father told him he’d be marrying Dyanna Stark, his brother Aegon had snorted. “A dragon bedding a she-wolf,” he’d taunted. Aemond didn’t care. He’d marry Dyanna no matter what happened; it was his duty to his house. A person of his station needed to marry well, and who better than a Stark of the North? It allied the crown with the vast, wild North beyond. 

People spoke of Dyanna’s tomboyish ways, but they never said anything about her beauty. Gray eyes stared at Ser Cole with determination as they began clashing swords. Brown hair stayed braided back from her face, the long braid swinging behind her. Hours of training must have given her the shape she had, making her stronger and faster. Aemond stood to the side and watched her expert footwork, her swift dodges and fierce blows. He noticed the work Ser Cole put into the fight. Dyanna would not go down easily, he saw. He liked it. House Targaryen needed strong women; not only with their minds, but their bodies. He observed her throughout the tough match. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

When Dyanna’s sword stuck into Ser Cole’s shield, Aemond expected him to stop due to her being a woman. He’d been wrong. Ser Cole charged at her, and Dyanna rolled out of the way. She grabbed the broken shield Aemond discarded moments ago, and blocked Cole’s next blow. She swung it so his shield went to the side, then took the open opportunity to kick him back. Taking up her fallen sword, she swiped it at the fallen knight, who rolled away in time and stood up. He retrieved his shield, and blocked her next few moves before he swung the shield up into the side of her face. People around his gasped, but Dyanna did not quit. She fell to the ground hard, falling flat on her front before Cole put his blade to her throat. 

Dyanna laughed, being lifted to her feet and starting to talk with Cole. He saw the man begin showing her moves he’d used against her, which intrigued him. Perhaps marrying her would not be so bad. If anything, he’d gain a good sparring partner. 

“You fight well,” he complimented. “I never expected the rumors about you to be true.”

“What rumors?”

“That the She-Wolf of Winterfell was a fierce as they believe.”

She smiled shyly, “I do well. I’ll never fight in a battle or a war, but I still like knowing how to defend myself.”

He stepped closer, Ser Cole taking the cue to leave them, “But, if you had a husband, you wouldn’t need to defend yourself. He’d protect you.”

She paused, “What if he isn’t around?”

“He’ll always be around.” He twirled his sword in his hand, “Care to spar with me now, my lady?”

She grinned, “I’d be honored, Your Grace.”

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

***

A/N: thanks for putting this in! I know I took a bit from his fighting scene with Cole, but I really liked that part so I couldn’t help it. I hope you still enjoy it! 

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #got #game of thrones #asoiaf

[aemondsbeloved]

From The Tides [Part 6]

summary: a feast, a tourney, and Aemond's accusations about Daemon throw your wits off kilter. attendance at the tourney is unavoidable, as is the inevitability of running into Aemond again (8k).

pairings: aemond targaryen x reader, (platonic) lucerys velaryon x reader

warnings: violence (brief), show canon aegon, familial death (mentioned), less angsty than previous chapters imo though

notes: it's been a while. hoping to update this more often in the future. I recommend reading this on ao3! the formatting is better there

He wanted us all dead, did you know that?

Aemond’s words plagued you that eve of the feast. All throughout your company with Lord Cregan Stark whomade you feel like the person you were before you met Luke was difficult to enjoy. You might have enjoyed his company more, maybe even craved it for how lighthearted you felt as he told stories of Prince Jacaerys during his time at Winterfell. But Aemond’s poisonous words ruined everything.

You had never seen the snow in the Stormlands where you hailed. Cregan insisted that you should visit Winterfell to see it one day. Smiling at his words, you were mimicking true joy all because of Aemond Targaryen’s words. The Queen’s Consort was a rogue, you knew that. But it was difficult to believe he would want little children dead. And Aemond seemed assured of it. You could not trust him but you could not believe he would lie about such a thing. 

“I told him it was impossible to hit the stag from as far away as we were, but he didn’t listen!” Cregan laughed. Jace was leaning over your shoulder and you heard his chuckle at Cregan’s words, already knowing where this story was leading. “But that’s a Targaryen for you. I suppose Dragonriders always have to learn the hard way!” Cregan slams his cup down and the dark wine splashes onto the table. 

The scene is reminiscent of your uncle’s tales of taverns during his travels and the raucous men can cause, which makes you join in the laughter. You could almost imagine how rowdy Winterfell was compared to the Red Keep with his presence. 

“I did get the stag eventually,” Jace says pointedly after taking a sip of his wine. 

Cregan coughs a laugh and sensing another bout of japes was coming, you grinned at the Lord of Winterfell. “Did he now?'' Your words sound sweet and teasing. Cregan seems to enjoy this just as much as he stifles another laugh. 

“Eventually,” he said with emphasis. The three of you laugh loudly after the fact. How long eventually had been you never did find out.

Jace returns to the imposing high table where the Queen and her family sit in front of the Iron Throne. The look his mother seems to give him is stern and with a clap on Cregan’s shoulder he departs quickly to take his place next to Luke and Daemon.

“The lot of them are imposing,” Cregan remarks, flitting a glance at you after gazing at the many Targaryens sitting above you all.

“They are not all so bad,” you say smiling at him before looking back at The Queen’s family. You did not only think of Jace and Luke along with their cousins, but also of Helaena.

“Lady Alicent does not wear green now?” he asks gruffly, curiously looking at Lady Alicent. There is a glint of judgment in his gray eyes, not one to forgive so easily. If he is truly Jace’s closest friend, then Jace might have told Cregan what Luke had told you. The knowledge of Alicent Hightower and her sons labeling Jace and Luke as bastards was too vile a cruelty to ignore, but you pitied her in a strange way. Cregan did not seem to share your sentiment. 

He was right about her dresses, though. Her dresses had grown lighter shades of green in recent past weeks but now it was a shade of blue. “In certain lights I am certain that blue might look green,” you quip. The thought of saying horrible things about the former Queen did not tempt you, surprisingly. 

There is a long, comfortable silence that seems to stretch between you both. “Jacaerys has told me you hail from the Stormlands.”

He does not mention that you were born a commoner, the daughter of a fisherman. How unlike a certain silver haired prince he is. “I do. A very different land than this.” There is a faint smile on your lips as you recall your village. 

“You must miss it,” he comments, taking another sip from his cup. This time he does not slam it down. He is every part the kindly lord that many ladies form noble houses adore, if not rather gruff. 

His kindness is not unusual to you, having long since become used to such kindness from the dark haired Velaryons. To receive it from another noble blooded man who had no reason to be courteous to you was another thing altogether, though. 

“I can never be parted from Winterfell for too long,” he grinned and a look crossed his eyes as he remembered something unknown to you. Maybe the snowfall of the North. 

“We all long for home,” you concede. “Yet I do not know if I could ever tear myself away from the Red Keep now.”

He tips his head in a nod, understanding your reasoning in a way.

Then, Rhaenyra rises from her chair and her crown glimmers on her head in the candlelight. Your eyes are drawn to her as are the rest of the people around you. Whatever conversation you had with Cregan fades away.

“Today we celebrate the beginning of my reign. House Targaryen is stronger than ever. The tourney on the morrow and feast will show the realm how united we are,” Rhaenyra looks down the table and smiles. Even in her action full of warmth, there is an air of a ruler and strength within her. 

