#blackwater siblings

[likeafairytale]

The Blackwater siblings - aesthetic

"The ocean is in our bloods"

#malachai blackwater #kai x ursula #kai x nate #kai x cakypso #calypso le fey #calypso x ursula #calypso x nate #calypso x kai #blackwater siblings #aesthetic #mine #i don't like it that much #and i wanted to add the triplets #but it's hard to find things #so i just did our characters

[icanbeyourgenie]

― Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

#megane's birthday week #fav male character #birthday edit #been wanting to do a fav male character edit for so long #and rn it gotta be malachai #i mean that eldest sibling raised to be the heir and stronger soldier #always needing to repress every feeling he has #until the moment it's too much #just love this kind of characters #malachai blackwater #happy birthday love <3 #mine

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

With No One Around

When you and Aemond need to relax, you have a secret spot where you can go and be all alone.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, deep throating, Aemond has a spite-fueled breeding kink

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

With No One Around

Prompt: In Nature & Deep Throating

Vhagar sensed your intentions the moment you and Aemond climbed down from her saddle, giving you an annoyed, rumbling growl before she lumbered as far away as she could while still being close enough to guard you. You mumbled teasing words at her, but you couldn’t help but love the curmudgeonly old dragon. And be very thankful that she only understood High Valyrian.

Aemond huffed, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you through the trees. You cursed his long legs and scrambled to keep up with him so he wouldn’t pull your arm clean off. “In quite a hurry, are you?”

He only gave a frustrated hum. It was answer enough.

That day had been hard. On both of you.

It was the first day of the Festival of the Mother, and as it always did on holidays, everything went wrong.

The king was too ill to attend. Aegon was hung over. Helaena was in one of her distant moods, which did nothing to help calm the hysterical twins. It was supposed to be their first public event since the announcement of their birth, a way to show the world that their line was strong, secure, and, most importantly, true. Yet the future heir spent the morning biting everyone and everything he could find while his sister wailed ceaselessly.

In the end, Helaena and the twins stayed in their rooms, leaving only Queen Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and you to attend. Not exactly the best showing for a day dedicated to the mother.

Especially not when you and Aemond had been wed nearly two years with no children to show for it – though not for lack of valiant effort – and all the nobility seemed able to talk about was the child Rhaenyra would give birth to in mere weeks.

That was what set Aemond on edge. He would not be able to dismiss this child as a threat to his family. For unlike its elder half-brothers, it would not be a bastard. It would be a true continuation of Rhaenyra’s line – a full-blooded Valyrian. And a boon of legitimacy to her bid for the throne.

You were not sure exactly why, but Aemond believed that if Rhaenyra took the throne, she would immediately move to slaughter her half-siblings and their families. The one time you asked him why, he refused to explain. You would have pushed further, but his lip had twitched toward his scar, and you knew what that meant – it was one of the first things you’d learned about him.

Whatever the cause, he had pulled you away after the ceremony in such a hurry that he didn’t even call for a wheelhouse to take you to Vhagar. He’d just lifted you atop the first saddled horse he found, swinging up behind you and sending the beast racing through the city.

Which is how you ended up here – being pulled along by Aemond as he brought you to his special place. A small outcropping on Blackwater Bay, just outside the Kingswood. It had ample enough space for Vhagar to rest and was completely private.

It was where Aemond would come whenever he got overwhelmed, whether by the pain from his eye, exhaustion after being forced to appear in public and be sociable, or just the stress and frustration of his everyday life. He used it for the same reasons still, but he now had a better way to calm himself rather than mope by the cliff’s edge.

Now, he had you.

And you were never going to complain about his using you for stress relief.

Aemond brought you just outside the tree line, then whirled on you, gripping you tightly as he pulled you into a searing kiss. “I swear by all the gods,” he moaned as you opened to him, “we will not return home until there is a babe in your belly.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before again diving into you and moving one hand down to cup your rear. You moaned as he pulled you against him, rolling his hips to show you just how eager he was.

“We may be here a while then,” you managed to eke out between kisses. You weren’t sure why he was delaying; he was more than hard enough, and you hoped your own movements against him would show him you were ready as well. “What will we eat?”

He growled. This was not the conversation he wanted to have. He’d always preferred no conversation when you were intimate, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Vhagar will cook us some venison.”

You laughed at the answer but were quickly cut off when he moved his hands to your shoulders to push you down on the soft grass. Aemond was in quite the mood, and you weren’t sure you liked it.

So, you decided to tease him. After all, he deserved it.

You let him push you to your knees but resisted his attempts to push you down further. He tried, but you were stronger than you appeared, especially when you were this annoyed with him.

“What are you doing – ” you cut him off this time, reaching up to grab his thighs and squeeze.

With a saccharine smile, you brought your hands to the ties of his trousers and began to unlace them, one by one. “I’m just helping you relax. If you put a baby in me now, I fear it will be born angry.”

Aemond growled softly, in warning to not delay too long, and begrudging permission.

You made quick work of his trousers, pulling them down only enough to retrieve his hardened cock, pumping it a few times to spread the moisture that had gathered at his tip before taking him into your mouth. Slowly, at first, because he wouldn’t relax if he got what he wanted immediately, but enough that he would not want to stop you to stick himself somewhere else.

You continued like this for a few moments, until Aemond got impatient and laced his fingers through your hair, moving you ever so slightly toward him.

The message was clear: more.

You happily obliged, bracing yourself with your hands on his rear, and took him further, and further, and further. And when your nose finally pressed into his stomach, you paused, hollowing your cheeks. You drew back just before you ran out of breath, running your tongue up the length of him before taking him all the way once more.

Aemond’s hands tightened in your hair as you repeated the action once, twice, three times. On the fourth, he gripped so tightly you were sure he’d tear half your hair out. On the fifth, he shouted a curse as he came, spilling down your throat and moaning as you sucked every last drop from him. When you pulled away, you left one last kiss on his tip.’

It took a while for him to catch his breath. He gazed at you adoringly the whole time. You waited until he was entirely calm before you teased him once more.

“Enjoyable as that was, I fear it will not produce a babe.”

Aemond’s smile fell into a frown of shame and affectionate annoyance, and you laughed.

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reafer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan mitchell #12 days of smuff

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (2)

MASTERLIST

Summary: The trials begin

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, death, I think is considered genocide because is a bunch of people, DRAGONFIREEEE. SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

MINORS DNI +18

Wordcount: 3.7 k 

Notes: Reader has purple eyes and silver hair!

They opened the door to your chambers slowly, to not scare you, to let you know of their arrival

“Lord Cregan Stark”, muttered the guard posted at her door

You didn’t even looked at him, you didn't care, you just looked over at Blackwater Bay, where hundreds of ships were making port, the banner of the House Arryn was waving in the highest masts

Too late

You thought

The Arryns, The Starks, the Tullys, all your mother’s bannermen had come to the capital, to you

Important, unprecedented, powerful

And yet

it meant nothing

it was too late 

Your mother, your father figures, your siblings, they were all dead, gone, killed, betrayed, slain, devoured, sunk

“Your grace”, the wolf called, “I have taken the city in your mother’s name”, he said firmly, “in your name”, he continued, “and if you allow me, I will bring justice to her”, you looked at him then, and only nodded.

“I need your words, your grace”, he was not asking, he was demanding, he was at your service, and yet, you immediately felt like you had to give him something in return.

He got to look at you then.

Like all the women in your family, and even some men, your beauty was beyond what words could describe, you were there, emaciated from years of trauma, death and war, and yet, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your beauty did not belong to this world, he thought, you were a goddess in human form, with those silvery strands and purple eyes

And he was the most imposing man you had seen in return, he felt like this… God, a god of war and justice, wisdom and prowess, like the colossus of Braavos, nothing could tumble him down, he had been here for hundreds of years, and he was going to continue there for hundreds more. it felt like with him by your side, nobody could hurt you, with him by your side, you were safe. Invincible 

Nobody needed to tell you who he was, just by looking at him you would have known, even though you had never seen him before 

“... And I need it in writing”, he said slowly and calmly, “do you trust me to seek justice in your name?”, did you? your brother befriended the man and after he came back, having promised your hand to him in marriage, he had say he was his best friend, and the most honorable men he had met, and that you were going to be happy and safe by his side

There was no one better than him

You went to the small desk in the corner of the room, parchment and quill in hand, you had no clue what you were doing, but you scribbled on the paper that you gave Cregan Stark the authority to act in your name, with long, pompous and unnecessary words of politics, those you knew well, your mother had make sure of it

“Cregan Stark”, you called, turning to him, your decree in hand, he stood still, raising his head and straightening his posture, “I command you to seek justice for my mother, the late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen” you said, your voice sounds strained, just because you hadn't spoken in so long, “I command you to imprison the ones who conspired and usurped her, and to punish them in my name”, you said then, giving him the paper

“I will be the hand that brings justice, my queen”, he sentenced, reading your words, he nodded approvingly. And you could not hide your surprise

“They named… me?”, you asked

“We did”, he said, “The Tullys, the Arryns, the Starks, the Tarlys, Tyrells…”, you only nodded

“I will come after, to make the announcement of the trials and those who will be put to them”

“Should I go?”, you asked

“A queen should not concern herself with such matters of justice”, he said

“Very well”, he nodded, and just like that, he exited your chambers

With him on the helm, you would be safe

Queen

You were a Queen know

Rhaenys, the Queen that never was, and then your mother The Black Queen

They had failed

And now, here you stood

Were you going to fail too?

Cregan walked slowly, the people that came across him would move away from him, letting him passed uninterrupted, bowing their heads

It was a good sign

The castle that had looked like it was abandoned, was slowly returning to life, people from all the most important families were here, and the first thing he needed to do was to send even more ravens, to all corners of the realms.

There was a New Queen, and all the most important families and their banner men had to be here for her coronation

The staff, maids, servants, soldiers, they did not had armies to fight of gold to use, but they had access to places and that access could be bought by enemies still lurking in the shadows

He had to make sure everyone who was to inhabit the Red Keep was completely loyal to their new Queen. A queen who just turned into a woman, if barely, a broken young woman, who had seen the death of everyone in her family but her baby brother. He had more work than he thought. He came with the purpose of installing the princess on the throne, make her Queen, and then pursue those traitors and turncloaks with his army, lead them to the gates of the citadel itself

But he was starting to think that this was going to be more politics and ink that swords and blood

Cregan Stark needed to relegate, and for that, he needed trusted men, loyal men to the cause of the late Queen and the new one now

And this is how he was going to accomplish that

When he walked into the throne room 

The small council, and their families where inside

It was to his knowledge that Baela Targaryen was also in attendance. The betrothed of the deceased Crown Prince Jacaerys. He basically know the girl, because of how much Jace would talk about her

As he made his way to the throne, he opened the decree and show it to everyone

“I have in my hand a royal decree from the Queen”, he said loudly, “In it, she declared me as her hand to seek justice for the late Queen Rhaenyra”

“Seek justice?”, of course Corlys Velaryon was the first to contradict him

“I will hold trials for the traitors and turncloaks”, he said, and everyone in the throne room began to either whisper nervously, gasp audibly, or said lowly words of disapproval.

His men entered the room, alongside the three of the seven remaining white cloaks he had send for, loyal to Queen Rhaenyra

“Ser Erryk Cargill”, he called, the man stood in front of him with his brothers, “Ser Adrian Redfort and Ser Loreth Lansdale”, the three of them bowed his heads, “do you recognize the true line of succession?”, he asked out loud

“Yes M’lord”, answered Erryk

“Do you recognize Queen Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter as Queen of the seven Kingdoms?”, he asked

“Yes my lord!”, they chanted at the same time, “we swore towards the Queen!”

“Great, do you recognize me, by this decree, hand of the Queen?”, he asked showing them your words, they look amongst themselves and nodded

“Yes my Lord”

“Very well, today, as my first act as hand, I will hold trials, to apprehend traitors who conspired against the true heir, resulting in a bloodied civil war and the death of thousands, do you stand by me?”, he asked

“YES MY LORD!”

“Then apprehend Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Tyland Lannister, Larys Strong…. for starters”, he muttered

The court was submerged in chaos 

And he didn’t stop there

He arrested twenty men, including Alard Baratheon, who was new to court and also Gyles Belgrave, former king’s guard to the usurper 

On charges of treachery, conspiracy against the rightful Queen, and other charges.

To every man he placed in chains, he held trails for.

Those on trial had the chance to defend themselves, justify their treachery, present witnesses and evidence of what they had done and why, and ultimately, offer their repentance.

It felt to Cregan to stand as judge, and sentence to death those who were found guilty 

The first day was slow, mostly sentencing, and organizing the witnesses and defenses. The night fell over the Keep rather quickly, soon all servants lit up the torches, as Cregan dismissed them all

He wanted to see you

Rather, he needed to see you

“Ser Erryk, it is to my knowledge that you had been a part of the Queen’s Guard the longest”

“Yes my lord”

“You are the new Commander of the Queensguard, when all of this is over, you alongside the Queen will choose another four to complete the brotherhood”

“It will be my honor, Lord”, he said firmly

“Good”, he said shortly, “one of your brothers will be posted with the Queen at all times, another with the prince Aegon”, he continued

The guard posted at your rooms nodded at his sight, and announced him, entering in your chambers

He found you with your baby brother, having supper.

