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simpingland · 2 years

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Wolfs and dragons, both have claws and teeth // Aemond Targaryen x Stark!preg!oc

Aemond aims to be a legendary Targaryan, but his wife Evanna founds more amusing his new interest on becoming the father of a legend. But traumas exist and pregnancies can feel like centuries.

Oc and Aemond are BFF but won't admit it, they also fall in love very subtly and Aemond is such a quiet simp for Oc.

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Aemond was a good father, but a quiet one. That was Evanna's first observation when he aproach the baby. She had fear he wouldn't appear until need it. Her father barely dined with her or her siblings. So, why would the prince, the one obsess with training and who didn't even liked her, be different? Her mother, the former Lady Lannister, warmed her once, at least a child will make the unhappiness feel like a duty completed. Yes, she had given the crown a proper heir, or thats what she thought, before birthing a girl.

The marriage was arranged easily, the second daughter of Jason Lannister was to wed the third child of the King. Maybe that was the only time her father counted on her and to be rewarded by a men like Jason meant danger for Evanna. She loved her mother deeply, she stayed by her side for fourteen years. Her mother's name was Lyrra, a Stark, always the best storyteller in Casterly Rock, a northern woman by definition, a mother of three children, none of them with her brunette hair or grey eyes. But she could see the roots of herself on her little Evanna, always quiet, but noble and truthful, her eyes never lied and she wasn't able to keep a secret. But she was also feisty when she was angered, and sensible when needed. A child with a dignity that didn't suited her blonde locks. Mother and daughter longed for something more in their lives. She wanted to take her mother back to the north, to send her protection and company, she wanted Lyrra to be part of the family that recognised her talent and personality, she would do her duty to free her mother from her owns. But when she died on the labors of a future baby brother, Evanna was left with ashes in her tongue and a cold hand between her small ones. She remembered the blood, she only remembered her blood, and the pain was so huge, so dark and blurry, she buried her mother deep in her memory. Because remembering her meant that her duty was pointless, that fate was cruel, and that every great soul could drown on their own puddle of blood and bones.

She told this to Aemond on their wedding night. The bedding was done, he denied to be pushed by people and Evanna thanked him by kissing him when he put her near. They didn't like each other, he saw in her a dull girl who inherited nothing but the golden hair of the Lannisters and a few golden jewellery. The rest of her was pure north, that cold country, strange and folkloric. But she was pretty, as every Lannister was, and her silence made her invisible in room full of snakes. He knew that she not only could hear, but she guarded everything in that little pretty head and judge with her eyes what she found interesting. Aemond had been the center of that interest the first two weeks of their betrothal, but he thought it was, obviously, because of the missing eye. But it wasn't only that. On the celebration, the now princess Evanna gifted him one of the rarest books in the Seven Kingdoms. A book about the diverse religions on Westeros and legends circulating around villages he didn't even heard about. All those stories were collected by more than a thousand maesters, each from different parts of the world.

"There's a chapter dedicated to Valyrian blood and it's descendents" she told him when a drunk Aegon laughed at the gift.

She knew about his interests of politics, and as a good northern girl, she included people's believes and traditions in the same aspect. At the end, isn't a king chosen by the gods to protect their people? He even felt ashamed of gifting her a simple silved ring.

"Little wolfs, little lions and little dragons... all have claws and teeth, sharp, always sharp" said Helaena the moment she greeted the bride.

The first time they laid together was better than what Evanna expected. They kissed gently and she was kindly treated by the prince. It hurted a bit but for the softness of Aemond made it simple and easy. They rested on the same bed, the limits of confidence already crossed and there was no need of looking for another bed when they already laid in that huge one.

"You are smarter that I thought" he said, looking at the cealing.

"I'm doing what I have to do, and to do it well I have to numb myself..."she looked at the ceiling too "It takes a bit of time, tho"

"You can be smart with me"

"You won't like it, my prince. Men think they want to be corrected until they reach perfection, but the hard truth comes and flaws appear. And at the end of they day they only want a wife to fuck at night and a wife to hush their babes at morning"

"Where did you learn all that gory philosophy" he looked at her.

"My mother"

"A Stark, sounds about right then"

It was then when she told him about her. Aemond could not relate, but he was the kind of person who found more confort in others point of view about pain. Maybe an absent father like Viserys wasn't as bad as Jason Lannister, and even tho he loved her mother Alicent, the bond between a mother and daughter was something else. And to lose a mother like that...it was a bigger ache than most.

On the weeks that followed, the newly weds barely changed their routines. Only at night the things were different. They would sit together at dinner when the family reunited, often commenting in the background, other times Evanna dined alone but ate a piece of lemon cake with Aemond, who just finished training or reading. They would share pages of books, the nights on the bed ended with conversations about the old Westeros, talles about beyond the wall or a bit of gossip about the Red Keep. They slept together because Aemond found a strange friend on that chamber, he felt no need of a bigger bed. Some nights he would kiss her again like the wedding night, and another attempt for an heir accured. Evanna enjoyed those nights, but because he insisted on ignoring her the majority of the days, she kept her illusions out of her mind.

Soon she found herself with a child. She vomited every single morning, Aemond already gone for the day. Alone, she cleaned herself, she pitied the maidens too much. She felt humiliated by her own body. When Aemond was told the news he felt divided. He was contempt about entering this part of his life, the father of a future Targaryen, a child who could build his own legend, like he was doing at the moment. But he thought of Evanna, such a beautiful woman, she now will be reduced as a mother of a Targaryen. She won't be able to ride every morning as she used to, or read as much as she likes to, or dance careless as the young lady she still was. All the looks she received for herself will be pass to the heir she will bleed on a few moons. One night, Evanna felt asleep before Aemond, something unusual. So he stared at her for so long one can't even count. Why was she so tired all of a sudden? It was she the one who spend her day fencing and traveling. The lack of sleep made Aemond woke a bit later than usual, so when he was about to leave, he heard the early morning sickness of his wife. He had never seen her in such pain. She was criying softly and tryed to push him away, not letting him help her.

"I've lost an eye when I was barely twelve,I've seen blood on the most violents of combats, I train day and night to kill my enemies when the time comes...you think this will repel me, Evanna?" He pulled softly her hair, caressing her back. He had seen her mother do this to Helaena back when she was pregnant.

"It does repel me" she said, tearing up for the pression.

"I'll call the maidens, you'll go with me and take some fresh air and fresh water" he said, helping her up.

The fatter she got, the more fake smiles she was giving around the halls of the Red Keep. The only one acting normal was Aemond, he kept eating cakes with her, he kept holding the chair besides him on the big dinners, and he acted as his there wasn't a bundle the size of a watermelon under Evanna's dress. She liked that, she felt good around him, because he respected her loneliness and at the same time, he was the only one making her forget about it. Aemond on the other hand, spend her days thinking about her, he made sure that lemon and flour arrived well, thinking on names and writing down every name that made a mark on history, to inspire their future son.

The week Rhaenyra came back to King's Landing, she was on the final days of the labors, according to the maester. The princess recognised the pregnancy as the first one of Evanna and she also remembered her mother's fate, a very similar one to her own dear one. Rhaenyra reached her late in the night to congratulate her on the baby, as everyone does to a pregnant woman. She eyed the girl first, thinking about what she would have liked to hear during her first pregnancy.

"I know mothers should never safe a bigger place for any of their children...but the ones that scares you the most always drags you the furthest. For me was Jace...the first one" she smiled looking at the teenage boy who drank with his own grandfather and step-father. "I was absolutely terrified when I was pregnant with him...and the fear continued with Luke and Joffrey..." she turned to look at Evanna. "It is a hard thing to do, my mother said it was our own batterfield...but to create them, to have a creature that makes you feel need it...your love for them would grow inside you the moment the get into your world... I deeply believe that my mother's love was so big that it keeps protecting me and my loved ones. And I believe deeply that your mother's love will be with you when the time comes".

She spoke and instead of caressing Evanna's belly like everyone did, she caressed Evanna's face. The soft exchange was not missed by Aemond at the other side of the room. They wished each other a very sincere goodbye and when they left back to Dragonstone Evanna embraced her out of an impulse.

The night he saw the two woman talking he came to bed quieter than usual. She looked at her husband cautiously because for the first time since the pregnancy, he looked stroked by the belly of Evanna. He stared at it as if he was impressed by a pregnancy, maybe he just realised that I'm going to pop up in any giving moment, she thought. But when he lied by her side she knew what it was.

"He has never kicked you" he spoke.

"He moves, i can reassured you" Evanna smiled at his concern "but he hasn't kick yet, such a good baby". She then slowly took his hand and put it in her belly. "Let's see if he's awake, maybe he likes you more". Aemond remained still, both waiting for a response.

"Do we agree on the baby being a boy?" He asked.

"Well, you were the first one doing it...I just follow, kind of manifesting our wish"

"I didn't know you wanted a boy...always thought woman preferred girls" he moved his hand around the belly trying to awake the occupant.

"I'll be glad if he's a boy, everything would be so easy..."

"You would be "glad" if is a boy, but you do "wish" for a girl. Confess it" he looked at her, half smiling.

"I just want everything to go well" she half confessed. Of course she wanted a girl, a girl for her to raise, a loyal companion, maybe a selfish wish that would be enjoyed until she has to marry her little girl off. She now became the puzzled one when Aemond put his head under her shoulders, his face extremely close to her belly.

"Maybe this little dragon is so offended by our assumptions that refused to move...Is that the case? Is my little dragon a feisty baby girl?" He whispered, stroking the belly.

It was then when a kick was thrown. Evanna cryed out, not too laud or alarming. Just a little scare, but Aemond sense it too. They exchanged a look. She decided to rise her sleeping gown up to her breast, fully showing the belly. They observed it for a few moments, hesitating. "Speak again"

"Was I right? You would do well by listening to me so early, making me a proud father...if for the contrary you are just rebelling against me...we will have a talk before you even learn how to, little dragon" he said in a serious tone, Evanna smiled, she barely saw the goofyness of his husband. He did have a sense of humor, but not the kind of humor that included to degrade himself just to make a kid laugh. He enjoyed this version of him. The baby kicked again and they both let out a stupid noise of surprise.

"I couldn't tell which option he, or she, chose" she smiled at him. "Buy the baby certainly likes your voice".

That made Aemond smile. The baby started to kick softly. Evanna hummed the first song that came to mind, maybe the baby could feel the vibrations. Aemond then putted his head in Evanna's chest, his hand still on the moving belly. They slept like that for the rest of the night.

Three days later, Jason Lannister visited her daughter. A dinner was held, even though the maester recommended rest for the pregnant woman, she felt the need of showing for her father, to remind him that she was as part of the family as he wanted her (or himself) to be. Viserys order to put her chair by his side, he had grown font of his good daughter and Alicent wanted her closer than usually as well. The night was full of stupid comments by the Lannister, only his brother Tyland felt confident enough to shut him. Aemond could feel the uncomfort of his wife.

"I want to propose a toast to my daughter, Evanna" he didn't even stood up. But Aemond did, cup in his hand, and the rest raised with him as well, only Jason was awkwardly left down. He stood then. "My only daughter, you completed the dream I dreamed for yourself. You may look like me, but the Seven made you with your mother in their eyes, kind and dignified". Evanna was emotional, the first time she heard his father praise her mother, she loved to be compare to the person she loved the most. He then chucked "Let's hope the Seven gave more hips to the daughter than they did to the late mother".

Only Jason laughed alone. To stunned to speak, they looked at him, he only quickly stopped at the silence. Evanna stood up, breath heavy on her chest. She got closer to her father. She spoke slowly once she faced him.

"I hate you so much, father....I hope you die slowly, chocking on your own blood, nobody to save your body and soul"

Anger possessed the lord, his hand raised to hit the girl, but the noise of a sword unsheathing made him stop. It was Aemond, pointing at the lord.

"Don't dare touch my wife ever again, Lord Lannister, or you won't have fingers left to put your pretty rings"

The tension kept the room in silence. The King was offended, his late wife's death came into his mind again, and he was willing to punish the Lord. But the girl started to panic.

"I...I think something happened" she cryed, fear eating her face. Alicent ran to her, Helaena tried to help, holding Evanna by the hands and back while Alicent look at the girls underskirt, the water broke, a little blood dropped too.

It went to fast, but too slow too. It was more of an endless compilation of fast pacing around. She heard the King's word to Lord Lannister, letting him know that her daughter was what would keep him alive after that comment. Aemond did not know what to do. Few men entered their wives labors, the screams of Evanna scared him too. She was in pain, that was for sure, but he knew it was something else in her mind.

Evanna only could say a word, "no". She said no to everything. To knee in front of the bed she said no, to hold still she said no, to breath deeply she said no, to push when the pain strikes she said no. Alicent took her face in her hands.

"Lyrra Stark survived and succeed this pain three times before she was took by the gods. She was as much of a wolf as you, she is here with you tonight".

"I CAN'T FEEL HER HERE" she cried.

"She is, Evanna, but you can't barely breath how are you suppose to feel her. Now, my dear, look at me, breath deeply. Do it for her".

She breathed, Alicent with her. Hands tight, eyes locked. The pushes started and the cries travelled the castle.

The men of the family paced on the dinner room. Jason didn't left immediately, he was willing to meet his grandson. So he drank alone, Tyland looked at him trying to scold him in silence. At the screams, Viserys touch his sons shoulder.

"It's in their nature, Aemond. It makes you wonder if soldiers are lucky their pain is quicker and smaller"

"Women have this tendency of exaggerating, your grace...when a baby was delivered on my house our Father used to take us for a hunting. He was annoyed by mother...I undertood him after my first son..." said Jason, he was already drunk, so Aemond only gave him a look. He looked at the King and bowed before heading to his wife's quarters.

He reached the door when the last pushed was announced. So he was there when the crying started. It was a baby's screams, a healthy angry baby. The now mother was bleeding, sweating and crying. She didn't saw him, but Alicent did. The Queen smiled at him and stood up, leaving Evanna to catch her breath.

"Evanna did amazing. So quick, very clean. She hasn't bleed to much. In my experience, I say she will be fine" she steped behind.

The maids cut the umbilical cord, the after birth was easily done and the baby covered in a blanket. The mother begged to see the baby.

"A girl, princess" said the midwife, a serious tone.

The little of hair she had was brunette, pail like a Targaryen but when she opened her eyes, they were grey, Stark grey eyes. For a moment she feared for Aemond's wishes, but she was mesmerised by her baby. She had in her arms the evidence of her heritage. She had made a little werewolf. She saw her dearest friend alive once again.