You want to absorb every moment of her speech and catch a glimpse of Luke’s family healing except you cannot. All you can see is Aemond’s lilac eye and the way even now, he is looking at you from his place at the high table. It unsettles you, pushing your mimicked figure of a composed lady off kilter, and seeing the satisfied look on Daemon’s face looking upon Rhaenyra is no better. He is looking at his wife, seeming as pleased as he could be. 

Was it true? Would he have killed Helaena’s children? Impossible. No one kills another family member.

The voices in your mind battle as you barely hold a grimace off your face. The other voice tells you that this is not your village and greed makes monsters of men. The Targaryens are hardly a united family at all. With the way the usurper looks at Aemond, grins maliciously before glancing at you, there is certainty that there are both men and monsters in this family.

Rhaenyra’s speech is over before you can grapple with your own thoughts. After a moment, you clap hastily. The smile you wear on your smile is fake, but your worries are old. Cregan does not notice the falsity of your pleasure. It’s better that way.

The Lord of Winterfell disappears back into the crowd of dancers and you retreat, finding comfort in the edge of the room. You could not dance for long. You were no learned dancer like the ladies in court. The thought of peril on this night had slipped your mind as you stood by a wall past the many tables.

“You dance well for a commoner,” an irritating voice murmurs near your ear. You didn’t need to look at him to recognize Aegon by voice alone, or rather the smell of wine. 

He stands behind you, leering over your figure and you tilt your head away from him, trying not to grimace. “Did you not hear me, hm?” he asks again, not bothering to conceal his laughter. 

You search the room, hoping to see someone. You would take Daemon’s intervention that would undoubtedly lead to violence over being near Aegon. But no one can be found. There was no one keeping you near him, though. You could leave.

Aegon tuts, grabbing your wrist harshly and tugs you back when you start to leave. Only now you are much closer to him than you were before. For a drunken man he has surprising strength, but you do not say this aloud.

“My little brother would be so envious if he were here now,” he mused, faking a sense of intelligence as he mocked your stiff body with lecherous interest. “You never do stop talking according to dear Aemond. Asked him if he was deaf, I heard.”

Aegon shakes his head slowly, drinking in your uncomfortable body with leering eyes. “And you told me you wanted to gut me like a fish. How vile you are and yet my wife does seem to adore you. Aemond never fails to mention how irksome your presence is, but I am sure there are some good parts to you, at least.”

Once your father said that the best of sailors can sense when a storm awaits them. They either flee it or fight the waves themselves. The sailor could drown either way. Best to fight, he always told you, but flee all the same. 

You roughly bring up your knee to his groin, kneeing him hard. He keels over from the force of him with a large groan of pain before mumbled curses at your person. Before he can say anything coherent you pinch his chin with your index finger and thumb, pulling his face to look at you. 

“Threaten me again, usurper, and I will go to the King Consort and he will make you wish I had gutted you like a fish. Your screams would be most pleasing to my ears.”

Releasing his chin, you look up, panting a heavy breath. Behind Aegon now stands Aemond and though he looks at you with a scrutinizing gaze, he does not reprimand you nor does his hand ghost over his dagger. Aegon sneers at you but his brother makes no move to help him steady himself.

You huff a heaving breath of air and turn on your heel. As luck would have it no one saw the altercation between you and Aegon. Any that looked now would see the prince who is always drunk in his cups too deeply. Only Aemond knew the truth.

Your chest tightened at the thought of Aemond having something over you and being the lone person knowing what had happened. Quickly, you turned away from them both and stalked over to the other side of the hall, anywhere that was far from the Targaryen princes. 

You didn’t even notice you had left the hall all together until you were in a quiet corridor far from the noise of the feast. It is there that you brush your thumb over the wrist Aegon had grabbed roughly. Bruises are not new to you but you hoped this one was different than the rest and come the morning there would be no evidence of his cruel behavior. The questions would bother you and there was enough to worry about as it is.

_______________

The bruise had blossomed around your wrist in the morning to your annoyance. Years of knocking into the wooden boat your father would fish on and being careless had led to a lifetime of bruises. You weren’t clumsy now and a bruise around your wrist would only cause questions. Questions that you did not want to answer.

You only allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and deeply breath in and out, because there is much to do today. Hastily you dress knowing that the Queen needs you, not to mention that you must see Luke. 

“Who has harmed you, my lady?” Ser Erryk asks when he sees you, briskly walking after you as you hardly gave him a moment before stalking across the castle to the Queen. “Your wrist—”

“A bruise is a bruise,” you whisper harshly, hating that your sleeves could not cover your wrist. “And do not speak of this to anyone.”

Ser Erryk is silent, but is perturbed enough to sigh temperamentally. “Prince Aemond—” he begins to accuse and all you can do is roll your eyes harshly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you bite back. “If Prince Aemond wished to harm me he would not have done so at a feast. He is not so careless or foolish.”

You are hardly aware when you felt the need to defend him nor do you recall even calling him Prince Aemond instead of Kinslayer.

“Who?” Ser Erryk insists as you both move up the stairs to the Queen’s rooms. 

This will not be avoided, it seemed. “Who else but Prince Aegon?” you ask him lowly, making sure no one heard. Hearing him make a noise of anger in his throat, you turn around to face him at the top of the stairs. “Do not waste your breath on the usurper, Ser. He learned his lesson. I think that he should still feel his bruise in his groin.” You smirk at the reminder, feeling self satisfied, before turning around to reach the Queen’s rooms. Ser Erryk says nothing in return but you are certain he is smiling. 

Rhaenyra breathes your name in relief when she takes note of your presence. With a wave of her hand the two maidens that were tending to her and readying her in your absence back away. She is nearly ready, half of her hair braided in twists while the rest falls past her shoulders and draped in black and deep red silks, her dress is a vision. 

“I left you too long this morning, I am sorry, your grace,” you frowned as you regarded her. “It seems the feast tired me and I was late.”

She waves you off too before taking a seat in front of her vanity. “Nonsense,” she refuted your apology. “I woke early. Could not sleep well knowing my sons will be competing in their first tourney. These events get bloody so frequently and I worry for Lucerys.”

You smile softly in silent understanding before reaching for her jewels. Over the months you have discovered just what Queen Rhaenyra prefers. While there are more important jobs, knowing what she likes and preparing her for her days is a task you are well equipped with now. Gently, you put one dangled ruby earring in after the other. Only after the other maidens leave do you speak again. “There was enough violence in a war. Blood is not what today is about, but peace. Luke will be well, my Queen. Aemond would not be so foolish to harm him.”

In the mirror, Rhaenyra stares at you for a moment. There is an inner battle in her mind, one that you do not know. She thinks to mention something, perhaps trivial, but disregards it all together as she smiles at you with rare warmth. She is stressed these days, all but being pulled at the seams. “I believe you are right, but a mother still worries,” she dismisses.

Draped in jewels and lush fabrics, Rhaenyra departs for the tourney. In the Wheelhouse, she is with you, Princess Rhaenys and Lady Rhaena. With every bump in the cobblestone streets that takes you to the grand event, you can only think of how much you loathe wheelhouses. “Where is Baela?” Rhaenyra has the self awareness to ask Rhaenys.