It was the first time he got to see the young boy in detail, he was small for someone his age, but his ghostly eyes had seen things no child nor adult should ever seen, and he could tell just by looking at them, the pain and sorrow he suffered

“My Lord Cregan, please join us”, you invited him

You and your little brother, all that was left of the greatest dynasty of Westeros

He accepted your offer, sitting across from you. The small boy didn’t meet his eye, he was just playing with his food in front of him, he noticed than when he spoke, he shook like a leaf in the wind

“I made twenty arrests”, he said firmly, “Including Corlys Velaryon, Tyland Lannister and Larys Strong…”, you nodded, “not sure yet, but many are already too guilty, like Larys, or a former while cloak of the usurper…”

“Any hightower?”, you asked. Prince Aegon rose from his seat then, and walk silently to a small door in the other side of the chamber, disappearing from sight 

“Sorry about that”, you said, “he barely speaks to me, and I’m the only one who he talks with”

“He will heal, so will you”, he said, you nodded

“So what about the hIghtowers?”, you asked again

“Those who led armies… are dead… Otto Hightower, his sons, his brother and his oldest son as well…”, he continued, you took a sip of wine, trying to gain some courage 

“What about Alicent?”, you asked, he looked at you

“The Dowager Queen is in lockdown, in the Tower of the Hand your grace”, he said gently. You took a long breath

“I want her dead”, you said brokenly

“You want your first command as Queen to be the death of the former one?”, Cregan asked severely

“She is the cause of everything that happened”, you said, finally looking at him, “she hated my mother, she made her life miserable while we lived here as children, she filled my uncles with poisonous hate for me and my brothers, she turned the entire court against us, she called us bastards and made everyone else say it too, she manipulated her children to usurp my mother’s throne, she was the cause, of everything, I want her dead”, you said, and he looked back at you with warning

“Many would argue, that she herself was manipulated by her father, besides, your mother forgave her”

“I won’t”, you said, “and because she was a cunt and a fool everything should be forgiven? Ignorance is not a crime, but perhaps it should be, why should she draw breath while my entire family doesn’t?”

“I am your hand, your Grace, you wanted it so, so as your hand, my job, is to advice you”, he said gently, “and my advice is to imprison her, yes, but not execute her”, you looked at him with eyes filled with tears and he looked back at you, worried, “The Hightowers are decimated, yes, but they still remain a powerful family… one of the most powerful”

“That could be easily fixed”, you retorted, he frowned

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly, you kept quiet

“You said you wanted to bring justice to the realm, I want the HIghtowers dead, all of them”, you sentenced, “Lannisters, Velaryons… Baratheon… they all riled to Aegon’s side because of them”

Cregan looked at you, and you broke down crying in front of him

You tried to wipe your tears quickly, you held so strongly, but to no avail, you were crying in front of Cregan Stark

“I’m sorry”, you cried, wiping the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling

“I understand your anger, your rage”, he said softly

“My entire family is dead!”, you cried, broken, weeping, you had been holding onto your emotions for so long that now, that you felt safe, the fake wall you had sustained for all these tumultuous months as a hostage in the Keep finally broke down. You cried for long minutes, taking it all out of your chest, freeing yourself, even if just a little, of the sorrow of loss.

When you finally calmed down, reduced to only sniffles, Cregan dared to speak again

“My own uncle betrayed me and took my lands from me”, he confessed, you looked at him, barely able to see him

“What?”

‘I was very young when my father died, he was supposed to act as Lord regent, but he usurped me as Lord of Winterfell”, he told you, “my cousins supported him”

“What did you do?”, you asked, more calm

“I gathered the great houses of the North everyone supported me, I stormed my home, took him prisoner, him and my cousins”, he looked at you softly, gently, “I decreed them traitors, and took their heads with the millennial sword of my house”

“You did?”, you asked

“He who passes the sentence must swing the sword, my queen”, he said gently, “but that applies only to Lords I’m afraid”, you smiled

“I don’t want them dead”, you continued, “I mean, I do, but, I understand why I shouldn't’...”, he smiled softly

“Good”, he said

“But I want them to think that I do, I want them to beg, I want them to empty their coffers to please me, to reinstate the treasury”

“That we can do”, he said firmly, “we will use them as examples, of what happens when you mess with the dragon”, you nodded, “I will call them to court”

Cregan wondered what you meant by “that can be easily arranged”, he also thought about his army, it was great, yes, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to fight the might of the hIghtowers, it had to be, he did plan on marching to Old Town

“Tomorrow you will tell me, how much time passed between now, and when she went to sleep alright?”, he asked your Queenguard on the door

His second in command Jon Dustin was waiting for him

“Tomorrow before the trials but after the young Queen is tended to, you will gather all the servants and maids, everyone who works in this castle, and you will bring them to me”

“Very well my lord”, he nodded 

You were worse than he thought, you were angry, understandably so, but he needed to find a middle ground, punishments hard enough to please your rage, but not that extreme that the Kingdoms start to rebel themselves against their New Queen

The next day, the second day at court, Lady Baela presented herself in front of the Wolf of Winterfell, to plead for her grandfather

“Your grandfather is being charged of Regicide, he is the main suspect of poisoning the Usurper”, he said firmly, “Even though we repudiate his reign, the murder of a monarch cannot stand unpunished”

“He did it to prevent the death of a thousand more my Lord! he did it to protect the Queen, the prince, and me”, she fought

Corlys Velaryon was pardoned after that day, thanks to Baela, and then you, who approved of such forgiveness. Even though you did not wish to see your named grandfather and cousin

Tyland Lannister came then, and the Lion knelt before the wolf. Rhaenyra had him severely tortured, and some words scape him, but he had returned the treasury in his entirety, and pleaded for a space in the small council

He had been good to you and your brother, and Aegon made you forgive him, and you did

In the fourth day of the trial, Alard Baratheon was forgiven too, he belonged to a lesser branch of his house, now the main thanks to the death of Lord Borros, he had no part in the Dance, and as such, he bend the knee to the New Queen’s rule 

The other eighteen men were not so lucky, they were all found guilty of treason,  on the fifth, sixth and seventh and final, including and especially Larys Strong, the maester, and others. 

And in all those days, you were receiving updates by Cregan himself, and you were… meditating

People were being trialed and sentenced to death, they were going to pay for what they had done, this was your comfort, justice, simple and pure justice, for your mother, for your family.

You had promised yourself that this was going to be enough

If you kept punishing these lords, the people was going to reject you as their Queen

And you couldn’t fail

Never

You had seen what happens when you failed

So the sentence of these Lords, and then the Hightowers, and then, you had to calm yourself.

Wanting it or not, the crown had fallen on your head, against all odds, for better or worse.

But here is the catch, the crown was now attached to your head, loose one is loose both

And you owed it to your mother, Daemon, your father, whoever it is, to Jace, Luke, Rhaenys… you owed it to your family to keep your crown over your head, and your head over your shoulders.

So as the days turned long, you were preparing yourself too

You only appeared in court the seventh and last day of the trial

You wore black, you were still in mourning, it was a fearsome dress, you too it from your mother’s coffers, and a magnificent crimson red cape dances behind you as your walked

Your hair was braided with magnificent braids, instead of the crown

You entered the throne room, for the first time as Queen, everyone there bowed to you, everyone except those on trial

Cregan wanted you to take the oaths of House Lannister and Baratheon.

And both lords, Tyland and Alard bowed to you, kneeled in front of you, sincerely, atoning 

You gave him the pardon yourself 

The eighth and last day, you demanded those found guilty to be brought to the cliffs on the outside of King’s Landing

Ser Erryk was holding Blackfyre, right by your left side, and Cregan with his sword Ice, was standing in your right, soldiers, all of them wearing your colors, black and red, brought forth the eighteen men who had been sentenced to death

You could see in the small crowd those who had been pardoned as well, along all the great Lords and Ladies of your households who had sailed to the Capital from Dragonstone in the week after Cregan summoned them

“Pass me the sword Ser Erryk”, you commanded, he nodded, and passed you the sword of your family, it was heavy, you couldn’t raise it above your head to strike even if you wanted to

“My Queen, I can…” Cregan murmured

“He who passes the sentence should swing the sword”, you said firmly, looking at him, the exchange was only heard by you three, not loud enough for the others.

It was a windy day, and you could barely hear the voice above the whistling

“My Queen, I did not mean…”, with one look, he kept quiet, you grabbed the sword of the Conqueror in your hand. You turned to the men in front of you, Cregan moved away, just like Erryk to stand by the side. 

“You had all be found guilty of treason against the legitimate heir of the seven Kingdoms, you conspired against her ascent and work to usurp her”, you said loudly

“Aegon was the true heir!”, screamed Gyles Belgrave, “I'd rather die than serve a bastard! daughter of a whore! you are no true Targaryen!”, those screams and accusations didn’t even bothered you, not anymore

“Oh I am not a true Targaryen?”, you asked

The whistle of the wind was dimmed by a way more stronger, menacing sound

You saw, with pleasure, everybody shake in their places when they heard your dragon roar

“All the dragons were dead!”, cried that small man you didn’t even want to learn the name of. Even Cregan was surprised 

Vhaelar growled in the air, you heard the flap of her wings, and she landed heavily by your side. She roared loudly, menacingly. You felt her anger, or perhaps, what you were feeling was the mirror of your own emotions. 

You caressed the side of her face softly, Vhaelar purred

You saw how the former King’s guard peed his pants, shaking uncontrollably. Larys Strong, you alleged uncle, was only looking at you and smiling sickenly, 

“I Queen (y/n) Targaryen, Queen of the Rhoynar the Andals and the first men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm, sentence you all to die by dragon fire”, you sentenced, grabbing the pommel of Blackfyre tightly, you were nervous, but this was nothing you haven't seen before

This was it, this single act had to be the outlet of your rage.

Soon when you look at those men kneeled in front of you, they all took the faces of everyone you hated, Alicent, Aegon, Criston Cole, they were all there, dressed in green, looking at you in fear and reverence, kneeling on the ground 

“Dracarys”, you said firmly

You felt the joy of Vhaelar who set them on fire, you felt your skin getting warm by the heat of the flames

You saw the men turn to inhumane forms and then to dust

You saw it like that day in Dragonstone, and yet… now you felt nothing.

Only relief

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd @aestmilky

#misguidedhour #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #cregan #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan x you #cregan x y/n

[blackbyrenflowers]

The funny thing about Tywin is that he is literally the only one out of his siblings that doesn't actually like Tyrion.

Gerion was of course his favorite uncle. Tygett always treated him kindly, as Tyrion recalls when Tyrek goes missing. Kevan kisses him on the cheek (actual physical affection!) and praises him for his deeds during the battle of the blackwater. Even Genna considers him to be just like Tywin, whom she confirms she loves and goes on to describe as the sort of man who comes around only once in a thousand years.

Every one of Tywin's siblings actually likes Tyrion and can see his worth. Tywin is just blinded by his hatred and ableism.

#tyrion lannister #tywin lannister #tygett lannister #genna lannister #kevan lannister #house lannister #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #gerion lannister

[tamamita]

What's the difference between a Shia & Sunni? And why do they hate each others? (I'm an atheist so I don't know shit about religions)

Keep in mind that this is no way trying to shame or denounce my Sunni siblings, but I do believe it's important to highlight a historical fact and how it's detrimental to the current geopolitical situation, since we're embittered by historical events, while at the face of imperalism and colonialism.

Shi'as are a political group of people who iunitially held that Ali (a), the cousin of Muhammed (pbuh&hf) was the successor of the Prophet. This is evident in numerous hadiths, such as Hadith Ghadeer Khumm, the Hadith of Mubahila and the Hadith at Thaqalayn. Nevertheless, the issue steems from the incident at Saqifa, which was a council met by some companions by the Prophet, who held an abrupt meeting, discussing who'd lead the Muslim nation following the Prophet's death. The meeting was held without consulting Ali (a) and they chose Abu Bakr to become the caliph. As a result, Ali (a) did nor approve of the selection and did not pledge his allegience to Abu Bakr. the incident at Saqifa serves as a catalyst to the incidents that would befall the Muslim community, such as Fatimah's (a) miscarriage and the subsequent wars against Ali (a) by some of the Prophet's companions, Ali (a) and his sons Hassan (a) and Hussain's (a) martyrdom.

This caused the rift in the nascent Islamic community, the Shi'as were any Muslim who held that Ali (a) was the successor by divine right, and swore their allegience to Ali (a), while the rest of the Muslims were nonpartisans. Sunni Islam is the standardization of Islamic scholastic and jurisdictional opinions which were formed in the Abbasid caliph. So it's errounous to assume that there was a split between Sunnis and Shi'as, when Sunni Islam was formed a few centuries later.

The reason for the hate is because of fundamentalist attitudes toward Shi'as. Some Sunnis and Salafis believe that Shi'a Muslims are heretics, because of their veneration of saints and the importance of Shrine visitations, the other reason is because Shi'a Muslims practice the doctrine of dissociation, which is the belief that any of the enemies of the Prophet's household should be cursed, thus some of the personalites of the Sunnis are cursed by Shi'as. Ancient scholars, suchs as Ibn Taymiyyah and Ibn Qayyim placed some fatwas declaring Shi'a Muslims to be heretics. These scholars' opinions are still popular today and used as pretext for prejudice against Shi'as.

In a geopolitical context, Iran is often considered to be rivaling power to Saudi Arabia's Wahhabism, and have often threatened the Saudi hegemony. Because of the Axis of resistance and their growing influence in the SWANA region, the Gulf States have attempted at all cost to undermine the growing sympathy for Shi'as. Bahrain is upholding an apartheid against it's Shi'i majority, The Saudi refuses to ackowledge the Shi'i Houthis in Yemen, but supported the Hadi government, thus imposing a devastating blockade. The Iraqi war saw the Shi'as gain power, while the Sunnis were often a disenfranchised group following the Blackwater massacre, which contributed the rise of various militias and terrorist groups, such as ISIS. While in the Syrian Civil War, Shi'as mostly made up the bulk of resistance fighters that sided with Assad against the Free Syrian army and Salafi Islamist groups, such as, Tahrir al-Sham, Jaysh al-Sunnah, Islamic front, Ahrar al-Sham and etc. These have contributed to the increase of tension between Sunnis and Shi'as. However, the fight against Israel have united Muslims, but the biggest obstacle the Muslim community must get through are the Salafist and Wahhabi clerics, espousing tayyafiyah (sectarianism)

[reevesdriver]

Spilled Wine (NSFW)

Word count: 2756

Character(s): Bronn of the Blackwater

Reader: Female Lannister reader

Warning(s): NSFW / 🔥🔥🔥 / Eventual Smut / Age Gap (Reader is of age) / Oral Sex (M & F Receiving) / Drinking / Vulgar Language

Support Me: Kofi

(AN: I literally cannot find that many Bronn fics so I decided fuck it I'll write my own. Also I can’t remember exactly how it all went when Tyrion made it back to kings landing, cause I watched that ages ago, so just ignore any mistakes in the plot 😂)

News of Tyrions arrival back at Kings Landing was music to your ears, you’d spent more than enough time trying to converse with your older sister Cersei but it wasn't the same. The banter you had with your younger brother Tyrion was far more interesting than whatever twisted drama Cersei had to offer.