Everyone left, except Aemond. The bed was properly accommodated for the mother to rest. Aemond helped her get into it, but he didn't hold his daughter yet. He only saw. She was sleeping at the arms of her mother. Maybe he thought she had been unfaithful, that the baby was a bastard. But he had a feeling, something in his chest made him trust his wife, and she recognised in the baby some features identical to Helaena's and Aegon's babies. The lips form, the long of the noses. And the baby had her grey eyes open so wide...it was Aemond's eyes, the same distance between then, and the way her mouth rested. She was her daughter too, she was a Stark, but a Targaryen as well.

"I guess you were right, we offended her the whole time" She tried to joke.

"Well, that explains why she refused to look like a proper Targaryen" he said, also joking, but being as dry as always. He laid next to them. It was then when he decided to take her in his arms. The baby started to cry. The mother tried to hushed her softly but she cried more and more. So Aemond did something that worked once.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone...Jenny would dance with her ghosts..." he started to recit. He didn't sing, he just spoke. "The ones she had lost and the ones she had found...And the ones who had loved her the most...The ones who'd been gone for so very long. She couldn't remember their names...They spun her around on the damp old stones. Spun away all her sorrow and pain..." he started to rock her, she stopped crying and started to close her eyes. "And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave...Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave".

The baby was sleeping. Father, mother and daughter cuddle up in the bed, both parents looking at the little person inside the blanket as if it was a box full of explosives. When she left a sudden but soft sigh they couldn't help but smile, feeling relieved at the sign of a peacefully sleeping creature. The wife looked at the husband and the husband looked at the wife. They both did it at the same time, perfectly connected, they kissed. Long and sweet. She then felt asleep on his shoulder. He was left with the two woman. What was he doing now with all those names annotated? None of them were female names...well, if he looked again, a Targaryen name wouldn't suit her. Aemond remembered a story then and his mind was made up.

Her little dragon, her little werewolf, both have claws and teeth, sharp, always sharp.

Lyrra Targaryen, first of her name.

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #comrade aemond #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon x oc #house of the dragon imagines

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a-glorious-fuck-up · 2 years

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I see people here going back and forth, defending the greens, defending the blacks, and I think you're missing the point.

Nobody in this family is freaking blameless in this. Everybody has a certain quota of guilt in the events that will follow.

Oh because Alicent didn't blame Rhaenyra for this and Rhaenyra isn't guilty of that. You're missing the point.

This is the story of a great house plagued from the inside out! From the politicking, from the blatant disrespect of natural order (uncles marrying nieces, siblings marrying each other, first cousins being betrothed to 'strengthen the blood and the bond between the houses'), from having allied to them beasts that could burn the entire world down on a whim. They turn on each other because, despite being a family, they treat each other as adversaries. They absolutely despise each other and commit atrocities just to get to decide who sits in a devil-chair.

It's pointless to point fingers and say x or y started the war, to say that the greens did x wrong and the blacks are the morally superior ones in the show is wrong.

They are all war criminals, they are all at fault here.

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emoclownemoji · 2 years

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Now we see who gave Aemond his copy of the communist manifesto

#my friend sent this to me and I died 😂#comrade aemond #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen

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maekar-stan-account · 2 years

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Broke: Aemond claimed Vhagar as a fuck you to Laena and her children.

Woke: Aemond claimed Vhagar as a way to deprive the bourgeois of their most powerful tool of oppression.

#hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #vhagar #comrade aemond

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welcomefortune · 2 years

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Comrade Aemond! 🔥🔥🔥

#comrade aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd #hot d

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flowerandblood · 9 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (26)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, incest, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Jace remembered perfectly the day his little sister was born. Laenor had led him into his mother's chamber that day, holding his hand, saying that she was very tired and they couldn't spend much time with her − he had insisted on seeing her because he was delighted to finally have a sibling, a brother to play with and be friends with.

His mother, the future queen, smiled softly at the sight of him, her white hair loose and in disarray, her face red from sweat and exertion.

She held out her hand to him and he hugged her, peering curiously at the infant she held clutched to her chest.

"He's so tiny." He said in disbelief, brushing the baby's finger with his own − he smiled when he saw the baby's hand clench into a small fist with its quiet purr.

"She. You have a little sister." He heard his mother's amused voice; he furrowed his brow at her words and rose, angry and disappointed.

"− wait, comrade −" Laenor called out after him, but he refused to look at her.

She was a disappointment to him.

For the first few months, he had pretended not to hear her cries or squeals from their mother's chamber − even though Rheanyra had spoken to him and encouraged him to meet her, he had refused to do so, recognising that no little girl interested him.

"It was supposed to be a boy." He muttered regretfully while playing with his large, wooden, black dragon, pretending that the stacks of books were the great hills over which he flew on Balerion. His mother smiled at his words and combed her hand through his dark curls.

"That is what the gods have decided. She may be your future wife."

Jace put down his toy, looking at her in surprise, not understanding what she meant.

"Am I going to have to kiss her?" He asked in disgust, recalling the stories Laenor sometimes read to him before bed, in which great knights freed beautiful women from the paws of monsters, only to fall in love with them later and be bestowed a kiss by them.

His mother smiled involuntarily.

"Don't think about such things until you're a grown man. No kissing for now." She giggled, pinching his cheek. He smiled lazily seeing her warm expression, the motherly love that beat from her.

That night he went to the chamber where she slept for the first time; he leaned over the cradle, glancing at her plump little figure wrapped in a white robe and a small headpiece. Her eyes opened suddenly and he was terrified that she would burst into tears − she, however, merely clutched her small feet and began to rock from side to side, looking at him curiously.

He smiled involuntarily at this sight and tickled her belly with his finger. Her squeal and loud giggle answered him, her eyes lit up in joy, her little body all the way up in euphoria. He laughed seeing this, repeating his gesture, thinking she was like a small animal, a puppy or a kitten.

He decided that at the end of the day she wasn't so bad and stopped pretending she didn't exist.

Until Luke was born he had treated her as if she were a boy, driving their mother to despair every time they both returned sodden with mud and sand after another battle with Aegon and Aemond.

He had always felt that his uncles disliked him, and even though they were of a similar age to him, he did not feel comfortable in their company − nor could he hide his jealousy at the sight of their snow-white hair, proof of who they were.

Looking at his father and mother, he could not comprehend why his hair was not that shade.

Rhaenyra explained to him that it was surely because of the Baratheon blood that also flowed through their veins, and although he was disappointed, the sight that he was not the only one, that his sister and Luke looked similar to him, comforted him.

The first time Aegon laughed sincerely at what he said occurred when he called his sister a hamster. The comparison came to his mind when she took air in her mouth and furrowed her brow − he uttered it thoughtlessly, and his uncle burst out laughing and patted him on the back.

"− gods, you're right − and those big eyes of hers −" He sneered, and although he saw that his sister lowered her gaze, embarrassed, he continued, eager to hear more words of praise from his lips.

"− she has just as much sense too −" He added, seeing his uncle throw him an amused, mocking look suggesting that he agreed with him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his sister had turned and walked away, passing through the cloisters towards their quarters without even giving him another glance.

He turned around and noticed to his surprise that he was not the only person to notice her leaving − his other uncle, Aemond, led her away with his eyes and then threw him a look full of despise, from which he felt discomfort.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he was the heir to the throne and, unlike him, had his own dragon.

Who was he to look down on him with such superiority?

He decided to remind him of that and share that thought with his brother.

Aegon's involvement in their little joke surprised even him − his uncle thought it was an excellent idea. He argued that his younger brother was too sullen and serious for his age, that he was sapient and could use a little lesson.

As he listened to Aegon convince him that they had found a dragon for him, as he saw the hint of hope and the shy, embarrassed smile of excitement on his uncle's face, he felt for a moment that perhaps they should not do this.

However, it was too late to retreat − Luke ran deeper into the cave, and came out a moment later, leading by a rope a large pig to which they had attached self-made wooden wings early on.

"Behold! The Pink Dread!"

He saw that his uncle froze and turned pale as they burst out laughing, swallowing this humiliation with difficulty − his eyes glazed over and reddened, his gaze again blank and distant.

He knew they had broken him.

That same day he mentioned it to his sister, and her reaction angered him.

"You are cruel." She said resentfully.

Which side was she on?

"He's forever looking down on us because he has white hair. He's constantly making excuses and bragging about what he's read in those silly dusty books of his." He snorted, playing between his fingers with the gold coin their grandfather had brought him from another of his trips overseas.

He blinked when his sister simply rose from her seat and walked out, leaving him in a state of shock and displeasure − he decided, however, that these were just normal female emotions and would surely pass her until supper.

He loved his father, but he also greatly valued and respected Ser Harwin Strong. He was a stocky, tall, handsome man who could fight very well. He often spoke to him or helped him practice by sharing stories of his duels in tournaments and hunts.

He thought then that he would like to be like him one day.

He knew that he was a close confidant of his mother and often saw them together, however, his father seemed not to mind, so he considered this condition perfectly normal and did not bother.

After a few weeks, the will of their King fell upon them like a bolt from the heavens, and their mother informed them of it during one of their suppers together.

"− your grandfather and our King has decided today that, to strengthen our lineage, we will betroth your sister to your uncle, Prince Aemond − let us raise our cups for this −" She said, glancing towards her daughter, his sister smiling broadly at her words, happy.

What?

"− what do you mean? − why? −" He asked, feeling discomfort in his stomach and a cold sweat on his back.

They wanted to gift him his sister as a consolation because he didn't have a dragon of his own?

"− your grandfather wants peace to reign in the kingdom after his death − such a marriage in his eyes will strengthen our family and our bonds between each other − of course, the marriage will only happen when your sister is of the right age −" She said calmly, looking at her daughter with tenderness, taking an unruly strand of her dark hair from her face.

"− did you agree? −" He asked his little sister in disbelief, and she nodded quickly, as if it was the happiest day of her life.

"− yes − I'm very pleased − I'm fond of our uncle −" She said quickly, putting a piece of roast on her plate, describing how worried she was that she would have to marry someone much older than herself.

He stared blankly ahead, clenching his hands into fists, bitter and disappointed.

Had she really never considered him as her husband?

After all, he was her elder brother; in their lineage such marriages were obvious.

He dared not, however, defy the will of the King himself.

His resentment towards his uncle increased with each passing week seeing that, against his wishes, he was not being harsh and unpleasant to his sister − on the contrary, he seemed to have softened in her company, his face, though still pathetically proud, also expressing curiosity and affection.

He felt rage in his heart at the thought that they could really have wished to bring about this marriage.

However, the cup of bitterness overflowed the moment he saw his sister kiss him.

They were both too certain that no one could see them − he watched them from the corridor through a window overlooking the library.

His sister was standing by the bookcase, saying something to him, and he stood up and walked lazily over to her. He rose on his tiptoes and apparently reached for a book that stood too high for her. She smiled broadly as he handed it to her, her hand traveling to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard as her lips pressed against his, and as soon as she pulled away, her uncle grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again, deeper and longer.

He fled to his chamber and burst into tears with rage, dropping all the objects standing on his table, disappointed and humiliated that although he was to become King in the future, someone else was taking away something that in his mind was his right.

He never wondered what kind of love he had bestowed upon her and whether it was the form of affection that usually bound married couples; he knew that he would care for her and be good to her and that was enough for him.

She was his sister and he would never hurt her.

She, however, looked only to her uncle and it was to him that she gave her heart and mind.

He didn't know what he felt when Luke slashed his face that night when their uncle stole Vhagar − horror, shame, satisfaction and relief all mingled in his mind into one.

On the one hand, he was overjoyed that he had taken back what in his mind should have been his, on the other he was embarrassed and distraught at the confirmation of his fears that had long smouldered in his mind.

It was Harwin Strong who was their father.

To his seed he owed his dark curls.

He was a bastard.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from considering what this meant for them, focusing on the fact that his sister would surely no longer want her uncle for a husband, and their paths would part.

This is exactly what happened.

Still, what he had planned did not happen, and his mother decided to change her plan and marry her off to their cousin, Lord Arryn's son, to strengthen her support in the North of the kingdom. Again, he felt a wave of disappointment, however, this time he was not so jealous − he knew that she had no love for their cousin and that he was certainly no threat to her.

"What's my little sister doing?" He asked with amusement, startling her completely, sitting bent over her desk − she quickly grabbed the parchment she had just been writing something on and tucked it under the table, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you writing a letter to someone?" He sneered, raising an eyebrow, standing over her with a smile. She swallowed hard and looked down, thoughtful.

"I write poetry. But I don't want anyone to read it." She muttered, and he sighed quietly and nodded, acknowledging that he wasn't going to force her to do anything.

"Would you like to go for a walk along the beach? It's beautiful weather." He encouraged her; she, however, shook her head, no longer bestowing a single glance on him.

"No, forgive me. I'm tired."

He pressed his lips together at her rejection, which he had faced again and again since they had moved to Dragonstone.

Even though he tried to get close to her, to understand her and comfort her, she still didn't want him.

He was ashamed to speak of his feelings with his mother or stepfather, much less Luke, however, to his surprise, his closest confidant turned out to be Baela.

"I don't understand her. It seems to me that she still misses him, even though he has certainly forgotten her by now. I have heard that he is a cold, vain, self-obsessed man. He's always been that way, treating her only as an object, a consolation prize. Now that he has a dragon he doesn't need her." He said angrily − his cousin sighed heavily at his words, looking at him with understanding.

"When people part in anger and don't close a chapter, it's hard for them to move on. Perhaps she knew him in a way that is unknown to us. He's always been withdrawn into himself." She muttered disapprovingly, fiddling with the wine cup in her hand, gazing thoughtfully into the blazing fire.

He smiled at the thought that he was certain she recalled the impetuosity with which her uncle had punched her in the face with his fist that night when he lost an eye. Baela looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's that look?" She asked and kicked him under the table with her foot. He giggled at her reaction and shook his head, lowering his gaze to her fingers.

"I would have been better for her. I would have really cared for her. Maybe I wouldn't have given her everything she needed, but at least with me she would have been safe." He said with a tiredness from which his companion sighed heavily. He lifted his gaze to her as her hand grasped his and squeezed it.

"I know." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen as he saw her soft, misty gaze, feeling her warm thumb stroke his palm. He grunted as he felt his manhood pulsate in his breeches at the thought that, indeed, his cousin was a very fine woman.