The older women only smirks, bemused. “She insisted on flying to the tourney.” At this Rhaena shuts her eyes briefly as she mutters gods be good, but her grandmother pats her hand in her lap. “Not to worry, of course. She just has a flair for the dramatic like her father.”

Rhaenys never mentions Daemon directly and you are sure the smile on her lips is not for affection for him. But Baela was so like Daemon and her insistence to do things the least simple way had not only Rhaenyra, but Rhaena smiling as well. On cue, a roar of a dragon and the hue of Moondancer was flying over the wheelhouse, much higher above you all.

The wheelhouse comes to a creaking stop and you are sure you might have jumped out of it, if decorum was not an issue. Rhaenyra exits and the shouting and noise from the smallfolk is overwhelming. They do not sound angry but excited, yet you feel like you might just pass out. Rhaenys then Rhaena exit and at last you leave the wheelhouse. 

The heat is still unbearable, despite your hair being braided in twists resting in a low bun. While you do not dress as traditional handmaidens had been, you do not look like a servant at first glance, being a companion to Rhaenyra and a handmaiden second. Still, you cannot look as grand and breathtaking as the royal family and for that you are grateful. At least the eyes of the masses do not linger on you.

You are sure that the stairs never end as you follow them up to the stand where the royals sit. Rhaenyra sits herself on a chair larger and more plush than the rest. To her right, her hand Lord Corlys, who stands and bows to her before taking his lady wife’s hand, assisting her to sit on his other side. Rhaena does not hesitate before walking down to the row below the Queen, taking her seat below Rhaenys where Baela already is sitting.

“Rhaenyra,” you hear Alicent say. Dressed in a blue much like the other night, Lady Alicent looks younger to you than the first time you saw her in the throne room. She curtsies as she stands by her seat on the opposite side of Queen Rhaenya at the very end. The empty seat besides her belongs to Daemon, though he will be competing in the tourney the consort’s seat remains in place. 

The apologetic look in Alicent’s eyes catch Rhaenyra’s attention as she looks at the lady. Her eyes glance at the empty seat below. “Where is Aegon?” she asks, but seems to already know. Only Helaena sits down there, one seat to the left from the end. 

At that, the princess turns around and when she sees you standing, she smiles and utters your name with fondness. “Sit with me,” Helaena insists, patting the empty seat at the end. “Come, Aemond will not be needing his seat. It would be a shame if you should not have such a magnificent view for your first tourney.”

You cannot resist her and Alicent offers you an albeit tight smile as you pass her.

“Have you brought it?” Helaena asks in hushed tones. You do not roll your eyes, but it is only because she is such a kind soul. She leans in, brilliant violet eyes wide as she regards you curiously. 

“I did,” you admit in a whisper, pulling out the favor Helaena had insisted you make a few nights ago. Besides trying to knock competitors off their horses, knights, lords, and even princes that compete in tourneys ask favor from ladies and princesses. Helaena had insisted you should make one. 

“Let me see it!” she nearly begged but she need not have as you laid it on your lap. It was made with yellow flowers and green leaves as it reminded you of the wildflowers at home. She gasps, reaching to delicately hold it in her nimble fingers. “This is most lovely, I should say,” she smiles in her rather dreamy way before setting it back in your hands. “Whoever asks for your favor will be most lucky indeed.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you doubt anyone will ask the Queen’s lowborn handmaiden for favor. The double meaning in her last words goes over your back like water. You ignore the way she smiles like she knows someone will ask for your favor. 

You know four men who are competing in the tourney: Lucerys, Jacaerys, Daemon and Cregan. Luke and Jace will ask for their betrothed’s favor, Daemon will ask his wife if not one of his daughter’s and you are sure Cregan will ask for someone’s favor, though it should not be you. Nonetheless, you cannot ignore Helaena’s kind words. 

 “Thank you, Helaena,” you say instead of anything else, but you cannot help but overhear Alicent behind you.

“He went to Flea Bottom again,” Alicent whispers, still speaking to Rhaenyra. “He has not left bed for hours. I worry for him. It has only gotten worse. This is a fine day and we should be glad he is not here, but I worry what he might be inclined to do when he leaves his chambers.”

You worry too and are glad you don’t let the grimace on your face show. The only distraction is when the tourney begins. Daemon has a flair for the dramatics as Rhaenys said when he lines up all the knights participating in the tourney. Besides his stepsons and nephew, there is no one he could not choose from the ranks. He takes his time as he looks at each of them, moving down the line on his black horse. You think he might be making a show of himself, enjoying the attention, but you would never voice that.

“Quite the peacock,” Princess Rhaenys comments, loud enough for everyone in the royal stands to hear. Baela laughs louder than the rest who are content to hide their chuckles. “Consistency was always Daemon’s strong suit.”

You make no noise of amusement at her quip, though an amused smirk lifts the corner of your lips. When he chooses Cregan Stark, your eyes widen. Perhaps it is because you had begun to know him last night that leads to a wave of nerves in your stomach. But the Lord of Winterfell only smiles, looking content with going against the Daemon Targaryen.

Dressed in the dark gray of his house colors with glinting silver armor, Cregan Stark moves on his dark brown horse to the other side of the arena. Even from a distance he appears self assured, almost nonchalant about facing a battle worn Prince.

When the horses kick off dirt and charge towards the opposite opponents, you consider that this is the excitement tourneys are about. The moment Daemon attempts to strike Cregan only to miss narrowly has you on the edge of your seat, but when they go for another bout a gasp passes your lips as Cregan nearly falls off his horse. Sliding alongside the railing while he horse runs he might have fallen if not for his determination as he sat upon his horse again. 

The entire stand is full of excited whispers at this and Daemon is quick to ready his joust, charging towards Cregan Stark for the second time. Things are fiercer this time around and it is clear Daemon did not think the Wolf of the North would be such an equal contender. The movement of Daemon’s joust is swift, deceptive as he pretended to move it to the side only to strike under Cregan’s horse. As Cregan falls there is little blood, you note there was no animosity between the two. Daemon goes to the Lord of Winterfell and brings him to his feet. What words are said behind their lips you could not tell, but the resentment that Daemon had when looking at Alicent Hightower and her sons is nonexistent. 

Helaena claps her delicate hands besides you, though the noise from her movement is quite loud despite the nimble touch. Turning your head, you catch a glance at her and you feel lighter at the sight of her toothy smile and enjoyment of the events below you both. Baela is standing a few seats down, clapping loudly in the most undignified way she could, though the smile on her and Rhaena’s faces are identical. 

When Jace appeared and Cregan climbed atop his horse again you could not be surprised. Jace’s dark horse moves to the stands and the bright smile that always errs on boyishness, a contrast to Luke’s trepid smile that always appeared like he was figuring out if he was able to smile, is directed to his cousin. Already standing, Baela walks over to him and leans against the railing. Jace does not mind as he regards her. 

“If I had your favor my lady I know there is nothing I could not accomplish,” he says. Baela smiles coyly, enjoying the attention and not hiding it as you hear Princess Rhaenys make a humph under her breath. Baela’s favor, bright blue and white flowers falls down his joust. “I wish you luck Jace,” she says with a pleased expression. Jace’s smile does not falter as he moves to the center of the arena.