You got on with Cersei yes but when you heard Tyrions voice passing by your door as your Handmaiden helped you get ready for a great feast at his return you couldn't help but grin and hold back your urge to rush just to go and see him. When you were dressed you dismissed your handmaiden and quickly headed to the hall with your assigned guard in toe to try and catch up to your brother before he was bombarded by the rest of your family and friends.

As you enter the room you see a small crowd of knights stood with your brother, along with a man you’d never seen before. Quickly approaching the youngest Lannister you clear your throat. “How rude of you to pass by my chambers without saying hello little brother.”

“Ah here she is, this beautiful creature is my older sister. Lady Y/N.” Tyrion says making you roll your eyes.

“Oh Tyrion how I’ve missed your compliments.” You say with a smile. 

“I’m sure you have sister. Let me introduce you to this handsome man. This is Bronn of the Blackwater, he is the one who helped me on my travels.” Tyrion says motioning to the dark haired man who was currently eyeing you up and down as though you were some rare creature.

“Well Bronn, I’d like to thank you for bringing my brother home safely. Though I'm sure his endless talking made you want to throw him out of a window.”

“Aye my Lady, it had its ups and downs. Though it’s nice to see his tales of your beauty are true.” He replies and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks turning them a nice shade of red.

“Well my brother may be a liar at times and spin a false tale or two but I’m glad to look as you expected.”

“If you two don’t mind.” Tyrion interrupts. “I am starving and in need of some food and wine to fill my belly.”

“Of course brother, will you be joining us Bronn?”

“Aye, I could do with a drink.”

Instead of sitting at the main table with you and the rest of his family Tyrion sat amongst the crowd of knights with Bronn at his side. The pair shared tales of their travel to anyone who would listen whilst drinking and eating though Bronns chatter seemed to falter here and there as though he was distracted.

Tyrion looked to his new friend when he drifted off mid reply to some trivial question and gave a knowing smirk at the sight of the Sellsword gazing over to you. He knew that after the countless stories he’d shared about his older siblings Bronn would most definitely be eager to see you in person.

“You like her.” Tyrion said nudging Bronn almost making him spill his wine.

“She’s nice.” Bronn replies quickly.

“Nice enough to bed?”

“She’s your sister.” Bronn replies sharply. “And a lady. Doesn't she have some rich lord waiting for her hand in marriage?”

“That normally wouldn't stop you.” Tyrion said with a laugh then continued. “She was intended to be wed, though her future husband was killed in a battle so now she waits until our father finds her a new suitor. I’m sure she won't mind having her bed warmed for the night by the man who brought her beloved little brother home safely.”

Bronn laughed nervously and downed his wine before signalling for the cup-bearer to fill it up again. Throughout the night Bronn watched from his seat next to Tyrion as you ate, drank and then stood and chatted to your Handmaiden and some of your friends at the back of the room.

“It’s getting late, why don’t you escort my sister back to her chambers? I’m sure she could do with being rescued from the other lords in the room.”

“If that’s what my lord wishes.” Bronn finishes his drink and stands from the table which he has to hold onto momentarily as all the wine he’d drank hits him. When Bronn walked towards you and your friends he looked around nervously when he saw the small group of women looking to him before they muttered something to you. “My lady-” Bronn began as he approached you but when you turned and your eyes met his you grinned and interrupted him.

“Oh Bronn, come dance with me. I’m tired of hideous lords wanting to spin me round the room.” You say and refuse to wait for an answer. Instead you take hold of one of Bronns calloused hands and drag him through the crowd to the centre of the room and pull him towards you as you hold his hand and rest your other on his ribs.

The rhythm is uplifting and you can’t help but giggle as Bronn fumbles to keep up with you. “My lady. Your brother has asked that I escort you back to your chambers.” Bronn says when he finally finds his footing and dances with you in time to the music. His hand is holding yours tightly whilst his other is resting on your waist.

“Is that so?” You ask with a slight slur and quickly shift your gaze to your little brother who smirks and winks at you before downing the rest of the wine in his mug.

“Yes m’lady, he said to rescue you from the stuck-up cunt lords trying to ask you to dance.” He says in annoyance making you laugh at his choice of words.

“I assume some of those are your own words and not my brothers.” You say and he shrugs. When the song finishes and switches to that of a slower rhythm you stop dancing. “Escort me back to my chambers then. If my brother commands it.”

Bronn immediately turns and releases your hand allowing you to slip your arm around his and hold his bicep as he walks you through the crowd of lords and ladies that littered the room. You slipped out of the room, managing to avoid the prying eyes of your sister and her children, and walk down the corridor away from the loud music and chattering.

You walked with Bronn in silence down the corridor and further away from the celebration. The night air hits you both as you pass by the open windows of the corridor. “You’re a quiet one aren't you.” You say breaking the silence as you near your chambers.

“I’m a better listener than a talker.”

“A good quality for a man, I can’t tell you the amount of times I've been approached by lords who can never shut the fuck up.” You say and Bronn laughs.

“I imagine it’s more times than you can remember.”

“Most likely yes. All part of being an unmarried woman I suppose.” You sigh as you reply though Bronn does not add a comment. Soon you were standing outside of your chambers and looking up to the taller man as you relate your arm from around his. “Would you like to come in for a drink, as a thank you for returning my brother back in one piece? I think you deserve to try a more expensive wine than that served at the feast.”

“If that would please you m’lady then I will share a drink with you.”

Opening your door you step inside and head over to your table where a fresh jug of wine sits in the centre along with some goblets and lit candles to decorate. Bronn sits down at the table opposite you and watches with intense eyes as you pour two cups of wine and slide one over to him before taking a sip from your own.

“What do you make of it?” You ask watching as Bronn takes sip after sip of the liquid.

He gulps down the rest of it and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before putting the cup down on the hard surface of the table. “It’s the best wine I've ever tasted.”

“I’m glad you like it. Care for some more?” You ask taking the jug into your hands as you re-fill your cup. Bronn nods and watches as you move around the table towards him, bending at the waist ever so slightly to pour the expensive liquid into his cup. Your breasts threaten to spill from the top of your dress and Bronn can feel his breaches growing tighter as he blatantly stares at your chest.

“See something you like?” You ask when you catch Bronn staring. His eyes don’t move from your chest as you expected that they would, if it had been anyone else they would be fighting to look anywhere but your exposed skin but Bronn continued to keep his gaze fixed on the area at the top of your dress.

“Aye, I see two things I like.” His eyes flick up to your face and he smirks before taking a sip from his cup.

You place the jug on the table and swallow down a mouthful of wine before putting your cup down and moving over to the Sellsword. Bronn watches with eager eyes as you lift your dress up to straddle his thighs and plant yourself on his lap with your chest directly in his face. His hands quickly move to your waist whilst your own wrap around the back of his neck. You can feel the twitch of his cock pressing through his trousers and against your pussy.

“You’re a bold lady aren't you?” He questions making you smirk as his blue eyes look up to catch yours.

“I’m a lady who knows what she wants.” You say and before he can reply you press your lips against his. Bronn grabs your ass and pulls you closer against his body as he stands and slams you down onto the table, the force causing the jug and cups to fall and shatter on the floor below. “That was expensive wine.” You complain after hearing the pottery breaking and rich wine spilling onto the concrete.

“Fuck the wine you can buy more, there’s something else I'd rather taste anyway.” Tugging your dress and under-garments up Bronn pushes you down onto the table and kisses the insides of your thighs that are now hooked over his shoulders before diving his tongue between your labia. The Sellsword works his tongue like magic, licking and sucking exactly how you like it which has you clawing and arching against the table as you cum.

Giving a rough tug to his hair you pull him away from your privates and jump off the edge of the table to kiss him, your juices were coating his lips and dampened his facial hair and the thought that your scent would be embedded in his moustache for days drove him mad. Bronn unsheathes one of his knives from his belt and turns you around so he can slice the intricate lacing on the back of your dress. The sharp blade cuts through the knots with ease and the tip of the blade delicately grazes your back until Bronn returns his knife to its holster.

Turning back around you kiss Bronn again and the pair of you fight to undress one another whilst crossing the room to your bed. You can hear the ripping of fabric as he tears the dress from your body before pulling his own shirt over his head whilst you unlace his breaches to free his cock. Pulling away from his lips you quickly drop to your knees despite Bronns grip trying to stop you. “A lady shouldn’t be kneeling for a Sellsword.” He says with panted breaths.

“A lady can kneel for whoever she pleases.” You reply with a smirk as you unlace his trousers and free his cock.

Bronn looks down at you as you take his cock into your hand and begin to stroke it until it’s standing fully erect. Gathering saliva in your mouth you wrap your lips around the tip and suck it making Bronn groan and push a hand through your hair. The girth of his cock makes your mouth ache as you stretch your lips around the shaft to accommodate him. 

“Never had a noble lady on her knees for me before. Think I can get used to this.” He sighs with a lazy smile as he watches you with hooded eyes whilst you suck his cock. When Bronn is close to cumming he begrudgingly drags you up from your kneeling position and throws you onto the bed against your pillows with little to no effort. You lay with closed legs watching him as he removes his boots and trousers to join you in the centre of the bed.

Bronn kisses one of your knees and slowly pushes his hands between your legs, opening them just enough so he can kiss his way up to your thighs until he reaches your pussy again. “Best cunt I've ever tasted, better than any wine I've ever tasted too.” He says between lapping deep strokes against your clit with his tongue.

You moan as he sucks your clit causing jolts of pleasure to hit you. “Come here.” You say grabbing at his sculpted arms and Bronn happily moves to kiss you once more as he hovers over you. His dick is thick and dripping with pre-cum as he grinds it between your folds and against your clit. “I take it you’re not a maiden.” He says taking ahold of his cock and tucking it at your entrance.

“Unfortunately no, though I hope that’s not off-putting.”

“Never, means I don’t have to be gentle with you.” He pushes into you, the stretch his cock gives makes you fight back a scream of pleasure. He continues pushing into you until his cock is fully sheathed in-between your sopping walls though before you have time to adjust he begins pounding into you.

“F-Fuck.” You stutter as you dig your nails into his back making him grunt. Bronn watches with pride at how your face contorts with pleasure while he hammers into you at a brutal pace. His hips slam against your body and he reaches a hand up to hold your face and kiss you whilst his other is braced at the side of your head to keep him from collapsing on you.

“You ever been fucked like this before?” He asks whilst pressing his forehead against yours.

“No, never.” You moan. “Best fuck I've ever had.” Your blissful smile makes Bronn smirk with confidence and soon he has you cumming around his cock. Your walls constrict around him and he knows he has to fight the urge to pump his cum in you. Instead Bronn opts to pull out and plaster your belly and tits with thick white ropes of his seed.

With a moan and a grunt Bronn jerks his cock until it’s drained. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your lips where he eagerly kisses you as he had done before. “Let me get a cloth m’lady. Can’t be leaving you in this state can we.” He says and moves from on top of you to go to your attaches washroom and retrieve a damp cloth.

Bronn takes his time wiping his seed from your body as well as delicately cleaning between your legs before wiping himself and returning the cloth to the other room. When he re-enters he sees that you’ve turned onto your side and pulled the covers over your naked body. He crosses the room and leans over to kiss you once more. “Goodnight Bronn, thank you again for saving my brother.” You say softly, voice clearly full of exhaustion.

“Goodnight m’lady.” He smiles, revelling in the fact that he knows you’re going to be struggling to walk in the morning. Bronn dresses quickly and leaves your chambers after peering out of the room and checking that the hallways were clear from any prying eyes. Unbeknownst to him Tyrion had been passing the end of the corridor when he saw the Sellsword leaving your chambers, he smirked at the sight of his friend closing your door and taking off in the opposite direction.

#mine #mywriting #game of thrones #bronn #bronn of the blackwater #bronn x reader #bronn x female reader #bronn imagine #bronn smut #bronn of the blackwater x reader #bronn of the blackwater x female reader #female reader #reader insert #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones smut #Jerome flynn #Jerome flynn imagine #Jerome flynn smut

[lucemond-feverdream]

Lucemond Idea Ⅰ

Greens Win | Post-Dance

Aemond not realizing he has become like Viserys - favouring his eldest child, his bastard son with Alys, over his younger children with o!Lucerys - until it is too late.

He ignored the resentment between the siblings, and more often than not taking the side of his eldest when fights would occur, even if the boy was in the wrong.

Aemond's first instinct, when he was told that his eldest son - Aelyx - had pushed his younger son -Baelon- face-first into the burning coals of the nursery's hearth, was to question what Baelon had done to provoke it.

He yells and demands answers while Baelon, who is only four, wails in Lucerys' arms as a maester tries tending to him, but the words immediately die on Aemond's tongue when his mother enters the room.

Alicent is looking at him the same way that she had looked at Viserys that night when he demanded Aemond answer him.

It's like he's been dunked in the Blackwater, the cold realization of the situation coming over him like a wave. A sinking feeling in his gut that grows heavier and heavier as Aemond looks at the faces of his mate and children.