He had always liked her sharp tongue and confidence.

"Have you ever lain in bed with a woman?" She asked him suddenly, and he drew in the air loudly, shocked, feeling that his cheeks had certainly turned red with shame.

He didn't know what to answer.

He didn't want to humiliate himself with words that he had absolutely no experience in these matters knowing that she had a more liberated approach to these affairs.

Daemon, as her father, had expressed no dissent, so who was he to lecture her?

She sighed quietly, seeing his reaction, or rather lack thereof, and rose from her seat, turning her back to him, gripping the ties of her bodice with her hands.

"I need you to help me."

Baela was a calm and patient teacher − it seemed to him that she took great satisfaction in his lack of understanding of what she was actually doing to him as she sank down on his swollen manhood again and again with a moan of delight − her brown naked skin glistened wonderfully in the light of the blazing fire, her white curls falling over her shoulders in disarray, her full lips parted in obvious desire from which he felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast.

She made sure he didn't fill her with his seed, letting him instead come down on her abdomen with his low moan of pleasure, his length pulsating and twitching in her hand for a while longer. He licked his lower lip dry with emotion, looking at her in disbelief, a soft, shy smile on her face.

"− you're beautiful −" He whispered, and she giggled under her breath and kissed him in a way from which he felt hot in his heart.

She made him forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them, finding in her both friend and lover, the confidante of all his secrets.

She was not jealous of his sister − on the contrary, he had the impression that she understood the source of his anger and disappointment, herself having no intention of explaining to him what she was doing and with whom.

It seemed to him that their relationship and its freedom suited them both.

Of course, they both knew that in the end they would experience a marriage that would inevitably be purely political, and they understood what that entailed.

Then their grandfather was injured on one of his expeditions, and Vaemond Velaryon challenged his younger brother's rights to the throne of Driftmark.

Knowing the truth about his parentage and at the same time refusing to accept it, he became enraged, sad and depressed at the same time − Baela's words of comfort that they would find a solution and not allow themselves to be intimidated did not reassure him.

Once again, his uncle and his family were trying to take their inheritance from them.

His return to King's Landing was a shock to him; to his disappointment, he felt like an intruder there, and it seemed to him that was exactly how he was perceived by everyone.

He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his neck, his stomach twisting with discomfort when he saw his uncle in the distance, wielding his sword as if it weighed nothing, easily defeating Criston Cole, pressing its blade against his neck.

He was tall, muscular, his long white hair, proof that he was in fact a Targaryen partly tied at the back of his head with a black ribbon, his jaw long and sharply defined, his gaze wild and cold, terrifying.

He smiled mockingly at the sight of them, playing with the hilt of his sword between his fingers as if he wanted to devour them.

He felt ashamed at the thought that he was terrified.

And then his uncle spotted their sister in the distance − his heart beat harder at the sight of their expressions.

It seemed to him that this reunion years later had caused them pain, as they both froze, breathing heavily, looking at each other as if there was no one else around.

His uncle hummed under his breath and turned away, nodding at Ser Criston, taking another swing with his sword.

Even though he hadn't cared what happened to her for so many years, even though he had humiliated her at supper by calling her Lady Strong, she had confessed in front of everyone that her place was with him.

He looked at her in disbelief, wondering what she was doing, why she had stooped to courting him when it was obvious that her uncle had neither respect nor affection for her.

After a moment, he heard his uncle's cold, trembling, deep voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

"How could our mother agree to this? How could she let her stay there?" He asked furiously, circling around his chamber in Dragonstone; Baela sighed heavily, turning her head away. She looked at him finally, hesitation in her gaze.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would only enrage you and you wouldn't leave her alone." She said tiredly − he halted in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"You didn't tell me about what?" He asked dryly, frustrated and concerned.

Baela let out a loud breath, shaking her head. They were now betrothed, and although he thought they both seemed to have accepted their families' decisions with relief, he couldn't rejoice.

"My father told me that she had been sending him letters all these years. That the same night we arrived in the Red Keep she spent the night in his chamber."

He stared at her dully, feeling that it made him sick to his stomach, as if he were about to vomit, his face taking on an expression of disgust.

So she didn't write any poetry then, he thought with regret and pain.

"− how could she do this − expose our mother to humiliation and gossip −"

"Jace. She never stopped loving him. I think she's naive too, but you'd have to be blind not to see that she never really accepted it all. I don't know what I think about it myself." She admitted, running her hand over her face.

"You don't know what you think about it? I'll tell you. Our uncle will play with her and take advantage of her, and then he will put her up to ridicule and hand her over to us. He won't marry her." He growled angrily, burying his face in his hands, wondering how she could be so foolish, how she could believe that he had sincere intentions about her.

"The matter of succession is on a knife-edge. Perhaps our grandfather is right? A union between our mother and the Queen could really ease the situation." She muttered, clearly looking for anything comforting in the situation, which he completely failed to understand.

Had everyone around him lost their minds?

"My uncle who thinks we are bastards is supposed to alleviate the situation? He will never agree to let me sit on the throne and I am supposed to give him my sister?" He asked in disbelief; Baela tightened her lips at his words, frustrated.

"You speak of her as if she were an object. It's always been that way."

He felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine at her words, every muscle in his body tensing like a string.

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly.

Baela sighed heavily, clearly trying not to explode and form her thoughts so as to be honest but not cruel.

"You think she was born to fulfil your whims? That the fact that you are her eldest brother gives you precedence to lie in bed with her?"

He felt himself blush with shame at her question, shocked.

Discomfort and arousal surged through his lower abdomen at the thought.

"Do you think that's what I mean? I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, Jace. I've never witnessed you ask her how she feels, what she needs. I am fond of you, but you are a selfish boy, not a man."

He felt ashamed at the thought as tears gathered under his eyelids at her words, a terrible, cold shudder shook his body, his heart began to pound like mad.

You are a selfish boy, not a man.

Her words so offended him that he stopped speaking to her despite her pleas, and then the thing he feared most happened.

The King was dead, Aegon had stolen her mother's throne and his uncle had imprisoned his sister.

They had made a mockery of them.

He had been right all along, but no one listened to him.

"Forgive me, Jace." Baela muttered, placing her hand on his shoulder. She knelt beside him, sighing heavily, laying her head on his thigh, and he involuntarily stroked her hair, feeling superiority, feeling strength.

He was going to fight for his mother's crown and bring his sister home.

In order to do so, at the behest of their mother, he flew to Winterfell to ask Cregan Stark for his support in this cause, reminding him of the oath his father had taken before her.

The North seemed to him a beautiful and wild place, so far from what he knew − the snow-covered hills, the austere fortresses of dark stone, the robes that looked only grey, black or brown around him gave him a sense of modesty and space.

Lord Stark's nature appeared to be similar to his, and the few days he had spent in his company hunting and riding horses had actually made him feel good − he felt like someone worthy with him, a true heir to the throne, not a bastard.

It was this feeling that, seeing the young Lady Snow from afar, he allowed himself to be enchanted by her charms and lay in bed with her.

Like a real man.

When he arrived back in Dragonstone he learned that Luke had just returned from Storm's End and that he had seen their sister.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." Growled Daemon, shocked and horrified by his naivety, burying his face in his hands, unable to look at him.

"Daemon." Their mother rebuked him, all pale, her hand clenched on her womb. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." His brother muttered, and he felt his heart stop, he and Baela looked at each other quickly.

She had tried to take her own life.

Because of this bastard, his sister could be dead.

His hands clenched into fists at that thought.

"And then?" Pressed Daemon in an impatient voice.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." He mumbled and he slammed his fist on the table, feeling fury and rage boiling up inside him.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He growled red with anger − Daemon threw him a single, drawn-out look.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He continued, pretending not to have heard his outburst.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." Luke said. Daemon sighed heavily and leaned over, placing his hands on the top of the stone table, thoughtful.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

Baela followed him into his chamber in an attempt to calm him down.

"How can he want to pact with that fucking traitor? His brother stole my mother and his wife's throne!" He shouted in her face − his betrothed dropped her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Since he let them meet, maybe there is something to it. My father knows what he's doing, I trust him. I believe he will bring her home."

"You're naive. You always have been."

"And you're vain. You always have been."

He pressed his lips together at her words, feeling his heart pounding like mad, feeling like something was about to explode inside him.

"I met a woman in Winterfell who I took to my bed." He muttered finally, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Part of him wanted to hurt her, and part of him wanted to be honest with her.

That was what they had promised each other.

Baela laughed at his words in disbelief and shook her head − he had a feeling he saw a shadow of regret in her gaze, but he wasn't sure if it was because of his confession or because she understood why he said it now.

"If you wish, I'll relate to you how I spent my time in your absence, but I'm not sure you'll be able to look into this guard's face afterwards." She sneered, lifting her chin high, looking at him defiantly. He felt a wave of hot shame and anger surge through his body.

"After we're married…are you going to continue this?" He asked uncertainly and she cocked her head to the side.

"If you are not faithful to me, I will not remain faithful to you. You are dear to me, but don't think I will cry for you. Certainly not like your sister cried for her uncle. Part of me has always envied her that she experienced such a deep feeling in her life even if it burned her from the inside for so many years." She said with a kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his stomach, but he answered nothing to her words.

He knew that they did not love each other.

They were close and felt comfortable together, but they weren't mad about each other.

He believed it just had to be this way.

He waited impatiently along with his mother and the others gathered for Daemon to return from his meeting with their uncle, simultaneously terrified and angry that they were speaking with traitors instead of fighting.

When they heard the squeal of Caraxes in the distance his mother stood up, pale, holding her hand on her womb again, as if remembering the time when she had carried her only daughter under her heart.

His other sister had died before she was even truly born.

When Daemon stepped into the main hall everyone was already waiting for him; he sighed heavily, placing his Dark Sister on the table top, folding his hands in front of him, straightening.

"Your daughter married her uncle of her own free will. My nephew has conveyed to me that his brother-cunt will relinquish the throne he stole from you if it is your daughter's children and his who become heirs to the throne or, in the event they do not conceive a son, ours − Viserys and Aegon. He demands the exclusion of Jace, Luke and Joffrey from the succession." He said dispassionately. He looked at his mother seeing that she had run out of words.

"− mother − this is −"

"− leave us − all of you −" She ordered.

"− mother − this is my inheritance − mine −" He began, but felt Baela's grip on his arm.

"− Jace − that's enough −"

He sat in his chamber thinking only of the fact that his mother was just contemplating whether or not to agree to deprive him of his inheritance, to acknowledge that he was her bastard despite the fact that he was her firstborn son, despite the fact that Laenor Velaryon had acknowledged him as his heir.

"− Jace −" Baela muttered, seeing his condition.

"− leave −" He said. He heard her sigh heavily as she approached him with a rustle of her gown, kneeling at his feet.

"− Jace − I'm on your side − I always have been − don't you see me as your companion? − your friend? − your lover? −" She asked with a pained expression that startled him. He lowered his hands and looked at her − his palm rose to her cheek, which he stroked with a tender, slow gesture.

"− you resent me − you don't see me as a man, but as a child −"

"− that is not true −"

"− I don't want your pity −"

"− Jace −"

"− you were right − I don't want to frustrate you and I understand all the accusations about me that you've made − my whole life I've been trying to be someone I'm not −" He finally replied, his betrothed's fingers grasping his hand and squeezing it.

"− that's what I mean − stop pretending − be honest with yourself −"

"− do you want me to be honest? − very well then − my mother has never asked my opinion on any important matters − Daemon treats me as if I am an imbecile and mocks me − I am both a first-born son and a bastard − my uncle wants to deprive me of everything, he wants me to be a nobody and why? − because when I was a child I gave him a pig? − god, I regret it, it was a cruel joke − I regret that he lost an eye, I regret that a dragon didn't hatch from his egg − but even if I had said that, what good would it have done − he would have laughed at me saying I am a weak cunt −" He muttered and burst out sobbing like a small child, hiding his face in his hands. Baela embraced him and cuddled his face into her oil-scented neck, stroking his hair.

"− I am grateful to you − I am grateful to you that you are honest with me − I am grateful to you that you have never lied to me −" She whispered and he wept softly, tightening his hands on the material of her gown feeling that the closeness of her body brought him solace.

"− I am grateful to you too − forgive me for not being what you deserve −" He mumbled, sniffling loudly, trying to calm the convulsions of his body and his ragged breathing.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for your forgiveness −"

When his mother came to his chamber that evening, he knew what decision she had made even before she opened her mouth.

"− Jace −" She began, and he turned his head away, panting with rage, burning tears of humiliation under his eyelids.

"− after all this − after all you've sacrificed − are you going to let them win? −"

"− how would I be a just Queen if I thought only of myself instead of the good of the kingdom? − any other solution will mean war with our own kin − is there anything else more displeasing to the gods? −" She muttered in a breaking voice in which he could clearly hear that she herself was suffering immensely.

"− you let them dictate their terms −" He said in disbelief, looking at her at last. His mother pressed her lips together at his question.

"− no − I intend to impose my own demands on them – none of them will be allowed to sit on the throne − none of them will wear the crown − they will be rulers-regents until their son, the rightful heir, is born −" She replied, forcing herself to be calm.

"− and if no son is born to them? − will you exclude me from the succession then? − your first-born son? −" He mumbled in pain, hitting his chest with his palm. Rhaenyra drew in air loudly, her eyes red from tears of pain and grief.

"− it's my fault − not yours − me and Laenor really tried, but −"

"− I don't want to hear it − I won't listen to it − why did you let me come into the world? −"

"− Jace −" She mumbled − he heard the rustling of her gown as she took a step towards him, but he held up his hand showing that he didn't want her to come near him.

"− I will leave Dragonstone to you − it belongs to me and I can give it to whomever I wish − no one will challenge your rights in this case, you will finally be able to live the life you deserve −"

"− I was meant to be King −" He hissed, and she swallowed hard.

"− as was I − but perhaps we are not meant to be − pride steps before a fall −" She said drily, her chin lifted high.

"− what does Daemon have to say in the matter? −" He asked lowly.

"− he is furious, but he will do as I command − just as you −"

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tachibubu · 1 year

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Hello again!

Can you write one with Aegon? Where his wife, who has just discovered she is pregnant, ends up being attacked by an undercover guard and nearly kills her, but her bodyguard kills the intruder. However, even injured, when Aegon returns to the room without knowing what happened, because she didn't want to tell him, he sees her injured and takes care of her.