You turn to Helaena about to say something about how lovely Baela’s favor was to distract yourself from the onslaught of competition to follow when you heard your name from a deeper voice strung with the address of Lady ever in front of it.

Cregan Stark sits atop his dark brown horse, tall and stately, although like many men in the Keep, he does not look arrogant or proud. He has an easy way about him, not smiling but not as stern when he looked your way. “I would be honored to have your favor, my lady. It would serve as the final stroke for my triumph in this tourney.”

Feeling several eyes on you at once, you rise from your seat beside Helaena and walk forward with the favor of white and yellow flowers in your hands. Not as naturally nimble as Helaena or Rhaena, you are making a herculean effort to not hold it too tightly. This gesture is a kind one from him, you think, and try to display some semblance of gratitude when you smile softly at him. “I wish you luck, Lord Stark,” you slide the wreath down his joust.

“I thank you, Lady,” he smiles and looks boyish as Jace had done but a moment ago. Striding off on his horse to face the competition, you turn and move to your seat. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent wear expressions of surprise with Alicent’s raised brows and Rhaenyra’s parted lips while Baela and Rhaena only smile at you knowingly. What they think they know is unknown, but when you catch Helaena’s fallen expression, you sit by her side again with haste, worrying over her.

Her toothy grin has fallen and by the twitch of her eyes, you can only assume she is perplexed over something. “Is something wrong, Princess?” you ask quietly to be sure no one else would hear you.

You hardly pay mind to Jace and Cregan kicking their horses and charging at one another. Nor do you notice when Jace hits Cregan with surprising force before they go for another bout. You can only look at Helaena as she recovers.

“Nothing!” she says hastily, pulling her lips into a pleasing smile. “I did tell you to bring favor and it is a good thing that I did.” Helaena laughs lightly in a way most of the ladies of the court do, but it only worries you further. This is not the light laughter she lets out in the gardens but something false.

“I would have thought he would ask for your favor,” you wonder aloud. “You are a princess, he is a traveling lord. It makes sense.”

“I am married and it would be improper,” she says with no real determination, shrugging at the thought. “Besides, Aemond will ask for my favor when he jousts against Lucerys.” Her clipped tone betrays any show of happiness at this, but for the first time you do not have the will to ask her if she was being honest.

Cregan Stark might have been bested by Daemon, but after a few rounds he has knocked Jace off his horse. The men both laugh like this meant nothing, and perhaps to them it was inconsequential, but then they left the field and two others entered.

Surely your heart had lodged itself in its chest as you saw Lucerys on his horse that was white as snow. He might have begun growing in the many moon cycles since you met him but when his uncle sat on his black steed it was no use. This was a horrible idea. Aemond’s heart was as black as his riding leathers he frequently wore and whatever peace Rhaenyra and Alicent had achieved was nothing to Aemond.

This was a ruse to him, an excuse to finish the job he had failed to do at Storm’s End. He was vile, truly, and how you had felt the need to defend him when Ser Erryk assumed he was the culprit behind your bruised wrist as if he had not sent Lucerys to the waves of Shipwreckers Bay? You felt the fool in the present, feeling sick to watch Aemond take his vengeance on Lucerys and show you who he was, and unable to look away from the scene.

Helaena’s fingers squeezed the top of your hand. A breath was released from your chest and with a heaving chest and wide eyes, you glanced at her.

“Are you well?” she queried, eyes scanning your face with worry. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask harshly, more so than you meant to be, but Helaena smiled softly.

“You are gripping the chair so tightly I might think you mean to break it.”

Her eyes moved to the wooden arm of the chair and you followed her sight, mouth falling open when you saw the leethal grip you had on it. “Oh.”

“Oh,” she repeated, more amused than anything.

“Sister, I wondered if I might have your favor,” a voice usually chilled down to the bones spoke with something that might be warmth if it were not for who said it. 

Helaena looked away from you to Aemond. As you followed her line of sight you took in the prince who wore armor without a scratch, all with the regalia of House Targaryen and their dragons.

This was all for show, a mere falsity all to prove that House Targaryen was united.

Helaena rises from her chair looking angelic as she moves towards her brother. From the side you can see how she smiles and it is similar to the way she looks when you are with her in the garden surrounded by bugs and flowers. She does not look like a princess, a former queen even, but a sister.

“I wish you luck, valonqar.”

The favor falls down his joust and you wonder what the word means, though it must mean brother. Helaena flounces back to where you sit as Aemond moves to the center of the arena on his horse. She says nothing, smiling at you warmly before setting her eyes upon Lucerys on his white horse.

Something has changed in the past few moon cycles and he is no longer quite the same as the boy you met one fated dawn. As Rhaena rises to go to him, you follow. His cousin is all warmth that a betrothed must be, but you only lean over the partition still every bit a fisherman’s daughter that is pretending to be a lady. 

“Good luck,” you murmur, eyes flickering over to where Aemond is atop his horse waiting. For what you are unsure, vengeance or a show of false amiability. “Knock Prince Aemond off his horse, I would enjoy that.” The words are teasing with the intention to make him laugh.

He huffs, shaking his head. For a moment he looks like the boy he was, not the man he was growing into. Briefly, you wondered if you had changed that much too and you suppose you had. “You overestimate my abilities,” he raises his brows. “But my uncle off his horse and on the ground would be amusing enough.”

By the grin he wears you know the mere thought made the worries leave his mind, if only for a short time. Without saying anything else, you turn from him, returning to Helaena once again. 

Lucerys asks Rhaena for her favor and the wreath and flowers slide down his joust. As young as it is you can see the love there in her lilac eyes to his brown ones. “Can you see it too?” you ask Helaena in a whisper.

Her eyes follow yours to where they both stand. Rhaena returns to her seat and Lucerys meets Aemond, but she seems to understand all the same. “They will be a fine Lord and Lady of Driftmark one day,” she agrees. “It is easy to see.”

You can almost forget the fears you had of what Aemond might do and how he would strike, but when the princes move, white and black horses charged forward. For a moment you can see the end— Aemond’s vindictive strike, Lucerys fall and the heir to Driftmark’s failure to rise after Aemond’s stroke, Daemon’s vengeance taking over Aemond’s. You can taste the bloodlust on your tongue before Aemond even strikes.

A white horse passes a black horse and Aemond’s joust comes down on Lucerys, but your weary eyes catch the direction of it. The wooden joust hit the white horse, but not hard enough to spook the animal or send Lucerys crashing down. It made little sense to you and the relief you feel as you grip the arms of the wooden chair is short lived.

Violence you could take. You might have welcomed it from Aemond if he matched the version of himself you had imagined the days after Lucerys told you everything so long ago. If Aemond gave you blood there could be comfort in that but this ruse of pretending to strike Lucerys only to strike his horse in a way that was clear the prince would never fall— well that you could not take.

His mercy was ill fitting. On Lucerys off all people you were certain was the last one he would bestow it on. 

The horses go around again and this time as they charge, neither hits the other atop their horses. Lucerys tries, at least that is what your eyes believe they see, but he only hits Aemond’s black stead shortly, before each prince rides the other way.

“I do not understand,” you murmurs, worrying your lip so much that it might be bitten bloody if this goes on much longer.

But Helaena is still beside you and turns, disinterested in the joust. Her eyes, large and alight with some unknown emotion you could never identify, but one that seemed to know more than others could, fell on your anxious frame. 