His daughters - Elaena, Saerys, and Alysanne - look at him with the same wariness and apprehension that Aemond recalls his own siblings looking at their father with.

Lucerys face is guarded but the protective way he holds onto their son is telling.

Aelyx

Aelyx looks smug, with not a trace of guilt or regret on the eleven-year-old's features.

It's not till the maester speaks that Aemond is full brought back to reality and out of the swirling storm of his inner thoughts.

"The scarring will be severe, and the eye might be lost-"

Truthfully Aemond doesn't quite hear the rest. Talk of infection, how long it will take for the burns to heal, it is all lost on him.

His son might lose his eye.

His right eye.

#lucemond #lucerys x aemond #aemond x lucerys #lucemond fic #lucemond drabble #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond au #a/b/o

[viiisenyas]

Prologue: Made of Fire and Water

Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC) Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!) Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers Credits: Divider from here. A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.

[Index] | [AO3]

Elaena

The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.

Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.

The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle. 

Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.

He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks. 

She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister. 

She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself. 

The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting. 

“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.

He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales. 

“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”

Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.

“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”

“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle. 

“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, love.”

She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.

���My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.

Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon. 

She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.

“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy. 

Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales. 

“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”

“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.

“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.

“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.

He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”

She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”

“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”

Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.

“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”

Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.

“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.

“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.

Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth. 

“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.

“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Helaena nodded.

Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.

“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father. 

The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.

She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.

“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head. 

“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”

“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”

“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”

“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.” 

Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened. 

She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.

“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.

The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep. 

She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom. 

Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her. 

She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother. 

Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper. 

She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken. 

When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices. 

She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”

“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.

“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”

“Sure.”

“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled. 

“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”

“Perhaps some day, my princess.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.

“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. 

“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.

“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.

“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.

There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.

Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.

Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”

Oh. 

She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”

“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her. 

“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.

“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.

Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers. 

“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.

“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.

“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”

“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”

“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.” 

She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”

Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”

Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.

“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head. 

Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys. 

The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle. 

“He is very charming, Mother.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”

Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head. 

Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.

It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.

And here I thought he was just being kind.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.

Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat. 

“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra. 

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.” 

Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him. 

“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it. 

The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again. 

“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa. 

“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.” 

Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear. 

“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”

Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. 

“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”

Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.

The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.

Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.

#series: reign of fire #hotd fic #my fics #elaena velaryon #aegon ii targaryen x velaryon!oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #pro team green #it's a bit of a slow start but it'll pick up I promise #there's going to be a lot of Aegon in the next chapter and he has me in stitches

[martplays]

Interactive Fiction Recs

It’s been a while, so I thought I’d update and expand on my previous list of favorite interactive fiction works in progress! 

Did anybody ask for this? No. Am I making it anyway to satisfy my obsession for list making? Maybe. Anyways, recommendations under the cut! Damn this got long...

(Updated 9/5/22)

ACTIVE:

THE EXILE (18+) by @exilethegame - Play as the once-famed Commander who has fallen from grace after committing a horrific crime you have no memory of. You’ve lost everything... your title, your home, your loved ones; but when a mysterious noble hires you as their bodyguard, you are ripped out of your forced retirement and thrust back into a life you never thought you’d see again. It seems fate isn’t done with you yet...

(GENRE: dark fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: March 21, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~530k)

LARKIN by @larkin-if - Play as a vampire-hunter-turned-priest... Not a path you would have necessarily chosen for yourself, but your mentor and surrogate father-figure Wyatt left you little choice. In the process of hiding from the bounty on your head, you’re forced into your biggest con yet, fooling the small town of Larkin into thinking you’re their new preacher. However, things in the town aren’t as they seem, and soon you’re dealing with a cult, the strange family who runs the town, and a string of mysterious deaths. What could go wrong? 

(GENRE: supernatural western; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: July 2, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~101k)

A TALE OF CROWNS (16+) by @ataleofcrowns - Play as the long-lost Crown of Arsur, hand-picked by the spirits to rule. You’ve been running your whole life, but with the death of your parents (and your father’s last words ringing in your ears) you decide that it’s time to come out of hiding and be the Crown that the empire so desperately needs. With assassins nipping at your heels, a desperate public searching for stability and guidance, and annoying nobles breathing down the back of your neck, will you rise to the occasion and save Arsur? Or will it fall under your hand? 

(GENRE: high fantasy romance; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: March 21, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~257k)

THE NORTHERN PASSAGE (18+) by @northern-passage - Play as a hunter tasked with investigating a series of disappearances up north. When your latest job takes you to the shady port town of Blackwater, you discover that things are different than you thought and much worse than they seem. With a corrupt government, mysterious disappearances, and not to mention the disturbing dreams of rot that haunt you when you sleep, you quickly discover that this job is bigger than you could’ve imagined. Can you save the people of Blackwater and beyond from the supernatural (and human) forces that threaten them? And more importantly, can you save yourself?

(GENRE: horror fantasy; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: July 5, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~378k) 

WAYFARER (MA-17) by @idrellegames - Play as a Wayfarer, a non-magical fighter, one of the only ones left after your order was destroyed years ago. After you and your partner take a mercenary job in a pirate city that’s... less than ideal, to say the least, you wind up having to accept a contract that you and your fellow Wayfarer never imagined you’d take. Tasked to steal an ancient magical artifact said to be blessed by the gods, located in the biggest magical city you’ve ever been to, all while dealing with conflicting politics, enemies, and rising tensions... What could go wrong? Will you manage to save the city and its people, or will your choices lead it to its doom?

(GENRE: dark fantasy; FORMAT: twine; LAST PUBLIC UPDATE: July 1, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~927k)

ATTOLLO (17+) by @attollogame - Play as a normal young adult who gets sucked into a world bigger than you ever could’ve imagined. When your little sibling goes missing, leaving you only with a cryptic text to go off of, you never imagine the trouble you’re about to find yourself in. After a seemingly normal stop at a gas station and some weird black goo, you find yourself transported to a city known as Attollo--a city you never knew existed. Dealing with known and unknown dangers in a totally unfamiliar environment, will you find your sibling before it’s too late? 

(GENRE: cybernoir thriller; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: August 12, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~408k)

PROJECT HADEA (18+) by @nyehilismwriting - Play as the best elite operative that secret government organization Scytha Industries has; a title indicated by the hyper-advanced AI module currently living in your head. An AI module that is coveted by many and going for billions on the black market. Good thing nobody knows about it, right? Not that they’d be able to take it from you anyway, what with your skillset. At least, that’s what you think. Hopefully there won’t be any pesky planetary invasions or morally questionable strangers with a surgical compass anytime soon!

(GENRE: sci-fi; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: March 11, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~50k)

THE BASTARD OF CAMELOT by @llamagirl28 - Play as Mordred, bastard child of King Arthur and Morgana that almost nobody knows about. Few know of your... controversial origins, nor the fact that you are the only heir to the Camelot throne. With a dark, mysterious prophecy hanging over your head, will you wind up bringing Camelot to its knees, or will you prove the people (and the prophecy) wrong?

(GENRE: arthurian/fantasy; FORMAT: twine; LAST PUBLIC UPDATE: February 9, 2022; unsure of WORDCOUNT)

MYRK MIRE by @catt-nuevenor - When you and the child in your care stumble across a mysterious, half-drowned body at the edge of the water, you never imagined how much your life would change. Will you discovery why supernatural forces both good and bad have taken notice of you before it’s too late? Discovering the mysteries of the Mire while protecting both you and your charge will prove harder than it seems... 

(GENRE: low fantasy horror; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: August 15, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~401k)

FIELDS OF ASPHODEL by @asphodelgame​ - When all-powerful Zeus betroths you to his brother, Hades, without your consent, your life as a demi-god is upheaved. Will you fight your newfound situation every step of the way, or will you find the Underworld to be the chance of freedom you never expected?

(GENRE: greek mythology/slice-of-life; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: June 6, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~559K)

OFNA: BIRDS OF A FEATHER by @ofna - After a strange encounter with a bird, your normal, unassuming life becomes anything but. You never exactly imagined yourself joining a bird cult ornithological society, but hey, how bad could it possibly be? Besides, they’re not exactly taking no for answer... 

(GENRE: urban fantasy/romance/mystery; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: August 9, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~99k)

SPEAKER by @speakergame​ - You escaped the family curse by mere minutes. The first child in each generation is born a Seer, haunted by visions of the future they have no power to stop. Your twin sister inherited the curse, and you, as the second-born twin, were born with the rare gift of being a Speaker, the sole person who can understand and interpret your sister’s visions. However, your sister’s visions are becoming more frequent, and more strange. Will you, along with the companions you picked up along the way, be able to figure out what’s happening before it’s too late?

(GENRE: modern fantasy; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: August 25, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~238k)

DIASPORA by @diasporatheblog - Play as the heir to your Clan Maghnus, as you try to find a new home for your people.  When you land on the small island of Divio to gather supplies, you quickly find yourself immersed in a land of politics and negotiations you’ve never experienced before. Will you be able to find your way through them? And will you stick to the CIne’s roots, or will you help your Clan discover a new way to live?

(GENRE: low fantasy politics; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: December 16, 2021; WORDCOUNT: ~799k)

DEFILED HEARTS: THE BARBARIAN (MA) by @defiledheartsblog - Play as one of the last of a tribe that the Romans all but destroyed. In a desperate search for vengeance, you enlist in the Legion under a fake name and a fake past. When a mysterious voice urging you to kill appears in your head, will you fight its influence and discover who or what is behind it? And will you find the strength to heal from your past, or will the burning flames of vengeance consume you? 

(GENRE: romance/low fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: August 9, 2022; WORDCOUNT; ~160k)

WOLFSBANE (18+) by @wolfsbane-if - Play as a Wolfsbane, a professional hunter of the supernatural. However, unlike many of your kin, you know that being supernatural and being a monster are two very different things. 

(GENRE: low medieval fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: June 28, 2022; unsure of WORDCOUNT) 

RAIDERS OF THE CARAVAN (16+) by @leftski-if - Play as a human, elf, or an orc who has been forcibly uprooted from their once quiet life. After being taken from your bed by people with less than noble intentions, a pair of Orc brothers sweep in to save the day. How will you adjust to your new life in the city?

(GENRE: low fantasy slice-of-life; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: April 8, 2022; unsure of WORDCOUNT)  

DEAR DIARY, WE CREATED A PLOTHOLE by @ddwcaph-game​ - The day after you and your twin finally finish writing the story you began long ago with your mother, it becomes clear why she never finished it. The two of you unknowingly created a plot hole--a portal to different story worlds--and all of the villains from past stories you’ve written have come to life. Now they’re here to crash your field trip and end your mother’s story for good... 

(GENRE: lighthearted, slice-of-life fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: September 4, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~227k)

SHEPHERD’S OF HAVEN by @shepherds-of-haven​ - Play as a newly appointed Shepherd, one of the few magic users in the realm with the authority to actually use their powers... but only to protect the world against the evil endarkened. Will your organization of fighters manage to save the world, or is it already too late? 

(GENRE: fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST PUBLIC UPDATE: August 2021; WORDCOUNT: ~270k)

WITCHES OF FERNGROVE (18+) by @witchesofferngrove​ - Play as the eldest sibling in a family of witches who hail from the small town of Ferngrove, a quaint town where nothing ever happens. You grew up sheltered in a town full of humans, unaware of the magical world apart from the few aspects your parents deemed safe enough to tell you. Now a successful journalist, you haven’t stepped foot in your hometown for years... that is until the phone call that changes everything. With your mother now dead, will you be able to unravel the mystery surrounding her death and the secrets she carried during life? But be careful, there’s a storm brewing... 

(GENRE: urban dark fantasy; FORMAT: choicescript; LAST UPDATE: January 30, 2022; unsure of WORDCOUNT)

FALLEN LIGHTS (18+) by @fallenlightsif​ - Play as the half-sibling to your High General brother, in a country gripped by war and drenched in forgotten secrets of the divine and arcane. You’ve lived the last 12 years of your life in the capital city, training and honing your skills. You’ve died once already... will you be able to avoid dying again?

(GENRE: fantasy; FORMAT: twine; LAST UPDATE: June 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~79K)

OUR LIFE: NOW AND FOREVER by @gb-patch​ - A coming of age story where you grow up alongside your two neighbors in your quaint, quiet cul-de-sac. Grow and shape not only your personality, but the personalities of your neighbors, and form relationships that will last a lifetime. 

(GENRE: nostalgic slice-of-life/coming of age; FORMAT: visual novel/itch.io; LAST UPDATE: June 18, 2022; WORDCOUNT: ~50K)

COMPLETED, AWAITING PUBLISHING:

BLOOD MOON by @barbwritesstuff (finished, undergoing editing) - Play as a werewolf, part of a pack who just moved to a new city, an environment uncharacteristic for your kind. Things start normal, but everything changes when you run into a packless werewolf all by herself late one night. The encounter throws you deep into the city’s underground paranormal scene, and soon you’re dealing with vampires, witches, hunters, and a whole host of things who want you dead. Lucky for you, you won’t have to face it alone.

(GENRE: supernatural romance; FORMAT: choicescript; WORDCOUNT: ~439k)

THE PASSENGER by @the-passenger-if​ (full game submitted) - Play as an Eldritch abomination forced to live in a human’s body after narrowly escaping your demise. Will you be able to regain the energy you need to free yourself from your human prison before the monster you were fleeing finds you? And more importantly, with the human connections you’ve made... will you even want to?