HOW THEY REACT WHEN YOU WERE INJURED

∆ PAIRING ; Aemond Targaryen | Jacaerys Velaryon | Aegon II Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; In which the boys were unable to protect you while pregnant when an assassination had happen when he is not within your reach. (Takes place during the war towards late war.)

∆ WARNINGS ; angst with fluffy ending, youre pregnant, minimal violence, ooc characters, some minor/major(?) spoilers from the book (wont indicate what it is).

NOTE ; I changed the concept to them knowing you're pregnant instead so that their intentions would be far more heavy! It's quite hard to write it fully so I hope it is fine! (got the askers permission to write it with Jac and Ae too!)

Aegon was content with the few things he had in life and would not want them stripped away. The war took a toll on his whole life, which is still currently happening to his dismay. He was trying to hunt with a handful of his comrades to alleviate his nerves before the Blacks made their move while still struggling with a foot injury. However, the peaceful moment was quickly interrupted when a squire hurried to deliver some news. He turned his horse to ride back to the castle in such a hurry that not even the knights and lords who had been riding with him could halt when he learned about the incident that had recently occurred while he was gone.

He yelled as he slid off the horse without assistance, "Who dares touch the queen? I will rip their limbs off!" He winced in agony but dragged his injured feet towards the assembly of knights despite the advice of the maesters, who sought to assist him but were met with a swat of his palm.

His gaze penetrated the bloodied man next to your sworn protector, Ser Criston Cole, "So you're the fuckin' bastard," he snarled. He was littered with bruises and wounds; Criston clearly took a toll on him, but he managed to keep himself from doing more harm, though Aegon remained unsatisfied. Rather, he gave the man a punch to the face, then spat at him before sneering at Criston. He was clearly unhappy with him for not having been able to prevent the incident straight away, but he kept quiet. "Ser Criston, I command you to amputate each of his limbs one by one."

"Try not to cut his nerve. I want him to experience it slowly," were his last words before he left and dismissed the pleas of mercy from the assailant, asking the servants to escort him to your shared quarters immediately.

You were covered in bruises and had a fresh cut on your lip when he first met you. He fought back tears as he demanded the healers to leave your chamber immediately and cursed at them for mistreating you while he was absent even if they were trying their best to alleviate your pain. When the room was empty, he had knelt down next to you, trying to bandage you, though his limited knowledge of such things frustrated him before he whimpered on your lap. Suffocating himself within his own tears.

He sobbed uncontrollably while you whispered sweet words of comfort to him, "I'm sorry, I'm deeply sorry,... " He doesn't know anything; he doesn't even know how to protect his pregnant wife and their unborn child. He became frustrated with himself as he bit his lip, drawing blood, and vented his feelings to you: "My sweet girl, I can't even protect you."

"I'm frightened," he confessed as he pecked the back of your hand before peering at you while tears gushed down his ashen cheeks, his eyes begging for forgiveness. "I will never leave you again, my love. I promise."

________________________________________

Aemond had just returned from an expedition with Vhagar. He had received a notice from the Keep informing him that you had been the victim of an attempted assassination. No matter how he urged Vhagar to fly faster, she did not advance him far enough for him to be satisfied with the pace.

Vhagar landed outside the gates after entering the Red Keep's border. His dignity eluded him as he fled. Even though they paid no heed at Aemond, the knights were perplexed by the prince's unexpected action. Whenever a maester attempted to stop the prince's advances, he was silenced by the prince's gaze, too scared to face the wrath of the second prince as he lived up to his infamous reputation.

He gasped for air when he saw you laying on your shared bed and then walked cautiously over to you, as if not to scare you. "What happened to him?" he whispered, his voice cold yet soothing.

"Dead, Aemond," You immediately embraced the evidently shaken man, and he reciprocated the embrace, trying to ease his tremors. He felt disgusted with himself for not being able to even protect you through such a catastrophic event, yet he was also relieved that you were still alive and breathing and that your pregnancy was not affected. "I am afraid." You added before Aemond gave you a tender kiss.

He inspected your wounds delicately, asking, "Where does it hurt?" You pointed to the locations of all the injuries and recounted what had happened in extensive detail while he grunted in agreement. If it had been someone else, you may have assumed they were not paying attention, but Aemond had a different way of expressing it; after kissing you once again, he cleansed your wounds and covered them with fresh cloths.

His brows furrowed as he was plainly distressed and lost in thought. You smiled before placing your lips against his in an attempt to console him, and he moaned in surprise but returned the kiss deeply. He guided you with his hand behind your neck and did not rush the tender moment you two were sharing. He pressed his forehead against yours after several kisses and whispered lowly, "I'll kill them all, every last one of them."

"I'll win this war for you and for our child, my lady, my (Y/N)."

________________________________________

Jacaerys, who seeks to control his emotions as advised by his teacher, couldn't help but spout incoherent obscenities when the information was presented to him. He had just completed sealing the partnership of the North when he received unfortunate news as soon as he arrived in Dragonstone.

He projected his voice into the room: "When did it take place?" The black council stayed silent. Mysaria, the acknowledged Mistress of Whisperers, spoke up with clarity, concerned that she might have disrespected the prince. She had just entered Dragonstone to deliver information when she was met by the prince's wrath.

"Just half a moon ago, my prince," she answered honestly, as Jacaerys clasped both of his hands together and took a deep breath. His anger is only just rising.

He hissed faintly, "And you told me exactly that now?"

Before Mysaria could respond, a Lord intervened, saying, "It is my duty to see you tended first before —"

The thud of the chair collapsing on the floor echoed throughout the room before the prince went out. Although he stomped violently with each stride, they were nevertheless somewhat elegant. The council members lowered their heads as he passed by them, but he didn't take note of it as he glanced at his protector and beckoned for him to follow.

However, once he had left the room, he developed a scowl, and his previous comfortable gait had been replaced with a brisker one. His breath paused as he witnessed you being treated for your injuries by the healers, after presumably having only just nudged the door partially open.

When you spotted him at last, you had the strength to smile at him briefly. He sat next to you on your bed and thanked the healers, pleased with their work, but it pained his heart to see you smiling even in your condition. He showered you with multiple soft kisses on your forehead, nose, lips, and neck before resting his head on your shoulder.

His palm massaged your growing stomach as his voice was low, and he said, "My lovely girls." Despite the fact that he longed for a boy, he caved in and accepted that his unborn child would be a girl as a result of the way you would correct him frequently when he spoke of the male pronouns for your child.

"You were so strong; I am very proud of you." He uttered it before giving you a peck on the stomach; his head is now resting on it as he sings a lullaby while both of you rest. "Do not worry; I am here now, and no one will lay a hand on you ever again."

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una-hopeless-romantic1118 · 3 months

Text

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚of wolf's blood and dragon's wrath — Aemond Targaryen⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

"If a she-wolf is what they fear, then a she-wolf I shall be."

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Aiana was always a guest at King's Landing, as the honorable Lord Rickon Stark's darling daughter. But whenever she was in the warmth of the Capital, the Prince Aemond and her shook hand in hand and took an oath of camaraderie in the cruel world that surrounded them, hiding away under tables as they created a world of their own.

But a child's conflict left them both wounded deeper than the rest.

Aiana Stark grew up to be the notorious Huntswoman of the North. The She-Wolf, with her chin held high and her spine straightened against the hurling insults of men, just as she was called the Hearth to the Cold for her unwavering kindness and personal work as a healer to the sick and wounded.

Aemond would come to be known as the "One-Eyed" Prince, and feared for his dragon Vhagar. He might excel in swordsmanship and studies of the histories, but he hid behind his eyepatch, miserable his comrade no longer thought the same of him. A fucking Targaryen Prince, who longs for the She-Wolf in the North. ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Tropes:

childhood best friends, to strangers, to lovers

oblivious puppy love

unequal social status (prince and lady)

soulmates

best friend's brother

second chance

sharing emotional scars

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Inspired songs (*wink wink*):

Let her go by Passenger

The One That Got Away by Katy Perry

Chemtrails Over the Country Club Lana Del Rey

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by Deftones

How to Save a Life by The Fray

I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton

Somebody that I Used to Know by Gotye, Kimbra

Now That We Don't Talk (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

All I Wanted by Paramore

illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

The Great War by Taylor Swift

Forever and Always (Piano Version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Rescue by Lauren Daigle

Let the Light In by Lana Del Rey

Work Song by Hozier

Evermore by Josh Groban

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. a/n: major canon divergence bc who doesn't want to feed their delusions accordingly and go above and beyond for it, for example:

narrative will switch back and forth between aemond and aiana, and aiana will have a whole thing happening in winterfell. i don't want to spoil much lol

little sister to cregan, big sister to rodrik (not at all a real character to GRRM's work during this timeline, as well as so many more characters.)

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. only posted on ao3 (4 chapters so far), but idk if i should also post here? i think it'll be more aesthetically pleasing but idk what do you guys think? ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.

#hotd aemond #aemond x reader #ao3 fanfic #aemond x oc #aemond x stark!reader #childhood best friends #childhood best friends to strangers to lovers #complex female characters #WHAT IF aemond had a friend :(#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #ao3 #hotd #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 1 year

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Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, where Lucerys writes letters and clues for Aemond)

Young Lucerys loves re-enacting things made from books, and in one book, he decided to do it with his favorite uncle, a letter hunting!

He would hide letter all over the castle, and uncle Aemond would need to find them. Aemond didn't really want to play this sort of game, but by the time he found the third letter with the fourth riddle clue, he turned competitive, scouring the place. The riddles and clues were relatively easy, until Lucerys began asking for help from the Maesters.

Aemond and Lucerys enjoyed this little game, and would often go to ridiculous lengths hiding and finding the letters, with Lucerys hanging upside down a chandelier, and Aemond breaking a portion of the star of the Faith.

Then the pig happened, and the incident with Aemond's eye and Lucerys' throat and nose.

Years later, after the death of Vaemond and saving the Driftmark throne for Lucerys, Aemond began finding new letters, and though he hated him and wished him gone, these new letters intrigued him, because it had a story made by Lucerys himself, about a man with a bright amethyst eye, a pirate with an eyepatch and a scar, and the game begin again.

After Aemond killed Lucerys in Storm's End, he began to search for the letters left behind, both from the distant past of their childhood, to their recent little game. He kept them like a dragon would a treasure, and every night, he would read them, over and over, imprinting his words in his heart, searing them into his brain. He would re-read the ridiculous riddles to find for the next letter, to feel Lucerys' presence in his life once more.

He found the last one under the tree his mother used to favor, despite her belief in Faith. He dug it up to reveal a knife made of Valyrian steel, and a letter wrapped around it's hilt.

"-and so, to help his dear friend, his companion, the little merman decided to give up his eye, so his pirate comrade could feel whole once more. With the knife given to the pirate, he makes the choice, and whichever one he chooses, the merman would accept it wholeheartedly."

-Uncle, I am ready, if you still feel the need to have my eye, come and find me. Take my eye, if you wish. Let it be the end of our quarrels. Let us be united as a family once again.

I missed you, Uncle.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #letters and stories

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darleuxox · 2 years

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lions and dragons don’t mix. ☆ aemond targaryen x male!lannister!reader headcanons

key masterlist ✦ hotd masterlist ✦ intro

warnings: repression; jealousy; r gets sliced in the face lol

summary: aemond hates you more than anything. your insulting jests, stupidly perfect hair, and handsome smile made him want to vomit. perhaps hate and love aren’t so different after all.

word count:1,305

a/n: from the first episode in which ewan mitchell slayed in his performance as aemond targaryen, i knew one thing for certain. that man needs some dick.

☆ when his mother announced she’d appoint a knight to specifically guard him, aemond, to put it frankly, was insulted. as one of the best swordsmen in westeros he shouldn’t need someone to protect him. but his mother gave him that look, one that suggested that this wasn’t for his comfort by any means - but for hers.

☆ although he felt reluctant, aemond sure as hell wasn’t going to choose some inexperienced sort. the idea grew on him at the thought of at least having some backup if anything ever went awry. so when introduced to the knights available, he showed no mercy.

☆ “how about your uncle gwayne hightower?”

☆ aemond thought back to his childhood when gwayne threw him over his shoulders without warning and tossed him into the river.

☆ “no.”

☆ the search didn’t pick up anytime soon. with aemond’s high standards, it was seemingly impossible to find a knight he’d approve of. then it was your turn to be dissected.

☆ “ah, that’s y/n lannister. lord tyland lannisters’s little brother,” otto recalled, “he’s your age, i believe. but the boy’s been training for much longer than you. he’s well known for leading troops against the rebellion up in casterly rock when his brother jason grew ill.” aemond scoffed, something competitive brewing in his chest. “ser criston cole says he’s a prodigy.”

☆ “intriguing,”aemond gritted out, before abruptly hopping over the stone fence and startling those on the balcony.

☆ “what the hell are you doing? aemond!”

☆ aemond ignored his grandfather as he took a good look at you. it was strange seeing someone so wealthy in a position seemingly beneath him. but he supposed you could handle it, given your reputation and the way your eyes remained focused on him.

☆ “let’s see if you’re as good as my grandfather says, hm?” aemond told you, unsheathing his sword.

☆ strangely enough, you smiled kindly, drawing out your blade and bowing at aemond, “of course, my prince.”

☆ the fight ended with aemond storming out of the room with no knight. you were officially the most insufferable person he ever met.

☆ “too princely to land a hit, are you?” you’d laugh.

☆ “you parried the wrong way, my prince,” you said grinning wildly, “let me show you how it’s done.”

☆ at one point you even held him down, your arms securing a tight hold around his neck, “let’s just stop before you cut my head off. or i cut yours.” aemond had to fight back. he hated how you smelled of apples and grass. he despised the feeling of your warm hands being so strong yet gentle.

☆ aemond couldn’t sleep at all that night.

☆ tyland wasn’t pleased with you, to say the very least. your older brother was typically supportive and delighted to hear about your wins, until now. he agreed to let you come to kings landing to protect the prince, not humiliate him.

☆ “if aemond tells the king or queen about this, he could have you killed!” tyland hissed.

☆ “i’m sure people have beat him in the past and they’re still alive,” you chuckled, “calm down.”

☆ “that’s because they didn’t bully him, you nitwit!”

☆ in a perfect world, aemond would go to his father for these situations. and considering his father didn’t care for his second family - aemond went to ser criston cole.

☆ “my prince, i don’t mean to be out of step,” criston explained, “but wouldn’t your guard being able to beat you in a fight be a good thing?”