“All will be well,” she affirms, but your eyes cannot fall on her relaxed figure, not when Aemond is there, able to harm Lucerys at a moment’s notice. “No one will be harmed.”

Saying nothing, you want to laugh at that. There is no humor in the thought of it but Aemond could kill Lucerys if he liked. He did not need protecting but in your mind, Lucerys still did.

“Your brother rather enjoys hurting Luke,” you bite out. If you could have stopped the thought from leaving your lips you would have, hating to cause Helaena harm. But like Prince Aemond you could not seem to help yourself from insults and impulsive actions. “I doubt you can stop him if you’ve forgotten what he is capable of.” Now, your words come out softer, more regretful.

Helaena does not react at first. There is no sharp intake of breath or the opening of her mouth for some refusal of your words. He is her brother, after all, and a part of you imagines her defending him.

“No, I have not forgotten,” she says at last, head still facing yours, and the words are as soft as the glades of grass brushing against the back of your hand. Unlike yourself, she does not have to practice her gentleness and hope it is believable. 

“It is not possible to forget.” She is solemn, eyes drifting downward to the tourney field. 

As she says the words, Aemond and Lucerys have come to meet one another on the jousting field for the third time. Both of their jousts are facing the other and in a blink of an eye, both young men hit the other. In a mere moment, Lucerys is thrown off his horse, unmoving as you see the blood trickling down his face.

From the side of your eye, you see Rhaena jump up from her seat and it is only Baela’s hand holding hers that steadies her. 

Helaena’s breath then leaves her when Aemond’s back hits the railing before falling down. Unlike Lucerys he rises, though he visibly winces. Helaena is not the only one who is affected. She turns, consoling her mother who shakes her head, murmuring affirmations that Aemond will be fine.

You can barely hear anything over the dull noise in your ears. The blood rush to your head and your rapid heartbeat sends your worries for the past days into overdrive. Aemond and Lucerys are gone from the field, having been carried to tents to be healed from their injuries. The thought sends you over the edge, making you turn around to the Queen.

“Your Grace, might I see Lucerys? To check on his injuries?” Rising from your seat, you barely notice her solemn nod, approval written on her features because you scurry away down the wooden staircase down to the ground.

Several deep red and black tents have been drawn up, all so grandiose that you would usually have an ironic thought of the riches of the Red Keep all down to their tents, but your mind is hazy with fear. 

When you catch sight of a young man, even younger than Lucerys, with auburn hair and skittish eyes, you round on him. “Where is the Prince?” you ask with urgency, each word flying out of your mouth.

The auburn haired man blinks, confused as he regards you. “I—” he begins, red creeping up his neck and freckles cheeks before he stammers some more.

You shake your head at him, annoyed at the situation at hand. “The Prince Lucerys!” you raise your brows in frustration. “Where?” you attempt to be gentler, kinder, but even then you feel crazed.

He gestures behind himself to a large tent that looks the same as the other. Without thinking, you dash right into the one closest.

“It is only me!” you announce before evening entering the tent. Pushing past the thick material of the tent, you cannot see with clarity where he is in the darker tent. “Are you well? I feared the worst after he hit you off your horse.”

“I think you will find it was the other way around,” a familiar voice says indifferently from the other side of the room.

With the limited sunlight that pours into the room, you blink once, twice, thrice before it dawns on you.

“What are you doing here?” you spit the words, halting your steps as soon as you realized whose tent you were in.

Sitting on a table was Aemond. His arms were holding his upper body up and his silver hair, now moused and in waves from the heat and exertion, fell around his shoulders. His bare shoulders. Dried blood spotted his side from a few cuts that had yet to be clean. 

“I rather think I should be asking you that,” he replied in the same uncaring tone that somehow made him sound vexed by your very appearance. Almost like the air you were breathing belonged to him and he could barely tolerate the slight of it. “This is my tent, although I suspect I know whose you thought it was.”

You met his words with a glower, your body growing rigid.

His words cut through to an unamused breath of what must be laughter to a man as sinister as he. “The boy is fine,” he said without care nor respect for Lucerys. “A scratch will not kill him.”

“You hit him off his horse,” you spat, your neck leaning forward at the force of the words you threw at his face. 

He shifted his position, leaning the palms of his hands on his thighs covered in the same dark black trousers that must have been under his armor. The linens, though now filthy, hid nothing of his muscles.

For a moment too long you looked at how his fingers encompassed his thighs and knees. You had to bite your tongue to distract yourself, an action you swore never to repeat.

Aemond smiled showing teeth that looked like knives ready to aim for the kill. “You do know what a tourney is, do you not? One of us had to fall off the horse, tis how the game goes. Perhaps you never knew of such things in that wasteland village of yours.”

His words are sharper than usual, something you barely take into account because you are full of anger too and are glad to give it to him.

“Then you should have fallen off of your horse!” you hissed, stepping towards him angrily. “He is a prince who will inherit Driftmark. He is the future of his house, you are not! Why you had to throw him off his horse is unseemly.”

“Future of his house,” he mocked, shaking his head at you. “My, my, you have been listening to the words of men on the small council for so long you think you are learned in politics, do you not?”

You say nothing. A thin line pinches your lips shut in distaste, the gaze in your eyes growing heavy and hateful. 

“You know nothing,” he regards you from head to toe and it is obvious he finds you lacking. “A poor girl from a village who happened to save a prince, that is all you are. You are an arrogant creature, unfit to serve a queen. What my sister sees in your distasteful person I will never know. I do not care to. I see you exactly for who you are.”

You smile and like him you are spiteful. “You see what you want to, my prince.” You see a lowborn girl and think her worthless. “Why your sister thinks you are redeemable and true I will not think to consider, for it is a wasted effort to tax my mind for the irrational. I would never forgive a brother so vile, let alone love one without conditions as she does.”

“A good thing you have no brothers,” he tells you coolly. “You are not fit to love another as a sister does, I think.”

The words pierce through you as you think of the brother you had and lost. He does not know and you are glad he does not. Aemond does not need another knife to sharpen and use on you. 

You are no good at hiding how this barb was one too far, one too sharp, when your lips turn down in a grimace. Somewhere in your eyes there is the truth and he seems to see it for a moment, the ruthlessness of his lone eyes dimming for a spare moment. 

He does not know the tender wound he has poked too hardly into. The flesh bleeds anyways. For the very first time it occurs for you to care what he says.

Perhaps he hit too deep. Maybe the events of this day had been too worrying. The lack of rain your village in the Stormlands had in King’s Landing has strained your mind and the heat is too much.

There is a heavy cloud that hangs upon your head, pulling you down until you can only feel the discomfort words alone can bring. The way he stands up and the purple of his eye changes into something akin to confusion escapes your notice. You never see his fingers twitch— not once thinking he might be reaching for you.

In that light his emotions in the purple of his iris might have been worry, not confusion. You notice no such thing. As quick as he stands, you flee.

By now it is habitual to flee from him. You do it in the courtyard when his eye finds yours. You left in the throne room at the feast as his brother was keeled over from your swift kick.

Why should now be any different? On all accounts it is the same feelings you leave him in a flurry of skirts— the discomfort in your chest at the way he regards you, cool and perturbed. 