(GENRE: eldritch shenanigans; FORMAT: choicescript; WORDCOUNT: ~150k)

I, THE FORGOTTEN ONE (MA) by Bacondoneright (full game submitted) - You were only a child when you were disinherited by your royal parents, cast from the family and marked as a bastard; and you were only a child when your father sent you to lead your kingdom’s army to fight in The Border Wars, witnessing atrocities no child should ever see. Five years have passed since then, and when your father is assassinated, the entire kingdom is thrown into turmoil. Will you be able to fight in a new war when you haven’t even recovered from the last one? And will you manage to be the guiding hand your younger sister needs to successfully rule? (TW: graphic depictions of medieval violence, self-harm)

(GENRE: medieval war; FORMAT: choicescript; WORDCOUNT: ~337k)

#interactive fiction #if #if recs #interactive fiction recs #interactive fiction recommendations #hosted games #twine #IF wip #im sure im missing some but god damn this list got long and i am TIRED #okay for some reason it's not tagging everyone but u know what it's okay

[likeafairytale]

It used to make you so happy, the water...

#malachai blackwater #blackwater siblings #calypso le fey #mine #this quote is so made for them all #triton made them so unhappy #i had this quote for them for so long #i needed to do it #i forgot naia and ondine fc #and as ondine is disfigured #i found daisy perfect for her #and as triplets i needed another redheaded #pearl isn't there cause well she's dead so #i'm happy i could've done an edit for all the siblings

[icanbeyourgenie]

The price of your greed is your son and your daughter

What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?

#mine #megane's birthday week #birthday edit #song lyrics #blackwaters family #ursula blackwater #nathaniel blackwater #this song is absolutely made for them and triton #“how bad can it possibly be let's see” : #adopting nate for political reasons only and beating him into the perfect son #basically making him nothing more than a statment to sirens to strenghtens his rule #gaslighting cally and manipulating her with love #making her marry her kidnapper for political reasons #making an outcast or ursula and isolating her for something she didn't chose #treating her like nothing more than a bastard and forcing her to hide her magic #exiling her for her mother's faults #making kai repress everything to be his perfect heir #forcing him to be hard on his siblings just to 'raise them properly' #and after all his sacrifices still taking his child and lover away from him #bad parenting 101 #there will be blood in the water because of him

[queers-gambit]

Kin Slayer [ part two ]

PICKS UP INSTANTLY FROM WHERE [ part one ] LEFT OFF [ alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion ] [ series masterlist ]

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.4k+

note: two parts cause total word count was 12k+. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: loose book spoilers - proceed at your own risk. cursing, spoilers, angst angst angst. ❗️SPOILERS

The Dance of Dragons was a bloody war that left families and towns splintered; burnt into nothing for wind to sweep away the ashes. Corlys had been named Hand of the Queen, and together, devised a plan to protect her remaining children. You were on bedrest at Dragonstone, so, you were accounted for. Joffrey was to be sent to the Vale with his dragon and a few eggs, as well as your step-sister, Rhaena, who visited you the most following Rhaenys' death.

Poor lass needed comforting, and you were happy to provide.

Your half-siblings, Viserys and Aegon (the Younger), were sent on a ship to Pentos - something you grew jealous of. Being on bedrest left no room for any other thought beside how you should have accepted, risked everything, and ran away with Aemond across the Narrow Sea.

This left Jace to step-up in your place, and after your advice, sent word for any Dragonseeds to attempt to master riderless dragons. Dragonseeds were Targaryen bastards and though very few ever got the right to ride a dragon, your brother offered an opportunity that only four could complete.

The ancient dragon Vermithor was claimed, as well as your father's dragon, Seasmoke, Silverwing, and the temperamental Sheepstealer.

However, at the same time, according to scouts, the Gullet of King's Landing had been overrun - and word reached you of your baby half-brother's demise. One captured, the other left to cling to his injured dragon and swim for Dragonstone's shore.

However, as your mother told you the news, there was a commotion from the courtyard that even Rhaenyra could not stop you from leaping to your feet to stare out the window.

"JACE!" You worried, hand to your cramping belly. "DON'T!"

But he was gone - away on Vermax, going to avenge his half-brothers in a fit of impulsive rage. In response to your stress, you gasped when your legs were covered in a sudden rush of slick, and before you were due, it was evident your child was coming. Your mother lead you back to the bed and called for the Maesters, never once leaving you alone through the bloody ordeal. It was the worst string of events you could recall - where Aegon was resting from his frightening ordeal, you were screaming in pain, and Jace was flying too low to the surface of Blackwater Bay - crashing.

Vermax did not survive the ordeal, and rumor had it, soldiers on the Green's ships fired at your helpless brother - spearing him to death. The pirates then made land-fall, and your father's home of Driftmark was set ablaze. Through the fire and smoke and pain and misery, you were no different.

The birth lasted two full days, and during the whole of it, you felt your emotional dam shatter. Through pain, sweat, and tears, you begged the room, "Please, please, someone find Aemond. Please, for the love of the Gods, get my husband. Please! Send for him! He should be here!"

"You know he cannot be here, love," Your mother tried to encourage, but you were sobbing harder.

"Please, fuck this war - fuck the succession. Fuck everything! J-Just let him be here, please! Please!" You sobbed, "Someone take Kasta - or just send Kasta herself! He will understand! Please, please, please, he should be here. I-I need him," you felt broken, "I need him here, please, get Aemond, find my husband, I need him, please, please."

Rhaenyra just held you tighter as you sobbed uncontrollably. With your dressing gown soaked all the way through with sweat and blood, you started to pace around the birthing chamber with your hand reached for your cunt periodically to feel for the diameter. You knew there was much time to go, but the pain was indescribable.

When the contractions were too powerful, you refused any aid - except your mother's. Rhaenyra was at your side as you squatted to the floor, using the stone wall to keep you upright as your hands tried to guide your babe from your bloodied cunt.

Still, you begged for Aemond because this was something you couldn't do alone and while you had your mother, you needed your husband. Your heart was broken, your stress tangible, and for the life of you, no matter how hard you screamed or begged, there was never any relief from pain - in head, body, and heart.

The darkness had only just set over your family.

As a messenger arrived to give news of Jacerys' death, you were pulling your still-born son out, sobbing at the sight of their his body. Your mother tried to remain strong but she was surrounded by death; both by a scroll detailing the demise of her first born son, and that of her first born child giving birth to twins who would never draw their first breaths. Rhaenyra held your son as you pulled your daughter out, soon slumping into the puddle of blood and fluid as you weakly held your babies.

"Spread your legs," your mother nodded, guiding your knees open as you only offered her a look of curiosity. "The afterbirth, my love," she explained, helping you in the final part of delivery - but you barely noticed. You didn't feel. How could you, when you were holding your heart in your arms? Your eyes were locked on the bloody babies, confusion and resentment circling your gut.

"Well," you whispered, glancing at your mother, "that's that, then."

She frowned deeply, gazing at the dead look in your eyes. "I'm so sorry, my girl."

You nodded slowly, only one question on your mind, "Do I tell him?"

Rhaenyra scoffed gently, "Give yourself time to grieve, my love. You need to mourn before you worry about anything else."

You sighed, head leaning back to the stone behind you as her hand reached out to pet sticky hair from your face. "Did I do this?" You whispered. "Did I push myself too far? Did... Did I kill my babies, Mumma? Is this my fault?"

She sighed with a frown, "In truth, you did not know about the ambush... I do not think the fault lies with you, my love. Sometimes, these things happen when the mother is under incredible stress."

You hummed as Aemond once did, unable to move. Even when she tried to coax you to your feet, you refused to get up as your body was drained of life, of purpose; of any energy or drive to continue forward. Yet, hours after giving birth, you were on your feet and wrapping both babies in cloth before presenting them to Kasta on a pyre of wood.

Your mother's hand remained in yours as your voice clearly rang out in the cold night, "Dracarys, Kasta."

She whined with steam leaking from her nose, waiting for you to give a second command before heaving a large inhale and upon exhale, let out of a stream of fire.

The light flickered in the night, and from that moment forward, you were never the same. Something in your heart snapped, something in your mind broke, and in your soul, shriveled into nothing. You were desperate to understand why your children had to suffer for someone else's war, and in your despair, forgot to pen a letter to Aemond.

Yet, perhaps that was good - for your anger bubbled as bright as Kasta's flames. You needed someone to blame and the stress of Rook's Rest seemed the most appropriate; leaving your mind set on the Greens. Your anger festered and showed in your fighting in the war, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes anywhere you were sent.

Time on Dragonstone became hectic following Jace's death. You were your parent's secret weapon and felt little ire for your actions; charging headfirst into danger without so much as a second thought towards consequences. With your babies gone, you felt little reason to be cautious - because being reckless seemed your speed now.

Word then reached your ear of Aemond marching armies and flying Vhagar into the Riverlands. Your spies told your mother, who had ensured to you that your step-father, Daemon, who was in Harrenhal still, also knew of the movements. You remained at Dragonstone with Kasta as your mother and Daemon flew to sack the Capital City, and soon enough, word reached you that the city fell in less than a day. You sent Rhaenyra's sons to her, but remained in the place you were to inherit.

Time passed still, and your heart never mended.

However, imagine your surprise when you came face-to-face with Aegon II in a darkened hall late one stormy night. "Aegon?" You questioned in earnest shock. "Am I seeing things? That really you?"

"It's me, sister," he snipped curtly, hands clasping before him.

"What're you doing here?"

"I've been here for a bit actually," he revealed. "I was smuggled from the capital before your mother took it."

"Hmm," you considered nervously, "I see. And you're here now, because...?"

He sighed, "If I ever owe my brother anything in this life, I will never again after this one curtesy. You can't win this war, Y/N, and there are Greens here to take the island."

"This is my home, Aegon, I cannot abandon it," you argued.

"I'm trying to give you time to go get your kid, get on your dragon and get the hell out of here," he snapped. "This is the one - the one curtesy I will grant my brother after all he's done."

"You owe him so much more," you sneered. "You do not deserve him."

"Did you, ever?" You steeled your jaw. "Now, go. Before I change my mind and instead send him your head."

"Where is he?" You decided not to mention the death of your children.

Aegon sighed, "The Riverlands, still. You might be able to find him."

You shook your head, "How'd it come to this, Aegon?"

"In truth?" He sighed. "I do not know anymore. But you need to go, get your kid, and get the Hells out of here. Do not try to alert the others," he nodded, and a guard stepped out. "My man here will ensure you do not stray from task."

Nodding, you whispered, "Thank you... Aegon."

He nodded in return, seemingly genuinely shocked by your words. You turned and rushed for your room, packing whatever you would need - whatever would fit for your trip. Aegon's man stayed true and saw you to Kasta, and you were left no choice in mounting and surging into the air. You had no choice but to abandon your home.

Aegon and Sunfyre watched you go.

You flew for days, no sign of any Black ally. You grew frustrated, and Kasta understood; taking control and turning to head a bit farther West. You were confused until you came across smoke, and through it, you made out the form of your husband's dragon burning the countryside. Fearing for the lives of those countrymen who lived here, Kasta located Vhagar in the air - but the great dragon saw her coming. It was a clash of flesh, teeth, and claws; yet neither you, nor Aemond, were willing to concede.

Fate worked in funny ways, and before you understood what was happening, you screamed when one of Vhagar's teeth pierced into the flesh of your calf when she latched onto Kasta's chest in a fatal bite.

You swore you heard Aemond telling Vhagar not to, but a moment later, you were thrown from the saddle as Vhagar had crushed your beast into the ground. You were momentarily knocked out before coming to again, noticing your armor had been ripped off in the crash, gazing around you as Vhagar took a victory lap in the air, and you saw your beloved mount... Laying unmoving.

"KASTA!" You screamed, half-crawling-half-limping your way to her in a rush, thinking you could save her. "Oh, Gods, no, no, fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," you wept, letting her muzzle rest on your lap as you got a look at her injuries. Vhagar had all but gutted her, leaving thick spurts of blood to leak into the cratered ground around you. "Oh, my precious girl, not you... Not you," you sighed as you stroked her cheek and neck.

Behind you, Vhagar landed with a tremble, and your head whipped around with anger when you noted Aemond dismounting. Gritting your teeth, you stood to your unsteady feet and unsheathed your sword; turning to face Aemond as he came to a halt. "Love," he warned, hand held in caution, "it doesn't have to come to this."

"We're past that," you seethed. "What're you doing here? If your brother can't rule, you'll ensure there's not even a country to preside over?"

He shook his head, "I need to draw your step-father out."

"He's not so easily taunted," you argued, readjusting the weight of your sword, "but I know what will draw him to you."

"No," he refused, "I will not fight you."

"I did not say fight," you sighed, starting your approach and ignoring the pain through your legs. "You'll have to kill me today, Aemond. No more running, we finish this now."

"No," he backed up, but you did not stop. Taking a swing, he jerked back as his sword rose to the defense. "Sweetheart, no, just listen - "

"I'm done listening," another hack from your sword was blocked. "You've ruined everything," your tears surfaced as anger burst; channeling it through your movements that left Aemond shocked. "You had to kill my brother - and I have not known peace since!"

"It was an accident!"

"LIAR!" You raged, metal clanging together. "You wanted to torment him - you wanted to pursue! You could not let it go - and in turn, you ruined any future we could've had!" Your sword swung around, nearly catching his chest - forcing him to flinch backwards. "You did this - why!? Huh!? Why ruin what we had!? Fight me, Aemond! Show me the swordsman I know you to be and fucking fight me!"

"I cannot! I will not!"

"You must!" You heaved, and Aemond was forced to brandish his sword to fend you off. You grit your teeth, and for a moment, Aemond had no idea who you were. He's never fought you, he's never seen you fight, but he knew you father, Laenor, and step-father, Daemon, both trained you. They were incredible soldiers on their own, and in you, was all their skill. None of their distraction.

Aemond was losing this fight, and his temper was slipping.