☆ “what are you on about?”

☆ “if ser y/n can keep up with you, he can sure as hell keep up with anyone standing in your way.”

☆ aemond had begrudgingly made his decision by sunrise. you would be appointed as his personal guard while training with him during his lessons with ser cole to help him improve his swordsmanship.

☆ as his guard you and aemond see a lot of each other, the good and the bad. you quickly become acquainted with the fact that aemond’s attitude is a facade, and aemond learns to get used to your presence.

☆ more often than not you have to hold aemond back from one of his infamous tantrums or fights. at the moment he resents you for it, but after cooling off he’s thankful you were there before he did something regretful.

☆ to put it simply, vhagar is a grumpy old bitch. one that aemond expected to tear you apart. instead, she lets you pet her humungous cheek like a dog. he can’t seem to name that pleasant feeling in his chest whenever he sees you act so sweetly.

☆ once you accidentally walked in on aemond without his eyepatch. within seconds he had a knife to your throat and had you pressed against the wall. you simply told him the sapphire looked beautiful.

☆ aemond appreciates how nice you are to helaena and their mother. you always keep an eye on them when he can’t.

☆ aemond spent a lot of his time with ser criston cole, and although he appreciated the knight’s mentorship, he treated him like glass in some ways. you on the other hand, weren’t afraid to treat aemond like anyone else.

☆ “it’s not your loss of an eye that scares people away aemond. it’s the crazed look you have in the remaining one.”

☆ “y/n. come on,” cole said, giving you a stern look.

☆ “don’t deny it, he’s looking at me with it right now.”

☆ “just stop- oh.” the older man was silent, scarcely holding back a grin.

☆ you on the other hand had gotten your sword out, polishing it a bit more before showing it to aemond. aemond looked at his reflection and he was clearly unsure of what to say. it would be fruitless to fight back if you were right.

☆ “don’t worry aemond, it’s all in good fun!” you said, noting his embarrassed look, turning to aemond and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “that’s what being a knight is all about, jesting with comrades! you can make fun of me now if you’d like!”

☆ “you…” aemond struggled, looking down at his hands, “you’re…”

☆ “go on!”

☆ “you’re insufferable.” initially he wasn’t kidding around. but aemond was nervous, even more so when you were deathly silent, glaring daggers at him. aemond was ready for you to choke him until you burst out into laughter.

☆ “there we go!” you hollered, “and your hair looks like moldy wheat!”

☆ “you oaf - take that back!”

☆ “you walk like a donkey!”

☆ ser criston cole was very amused watching you two go back and forth. it was nice to see aemond making friends. but he was surprised that even when hearing a particularly bad joke from aemond (which was all of them), you’d laugh anyways.

☆ aemond realizes how he feels about you when he hears the possibility of you marrying a martell princess. when he should’ve been delighted for you he felt hurt and betrayed.

☆ one wouldn’t think it possible to ignore their own bodyguard, but aemond proved everyone wrong. he began to treat you like a ghost, and it stung horribly.

☆ but much to aemond’s chagrin, you were persistent. taking every opportunity you could to ask him what you did wrong. eventually, you had cornered him in a secluded hall, desperate for some answers after a particularly heated training session, which resulted in aemond leaving a nasty cut on your forearm.

☆ aemond wanted to kill you when you hugged him, but all he found himself able to do was melt in your embrace. he realized this was the feeling his mother told him about, unconditional love that left you soft and dizzy. the yearnful touch that would leave him begging for more. something he was supposed to feel for someone he’d eventually marry. in a moment of confusing bliss and heartache, he pulled your face into his and pressed a hard kiss onto your lips.

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simpingland · 2 years

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To young for war, too beautiful for battles// Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!oc

The first daughter of Daemon with Rhea has a special bond with Aemond, but his green conciusness sabotages the relationship. Romeo and Juliet could (literally) never...

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

The Black's came to King's Landing for Aegon and Helaena's wedding. They all knew that intense days were going to be happening. Uncomfortable dinners, awkward breakfasts and silent lunches. Specially for Alyssa, the first born daughter of prince Daemon, her late mother Rhea Royce was barely a memory for her, only the name her septa would say when they reminded she had a mother. Laena was closer to a mother than Rhea, but it was clear that her own daughters were her priority. Her loss pained still, again she felt like an orphan, and now she had two beautiful half sisters to care about, at least she ached in company. She was the oldest of Daemon's daughters, and the one she trusted the most, so she was the first to welcome Rhaenyra as her new step-mother. She was excited for her new brothers, Jace and Luke, lovely children, even tho, a bit naives to be true dragon blood. But she also felt like that sometimes. Alyssa was a lonely girl, she did not dare to ask too many questions to her father, knowing well that he wasn't the honorable men every girl wish for a father to be. Growing up she found herself surrounded by the King's children, Rhaenyra accepted her as her ward. Helaena was her closest friend, the only girls in the court. But the princess was too much of a dreamer to be an entertaining friend. So Aly wondered for hours through the Red Keep, and Aemond usually followed her. They had very much in commun, not only age, but also they felt outsiders in their own family. Of course, she was more comprehensive of those who ignored her,as she daughter of the infamous prince, so she never accepted Aemond's anger and eagerness, but she did understood him. She tried very hard to calm him, to talk him down, but he refused. He would annoy her, as children did, because it was the only way he thought she would notice him. They would end up bickering non stop some days, always when the family was present. But when he followed throw the Red Keep, she would catch him, and she always gave him a welcoming smile, letting him walk beside him, exploring together. Nobody really knew about their chemistry, with time, Aly realized that Aemond was the one hiding it. Many times she approached him kindly for a dance during feasts, or asked him to ride with her in the yard, and it was always him who responded rudely, as if he haven't enjoyed her company so many times. The only person aware of the bond was Rhaenyra, who caught them once in the dungeons, she saw them giggleling together and talking nonsense, but very peacefully. She even remembered the time she enjoyed Alicent has her best of friend, so she always reassured Aly when she ended the day with tears because of Aemond's bullying. Aemond regretted his behaviour Aly's father came back, he asked Rhaenyra to send her back when Baela was about seven, wishing to have her daughters together and safe. Even though he missed her, he didn't let her know it the day she saw her again, that day at Driftmark. He only looked at her. She tried to convince him not to take Vhagar, to respect the late Leana, and let poor Baela claim her. But he didn't listen and he lost an eye that day. That night, Aly saw the reason why Aemond mistreated her, why he was determined to hate everyone. It was her own mother the one to seek vengeance, the one who was blind to forgiveness, and the only one who seemed to care for Aemond. He felt so lonely that he did as her mother said, and because he did what his mother said he was becoming more lonesome. It was a circle, a terrifying one.

In Dragonstone, Aly grew into a woman, never forgetting Aemond, she dreamed of him, pitying him, his good friend and worst enemy. She felt so stupid for it, falling for someone so cruel, willing to kill his own. So she felt conflicted when she saw him for the first time in years. How can someone change so much in a few years? He was training, fencing with Ser Criston. A patch on his eye, her face longer, slimmer than last time, so tall and quite attractive. He didn't saw her until he put his sword down.

"Alyssa..."

"Aemond"

They looked at each other, Aemond found trouble to keep himself as cocky as he usually was, Ser Criston was there, and if Aly was there sure was the rest of the Blacks.

"You look sharp, my prince" smiled Alyssa.

"You look a bit prettier, I'll give you that"

"Only a bit? Well, that is because you can only see the half of me" she joked. A laugh sounded behind her. Aemond turned and saw his nephews. Jace didn't even try to hide it. Luke eyed him carefully, seeing the work he did years ago on his face. "Are you exited about the wedding?"

"I'm not the one fucking tonight and i don't enjoy drinking and dancing, so all the excitement is left to the groom" he couldn't hide the look he gave her, up and down, she looked stunning even in her simple dress. Jace and Luke explored the yard like the teenage boys they were, Ser Criston entered the Keep. Aly started to examining the weapons in front of her.

"Oh, lucky Aegon, he will jump his way into the septa" she gave a malicious grin to Aemond, knowingly.

He chucked at the comment. "Now, that part I will enjoy it at least"

Rhaenyra saw them talk and smile from a far. She now remembered herself with her husband Daemon.

The ceremony was quick, but very boring. Rhaenyra purposely let Alyssa stand infront of her, holding a very sleepy Luke as an excuse. So Aly had Aemond beside her, his shoulder very close to her face. The slow voice of the maester soother her into a sleep she didn't knew she was holding, her eyelids became so heavy...she couldn't helped it, she dropped her head into Aemond's shoulder, his long steady arm enduring her. She wasn't sleeping, but she was somehow resting like this. Aemond looked at her cautiously, she looked extremely tired. He turned to look at her mother, but she was holding tears while looking at the bride, not happy tears, sad tears, he knew that that day Alicent would be grieving the fate of her only daughter. So Aemond let Alyssa rest for the rest of the ceremony, only the applause woke her up. Confused, she apologised to Aemond, who only smirked to himself. Non of them could see the death stared Daemon was giving them from behind. Rhaenyra saw them, she will took care of that when the time comes.

The feast was another story. Alyssa loved music, and of course, she loved to dance. On very little occasions she had an excuse to enjoy it, only on name days. She found her sisters the loveliest of dance partners and Rhaenyra was always disposed to join the dance floor. Her father did too but that day he kept himself nailed to his chair. She was the first to stand and walk to the dance floor, bringing Baela with her. Almost everyone was either drunk or dancing, many were both. Rhaenyra took her husband to dance with her, to make him forget about Aemond for a bit. Aegon was so drunk it was embarrassing to watch and poor Helaena looked at her rings as if she had never see them. Alyssa saw her then, and remembered the lovely time they used to have as children. She reach for the princess and offered her hand.

"A bride should tire her feet from dancing on her wedding day"

She smiled at Alyssa and took her hand. Everybody look at both of them. Two Targaryen princesses, one with silver hair, the other with auburn locks. One dressed in a clear green dress and the other in a red gown. They spoke little, but the princess started to move through the floor, exchanging partners and laughing at the playfulness of the moment. Alicent saw her from her table, and Rhaenyra invited her to join, quickly connecting her to her daughter, she smiled when she partnered Helaena. King Viserys smiled at the image, a moment of peace, Aegon, on the other hand, felt sick, not only of the alcohol, but because of the noise. People ignoring the silent war they had. He looked at his brother Aemond. He had his eye locked into Alyssa. Aegon was about to speak to him, probably insulting someone, when the younger stood up, the music just changed, a slower dance.

Luke was dancing with Alyssa when he reach them.

"Dear nephew, mind i take your lady?" Said Aemond, already standing in front of Alyssa pushing Luke back.

"I do mind, un--" he was slowly but strongly pushed away by Aemond. He gave up, he learned his lesson in Driftmark.

"I don't see the need on being rude at every fucking moment" spilled Aly.

"You are the one swearing around ladies and lords" they had already started the dance "besides, I hold you the entire ceremony this afternoon"

"Oh, damn it...you noticed it...I should have slept under your right shoulder..." she shamelessly smiled at him.

"What a funny little lady" he smirked. "You definitely are a dragon born. Daring to mock the prince like that..."

"Good customs must never dissappear"

"Well, if you have decided to be so immature then I'll have to inform the entire court about your tendency of farting on the carriages"

She laughed and playfully hit him on his arm. He pretended to be deeply hurt.

"Oh, my prince, did I hurt you? My poor, poor prince..." she laughed.

"You keep laughing at me, maybe I'll send you to keep old Fred in company down in the dungeons for insulting your prince" Aemond remind her of old Fred, the ghost that only existed on their adventures during the Red Keep days.

"Well, many people had to dissappear before you can sit on the throne..." they continued to dance, ignoring the exchange of the partners "maybe then I'll fear for my sake, my prince"

"You see me willing to kill you, Lady Alyssa?"

"I saw you willing to kill my step-brothers" she no longer smiled.

"But I did never touch you, did I?"

They stopped dancing.

"No, but you sure remember the way you made me feel in front of everyone"

"Well, we treated ourselves as the children we were then" he obviously lied, she would never fell for that.

"That's not true, Aemond..." she did in fact, not fell for it. "You and I shared a bond, you made me laugh for hours when you dare to aproach me...but then you remembered that I was not to be trust. I cried myself to sleep so many nights. I thought you were my friend, that made it so much more painful..."

"You were a Black" he said.

"I was a child...so were you". She had tears threatening to fall on her face. He hold her hands but she pushed him away and, very quietly, disappeared from the room.

He felt his loneliness drop into his body as if someone just throw a gallon of water over his head. The music became a noise and the people became faceless. He then saw Daemon, staring at him. Aemond did admire his uncles...he admire him as much as he feared him. But Alyssa was something else. All his childhood he'd found trouble associating Alyssa to Daemon, not only for he hair, but because Alyssa was an equal. Thats how he felt with her. For him, Alyssa wasn't someone's daughter, or someone's ward, or someone's friend. She was just Alyssa, the girl she would seek for a little walk, the girl who spoke the truth in the sweetest of manners, a terrible dancer but a dedicated one. So, Daemon became a faceless person too, and Aemond decided to turn and leave, searching for his friend.

She was where he hoped she would be. In one of the secret corridors of the Red Keep. She often hid there as a child, and she showed it to Aemond in a moment of trust. He remembered that day when he saw her, just like she was years ago, Alyssa laid her body against the wall, her head down, and arms crossed. When they were six years old, Aemond found her there after she was humiliated by Aegon, the young prince did not spoke in her defence and Alyssa ran away. He took care of the little wound Aegon put on her little knee. To calm the girl, Aemond told her about that time he caught his brother jerking off, joking about the possible sexual fantasies of the boy. He made her laugh so much she forgot the pain, and she rewarded him with a kiss on the lips. Aemond was too surprised and too small to respond it, and they didn't make a deal out of it, but it was a secret, and they each kept in secret the fact that they remembered that kiss every single night before falling asleep.

"I've found more secret places in the Red Keep since you left" he spoke softly.

"I know most of them..."she had been crying.

"Why did you choose this one then?"

"This one's my favorite, so you will do me a favor if you left"

"This one is my favorite as well..." he got closer. "The ones I discovered were never as special as this...They were dull, boring...lonesome".

"I have spend my days feeling stupid for missing you...you never respected me...never appreciated me as much as I appreciated you...you have hurt my brothers and I invented so many excuses to forgive you for hurting me".

"You are right, Alyssa. We were kids, but you do understand that something bigger was over us...that we had to keep our distance".