Yet when you leave him this time, frustration not yet pulling tears from your eyes but landing a frustrated heave from your chest all the same, it occurs to you for a moment that this discomfort is not the same as the one so keenly known before. There is no part of yourself that wants to identify it.

The curtain feels heavier this time when you push back it, nearly tripping over your own feet when you feel the unveiled sunlight beat upon your neck again. What makes you nearly fall is not just your own feet, but the two faces you are greeted by. 

In front of you is head of braided silver locks, warm eyes, and a relieved, happy grin. Besides her is another silver head, this one of waves and large purple eyes you know well. 

“Lucerys is well!” Rhaena beams, ignorant of your discomfort. She gestures to the tent next to the one you are outside of— Aemond’s. Her brow creases, the only moment of worry, before it too disappears from her expression. “He has not seen you. I am certain he would be eager to, though, come.” Rhaena is ushering you in the direction of the tent, the smile on her face never leaving.

She may be none the wiser but Helaena’s eyes are on you and the tent behind your body. There is no escaping her perceptive stare and what is worse, Baela appears behind them both. Her eyes immediately looking to the tent, then to your figure.

Everyone seems to know where you were and there minds must be assuming what happened behind the tent. An unbearable heat seizes your chest, making your skin feel what you can only assume dragonfire feels to the touch. It takes the breath from you and for once, you cannot look at any of their eyes, your own flitting between the three pairs set on you.

Rhaena’s smile falters, genuine concern taking its place. She calls your name, once or twice, you cannot recall. Your feet move before your mind thinks it through, fleeing the scene. It will not be until you are off the grassy field where the tourney was held, far in the castle within an isolated corridor that you can breathe.

It is there that the shame creeps up, leaving you feeling guilt that crawls under your skin and makes you want to disappear. 

You had a habit of fleeing the scene.

You had a habit of fleeing Aemond at the first chance. 

Never had you felt ashamed of leaving him in a blazing fury. He was vile, cruel, ill-tempered and above all dangerous. Not once had you thought of him as others had— resilient, dedicated, devoted. 

The image of him moving towards you coupled with the look in his eye was all consuming to you. It was a feeling that could end your very being. 

Like the very night in Dragonstone where you slept in a room too large with opportunities too noble for your blood, you feared you would get no sleep come the night.

With a heaving chest and weak arms grasping a stone pillar for support, you knew the truth as you saw it— whatever his meaning behind his eye in the tent, you knew you wanted but one thing from him.

His hatred. You could endure not much else.

note: consider reblogging and comment if you enjoyed this- that's what motivates me to post my writing here

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond oneshot

[daenerysies]

Honestly, I think the Alicent stans are gleeful about what the show did to Alicent's character because now they can fully indulge in their dislike of Rhaenyra (all Targaryen women because apparently, they're all evil whores who don't fit into the image of a perfect Westerosi Lady), prop up Alicent's "suffering" as something aesthetically pleasing, and fixate on Alicent being a repressed lesbian "betrayed" by her crush and how Rhaenyra is a spoiled brat who abused poor baby Alicent. Don't even get me started on the constant comparisons they make between Sansa Stark and Alicent Hightower. "ALICENT WALKED SO SANSA STARK COULD RUN!" The theme is not only worrisome but nauseating.

that seems to be the case, doesn’t it anon? i think it feels vindicating for them, due to the whole ‘she spent her entire life suffering in the name of duty and honor, she deserves a conciliation prize’ like you mentioned (maybe there’s some deeper trauma that needs to be looked into for some of them idk) as if said 'prize' doesn’t end up costing her her entire family. the way they’ve written her in the show just screams the glorification of abuse. she’s allowed to physically, mentally, and emotionally abuse her own kids in their eyes bc she too was abused, every misdeed she commits is because she was abused, etc. she isn’t allowed to just want her son on the throne despite the set-back it would do to women, she has to have some sort of sob story to make her seem more sympathetic bc women can’t just be against other women without reason (eye roll) or be antagonistic in general without reason. the queer plot-line was also not needed seeing as it was doomed to fail from the start and its existence dives deep into queerbaiting and even racist territory; subsequently, they decided to make the velaryon’s black and then completely sideline laena, rhaenyra’s actual queer love interest, in order to uplift and pair the sad white woman with her instead (which is strange since it seems like most rhaenicent shippers loath rhaenyra, but i digress). she’s not a complex character; she’s one-dimensional, inconsistent, AND the result of hypocritical writers not being able to understand that victimization doesn’t automatically mean interesting.

it also feels like half the time her stan's can’t decide if all of her suffering is bc of the men in her life, or if it’s *somehow* all rhaenyra’s fault that she was put in that position. the show has attempted to switch the power dynamics at play by aging alicent down and rhaenyra up, but it doesn’t work simply bc alicent still has more power than her as queen consort (and still spends around 10 years without otto's influence bullying and ostracizing rhaenyra, which is not how a mother terrified for her children's lives would act in the face of their would-be murderer). furthering that, the lack of critical thinking skills is blatant in this fandom and shows when they attempt to vilify the targaryen's (especially the women, yikes) because they only do so to uplift their own boring favs. show!alicent, and by extension, both media's versions of helaena, are passive characters who conform to and uphold the patriarchy, they’re the perfect type of women for incels and pick-me’s to glomp onto to ‘prove’ they’re not misogynists (see? we DO like women! (only if they’re submissive and don’t fight back ofc)).

the only comparisons between sansa and alicent would be their show characters. only the latter half of got for sansa makes any since comparison wise. she too was a character that was further victimized to make her seem more interesting and righteous in the show writers efforts to make her qitn (and also to further the bullshit mad queen dany plot line). sansa is still quite a compelling character without adding in an unnecessary rape plotline, but if they hadn’t included it the only similarities between these two women are that both are apparently redheads (nope) and bastard-phobic (debatable). that right there is where any and all similarities end. in reality, alicent is the cersei to rhaenyra’s sansa, not the other way around.

the fact that many consumers (especially the women) seem to like the adding of an abuse storyline to these characters is so gross, and really telling of how the media has construed the reaction one should have to gender-based violence (or benevolent sexism). they condemn and pity these characters for what they go through, but in the same breath, praise the writers for adding ‘nuance’ to these women’s stories. worrisome indeed.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #hotd #got #hotd critical #anti alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #helaena targaryen #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #anti rhaenicent #anti alicent stans #faye answers #anonymous

[flowerandblood]

A Winter Beauty (5)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: kissing, fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_______

Aemond awoke, lying alone. He felt a strange tightness in his heart at the sight. Only a few hours ago, when he had woken up several times, carried away by emotions and what had happened between them, he had felt her body, her face pressed against his chest, her arms tightly around his waist. He had never let a woman fall asleep next to him before.

Now, looking at the white sheets in front of him, he felt empty. He thought that this was their last joy together. That he would return to Kings Landing, marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, and lie in bed with them, imagining young Lady Stark lying underneath.

He smiled ironically at the thought that he should take her tonight and fly on Vhagar with her, marry her by force, as the first kings had done. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a servant who entered his tent hesitantly.

"My prince, your queen mother wants to see you." He said softly. Aemond pursed his lips, wondering if Criston might have seen Y/N come out of his tent before dawn. He felt a tightness in his chest.