"FIGHT ME!" You raged through angry tears, iron clanging against each other. "I am left with nothing, there is no more left for me to lose!" Another deafening clash of iron rang out around you. "You've taken everything with this stupid fucking war! I've lost it all! Everything! Because of YOU!" You fully sobbed, never relenting in your attack despite the exhaustion settling in. "My brothers! My dragon! My babies!"

"Wait! Wait, love, wait!" He barked, using both hands to hold his sword hilt against your swinging attack to simply pause in midair as you both panted heavily. "Wh-What're you talking about? What happened?"

Your eyes were dead but shining with tears, "They're dead."

"Who?"

You sniffled, "W-We should have a pair of beautiful twins. A little girl, who looks just like my Aunt Laena - and a little boy, you looked just as his father!" But the anger came back, making you swing the swords to break contact. You attacked again, making him block you, "They're both dead! Because of you and your attack on Rhaenys at Rook's Rest! You started this war - and I lost everything I've loved!"

"You weren't supposed to be there that day!" He insisted, still fending you off with his sword. "I thought with your pregnancy, your mother would not risk you!"

You laughed bitterly, "You weren't there to protect me, now were you? My mother needed me, I came back to her, and in return, I could not shy away from what she needed."

His breathing staggered, "You were sent to the frontlines."

"I was," you grit, pulling back before swinging again. "You weren't there! I needed you!" Another clash of swords. "I needed you with me, I was alone! I was alone, you let me be alone, I needed you, and you weren't there! I had to go through that birth with only my mother, and all I fucking wanted - all I fucking needed was you! You weren't there and I needed you!"

"That was not my doing - "

"You started this war when you killed my brother!" You raged. "Fight me, fucking Kin Slayer!"

Your hacking movements made him defensive and in a short moment, everything changed. Aemond, quick with his blade, but playing the evasive measure, had parried your attack before taking a wide, sharp swipe. But it was enough, and he froze the moment you did; eyes widening as shock passed between the short space between you.

Looking down, your tunic was blooming in bright red blood after the tip of his sword cut clean across your gut. Your hands, after months of pressing to the same area to hold your babies, now tried to hold your entails inside you as your sword clattered to the ground. You stumbled back a few steps, groaning as blood slowly coated your mouth, eyes cutting up to meet that of Aemond's fearful stare.

"A-Aemond?"

"Love?" He asked, dropping his blade to rush for you. You did not fight him, letting his hands take hold of you as he helped navigate you back towards a still-moaning, barely breathing Kasta. "Hey, hey, hey, no, no, no, no, no, no no, no," he whispered when you were lowered in your dragon's blood, leaning to her shoulder for support. "Oh, Gods, what have I done? No, please, no, fuck - Gods, no."

You smile ruefully, choking lightly on your blood; teeth lined with red as you whispered, "Now y-you cannot deny the title Kin Slayer."

"No, no, do not, don't do this, please," he argued. "Don't call me that, I-I'm your husband, I'm your love, your sweet husband, remember? Don't call me that, please. None of this should have happened - I'm so sorry - please. Just stay with me, okay? I-I'll fix this - I can fix this."

But you both knew he couldn't. Just like all those years ago when your hands had covered his injured eye, his pressed to your gut. Like those years ago, as your hands once had, now his were coating in your life's liquid.

It silent for a moment as all defenses of yours finally dropped and your tears suffocated you more than the internal bleeding you suffered through. "A-Aemond," you whispered, feeling one hand move to caress your cheek, "I-I'm so scared, love, please. I'm so scared. I don't want to do this alone, please, Aemond, don't make me do this alone. I-I need you, my love, please."

He sighed and moved beside you, not minding the wetness of the blood surrounding you both; lifting his arm to draw you into his warm embrace. You don't voice it, but you're starting to feel cold and the warmth he provided was something you cherished.

"I'm so scared, too, my love," he admits in a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," you sobbed into his neck. "I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. Aemond, please, i-it hurts, my love, please. I-I don't want to die, I don't want to be without you, I-I can't do this next part alone. I hate how this war played out," you whimpered, his arm tightening as the other came around to cradle your head into his neck. "I wish I would've run away with you when we had the chance. So much would be different... W-We'd have our baby."

"Don't do that," he rushed, kissing your sweaty forehead. "It's okay we didn't run, it's okay, sweet girl. It's all going to be okay, I promise you."

"What if it's not?"

"It has to be," he promised, giving you a squeeze. "I'm not leaving, you're not alone. I'm here, I'm right here, my love. You're okay. You're going to be okay, I promise you, you're never alone."

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Show me all of you," you whispered. Aemond understood and all but ripped his eyepatch off, caressing your cheek again. You sighed in wonder, "There he is. My handsome husband."

Aemond smiled sadly, "I don't think I can let you go."

"At-At-At least, y-you'll get Daemon out here," you chuckled sadly, fully leaning into his embrace as your neck hurt trying to keep it upright; crashing to his shoulder. "You'll get what you want - an end to this, if you kill him."

Aemond shook his head and tried to press a hand to your wound, again - but it only made more blood seep over his fingers. "My love, please, let me get you out of here. Kasta's spent, sweetheart, and I'm so fucking sorry for that loss, but I can get you t-to Maesters on Vhagar. Please, let me try."

"'S too late for me," you chuckled dryly, patting one of his wrists as your energy was depleting.

"What have I done?" he whispered, looking more panicked than the night he told you about Luke.

"What was needed in wartime," you sniffled, using your energy to lift your gaze up to him, again. Weakly, you let go of your wound to reach for the neckline of your tunic, pulling it down some and leaving smears of bloody fingerprints. "Please," you whispered.

He let his brows furrow, gently reaching for what you referred to. He breathed out when he discovered the golden Warrior pendent you had gifted him for his first nameday as a married couple.

"Take it," you begged, "let it protect you while I'm gone."

"Love - "

"It was a gift," you insisted. "Take it back. Do not make a dying woman beg."

"All right," he whispered, readjusting slightly to unclasp the chain and remove the necklace.

You settled back into his side as you knew the end was nearing. With your hands holding your entrails in and his arms tight around you, you whispered, "Is it true that you took a lover?" Aemond stops breathing for a second. "Please do not lie to me."

He shudders a moment, "I did."

"What's her name?"

He doesn't want to respond, but he does, "Alys. Alys Rivers."

You hummed breathlessly, whispering, "Do you love her?"

"No," he answers instantly, "but... She is useful."

"Oh, Aemond, I do not wish to hear - "

"No, no, you misunderstand," he rushes. "She's unlike anyone I've met. She... Sees things in the flames, love. Like a sort of witchcraft."

You hummed, "Like across the Narrow Sea."

He nodded, lips pressing over your forehead, "Yes."

"Then she told you to come here, did she?"

Aemond pauses, tears falling faster, harder, "She did..."

"Hmm," you sighed, "now I see. She knew I'd be here and needed you to commit to her."

"What?"

"That's how these things work," you croak with a sad smile, letting a bit of blood spit from your mouth to splatter on the dirt. "She needs you: mind, body, and soul. Y-You can't be hers because y-you're mine. W-With me gone, s-she can finally have you, and service you better. J-Just promise me something, please," you felt your throat starting to close.

"Anything, my love. Anything you ask for, I will always give you," Aemond promised swiftly, bringing your forehead to his.

Through your tears, you manage to whisper, "Please don't forget about me. With no children, we've no legacy, but... But if you don't forget me, I cannot ask for much else."

Aemond holds his breath again. Then, he whispers, "I could never forget you, my sweet girl. We are bonded together, my love, and you will always be a part of me, my darling, sweet wife. I will never forget you because I could never love another because all my love is yours, and always will be." It's quiet for a moment before he admits, "You're it for me, my pretty girl, I won't ever love another, won't ever take another wife, and I'm so fucking sorry." His sobs become uncontrollable, holding onto you tightly, "I'm so sorry. This never should have come to pass, I'm so sorry."

You nod, "I forgive you... For all of it." You're dying and there's no use denying that, not wanting to take your anger to the grave. "Aemond, now I-I need to ask the impossible of you, my love."

"Anything," he promises.

But you sobbing through your request, "Kill me, pl-please. J-Just make it stop, love, it hurts so bad. So fucking bad. Please."

For the first time in his life, Aemond had to refuse you, "No, no, not in this lifetime, I cannot - please, do not ask that of me. Let me get you help - "

"It's too late for me, my love, and we both know it," you sniffled. "Please, Aemond. Ju-Just make it s-s-stop."

"I cannot," he whimpered, forehead to yours again. "I love you so much, more than reason and more than life. I cannot do this to you, I-I hate myself for where we are now. Please do not ask this of me."

"I-I don't want to go," you admitted, holding onto him so you were nearly pulled fully into his lap. "I'm so scared, Aemond, please. I don't want to do this alone, please, my love, I don't want to be alone. I just want to be with you, I can't go - I don't want to go. Please, I don't want to be alone."

"You'll never be alone," he tried to promise but his emotion was too thick to sound confident. "There's so many who love you who are waiting for you beyond this life. They're going to be with you, always, an-and soon, I will be there with you. You'll wait for me, right? Yes?"

You nodded against him, trying to hold your sobs in, "I'll wait for you, my love, yeah. As long as it takes, I'll wait for you."

"I'll miss you so much," he whispers. You smirk gently, lifting a bloody hand to pet over his cheek - staining any part of him you touched with blood. "I know it pains you, but I'm glad, in the end, it was you."

"Don't say that," he pleaded.

"I am, because I get to meet my end with you," you nodded. "But Aemond, yo-you've gotta finish it for me, love."

"No," he refused again.

"Please," you begged quietly. "Just do it, Aemond. I-I'm not surviving this, I'll only suffer worse."

"I cannot," he still refused. "I know it is a kindness, my sweet girl, but I cannot be the one who takes your life - not like this. Please, do not ask this of me."

Kasta gave a low groan.

"Would you do me a different kindness, then?" You whispered.

"I will try to," he nodded, tears falling down his soaked cheeks. Above, the sky slowly started to darken as a new storm brewed.

"Kiss me goodbye," your bottom lip trembled as you tried to smile at him but the action was near impossible. "Please, husband?"

"You need never ask me. I love you so much, my sweet girl," he swore, leaning in to press a last kiss to your bloodied lips. You hummed softly, keeping him close for a moment longer to savor this moment. But it was over far too soon.

"I love you, too," you sniffled when you pulled back and he started to shift onto his feet, but remained crouched to keep level with you. "Do not forget me, my love, please."

"Never in my life," he whispered, letting his tears flow as he took one final kiss. "I'll miss you beyond words, my pretty girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to keep yourself upright and leaning dependently on Kasta.

"For what, my love?"

You smiled through your tears and pain, "For the love of a lifetime. I-I wish we had longer, too, because the time we had wasn't enough."

Aemond's jaw clenched as his tears would not stop; hearing you recall his words from months ago shattering his heart. Nodding, his lips pressed to your forehead, and with one last caress of your head and lingering promises of his love, he had to pull away. You grinned as you watched him, chuckling to yourself before coughing on your blood; letting it splatter uselessly across your lap while weakly holding your wound.

"Still with me, precious girl?" You asked Kasta in High Valyrian, who gave a low groan. You stiffly tried to sit up some, but only managed a half-shuffle. "Will you do something for me?" She purred. "L-Looks like neither of us are getting out of this, my gem... I-I need you to end it for me, my girl."

But she growled.

"Dracarys, Kasta," you sobbed through your pain. "Please, Kasta! Dracarys! Do not make me suffer, please, dracarys!"

But your dragon's head lowered to the bloody ground, belly and throat left slashed open from Vhagar, and as if in sync, you both breathed outward for a final time. Just as you came into this world with a bright, emerald green dragon egg, so you left this world with the soul of that very same dragon.

Exactly as it all started, it all ended.

Rumors swirled around the country regarding the demise of Rhaenyra's eldest child, Princess Y/N Velaryon, now Princess Y/N Targaryen - devoted and beloved wife of Prince Aemond. Some say she went mad with grief from losing her brothers and children, some say it was self-inflicted. But the thickest rumors reached Daemon's ears about how it was Vhagar and her own husband who killed the Jewel of Westeros and the Great Emerald.

Aemond could not deliver the final, fatal blow; leaving her there to bleed out from her wounds in a pool of Kasta's blood. Aemond refused to sit with the absolute, infinite knowledge that he killed his wife, and instead of manning up to help her from the pain he inflicted, he only turned away from her.

He left her.

He had prayed Kasta would end her suffering but rumors reached his own ears about how she was found - fully intact - in her dragon's cradle. Kasta's head was claimed for the Green's and sent to King's Landing for trophy-keeping, and years later, was one of the skulls Robert Baratheon smashed to dust during his Rebellion. Aemond did not know pain like this, and on Daemon's fourteenth day of waiting, Aemond arrived at Harrenhal. Both were enraged by their grief, both feeling the sting of loss...

Daemon, over his beloved step-daughter as his own seed, and Aemond, over his sweet wife; both mourning the same loss, but refusing to see eye-to-eye.

"Is it true?" Daemon demanded when Aemond faced him. "Is it true that you killed her? I deserve to know what became of my child."

"It was an accident," Aemond tried.

But Daemon snorted, "Then this is where it ends. You and me, nephew."

"To the death?" Aemond checked.

"To the death, Kin Slayer," Daemon growled - sending both men to mount their dragons and to the skies.

Yet, in the end, legend has it that neither survived. Historians know Aemond Targaryen died that day after discovering the bones of Vhagar in the lake's waters with her rider still chained to her saddle. The skull still had Dark Sister driven through an empty eye socket. Though, Caraxes was found dead on shore, her rider, Daemon, never was.

Nobody knows for sure what happened, but from your place in the Heavens, you watched with Aemond back in your arms as Nettles came to rescue your severely injured step-father. They stole away on Sheepstealer, and made a new life across the Narrow Sea - the life you and Aemond should have had, but fate never allowed.