"Can you just...apologies?" She looked at him now.

"I will admit, I have missed you" he hold her hand again. "Did you miss me?"

"You know that I have".

She touched Aemond's face. He closed his eye at the soft hand.

"As much as you love your family, I love mine as well" spoke Aemond, putting his other hand over Alyssa's. "But I do apologise, and I beg for your pardon, here, in the corridor where I felt in love with you. And I swear to you that I would never, ever, hurt you".

To say "I forgive you" would have been enough, but the emotions left Alyssa voiceless. So she kissed Aemond right there. Their lips met in a passionate but slow kiss. As if they were made for each other, they melted in an embrace. When they separated, they spend a few moments in silence. Caressing their faces and hands. They walked together through the secrets corridors. Kisses between the path and laughs and jokes. Maybe they could end the war, maybe they both die during it. But the uncertainty was the spark of passion.

The farewell came between secret walks and stolen kisses. Alyssa had told Rhenyra and Rhaenyra had told Alicent. But the response was a no. No, they would not be married. The daughter of man like Daemon. He was refusing as well, the son of a woman like Alicent. Too much pain has been already cause and no marriage will solve that. So they reunited again one last time.

"I think the gods made us enemies because they were afraid we could reach them"

She laughed softly "If I was your wife you would have locked me in a room, with babies and needles...The gods made us enemies because they love me" she joked, trying not to cry.

"I would never let you root like that, Alyssa, never"

Aemond spoke softly on her ear, moving her brunette hair aside. Alyssa pushed him away putting a hand on his chest. She looked at him in the eye. They shared one last kiss, a tear falling and Aemond could taste the salt of it. He cleaned it with soft stroke.

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon x oc #house of the dragon #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #comrade aemond #marxist aemond #aemond x you #aemond one eye #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon imagines

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a-glorious-fuck-up · 1 year

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I freaking hope we get Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen in Season 2.

That’s it.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (V): Blank Space.

Imagine Aegon Targaryen wants to court Lady H/N of House Tyrell, right before his ascension to the throne. But in order to conquer this house’s support, he sends Aemond Targaryen to court you. As people used to say, to play cooing is to play coy…

Warnings 1: based on the movie “10 Things I Hate About You”.

Warnings 2: for the alternative universe purposes, Helaena eloped with a Hightower cousin.

Warnings 3: light smut, light reading, rom-com vibes, fluff.

***

• Pawns in Stranger’s Game.

Aemond has just landed when he’s summoned by Ser Criston Cole to head to the throne’s chambers. The prince grumbles under his breath, already missing the liberty of flying high, where his dragon lady and himself are nobody’s business.

“The king expects to marry Lord Aegon soon”, Ser Criston breaks the silence by updating the prince of the situation. “But there’s been some issues about it.”

“Ha”, Aemond mutters sarcastically. “I wonder why.”

“First, your sister Helaena eloped with Ser Gerold Hightower. A scandal, if you remember well”, the knight is more than pleased in numbering the events, remembering with what Aemond judged to be an amused voice the unexpected day sweet Helaena took the reins of her own life.

“I do”, the prince speaks nonchalantly.

“Second, His Grace is concerned about bringing the Tyrells closer to the crown. They have been neglected in the last decades of your great-grandsire’s government. Now has come an opportunity to embrace it properly in ancient fashion.”

“Marriage.”

“Indeed… But this is an old, proud house.” Again, another hint of amusement in the knight’s voice gets the other male’s attention.

Aemond, annoyed by how this is getting his interest, stops walking and throws Cole a glance. But by now they both stand before a heavy iron made door that is now opening.

Every question is answered when Aemond hears the same old shouting. Like always, the king is scowling at Aegon for some improper behavior.

“…and how dare you to suggest yourself a good dame as Lady H/N?”

“What incident has brought our father into the old throwing tantrums again?”, he inquires Daeron, who’s too busy eating some grapes and serving himself some wine.

“It appears that our sweet brother has seduced Lady H/N of House Tyrell. Oh, no, not in that manner you might think, Aemond. Indeed it has surprised me that Aegon has the capacity to write poems and be a good bard where his carnal needs are concerned.”

“Hum”, is all the other male says, feigning some uninterest in the matter.

“He proposed the said lady, but her father refused. The aforementioned damsel is only marrying after her eldest sister, who attends by the name of Lady Y/N, does. She has quite a reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?”, Aemond asks, struggling to keep his own amusement in check.

Daeron looks at his brother with eyebrows raised.

“Not that kind of reputation, Aemond. She is known as the queen of thorns due to her sharp wit and a sharper tongue. She has quite an odd saying that she’s marrying only for love.”

“And her family has agreed to this foolish idea?”

Daeron chuckles.

“Like I said, the Tyrells can be proud.”

And just like that Aegon turns suddenly at his younger brothers as if he is reminded of their presence.

“Aemond and Daeron! My most beloved comrades!”

Ignoring the puzzle look exchanged between them, Aegon carries in his semblance some odd glow of hope. It so appears this second eldest Targaryen—after his half-sister Rhaenyra, by now married to their uncle Daemon Targaryen, residing at Dragonstone—is expecting to find solution in either brothers.

“I was speaking to our gracious father the king about my utmost desire in marrying for the purpose of serving our family…”

“Go straight to your point, Aegon”, Aemond cuts his brother, in between annoyed and amused.

“I need your assistance in marrying Lady H/N Tyrell”, Aegon does as asked, unwilling to play the dutiful son’s role any longer, specially when seeing how little his father cares about his efforts in doing so.

Aemond rolls his eyes.

“But her sister ought to marry first.”

“Indeed”, and here Aegon smirks. “I may only court Lady H/N if you marry her sister first.”

“I am not…” Aemond is about to snort.

“I will pay you triple in gold”, his brother speaks in seriously tone. “The double in advance to cover the expenses in presenting yourself on behalf of our House.”

Aemond clenches his jaw, but when Aegon takes from nowhere a velvet sac with heavy coins, sense of duty promptly prevails over personal sentiments. He steps in then and before the king and queen, the silver haired prince smirks and says:

“Your Graces, allow me to be sent to High Garden. I shall represent the interests of the crown carefully.”

For the gold, Aemond could be ambitious. But in the end, when has he ever refused Aegon anything?

***

• Roses With Thorns.

Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things. Magic, madness, heaven, sin. Saw you there and I thought: "Oh, my God, look at that face. You look like my next mistake. Love's a game, wanna play?

You are at the library, finishing one more reading in this rainy day. Whilst the court of your father and mother has been occupied with musicians, siblings acting like the typical Tyrells, you opt to be distant from the crowd.

Today’s book is a novel about a wanderer and his damsel. Despite the reputation your siblings help creating of you, romance is often the object of your secretive poems. But seeing how rude is the courtship these days, little wonder why you prefer the company of books.

And here you’d gladly stay had your mother not sent her favourite lady-in-waiting to go after you.

“Lady Y/N”, you hear the woman’s voice breaking through the gentle silence that has been your company for the last two hours. “We have an important visitor and it’s crucial that you are there to receive him. I thought that was why you chose to dress your favourite gown, but I cannot understand why hiding away from public is something you’d promptly do.”

You close the heavy book patiently before casting the woman a look.

“I do appreciate fashion, but even more books. I did dress for the occasion as my lady mother warned me about the arrival of Lord Aemond Targaryen. However, I honestly don’t feel inclined to greet him.”

“You are the eldest child, your presence is expected, my dear.”

“The second eldest, Gertrude”, you remind her. “Arrham is the eldest. He is the heir, after all.”

“Come now, no excuses. I’ve brought the headdress.”

Today you are wearing a red silk gown with details in velvet white, designed with the symbol of your house. Your y/c hair is tied in a simple braid but now it’s carefully placed under a local hood. Like most damsels of your position, you exhibit a pair of golden earrings in your ears matching golden rings in your fingers and one necklace bathed in gold.

Small vanities that you quite appreciate. You are still a rose, regardless of the whispers. And so promptly you move to the grand salon, followed by Mistress Gertrude. Your head is raised and your demeanor, very composed.

And when doors open, your heart races and you panic internally. The grand hall, where court is located, is fuller than usually is. Minor houses that answer to the authority of your family sent their representatives. Musicians are found in the corners of the white salon playing a sweet melody and courtiers walk arm-in-arm, engaging themselves in coquettishly talks all the whilst the table is fixed for the banquet.

You feel instantly most gazes turn at you.

“Be brave, sweet girl. You can do it.”

And it’s when you see him, of course. No one else has silver locks nor eyes colored purple.

No man in this salon is devilish handsome. A thought that weakens your knees. But you dismiss it as your mother proudly brings the royal guest to you.

“My daughter, meet Lord Aemond, prince of the House Targaryen. He’d been sent here to represent the interests of the king in amending relations with our House”, so says Lady Roxanna Tyrell.

You curtsy elegantly and the prince bows just as regally. Curious pairs of eyes follow your moves.

“‘Tis my pleasure to make your acquaintance, prince.” You speak gently. “Welcome to High Garden. We pray that you find us a very amicable people, loyal to the crown.”

Aemond smirks. You certainly don’t strike the arrogant type who sweeps away every suitor and prevents your sister to marry. Or so judges him at first.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Y/N Tyrell. On behalf of the king, I thank you for the warming welcome. Hopefully we can meet in another moment.”

For now, you two part. Aemond feels your eyes glued on his back as he steps away. It doesn’t take any longer before the banquet is ready to begin. And as you take your seat, you capture the gaze he casts at you.

Regrettably you know why. But you behave in a nonchalant manner… for your own sake.

New money, suit and tie. I can read you like a magazine. Ain't it funny? Rumors fly. And I know you heard about me. So hey, let's be friends. I'm dying to see how this one ends.

As the prince is your family’s visitor for some good time, you feel it’s your obligation to lead him to a stroll in the gardens. And here’s when sparks are beginning to fly.

“I suspect my lordship appreciates wilderness in its crude state”, away from preying eyes your tongue rolls loose just fine. “But unfortunately there is little to show within these walls.”

Aemond chuckles.

“Does my lady take me as an imprudent, wild man?”

“Rumors fly like your dragons, lord.”

He certainly is surprised by your tongue.

“Judging by others’ speech is not a wise move, so I understand.”

You turn your head at him, with a side smirk on your lips.

“Is my lord telling me he’s a prudent prince then? Unlike his royal older brother?”

“Ah”, Aemond looks down at his feet for a moment but you spot a shadowy smile curling upon his lips. “So is this what’s it about?”

You give him an amused smirk, not giving away your thoughts so easily. As you walk into the depths of the gardens, passing through some ladies by, you don’t appreciate their long gazes at him… and you swear you could hear something very similar to “he should be in better company”.

“You look offended with something”, Aemond muses after studying you in silence. “Locking your thoughts in the highest tower does not mean you are a careful prisoner.”

You look at him in bewilderment.

“I am no prisoner, lord.”

“No? But you are hardly seen out of these pillars of stones”, says he in reference to a grand castle that’s been built in the days of the Gardners.

“What else a woman such as me should do? Bear heirs and live endlessly at the mercy of her lord husband?”

Aemond is not entirely certain whether he’s entertained by your total disregard to mundane rules or annoyed by it.

“Duty cements relations, lady. This is all I can let myself say.”

You have a bitter answer in the tip of your tongue, but because he’s been so pleasant to you, you hold it back.

Aemond, on his turn, scans his surroundings, in fact enjoying the change of his background for a moment. Different roses and other flowers embellish greens walls that turn this garden in a real labyrinth, leaving the Red Keep’s in a completely failure by comparison.

Heleana would’ve liked here.

“I should better go”, you say, breaking the silence as you do not know how to proceed further. Never the one to flirt or be socially sympathetic, you feel suddenly drawn back. Especially because it’s clear now that this prince is not like others.

Aemond turns his head.

“So soon?”

“I am required”, you lie bluntly. “Furthermore it appears to me we are both here by social obligations”.

The prince turns his head abruptly. Ah. Here comes the thorns.

“Allow me to disagree”, he offers a warm smile, much to your disconcert. “I find your company most pleasant, lady Y/N. This has been an interest garden to stroll around. I could have not asked for a better guide than my lady.”

His manners so gallant bring a small shade of blush to your y/c face. But even then you do not bend your distrustful heart to what this prince may offer you.

Perhaps bearing in mind his brother’s behavior, you say:

“As good as this afternoon may be, lord, a lady as me should not remain unaccompanied for so long.”

“Of course”, Aemond nods his head. “What would people think, right?”

Whether his remark is sincere or masking a sarcasm, you’d not dare to try to know. What really imports is to make your way out of his league before it’s too late.

• Dangerous Liaisons

So it's gonna be forever or it's gonna go down in flames. You can tell me when it's over, if the high was worth the pain…

You are once again in your quarters, reading a prayer book when your sister storms in. Dressed in a ball gown, she looks feverish for this event that holds no importance to you. Hence why you are dressed simply by contrast.

“Y/N!” She squeaks. “Father demands your presence. All Tyrells are at the grand hall for the feast in honor of Lord Aemond. Must I remind you how important this event is?”

Without removing your eyes out of the line that, curiously, admonishes the sin of the flesh, you respond:

“Really? How come?”

H/N does pay an effort in not stomping her foot like a child. She knows she’s passed the age, even if you provoke such childish reactions.

“Mostly due to the interest of our father in joining our houses together. Our mother is inclined in convincing him that I would be a proper wife to my beloved Aegon.”

She sighs romantically, not noticing the side eye look you give her.

“H/N, may I remind you this rascal prince is reputed for pursuing women in the least romantic way?”

“He is different now, writing me every day poems that he’d not done before.”

“Because you are a saintly muse who inspired him a swift change in his nature”, you remark sarcastically.

“Why are you skeptical that people can change?”, she asks you, sounding hurt.

You carefully raise your eyes, finally giving your sister some attention.

“Men hardly change, my dear H/Nickname. You should know that better than anyone else.”

H/N blushes furiously. She detests that you mention the one time she flirted with a good Lannister man in a courtship that nearly ended in a blood feud between these families because Lord Tytus apparently preferred to take as wife his own cousin.

“For a romantic you can be pretty pessimistic!”, and here she comes at you like a knight taking a plea to the king. “My sister, the only reason why father refuses to marry me off to such a powerful nobleman lies in your nonsense belief in marrying for love. You contradict yourself in so many ways… Come and join us at the ball. Convince Lord Aemond and father that I am more sensible now.”