He dressed quickly and headed for the queen mother's tent. As he entered, he saw that they were talking quietly about something with Ser Criston. They both looked at him concerned, so he knew what had happened. It surprised him that he no longer cared what they thought of him.

"You called me, mother." He said calmly. Alicent nodded at Criston, dismissing him, and he left without a word, not looking at him. His mother looked away for a moment, as if weighing her words. She was clearly distraught.

"I thought you were different from Aegon." She finally said with a hint of regret and disappointment, her gaze expressing real, motherly pain.

"What are you accusing me of?" He asked dispassionately, his insolence unnerving her.

"Of what? Aemond!” She walked over to him, spreading her arms out in desperation. "What was Lady Stark doing in your tent last night? What were you thinking? She's the lord's daughter! How could you disgrace her like that?"

Aemond frowned at the words, but his face remained stony.

“I did not disgrace her. We were just talking." He lied easily. He wasn't about to give his mother cause for imagination. If he told her what really happened, she wouldn't understand anyway. Alicent laughed helplessly at his words.

"The mere fact that you were alone in the tent at night will make any serious lord question her virginity. Now how would she find a worthy husband?" She asked, distraught that she had to explain such things to him, seeing that as a man he completely failed to understand a woman's perspective. Aemond looked her straight in the eye.

"If you had spoken to my father the king instead of gossiping with Ser Criston, you would have known that I wish to marry Rickon Stark's daughter." He said angry. Alicent looked at him shocked. For a moment she couldn't get a word out.

"You know you are to marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters." She said hesitantly, looking at him as if he was completely insane. Aemond rolled his eye, already on the verge of despair and losing any patience. It was only out of respect for his mother that he held back what came out of his mouth.

“My marriage to any of his daughters will be like yours with my father. Impassive. But I will obey you as always, mother. I will do what you want." He said through clenched teeth and left the tent, enraged beyond measure.

As he walked through the camp, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Y/N was teaching Helaena to shoot a bow. Their eyes met. He could see the terror in her eyes – she must have known Criston had seen her. He looked away, his heart constricting, and started toward his tent.

He spent several hours there, lying and reading a book. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't focus on what he was looking at. He didn't want to go out and watch the world fall on his head.

He felt terrible that his mother might tell Lord Stark what he had done and humiliate Y/N in his eyes. Ruin her chances of a good marriage with another lord with both eyes. He pursed his lips at the thought and swallowed hard.

After a while, Ser Criston entered his tent. Aemond gave him a look that could kill. Criston was smiling.

"Lord Stark would like to see you, my prince."

Aemond wondered if there was another litany ahead of him, but Criston's expression surprised him. Criston turned to him as they walked through the camp.

“Whatever you said to our queen, it worked. Forgive me, but I had to tell her. I didn't know you asked the king for her hand." He said calmly. Aemond didn't say a word to him.

He entered the king's tent. His father the king was sitting on the throne with a tired expression on his face, his queen mother was standing next to him. Lord Stark and his wife were standing in front of them, they turned to Aemond entering with puzzled expressions.

"You called me, my Lord." He directed his words at Rickon Stark, but he didn't look at him, tired and discouraged.

"Yes. The King and Queen have just surprised us greatly with the news of Your intention towards our daughter." He said hesitantly, and Aemond gave him a shocked look.

He looked at his father and his mother. Alicent looked at him with pain, but she was smiling. Aemond swallowed hard, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I want to marry her, Lord Stark." He finally said and dared to look at him. Lord Stark couldn't quite believe what was happening. It was obvious that neither he nor his wife expected this at all. There was a momentary silence, Lord Stark and his wife looked at each other in silence. Finally, Lord Stark spoke up.

“I promised my daughter that I wouldn't force her into marriage. So we need to hear what she has to say about it." He answered briefly. Alicent nodded to one of the servants.

"Bring Lady Y/N to us."

***

After a few minutes, the young Lady Stark entered the tent, terror in her eyes. Aemond's heart clenched uncomfortably at the sight, for he knew she thought it was about what had happened between them in the night. He prayed that she wouldn't start apologizing for anything in advance, that it wouldn't appear that he wanted to marry her just because of their closeness at night. Y/N didn't give in to fear completely, however, and wisely waited to see what her father had to say. She couldn't hide the tremors of her body.

"You called me, father." She spoke softly, as if there was no saliva in her throat. She looked at him imploringly. Her father nodded to her, looking kindly at her.

"Come closer, child."

Lady Stark approached him with her head humbly bowed. Father addressed his words directly to her.

“Daughter, the king and queen have just made an offer to our house. They want you to marry their son, Prince Aemond." He spoke calmly and slowly, as if fearing that this information would make her furious or despair. Y/N looked at him with wide eyes, pale as if she was about to pass out. Her father stroked her shoulder as if he feared his worst fears had just come true.

"Of course, you don't have to answer now. You have the right to think." He said reassuringly, young Lady Stark looked at Aemond, who was looking at her with pain. From all the stress and terror that had held her since the morning, tears began to fall from her eyes involuntarily. Her father thought she was having a panic attack. The king and queen looked at her concerned.

"Is it true?" She asked in a shaky voice, looking at Aemond. He couldn't take his eye off her. If he could, he would hug her to him, press her against his chest, kissing her hair. But he knew he couldn't do that.

"Yes." He spoke softly, his voice slightly trembling despite his best efforts. "I want you to be my wife."

Y/N took deep breaths as if she couldn't believe what was happening.

"I humbly ask you to accept me as your husband." He said calmly, ignoring the surprised looks of his father and mother. Only then did they believe he was serious all time along.

"I agree." She said softly, her father and mother looked at her in shock. Aemond couldn't stop the tip of his mouth from twitching in satisfaction. Y/N finally smiled. It was obvious that she was using all the rest of her will to keep from throwing herself at his neck.

Aemond walked over to her, took her hand, and kissed it, squeezing his eye shut, indulging in her scent and the softness of her skin. Y/N couldn't take it any longer, took a deep breath and pressed herself greedily to his chest.

Even though he knew the king and queen and her parents were looking at them, he couldn't refuse her, being euphoric himself. He hugged her tightly, burying his nose in her hair. They released each other quickly, so as not to embarrass those present and smiled at each other.

***

The news of their engagement was announced during an evening feast where they were allowed to sit side by side. All the Northern Lords received this news with great enthusiasm, hoping that this marriage would also strengthen their position and the entire region in the kingdom. Young Lady Stark wore a light-colored gown with long, floor-length sleeves embroidered with wildflowers for the evening. Her black hair fell freely over her bare shoulders. Aemond thought, looking at her, that she looked like the personification of spring.

Their eyes met. Y/N inhaled softly as she saw his gaze on her. Her trembling hand touched his hand under the table, and he automatically grabbed it and kissed it. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help remembering once after seeing her breasts, how they kissed shamelessly, how he had slid his tongue deep into her throat as he watched her come. He swallowed hard at the thought. He knew from looking at her that she couldn't stop think about it either.

This led to the fact that the tension between them was even greater than at the beginning. His fingers gently traced over her hand and wrist, which rested on the armrest of her chair. He could feel the shivers running through her every time, and he smiled to himself at the sight.