But in the clouds, you were reunited with those you loved and lost; spending time with your eye on land, watching how the war ends as your husband's arm remained snug around you. When the end of the war finally reigned and (most) of your loved ones joined you in the Kingdom Above, you and Aemond stepped back from the clouds, and together, with your hands locked together, fell back into eternal rest.

🍒 fin

[ part one ]

[ alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

[gameofthronedd]

People still saying that Sansa is weak/passive/stupid is so weird to me, especially on re-read.

Like no?? This twelve-year-old child is being held hostage and abused on a regular basis after seeing her father get killed. She has to learn how to behave and predict Joffrey’s moodswings so that she doesn't get abused more. She's courteous, yes, and holds her tongue - because she's more oft than not in a very dangerous situation.

She definitely learns slowly, largely because she's learning all on her own based on her experiences, informed by what people say & what they experience. She's analytical, especially in ASOS iirc, and iirc she actually becomes quite suspicious of almost every little thing in that book. She's gradually learning what works and what doesn't, and how best to survive in dangerous situations.

And she definitely isn't passive. She verbally says she hates Joffrey and that she wants Robb to kill him (“maybe my brother will give me your head"). She also saves Ser Dontos' life, speaks back to Joffrey on a number of occasions, calms the women when even Cersei has lost her shit during the Battle of Blackwater, confronts the Hound, and attempts to run away when it's apparent that she’s about to be forced into marrying Tyrion. On top of that, she resists Lannister propaganda and manipulation internally, consistently thinking about how much she hates the Lannisters and how she misses her siblings. That's not a passive person. That's an abused girl trying to survive whilst resisting their efforts to break her.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #sansa stark #I've only re-read up to ASOS atm so I'm only focusing up to that point really #but honestly the idea that sansa is passive or stupid blows my mind when it comes from those who apparently read the books #i can understand finding her annoying but give the girl some credit #honestly on re-reading i like sansa even more than i already did #trying so hard not to cry every chapter tbh

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A day later, Maera eagerly accepted an invitation, with Ser Arryk as her chaperone, to walk along the sea with Lord Warren Tully, one of the marriage matches she was most interested in securing.

At sunset, the shoreline of King's Landing was a breathtaking spectacle, a place where the elements danced in harmonious elegance. The sun, a fiery orb of crimson and gold, dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow upon the Blackwater Bay. The waves lapped gently at the edges of the shore, their rhythmic motion creating a soothing melody that echoed through the tranquil evening air. The water, reflecting the colors of the twilight sky, shimmered with hues of indigo and lavender.

Waiting for her on a stone path was Lord Warren, his mousey-brown hair, tousled by the breeze, framing a face chiseled with fine features and an air of dignified grace. The Lord’s blue eyes, like deep pools of calm reflection, were fixed upon the tranquil waters of the bay, mirroring the colors of the evening sky as the sun's last rays kissed the horizon. He wore a doublet of regal red and rich blue, a symbol of his house's heraldry, which bore a striking contrast to the serene backdrop. The doublet was finely tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame, and it showcased the impeccable taste befitting a nobleman of his station.

As she drew nearer, Maera gracefully curtsied, a display of respect for the Lord. In return, Lord Warren pressed a gentle kiss to her bare knuckles, a subtly intimate act. He spoke with sincerity, "I'm pleased to see you once again, Lady Maera. It's an honor that you've acknowledged my interest."

Maera replied graciously, "Thank you for inviting me to the shoreline for our engagement, Lord Warren."

Lord Warren gestured toward the beach, signaling the beginning of their walk, with Ser Arryk discreetly observing from a few paces behind, ensuring propriety and decorum were upheld.

Strolling along the beach, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Maera and Lord Warren shared stories of their childhoods, spoke fondly of their siblings, and delved into their interests. They talked about their dreams, what they desired in marriage, and their visions for the future.While they talked, Maera couldn't help but admire Lord Warren's appearance. He embodied all the qualities a young maiden might seek in a husband: charm, gentleness, kindness, height, and undeniable handsomeness. He was the potential heir of a great house, a man who seemed more than capable of providing and protecting his future wife and family.

However, amidst her admiration and contentment, Maera sensed that elusive spark was missing—the profound connection that love songs sang about. She recalled her sister's words about building a friendship in marriage, fostering a bond that could lead to contentment and happiness. Perhaps, in time, love might blossom. Yet, deep within, Maera acknowledged that contentment wasn't the only thing she desired. There was something more profound, an ineffable longing that stirred within her. Still, she contemplated the idea that maybe, just maybe, contentment was what she truly needed in this moment.

They continued to walk along the shoreline as the sun disappeared even more beyond the horizon, the gentle lull of the waves providing a soothing background to their conversation. Eventually, they found a set of rocks and decided to take a seat, gazing out at the receding tide and the first twinkling stars in the dusk sky. Ser Arryk, watchful and protective, stationed himself on a nearby sand dune to afford them some privacy.

Maera turned to Lord Warren, her smile radiant. She expressed her gratitude, saying, "Thank you for this splendid evening. Being near the shoreline reminds me of home."

Lord Warren, inching closer on the rocks, returned her smile and spoke softly, "You look beautiful by the sea, Lady Maera." He reached for her hand, holding it gently in his. "I've always dreamed of a marriage like those in the stories, with a beautiful lady wife, and a few children. It would make me the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms." His eyes sparkled as he continued, "I believe I can have that with you, my lady."

Maera's heart skipped a beat at his words, and she smiled shyly, though a fleeting thought crossed her mind, ruining the moment. Was it enough to have respect and understanding without that intense connection that poets and bards often sang about? She pushed the doubt aside, reminding herself that practicality and compatibility were important facets of a lasting marriage.

A sudden presence disrupted the romantic atmosphere. A figure emerged over the sand dune, striding purposefully toward them. It was Aemond, returning earlier than expected from his duties away from King's Landing. The Prince, a tempest of fury and determination, stormed onto the beach, moving with the same stealth and elegance as a stalking predator. Clad in his dragon riding leathers, he cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of sand and sea. his silver-white hair, tousled by the wind, framed a face etched in fierce determination. His violet eye blazed with an inner fire, the fires of fury and purpose, demonstrating the true the embodiment of a dragon.

The tension in the air grew palpable as Prince Aemond approached, casting a shadow over their rendezvous by the sea. Lord Warren, sensing the gravity of the situation, swiftly stood, and Maera followed suit, her movements slower, her gaze respectfully lowered. Ser Arryk, ever vigilant, edged closer, ready to intervene if needed.

Aemond, his voice smooth as silk, commented, "It is a beautiful evening to be walking by the sea." Lord Warren, not missing a beat, replied, "Indeed, Prince Aemond, though the night is not half as beautiful as Lady Maera."

Maera couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in Aemond's jaw at Lord Warren's remark, a small smirk curling at her lips. For once, it seemed Aemond was the one being taunted. But then a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips, a glint of mischief dancing in his lilac eye. Maera's pulse quickened as she exchanged a wary glance with Aemond, wondering what game he was playing.

The Prince nodded, looking down, his lip caught between his teeth. He then casually mentioned, "You must know this trail well by now, Lord Warren. I believe you've been here before with Lady Ambrose, or was it Lady Crakehall? No, perhaps it was Lady Thorne.” He feigned confusion before holding eye contact with Lady Maera. “It's difficult to keep track, especially when you are so busy courting so many young ladies."

Lord Warren, somewhat flustered by the comment, only seemed to encourage Aemond's determination to fan the flames of unease. Maera clenched her jaw, refusing to let him see her irritation, not today, not after everything. She decided to interject, shifting the conversation away from the brewing tension. She asked Aemond, "Was there a problem with attending to your duties, my Prince, for you to return so early?"

Aemond's response carried a tone of sarcasm, "Oh, Lady Maera, I can attend to my duties. Very. Thoroughly."

He took a step closer to Maera, seemingly trying to intimidate the couple, but Lord Warren interceded, his eyes locked onto the Prince. Both men were evenly matched in height and build, and a sense of unease washed over Maera felt a surge of worry that they might come to blows right there.

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, three men came running up the sand dune, frantically waving their arms and shouting. Maera was bewildered; surely they weren't so concerned about a minor dispute between two men, especially with Ser Arryk present. As they drew nearer, Maera recognized their robes – they were dragonkeepers. Her confusion deepened, and just as the last rays of sunlight were blocked by a sudden shadow and a gust of wind swept over the sand, the reason for their distress became terrifyingly clear.

With wings outstretched and azure scales gleaming, the dragon's descent was a majestic spectacle. As its talon-tipped feet made contact with the sand, the very ground seemed to tremble beneath its massive weight. Maera, Lord Warren, Ser Arryk, and Aemond were thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the impact. Sand and pebbles showered over them as they scrambled to their feet, hearts pounding, and adrenaline surging.

Ēbrion, his orange eyes gleaming with an eerie intelligence, scanned the beach below. With an ominous grace, he stalked across the beach, each step sending vibrations through the ground. Each looming step the beast took toward them caused Maera's anxiety to grow. She felt the heavy weight of impending doom, a terrifying realization that this could be their final stand - a death by dragonfire on the shores of King's Landing.

The dragonkeepers, their voices frantic and desperate in the distance, shouted various commands while waving spears in futile attempts to control the massive creature. In a display of warning and to show his agitation, the dragon reared its head back, and a torrent of searing fire erupted from its gaping jaws. The flames licked the sky and soared toward the dunes, causing the sand to sizzle and glassify where the flames touched.

Maera's gaze darted to her companions. To her left, Lord Warren stood, his mouth agape, trembling in the face of the awe-inspiring beast. To her right, Ser Arryk remained resolute, his sword unsheathed, a symbol of defiance against the unstoppable force before them. But it was Aemond who stood directly in front of her, shielding her from the dragon's wrath. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword, and he shouted commands in High Valyrian in an attempt to prevent the beast attacking.

“Dohaerās, Ēbrion. Inkot, inkot!” Serve, Ēbrion. Back, back! his voice authoritative and unwavering as he attempted to communicate with the colossal creature. But the dragon continued his relentless advance, his roars and screeches reverberating through the air. Maera, overwhelmed by a sense of her own insignificance in the presence of such a majestic and fearsome creature, could only watch in stunned silence as Ēbrion bore down upon them, baring its razor-sharp teeth with a low, bone-chilling growl. In that moment, they were but mere ants in the shadow of an ancient and powerful force of nature.

As the shouts of the dragon keepers and Aemond's commands continued to agitate Ēbrion, Maera could feel her own agitation mounting. The situation was teetering dangerously close to doom, with the dragon growing more irate by the moment. With a stern voice, Maera spoke to everyone. “We need to calm down," she urged them, recognizing that their panicked actions were making matters worse.

In a moment of desperation, Maera screamed across the beach, her voice cutting through the chaos, "Lykemagon!” Shut up!

Her heart pounded within her chest as she tried to steady her own breathing. Yet, amidst the chaos, Maera reminded herself of her own heritage, the blood of the dragon coursing through her veins. Her ancestors had forged remarkable bonds with these magnificent creatures, and she was certain that deep within her, she possessed some of that innate ability to reason with the dragon. With measured steps, she moved past Aemond, an action that clearly left the one-eyed Prince perplexed. She approached Ēbrion cautiously, her every movement deliberate, as if trying not to startle the dragon. And then, with a deftness born of desperation, Maera reached for Aemond's belt, her fingers brushing against the leather of his doublet as she unsheathed his dagger.

The moment Maera revealed the weapon, Ēbrion reacted with a low growl, his fearsome teeth on display, his amber eyes narrowing into thin black lines. It was a moment of sheer tension on that beach, but Maera didn't falter. She began to shush the dragon, her voice soothing, like a mother comforting a babe in her arms. With the dagger in hand, Maera made a swift decision. She sliced through her palm, the blade biting into her flesh and drawing forth crimson blood. It was a shocking and bloody act, one that made Ser Arryk gasp audibly and left Lord Warren bewildered, his lips forming her name in a question.

Even Maera questioned her own actions. But deep down, she believed that by offering her blood, she could demonstrate to Ēbrion that she posed no threat, that she was kin, of the blood of the dragon. It was a gamble, a desperate attempt to pacify the dragon that loomed before them. Holding her wounded palm up to the mighty beast, Maera continued to shush and coo, her voice gentle yet unwavering.

"Lykirī,” be calm, she repeated, almost like a mantra. The dragon's pupils dilated, and his tense muscles seemed to relax, responding to her soothing efforts. Slowly, cautiously, Ēbrion leaned forward, bridging the gap between them and allowing Maera to touch his snout, the beast deeply inhaling the smell of her blood as they made contact.

Their eyes locked in an intense gaze, Maera's heart raced. She wasn't certain whether offering her blood was the right choice, whether it would lead to peace or provoke the dragon into an attack. She breathed rapidly, her body trembling with anticipation, waiting for the beast's reaction.

Seemingly satisfied with the gesture, Ēbrion began to retreat, his massive form turning gradually as he made his way back towards his cave lair. As the dragon disappeared from view, Maera released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Relief, anxiety, and disbelief surged through her. Taking a step backward, she ended up pressed against Aemond's chest. His arms enveloped her, hands gripping her upper arms firmly, holding her up and offering support after this harrowing encounter with a dragon on the beach.

Maera stood there, her trembling form supported by Aemond's solid frame, her heart still racing from the encounter with the dragon. Lord Warren, his hands cold against her flushed cheeks, voiced his concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuine worry etched on his face.

As Ser Arryk tore a piece of fabric from his cloak to tend to her wounded palm, Maera's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, excitement, bewilderment, and shock all swirled within her, and she couldn't help but let out a shaky laugh, leaving the men baffled. Aemond, ever protective, pushed Lord Warren aside and gently tilted Maera's chin up to inspect her face, concern in his one good eye.