You sigh. When have you ever refused H/N anything? Putting aside your prayer book, you take your sister’s hands and squeeze them in yours.

“Very well. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You smile as H/N pulls you at a tender embrace.

“I’ve always known you were just as Tyrell as the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes at the remark, but chuckle eventually at it. Indeed, the fruit never falls too far off the tree, does it?

Aemond detests formalities, more so in playing the diplomat on behalf of his dysfunctional family. For a while, however, this provides a good excuse of staying away from them. Seeing how united the Tyrells are, though, he cannot help but feeling somewhat jealous, wishing his was too.

Now here he is, waiting to act the seducer he is not in order to help Aegon marrying H/N Tyrell.

Frankly, who’d refuse to marry into the Targaryen family? This is such a proud manner…

His thoughts are soon interrupted by your arrival. Many are the eyes drawn to you, dressed impeccably in red and white, a summer silk gown that shows some cleavage and shoulders. The way your hair is tied in two braids each side of your head, showing the jewelry that decorates your skin, only reinforces your beauty.

The prince, who doesn’t like any rivals to dispute what he judges to be his by right, opts to wait for the right moment to approach you. Setting aside from the crowd, he seems pleased to find in your semblance furrowing brows and confused eyes as if you’ve been looking for someone.

Music starts to play and Aemond remains concealed from others view all the whilst he watches you dancing with other men. As much as he dislikes the view, he is patient. You may think you disguise well your social discomfort, but Aemond can tell this is not your environment.

And before some courtier could send you away—for you are evidently feeling out of place and wishing to go somewhere else—, Aemond takes your hand and quickly takes you out of prying eyes and ears.

“Thank you”, you say after a while. “What a tiresome game this is.”

“It is indeed”, he agrees, leaning against the wall, watching you feeling comfortable again. “Shall we head to the gardens or we ought to call Lady Gertrude to follow us in most appropriate manner?”

You laugh quietly at his subtle reference to your flee the other day.

“No. I believe no one will notice me if we stroll around. You, on the other hand…”

“Why’d you think so of yourself? You are no lesser than me due to the lack of royal blood. You are a noblewoman nevertheless.”

“It’s more complicated than it may sound”, you shrug your shoulders. “What is my family but the descendants of a random supporter of Aegon the Conqueror?”

Aemond chuckles.

“Is this how you see the House Tyrell? Your family holds great responsibility to the deliver and production of food, my lady. Not to mention the great number of men to fight wars that are provided by the Reach. This is no little doing.”

You give him an impressed look.

“And here I thought we were regarded as vain folk who live for chivalry.”

“Is it bad to live for this ancient code?”

“We throw feasts and live for mundane matters, forgetting what is relevant. We welcome bards and musicians, we dance beautifully and flirt courteously. But marriages remain politically tactics to enrich our coffers.” You sigh. “How wrong is to actually live for love?”

“And yet you forget you forbid your sister for experiencing it”, he reminds you.

You chuckle lightly in turn.

“My lord, with all due respect, but love doesn’t change any man’s nature.”

Aemond stops the pace, making you turn and look at him, wondering why he stands there under some cork tree.

“Green suits you well”, he muses, pleased to see a color painting your cheeks.

“I know my duties”, you tell him rather shyly. “I would not dishonor my guest, regardless of my perspectives about certain matters.”

“Or men in general”, he teases you.

“Or men in general”, you agree between chuckles.

Aemond doesn’t realize he’s been drawn to you until he gently laces his hand with yours. You are taken aback by such a gesture, feeling some heat spreading over your generally cold skin. When your eyes find his, you say:

“What do you think you are doing? Prince or not, you…”

“I am what I am. You know it too. And you are who you are, that I know as well”, he pulls you closer. “Who left in you a nasty scar, Y/N? A rose as yourself has too many thorns to let beauty blossom so spontaneously.”

You stare into his eyes, drowned in his purple irises. As he rests a hand in your waist, the heat begins to spread over the rest of your body, making you experiment new sensations that so far you’ve only heard from other ladies.

“This isn’t about me. I am merely protecting my sister as I know you protect yours.”

Aemond side smirks down at you, diving into yours, reading too much of your soul.

“I did. I helped her elope with her beloved, haven’t you heard?”

“And have you not been told I am a nightmare dressed like a daydream?”

Aemond releases one hand to rest over your shoulder and then to grab your chin, making you look into his good eye.

“I am told I am insane by countless former lovers”, he chuckles. “I have a bad reputation and yet here we are.”

Aemond and you are so closer now. The heat is like a flame now, burning your skin and he can tell how he effects you by seeing your heavy chest going up and down. His forehead now rests against yours, desire already burning him too, in a slow ache down to his manhood.

But before this flame sparks into something far deadlier, you both hear giggles not too far from there. It is like a dreadful wake up call and you realize you are not dreaming, therefore you should not remain where you are now standing.

“Y/N”, he calls your name when seeing you are about to escape.

“I must leave…”

“Not until you carry a remembrance of this evening.”

Before you could come up with some excuse, Aemond is faster and holds your arm, turning you at him so he cups your face with his hands and there finally kisses you.

And you run, leaving him there… but taking with you the sweetest poison you’ve ever had.

***

• Growing Fire…

Boys only want love if it's torture. Don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn ya

It’s not easy when you are surrounded by ladies who speak about their intimate affairs in such an open manner. Your sister is there, drinking in their experience as she too wonders what would be like to be somebody’s wife.

This somebody, you know, is not anybody. It’s the king’s eldest son, whose reputation of womanizing left you so protective towards H/N. But nothing comes to mind when you think of Aemond Targaryen and his fervent kiss.

“My husband likes to hear me singing his name out before we consume our, eh, flame”, lady Jeyne is telling this late evening.

You wish they’d be quiet, but unfortunately your sister encourages the woman to give details of it.

“It is when he begins to tease me. He likes to undress me himself, forbidding me to do anything at all”, says the said lady.

And here your imagination begins to work, whilst you pretend to occupy yourself with sewing. Your mind takes you back to the core of the gardens when his lips promptly dominated yours. And the taste he left in your mouth remains there.

You wonder if he’d do what lady Jeyne’s husband does to her. Would he exercise any authority over you? Would his callous hands remove every bit of your gown and touch you in unspeakable manners?

You feel your womanhood aching at the idea of his fingers working wonderfulness there, a sensation that also fuels your frustration. For a reason side of yours begins to wonder if he’s like Aegon. If so, why would you picture indecent scenarios with another womanizing man?

When paranoias are about to threat your peace is the moment your castle is close to tumble down. The ladies gathering is interrupted when your mother in person step inside you and your sister’s privy chambers.

“H/N!”, she exclaims. “You must come with me at once. Pride is no more our best shield.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”, you join your sister’s voice before your mother’s restlessness state.

“The prince is here.”

You’d think she is talking about Aemond, but H/N is faster in joining the puzzles.

“Aegon?!”

“Yes!”

Quickly all the ladies leave the chambers, and you above all remain confused. Right at the great hall you spot Aegon Targaryen in person, talking impatiently with his brother.

“Finally! I trusted my brother to resolve this matter, but he’s too slow”, says the eldest male son of King Viserys.

You give Aemond a quizzical glance. Seeing a silent question posed in your eyes, the rascal prince comes after you, but he is forced to step back as Aegon is in his moment.

“I must marry you, H/N, at once. Bewitched I may be for this new sentiment that poets compare to redemption, even if I as a man am unworthy it, has taken possess of my soul. Let me profess how ardently I love you, sweet H/N!”

So suddenly you begin to pick the pieces. Aegon had sent his brother to conquer you, for even you were familiar that your father would not marry his youngest daughter first than his eldest, especially after the Lannister scandal.

This means, you begin to think, that I am nothing especial.

And as this thought occurs you, Aemond pales at your reasoning. He then comes after you, tortured by the idea you’ve may come to him.

“Y/N”, he calls your name right there in the midst of corridors. “Please, wait! My lady, hear me out…”

“Please tell me he didn’t pay you to do what you did”, you turn at him, eyes already puddled with tears.

Aemond quietens before the accusation, and for the moment fury seems to take the best of you.

“You rascal!”, it’s all you can say. “Stay away from me, Aemond Targaryen. Go back to your whores. They will certainly make better use of this gold.”

Aemond watches you go, never before left behind like he is now by you. He realizes the wrongs done and opts for waiting a better time to amend his mistake.

The worst susceptibility is to be crudely exposed, openly hurt not by others but by his pride.

He came to love you, but now this love tortures the best and the worst of him, eclipsing him at last…

***

• 10 things I resent in you.

‘Tis the day your sister is leaving behind the Tyrell surname, eagerly adopting the fancy Targaryen one. You attempted to refuse to attend it, feigning sickness, but your mother discovered it and here you are.

Dressed in the colors of your house, you are in no mood to feast or to be in the presence of those dragons again.

“You should be happy for me”, your sister is speaking in an accusing tone. “Because your heart has been broken does not give you the right to part mine.”

Her words knock you out of your self exile. It’s when you realize you haven’t been this good of a sister.

“I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I want you to be happy, I just… fell in my own trap, I suppose.” You admit in a rare moment of sisterly confessions. “I didn’t mean to ruin your day, sweet H/Nickname. I just thought all is better in books.”

“What good is there in living too much in words and forgetting to live life as it is? It’s not pretty to get hurt, but we get better and find other paths. People can change if you permit it, dear sister. Don’t be overly pessimistic.”

That being said, each follows now a different path. You must go back to your place in the crowd all the whilst two ladies help her dress. And as you head towards the grand salon where the festivity is expected to happen, you are met by Aemond Targaryen.

“Lady Y/N”, he greets you rather contained.

You curtsy elegantly.

“My prince.”

“Please, rise. There is no need to us behave like strangers”, he moves now to where you are and help you rise, never letting go of your hand for once.

“I should tell you something.”

“So do I.”

“You first”, you both say at once, before chuckling nervously at the impasse.

Eventually, though, Aemond says:

“No apologies are enough for what had been done. You had every right in behaving the way you did.”

“I despised your acts, true. But I resented how free you made me feel. How foolish you made every night after spending all day with you”, you lower your eyes to your locked hands. “I resented how roguish you behaved, how serious you were, how reluctantly you danced as if I was forcing you into it. I resented how you…”

And here you choke with words. Aemond smiles at himself, gently lifting your chin so he can read your eyes.

“You look adorable when you blush, Y/Nickname.”

You giggle softly.

“I resent the way you read into me easily, how you fight away my fears and how good heart you can be when I was told how bad you are.” And then you cup his face with your fingers. “The one thing I resent more is how I came to love you deeply and sacredly, Aemon Targaryen.”

In this empty corridor, no soul witnesses the precise instant he holds you against him and kisses you most ardently, breaking your castle for once and all, cutting away most of your thorns.

***

• Epilogue

In this large bed of Harrenhal, you welcome your husband properly, not minding how poorly dressed you are.

“How our nuptials are to you, my lady wife?”, he leans his nude body over yours, hands quickly to remove your nightgown, devouring you with his hunger eyes. “Just accordingly to what you’ve been told by your ladies?”

Your face goes scarlet red before being laid down.

“So much better”, you chuckle softly before wrapping your legs around his waist, hands running over his shoulders and chest. “Hmmm. Is it a dream, or you are indeed my husband?”

When his lips move to your neck, taking a while in your chest, you groan softly in response. Sweeter than your dreams ever were, you let him take the reins, having given under his touch so willingly.

“I love you”, he mumbles against your lips, just as he slides inside you.

“I love you more”, and just like that you turn positions.

For he may be the boss outside, but every subject knows that Lady Y/N Tyrell rules her lord husband behind the scenes.

And these are days of summer, where peace is warming and content. That is until autumn comes, but this is for another day…

Regardless of future events, you and Aemond are destined to have a long and happy life with at least a dozen children of your own—he’d gladly come to find out how you came to really enjoy domestic activities a little too much.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #blank space #10 things i hate about you

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blood-ofmyblood · 1 year

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AU: Lucerys survives Vhagar's attack, but it leaves both him and his dragon crippled for life, which makes him and Aemond even. He paid the debt for his eye by almost losing his leg. He grows older, wiser. They both recall the mistakes they made in the past. Experience of similar fate brings them closer, making them comrades. They're eachother's first enemy. The first blood they've ever spilled. The most important lesson.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotdedit #lucerys velaryon #fionn whitehead #fionnwhiteheadedit #lucerysvelaryonedit #lucerys × aemond #lucaemond #lucemond #vhagar #arrax #mine #SoundCloud

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imaginesofeverykind · 1 year

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Viper’s Pit |A.T|

Recently widowed, you, Vaela Targaryen return home different than when you left several years ago, Aemond is determined to find out why.

Targaryen!Reader x Aemond

WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, canon typical abuse, mentions of SA, unwilling betrothal, murder, vulgarity. MDNI !

I very much tried to write this in the realms of how women are treated as such in the canon of the show, I do not divulge in detail but there are sprinkles of discussion that might be difficult or uncomfortable to read which is why im taking the extra step to put this warning in addition to the warnings on top here.

Im on the fence about a part 2 :SS so let me know what yall think!!

— - ——- — - ——- — - ——- - —

Today had been that day the tides shifted, the sun shone brightly on Kings Landing, the clouds were nowhere to be seen other than the horizon of which the direction of the wind blew. The Royal party stood in preparation in front of the keep of your arrival, their most crowned jewel it appeared which would have you scoffing in the effort that was thrown for you.

“How do you think she fairs now? Still a brute, no doubt.” Aegon smirked as he whispered lowly to his one-eyed brother and Sister Queen. Purposefully out of earshot of their dowager mother who would’ve reprimanded him had she heard the insults he hurled toward his own twin.

“The only brute in this family has been you, dear brother,” Aemond smiles to himself, looking to the side at his sister to see Helaena share a faint smile at his comment. It was true the younger siblings and even nephews were fond of you than Aegon ever would be. Born mere moments before he was, you were everything he couldn’t live up to in the eyes of his mother and King Father. Though, you’d argue there was much more he didn’t see behind the scenes.

Duty was never prevalent through you, so much so you took to the yard to spar over embroidery or flower arranging. It enraged your mother that you simply refused to answer the call of duty and be the Princess she wanted you to be, though stern she never hated you and that was clear. Even when you were shipped off to Dorne at a young age to keep an alliance, you slowly understood that your mother didn’t do this out of spite or hatred or malice. Even if you were barely ten and four.