He had previously spoken to his father, who told him that he was to explain the situation to Lord Baratheon himself, and that he was to go to Storms End immediately upon returning to Kings Landing. The king wanted one of the daughters to be a lady-in-waiting to Helaena when she became Aegon's wife, in return for breaking the original plan. Aegon also spared no comments to his younger brother.

“I thought I was the only one thinking with my dick. But you must have completely lost your mind. You will take her to bed and then she will become completely indifferent to you." He laughed, patting him on the shoulder. For Aemond, he was the last person to lecture him about his feelings for women. He knew that deep down Aegon envied him because Lady Stark had caught his attention as well.

During the last two days they had spent at Winterfell, Aemond and Lady Stark had been under Ser Criston's constant, unbearable scrutiny. They were now free to talk without shame, and he could kiss and touch her hands when no one was looking, but the intimacy they had allowed in his tent that night, which they needed so much, was now unattainable.

It didn't help that their mothers, the Queen and Lady Stark, had arranged for the wedding to take place seven months after Aegon and Helaena's wedding. Of course, House Stark was all invited to the wedding of the future king and queen, which meant that Aemond and Y/N would meet in two months. They knew, however, that the ordeal of being under constant surveillance awaited them.

Aemond wanted the young Lady Stark to accompany him before he returned to Kings Landing. He wanted to show her Vhagar, to see what the mightiest dragon now flying around the world looked like, and her future husband was its rider.

They came out into a large field covered with snow where Vhagar lay. If someone were passing by, they would think that it is just a stone mountain. Y/N took a deep breath and stopped, shocked by her size and her appearance. Horror and excitement mingled on her face. Aemond squeezed her hand.

"Do not be afraid, my lady. Do you want to come closer?” He asked, wanting to give her a choice though, knowing that this was the first time she had seen a beast of this type, especially of this size. She looked at him with big, glowing eyes and nodded timidly. They moved together, their fingers intertwined in their handshake.

Y/N stared in awe at her huge head, wings, claws, and tail. The creature she knew only from history and legend now lay before her, deep asleep.

"She's wonderful. Can I touch her?" She asked quietly, hesitantly, glancing at him uncertainly. Aemond looked at her, surprised at her courage. He nodded softly, leading her closer.

They both stopped as Vhagar detected a foreign scent and opened her eyes lazily. Seeing Aemond, she exhaled softly from her great nostrils, which billowed out as pillows of thick steam. Y/N pressed herself against his arm, impressed by what she was experiencing.

Vhagar watched them carefully, but didn't even look up. Apparently, she did not feel any threat, and the snow beneath her pleasantly cooled her fire-heated body. Aemond took Y/N's hand in his and placed it on the side of the dragon's mouth. She watched them calmly, but didn't even move.

Y/N sucked in a breath, feeling the hard dragon scales. Aemond leaned over her, whispering in her ear. Criston, standing several meters away, looked away, wanting to at least give them a bit of privacy while saying goodbye.

"Once you are my wife, you will travel the kingdom with me on her, Lady Stark." He said low, and Y/N shivered at the feeling of his hot breath so close to her face. Unable to control himself, he began kissing her cheek and neck, their hands still resting on Vhagar. Y/N's heart was pounding like crazy, she didn't want him to leave her.

"Abduct me and make me your wife." She whispered softly, and he moaned low at her words. She turned her face to him, and he pressed his tongue between her lips in a shameless, wet kiss that made them both feel pressure between their thighs.

They kissed passionately, Aemond holding her face close to him with his other hand, so she wouldn't move an inch. The wet sound of their mouths were all that they could hear. Lady Stark let him penetrate her lips, returning each kiss.

He finally pulled away from her lips and pressed his nose against her cheek.

"Soon."

_____

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @namoreno @dreamlandcreations

#aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #house of the dragon aemond #aemond smut #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x original female character #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fluff #hotd smut #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom

[carnivorousladybug]

HOTD Inktober

Hey guys, I am planning to draw some halloween inspired art for our favorite HOTD characters. Keep in mind, I'm a busy college student so I might not finish all these by Halloween — I might not even complete the list at all — but I'll try to draw for as many days as I can and drag the challenge out into November to give me more time. This is my first time participating in Inktober and I'm soooo excited 😁

Here is what I have currently planned (subject to change):

All Hail the Pumpkin King: Aegon as Jack Skellington

Down the Rabbit Hole: Helaena as Alice in Wonderland

Hellfire: Aemond and his son as Frollo and Baby Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Stitches: Alicent as Sally the Ragdoll

Black is Such A Happy Color: Rhaenyra and Daemon as Morticia and Gomez Addams

Nyctophilia: Aemond as an Edgy!Biker

Nevermore: Jace and Baela as Nevermore Academy students

"Why So Serious?": Daemon as the Joker.

Psycho: Young Rhaenyra as Harley Quinn

Something Wicked This Way Comes: Hogwarts AU? Witchy vibes? We shall see.

Little Mermaid: Alicent as Dark!Ariel

Murder House: for some reason I want to see Aegon as Tate Langdon

Dead Men Tell No Tales: Aemond as a Dark!Pirate

Freak Show: I'm thinking something with Helaena and her twins...

The Overlook Hotel: Baela and Rhaena as the twins from The Shining

Hawkins, Indiana circa 1983: Stranger Things AU

"I, myself, am strange and unusual" : Aegon as Beetlejuice and Helaena as Lydia

Til Death Do Us Part: Helaena as Corpse Bride

The Count: Aemond as Dracula

"Nothing here is vegetarian": Daemon as Hannibal Lecter

Mystery Incorporated: Alicent as Daphne Blake

Ice Cold: Rhaenyra as Jadis from Narnia

Haunted Mansion AU

The Phantom of the Opera: Viserys and Alicent as the Phantom and Christine

“I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?”: Aemond as Frankenstein's monster

Underworld: Aemond as Charon, the Ferryman of the Dead, or Daemon as Hades.

Barbenheimer: this is going to be a piece for the 3rd generation characters...

Dia de los Muertos: Alicent and Rhaenyra as sugar skulls

221B Baker St: Jace and Luke as Sherlock and John.

Voodoo: I want to see Aemond as Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog

The Headless Horseman: Criston as a headless horseman.

Some additional ideas that I might use as backups for inspiration:

— Zombie!Lucerys

— Helaena as Dark!Sleeping Beauty

— Alicent as Ophelia from Hamlet

— American Midwest Gothic AU of Alicent and her kids (they have the vibes, am I right or am I right?)

— Alicent and Aemond as Norma and Norman Bates

— Aemond as Michael Myers

— Tale As Old As Time: Aemond as The Beast

(Can you tell I love drawing Aemond and Alicent?)

I also want to draw Alys as Malificent, Esmeralda (Hunchback of Notre Dame), Jennifer (Jennifer's body), or Bellatrix Lestrange (and also a spooky drawing of her summoning Ghost!Aemond) but it's gonna be hard because we don't know how Gayle Rankin is gonna look in her Alys getup and how her vibes are going to be on screen. So I suppose I'll just have to postpone all my art ideas for her til next Halloween. This goes for Cregan Stark, Gwayne Hightower, and Alyssane Blackwood too. (Ugh, I have a spooky idea for Cregan that goes something along the lines of "there's something lurking under the ice".)

#house of the dragon #inktober #halloween art #hotd art #hotd fanart #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #art challenge