Amid her laughter, Maera started taking deep breaths, her eyes locked onto Aemond's, finding solace in their familiarity, a lifeline back to the present. Aemond, his gaze unwavering, seemed to understand that she needed a moment to regain her composure. Finally, he removed his hand from beneath her chin. Turning his attention to Ser Arryk and Lord Warren, Aemond calmly assured them, "She's just a bit shaken, but she'll be fine."

Lord Warren, however, was far from pleased. His anger flared, and he retorted sharply, emphasizing Maera's wounded hand. "She has a gaping wound on her hand; she needs the Maester to look at it." His words were laced with frustration.

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, responded with equal vehemence. "Maera is tougher than she looks, and she doesn't need a mere trout like you to protect her," he spat out, the tension between the two men palpable, their gazes locked in a silent battle. But Maera intervened, her voice steady as she insisted that Aemond was correct. It was merely shock, and she was fine. She expressed her desire to continue her walk with Lord Warren, her words serving as a diplomatic bridge between the two proud men.

Aemond, in response, repeated the phrase he had spoken to Maera at the ball many moons ago, coveting it in High Valyrian so Lord Warren could not understand; "Se zaldrīzes se klios gaomagon daor rholagon.” The fish and the dragon do not mix

Maera stood her ground, a defiance in her gaze as she locked eyes with the Prince. The emotions swirling within her were a complex blend of feelings - the warmth of childhood affection, that unspoken magnetic connection, the anger he could incite in her, and the strange way he could both ground her and provoke her. It was all so intricate, but it didn't matter. Aemond was betrothed, and she was here for her own courtship. Their past could not hinder Maera's future.

Turning her attention firmly to Aemond, Maera spoke with respect and a touch of sternness. "You must have had a long and tiring day, my Prince" she spoke through gritted teeth. "It would be wise for you to return to your chambers to rest, so that I may continue my courtship with Lord Warren in peace."

Aemond's response was a glare, and he opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but then thought better of it. Instead, he offered Maera and Lord Warren a curt nod before turning on his heel and strolling away. His path led him back to the sand dunes and toward the dragon keepers, his figure retreating into the distance as he left them behind on the beach.

With an apologetic tone, Maera addressed Lord Warren, saying, "I'm sorry for the prince's conduct. Even Ser Arryk can vouch for his rudeness." She nodded toward Ser Arryk, who subtly affirmed her statement by a slight nod of agreement. Ser Arryk then retreated a few meters away, granting the couple some privacy.

Lord Warren, still clearly perturbed by Aemond's behavior, expressed his frustration. "I don't know how you can stand living near the one-eyed Prince for such a prolonged period," he remarked, a tinge of anger in his voice.

Maera chuckled at his comment, her eyes reflecting the years of dealing with Aemond's demeanor. "It takes years of practice," she quipped, her tone light but tinged with an underlying understanding. "We've known each other since childhood, and having a shared history makes it easier to tolerate."

Her gaze wandered over to where Aemond was now, engaged in conversation with the dragon keepers, who had appeared when Ēbrion landed. They were likely apologizing to the prince for not warning them of the danger sooner. However, Aemond's gaze remained fixed in Maera's direction, and she thought she detected a faint, self-satisfied smirk on his face. It kindled a surge of rage within her; he believed he had won. Not this time.

Returning her focus to Lord Warren, he remarked, "If you can reason with a dragon like Ēbrion, then I have no doubt you can handle the Targaryen clan."

Maera smiled in response, her thoughts racing with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins and her unresolved feelings toward Aemond.

In a bold move, driven by a mix of emotions, Maera extended her hand and cupped Lord Warren's face. His eyes widened in surprise. She smiled shyly at him, before saying softly, “Thank you, my Lord, for an…interesting courtship tonight,” before leaning in and planting a feather-light, chaste kiss on his lips. The warmth of their connection spread through Maera, but it wasn't the romantic spark she had been seeking. Instead, it felt more like an act of defiance, a challenge thrown down in the face of Aemond Targaryen's arrogance.

Initially hesitant, Lord Warren soon responded, their lips briefly moving in rhythm before Maera pulled back, her gaze locking onto the sand dune where Aemond stood.The one-eyed prince's smirk had disappeared, replaced by tense body language. He wasn't listening to the dragon keepers anymore.

Lord Warren reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Lady Maera, you continue to surprise me in the most delightful ways."

She smiled, feeling that, perhaps, she could make this work with Lord Warren. It may lack the fiery passion she had heard tales of in love stories, but their marriage could be happy; she was confident of it.

As Lord Warren gestured for them to return to the keep, with Ser Arryk accompanying them as their chaperone, Maera cast one final glance toward the sand dune. Aemond was gone, but her triumph was evident in the tension he left behind. While her kiss with the Tully Lord may not have been born out of genuine affection, it had served its purpose: a bold statement of defiance against Aemond's manipulative ways.

Notes: Feeling a bit depressed so it would make me feel better knowing I’ve put this chapter out for you guys to enjoy 🖤

Tags: @blue-serendipity @ammo23 @marvelescvpe @grungegrrrl @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

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[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter VI " Cardinal "

Series Description : The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : Y/n Targaryen says goodbye to her sister, and finds herself in another dream at night.

Warnings : none in this chapter

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 1.9k

Y/n sat on top of a barrel that was likely full of mead or wine that had yet to be moved into the cellar of the kitchens , so it sat in the bailey of the Red Keep, and along with it, the princess, watching as men were readying the coach for Rhaenyra and her family. Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting and the guards that would be going to Dragonstone would go by ship. Baby Joffrey and his wetnurse would also go by ship, along with Lucerys and Jacaerys. Luke didn’t have full control of his dragon yet, while Jace did. But that didn’t matter. Arrax and Vermax were not yet large enough to be ridden. Rhaenyra and Laenor would be on dragonback to Dragonstone. Taking Syrax and Seasmoke, flying alongside Arrax and Vermax. 

They’d go to Dragonstone, and Y/n would be left here. 

That was how Rhaenyra found her. Sitting on the barrel, staring at the coach as though if she stared long enough it might catch fire. 

The oldest daughter of king Viserys had always had a soft spot for her youngest sister. Y/n was told often how when she was just a newborn babe, she was a small thing. The smallest out of all of her siblings, and yet, the strongest. Screaming and kicking like a goat as she was handed off to her lady mother. 

Y/n had been told by her elder sister that due to her mother’s weakened state after her labors, Y/n was frequently with her wetnurse and nursemaid. But she shared the same wetnurse and Jace, so Rhaenyra was frequently with both her newborn son and sister, and had taken quite the liking to her new half-sister. 

“While I do believe that we are from the house of the dragon, I do not believe that means that we can set things afire with our minds.” 

Y/n’s attention snapped behind her, where her sister stood, wearing an old dress since her bump had yet to go down. 

Y/n stared at her sister in silence, the mournful feeling she had was nearly sickening. She did not wish to see her go, And yet, after this day, her sister would reside at Dragonstone. 

Rhaenyra sighed, flattening her hands over her deflated bump as she approached the youngest princess, reaching one hand out to cup Y/n’s shoulder as she came to a stop. “What troubles you, sweet girl?”

Y/n looked from her sister to the coach. Still being loaded. “I want you to stay.” Y/n confessed. There was never any use in keeping secrets from her sister. Rhaenyra saw right through her, always. Anytime the young girl tried to keep a secret, or wanted to hide the fact that she’d done something she shouldn’t had, Rhaenyra always knew. In the same way that her lady mother always saw through Aegon. Sometimes Y/n wondered if Alicent was truly her mother. If there was any possible chance that Rhaenyra was her true mother. But Y/n knew it to be true that Alicent had been the one Y/n was sired upon. 

“I’ll always write to you,” Rhaenyra suggested, her voice soft. As it always was when she directed her speech to Y/n. “I cannot stay here. I wish you to know that it pains me to leave you here among the vultures.” Y/n picked up on the lace of venom she gave to ‘vultures.’ Though, Y/n knew not who she referred to. 

A brief silence overtook the two sisters, both of them observing the chests of belongings being packed away to take to the ship awaiting the crowned princess’ staff in Blackwater bay. There was a silent understanding between the two. This was ending something. Not just Rhaenyra’s residence in the Red Keep, but something deeper. Only a child, and Y/n felt it deep in her bones that nothing would be the same again. 

Rhaenyra pulled her hand away from Y/n and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling something out. “I had the goldsmith make something for you.” She started, catching Y/n’s interest as she turned to look at her sister’s hands. Rhaenyra held out the gold pendant. It was large and thick, and the thin hinges on the side of it made it clear to Y/n it was a locket. Y/n’s smaller hands reached out and took it from her sister. The gold was ornately engraved with designs of branches and leaves, and the center of it,  thin glass over a miniature painting of a red cardinal bird, soaring high. 

Red.

“A parting gift. Though I suspect we will see one another soon enough after my departure.”

Y/n continued to stare at the necklace. The gold rope chain dangling from her small fingers and her index and thumb holding the pendant. “There aren’t any portraits in it. You should be the one to choose who you wish to keep close to your heart.” Y/n gave a small nod as she looked up to her sister. 

“You will write to me once you arrive, won’t you?” Y/n questioned with a small voice, her eyes searching her sister for any clues. And in response, she received a look of adoration and a small nod.

“Absolutely.” Was Rhaenyra’s only response as she came to stand in front of her, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, holding her much like how her own mother would. “I’ll send you gifts every name day, every holiday, and perhaps just whenever I think of you, sweet girl.” 

Y/n continued to stare up at her. Targaryen meeting Hightower eyes. But the rest of them were all the same. Targaryen hair, and features. To onlookers who were unfamiliar with the family of the king, they might assume that Y/n was Rhaenyra’s own child. She looked more like her half-sister than she did her mother or siblings. Yes, all five of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower’s children possessed silver hair, and four of them had the typical various shades of purple eyes, but Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron all looked like their mother’s family. They were Hightowers at heart. They all happily wore green and looked upon their nephews with distaste, but Y/n? 

She longed for the freedom to wear her house colors, and to freely speak to her nephews as real children did. But she knew her mother’s politics would never allow it. 

Not long after, Y/n had to say her final goodbyes to her sister and her family. The entire Targaryen family, save for Daemon’s. all standing out in the outer yard to see them off, however, Y/n’s mother was absent from the group. 

And Y/n wasn’t foolish enough to not notice how all Aemond and Aegon did was saying goodbye, with hardly any pleasantries exchanged. Helaena had given Rhaenyra a short and obligatory hug, and Viserys had seen her off warmly, while Y/n had embraced her sister with such a grip that would put Maegor the Cruel to shame. She’d said her farewell to her nephews, and to Laenor, and within moments, Rhaenyra and her household were gone from the Red Keep. 

She was asleep in her bed, Aemond adjacent to her, a book long forgotten in his arms as he snored, sleep had finally found him. While sleep had found her long ago. She’d peacefully fallen asleep in his arms while he read stories to her about ancient princes and princesses from the age of heroes. some from the Reach or the Riverlands, but Y/n’s favorites were about the Westerlands. Lann the Clever’s descendants, ever the problem for the people of the Westerlands. 

And though those stories brought her comfort, the dreams she had every night didn’t. 

Some nights, she saw a giant war hammer slamming into the armored chest of a man with all the force of a dozen men behind it. The armor was dark, wth rubies encrusted into it, in the shape of house Targaryen’s sigil. Those nights where she saw him, she always woke up right before his body hit the stream of water beneath him. The rubies flying through the air.

Some nights, she saw a young girl, with Valyrian blood no doubt. When she saw this girl, she had to have been no more than seven. Sitting by a window, leaning her head against her arms, silver waves cascading around her head, shoulders, and back, violet eyes taking in the lemon tree right outside her window. It was a window far away from King’s Landing. She wasn’t from Westeros. 

Other nights would alternate from images of a young man, dark curly hair, and dark eyes. Sometimes he wore all black, like a brother of the Night’s Watch, or he wore a very large fur pelt cloak around his shoulder that swallowed his frame, making him look larger than he was. The white and black hilt of his sword peeking out from his cloak. And then others, she’d see a young woman, sometimes with her golden hair down and around her shoulder as befitting a young unmarried woman, wearing bright reds and golds, stags and lions embroidered on her gowns, and others? In others she stood with her head held high, hair pinned up, and out of the way, her gowns darker, made with heavier materials, and metal work intermingled with it. In some images of the young woman, she carried a sword, and in others she didn’t, and in others, she carried a child with her, dark curly hair atop the young child’s head, dark eyes always staring up at her mother with adoration and love, even as an infant. 

This was one of those nights, Where she saw the young woman and the child. She recognized the scenery. It was the gardens of the Red Keep, where the large party stood and sat. The young woman wore green this time. Golden embroidery and patterns. A golden rose pin on each side of her hips. The young child was in the arms of the man next to her. dirty blonde curls around his face, and a very similar motif in his clothing as well. Tyrell. 

“My dear sister. Tell me, do you like theater?” 

The young woman turned her head to the boy next to her, and finally, Y/n could see his face. Golden hair just like the woman’s, he was adorned in black and gold, a golden crown atop his head. Its shape reminds Y/n of a stag’s antlers. 

“I've never seen theater.” She responded curtly. 

“Everyone! Silence!” He shouted, hitting his fork against his golden goblet to gain the supposed crowd’s attention. The young woman shook her head and looked away from her brother. 

“Clear the floor. There’s been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not amusement, a royal wedding is history. Time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My Lords. . .”

It happened quickly, observing as the young woman took the child and handed her off to the older man next to her, likely the young man’s father based on the rose motif in their clothing. 

“My Ladies. . . I give you, King Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy! The War of The Five Kings!” 

It was interrupted. 

The images of the young woman disappeared from her, being ripped away from her before she was ready, and very quickly, the sight was replaced with her maid’s face in front of her, sunlight blazing its way into the room from the windows. 

“It is time to start the day, Princess.”

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