The conquerors Queen, Visenya was a woman who you looked up to, stoic and stern, a warrior Queen who kept her close comrades closed in an ironfist and bloodied her sword with her enemies. Perhaps this had been why you took to the sword over all else, training instead of sleeping and sparring instead of fulfilling the duties of a Princess.

So much that the muscles built over a short time was something a proper woman would never adorn with such pride.

Big enough to push around your twin brother and mediate the family squabbles was a feat that even Ser Criston Cole couldn’t always win over.

But alas, the minute your first blood arrived you were sent as an offering to secure the most attractive alliance at the time, which happened to be Dorne and it had been six years since you set foot in King’s Landing.

You weren’t cold when in this time only your younger brother and sister wrote to you, you missed the death of your own father, the maiming of your now one-eyed brother and the coronation of your twin. But you didn’t care, you experienced life outside of the confines of King’s Landing, but the Gods seek you out for a different fate as you once again arrived at the company of your family and the royal party, to live here after the untimely death of your lord husband, empty handed with no children.

“My dearest Vaela, welcome home.” The sound of your mothers voice was almost unrecognisable, but she stood proud with your siblings, all who have grown into their Targaryen features much like you had. After such a long time away from the Capital, it felt like you were being released back into a cage of unfed dragons, unsure of your fate.

Much to Aegon’s dismay, no longer were you a towering menace of pure muscle to bolster such physical power over him. If he had to guess, you were just short of Aemond’s towering height, in fact if he didn’t know better he would say you and the Cruel Prince looked more like twins than he and you did. Your silver hair was straight, and laid down over your shoulders stopping just at the waist, and the way you filled your dress wasn’t how he expected either. Coming from the hot environment of Dorne meant you wore more exposing items of clothing and sheer silks which didn’t go unnoticed by most of the Royal Party.

Regardless of attire, you still looked of Royalty and like a Princess, more than when you had left.

“Mother.” You curtly bowed your head, eyes settling on the two younger siblings. A wholesome smile pulled at your lips as you brought a hand to each face, caressing delicately, “my sweet sister, my dear brother.” Your voice was soft and loving, no amount of distance could separate the love you had for both Helaena and Aemond.

It was improper to greet The Queen like this but no one intervened nor took action, it was also the only time Aemond would openly allow such affection to show to the public and onlookers. The two of you were close growing up, it made sense that the bonds were never severed and the love remained.

Your eyes flitted to your twin, adorning the Conquerors crown which had caused a shallow scoff, he had not a single ounce of Aegon I in him and he was as pathetic as the man you were sent off to wed. Leeching from the powers he was handed to on a silver platter for being the firstborn son, a man. The only difference between you and him was that you had tits and a cunt and he had a prick, laughable really.

“Your grace,” you lazily bow your head, vitriol falling from your lips as you walk toward the Red Keep, counting the days until you're sent off again to ‘fulfill duty’.

Aemond had a sly smile on his lips, watching you walk away. He was grateful the fire hadn’t extinguished within you after all these years and you were still unmoving in your distaste toward your twin despite the crown that lay upon his silver head.

“Hypocrite.” Aegon muttered, shouldering past the young Prince as he stalked up to the Red Keep. The King was enraged the day Visery’s had died, the manhunt to find him and ready him for a coronation before his half sister seized the throne was the day Aemond reminded him of his duty to his wife and duty to the Realm. It was all about duty with the one-eyed Prince, so much of it being beaten into the oldest son by all around him it was hard not to harbor resentment when his sister could freely break the rules in the Prince's presence without a shroud of ramification like he had to endure.

Lunch with the family had been just as tense as the moment you arrived, sitting beside Aegon who despite being the King didn’t sit at the heads of the table, they seemed to be reserved for your grandfather and mother. An interesting choice, you pondered.

“We are sorry about the news of your lord Husband.” Alicent started, reaching across the table and outstretching what you assumed to be a comforting gesture. In a different world you might’ve taken comfort in your mother, she was always plotting and scheming while the maidens looked after the children, it was a wonder you had all ended up the way you did. Yet you could empathise, she was a pawn in your grandfathers greed and was forced into a loveless marriage which did more harm than good.

You quirked a brow, taking a sip of your wine, “I am not.”

The table had stopped, looking to you for elaboration which made you reluctant to indulge. Your family didn’t even bother coming to your wedding, to check on your wellbeing so how would they know the cruel fate you had been thrusted upon. The only respite from the torturous marriage was the people who had allowed you your freedom to do as you please.

“My princess, you cannot mean such a thing.” Otto had noticed the stillness in the air, he had advised your mother to not let you return after such a long time knowing that it would stir discourse. Alicent said otherwise, offering a tempting compromise upon your arrival should you behave.

“I was barely a woman when I was sent to marry a man thrice my age… No family to see me off to this man, no family to hear the screams of a child when she was bedded that same night. There was no love, no compassion. It would have been more kind to have me fed to a dragon than to be abandoned in the snakepit.” Your tone was cool and eerily calm, a testament on how broken in you had become over the years. Your siblings eyes were full of sorrow, even Aegon had some shred of sorrow in there which was unbecoming of even him.

“And now I return home, hollow welcomes as I’m taken from the viper pit and put into a dragon’s den. If it is broken, you wish to see me as then I’m afraid you missed your chance the moment I was wedded.” You brought the cup back to your lips and finished the rest of the wine, the taste souring in your mouth along with your mood. Excusing yourself before even Alicent had a chance to speak.

She was beside herself after the lunch, only now realizing the consequences of her past decisions at the behest of her father. It was Otto after all that suggested removing the boisterous Princess in fear that she may become like the ‘Realm’s Delight’, Rhaenyra and seek to take the throne from her brother. He could see her ambitious nature, mistaking her want to be a knight as motivation to rule the realm.

It was clear upon her arrival that he was sorely mistaken and misjudged her intentions of only a young age.

“Mother you cannot undo what has already been done… Vaela is headstrong and stubborn and she has been burnt by this family, but she does not harbor hatred for you.” Aemond, ever so calmly soothing his mother like he always had done. It was no wonder, she confided in him so often and looked to him for counsel, he was simply magnificent with his words.

“How could you possibly know? She barely greeted me at the gates, barely spoke a word to your brother—“

“Because I know it to be true!”

You had always come to your brother's defense when it involved petty sibling tussles, it was only a shame you were gone before his maiming in Driftmark, perhaps if you had been there things might’ve been different. It was owed to you, that he do the same, defend you in this moment, not that he could accurately compare the amount of times you stuck your neck out for him.

“Vaela has never shared hatred for you, dear Mother… I may only have one eye but I am not blind to the slights of my siblings, all three resent responsibility and perhaps even the King past. You must understand that she is wounded and abandonment has hardened her over the years… Do not mistake this coldness as hatred.”

Right he was, as you sat in the Royal Gardens every day in an attempt to soak in the Sun’s warm and comforting embrace, thrusting onto you the peace you so desired since you entered the Kingdoms capital several days ago. In this time you had noticed the increased array of religious paraphernalia which you had no doubt in your mind was thanks to your mothers devotion to The Seven.

At least she seeked comfort and refuge in a mostly malignant way, the only quarrelsome part about it all was their unending incessant need to rid the old gods from history.

One of the things that had developed in your time in Dorne was your keen hearing, keeping note of which footsteps belonged to who, but you were back in your old home where everyone stepped differently and you were yet to pick up on who they belonged to.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.” Your voice was calm, eyes closed and back facing the main path from where the person approached. It was too heavy to be Helaena’s or Mothers, you knew that for sure.

“We’ve let you be for a week, dearest sister. You can only sulk and avoid us for so long before duty calls out for you to fulfill.”

It was at least a familiar and mostly friendly voice, despite his cadence being cold and blunt. You knew it was a matter of time before Aegon or Mother sent for you to participate in familial habits of eating together. “I’m not sulking nor am I avoiding, I’m merely enjoying the sun… It’s where I have been every day until the moon rises, you should know, sweet brother, you have watched me long enough.”

He had stiffened at your words, deciphering how you possibly knew when he had been so careful and out of sight. At first merely curious as to what you did when you weren’t breaking bread with the family or meandering the castle. Then it slowly turned to silent admiration and even a hint of protection, he was acutely aware of your harrowing experience in Dorne even if it was based on your words the very first lunch you had. There was more to it than you let on which he was determined to uncover.

You sighed in frustration, sensing the overbearing presence of Aemond and knowing he was as stubborn as you were and one would have to give sooner rather than later, so you relent. Preferring to join him on whatever pointless drow your presence was needed for than sit here in silence where your peace was already disturbed.

“Might I say with the purest intention, that your time away in Dorne has allowed your beauty to flourish.” He had curtly nodded in your direction, once you arose from your seated position and finally faced him. He wishes for you to be comfortable now that you were finally back with family, not tense and looking over your shoulder constantly as he noted in the days of watching you.

A smile befell your lips and you bow your head modestly, “you flatter me, Aemond… Out of all of us children you were beautiful and always will be, sweetling.”

“If you think me beautiful, then you would be the first… Or a fool.”

You came to his side, resting a gentle hand to his cheek, fingers grazing delicately over his scar. Despite being in the solitude of the Gardens and only in the company of the little creatures that resided among the foliage, his swift hand came up to grip your wrist and firmly remove your touch from his face. No matter how much comfort he felt when you were near, and the warmth your touch brought to his skin, he simply didn’t need your pity.

“Oh dearest Aemond… My only regret was that I could not be there to console you after such a cruel slight. But it appears in my absence you have found your own strength, I am proud of you.” You had intended to leave the moment like this, beginning to depart from the orbit of your brother who mistook your admiration as belittling sympathies.

“And what of you? The fire within you was so strong when we were children, and what the Dornish have done is return you like a broken sculpture, shattered from the inside out. How is it, that little vipers snuffed out the fire and blood that runs through you.” In so many words he challenged your strength, calling you weak for returning like you had. More maiden than a warrior, his words suggested. When you left, your muscles were defined, prevalent more than your twin, more than even many highborn lords. But upon your arrival, as beautiful as you were, your frame no longer filled with muscles or boasted physical strength. You looked more like the Dowager Queen and Helaena, not the warrior that he looked up too.

You pondered his words for a moment, weighing your options of insults to throw or even debated saying nothing. His words were aimed to hurt and that was obviously accomplished, your silence made that clear as you still considered what to say next.

Hands clasped behind your back you merely bowed forward, which is something you so often did to vex your mother opposed to curtsying like a real lady should. “Thank you, dear brother. For your kind encouragement.” This was not an argument you intended to engage in, for your own sanity’s sake. But your words were loud and clearly heard, the two extreme poles of your personalities seemingly switching as the years went on.

Aemond inherited your anger, while you inherited his calm demure and in this instance his temper got the better of him. You knew of all things after this interaction he would be embarrassed by this, hoping that this will give him the means to approach you much later in the evening so that you might indulge him in the inner workings of what happened to your ‘spirit’ in the many years since your departure.

Just as you anticipated, the cruel Prince's anger stewed with him through the remainder of the day and even followed him into dinner. It wasn’t just you who had noticed his silence during the feast, where he normally would revel in small insults or quips to humiliate The King, he was quiet and did not engage in conversation even when spoken too.

Dinner was painstakingly long, much akin to a pregnancy it felt like — your thoughts wandered while you took refuge in the Library. You weren’t in the mood to read so you sat quaintly on the balcony that looked over King's Landing and all its beauty. Never, had the keep felt as much of a prison as it did in this moment in your life. You had a taste of life outside of the capital and as harrowing as it might have been, it made you a better person.

There was still time, you had thought about perhaps forsaking your family on your own terms and defecting to Rhaenyra’s campaign, but you have nothing to offer. No title, no dragon, no wealth. Nor did you really like her all that much, it would only serve as an act of rebellion but who was to say that your uncle Daemon would even consider your presence outside the realm of a prisoner or hostage.

“I killed him… My husband, I killed him.” Your words were soft and your eyes still sought out comfort in the darkened swells of buildings below. Aemond was typically a quiet approacher, but much like the garden, you had acquired a keen sense of hearing and it was only out of survival that it got as good as it did.

You didn’t turn to face him, nor did you feel like allowing him to see the melancholic expression that had pulled onto your face.

He didn’t say anything, merely stood a few paces behind in the shadows, he would allow you to speak more, “He was an over-indulgent, greedy cunt. A disgusting pig who wasn’t even in an important dornish house. Yet he laid his hands on me time and time again, and it wasn’t just me. When I wouldn’t bear his children I was treated worse than the common whores he bedded regularly. If I fought back, it was a fate I wouldn’t even wish upon our enemies—.”

“I do not wish to hear more, I have heard enough.” His jaw was clenched as were his hands balled into fists, urging him to take arms and burn all of Dorne with fire and blood.

“His face was buried in the cunt of a whore, ass out of its breaches and cock hard when I sliced it off… And well… After that I knew I wouldn’t make it out of this without consequence and I have no desire to start a war… Then again, I fear that even if I had been murdered or executed for my act of violence I would not be mourned.”

Aemond shifted from his position in the shadows, finally understanding what had changed within you. Much like the other Targaryen children you had an overwhelming sense of neglect when it came to its familial ties. “You wouldn’t just be mourned, my sister. You would be avenged. You will be avenged for such cruelty.”

Finally you look to him, as he kneeled by your side, his eye focused on you, “there is no vengeance to be had. He paid with his life, undignified and no cock. The servants helped me shift the blame, our quarrel is not with the lesser people of Dorne, some still revere our House.”

“You are my sister, we cannot allow such blatant abuse toward our house go unpunished—“

“It is done. And it cannot be undone, I reclaimed what was forcefully taken from me.” Your words were stern, and had no intention of wavering no matter how angry the past years of trauma ached for you to unfurl, “I used to believe that me never having a dragon to claim was because I was weak but I have just as much desire to watch our enemies burn to the ground and I know now, that it is not a dragon that people will fear me for, it will be myself.”

A smile pulled on The Prince's lips, his gaze in admiration and love. Guilty that there was ever a doubt in him that thought for a moment that the sister he aspired to impress as a boy, was gone. Alas, you were still in there, but it is your own mental strength that persevered after all this time and this enrichment is welcome to him. “Then it is done, we will burn our enemies to the ground. All of them… Together.”

“Together.” You mused, reaching over to grab his hand. The hand of the only man to ever provide you a semblance of comfort and a love, a love that extended past the boundaries siblings should have.

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