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axelsagewrites · 8 months

Note

Hii girlie,

can you please write a fic for Harwin Strong? Him & Targaryen!reader already got 5 children and have no plans of stopping anytime soon when it comes to making more babies🤭

Thank you❤️

Harwin Strong*Breakbones

Pairing: Harwin x wife!targ!reader

Word count: 1731

Warnings: talks of pregnancy/kids, teasing, p in v sex, breeding kink, rougher sex (not extreme), biting, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

it was the little things that made life so good. like rolling over in the morning and directly into the sleeping arms of your husband who even in his sleeps wraps you in a tight hug. you smiled sleepily against Harwin’s bare chest, placing a gentle kiss to his skin. times like this made you appreciate your older sister even more since you weren’t forced into marrying a cousin or nephew but instead your sworn protecter.

you were snapped from your thoughts as you felt Harwin place a tender kiss on your head, his hand moving to slowly stroke your back. “Good morning wife,” he mumbled into your hair like he did all mornings. “Did you sleep well?” he asked as his fingers moved to slowly brush through your messy bed head.

“I always sleep well with you by my side,” you mumbled against his skin, nuzzling into his chest as his nails raked against your scalp in just the right way.

“Then I shall never leave it,” he said with a sleepy chuckle.

“Good,” you said as you forced yourself to lean up so you could appreciate your husbands’ features, “But im afraid we must get up,” you said as you placed your hands on his chest to push yourself up, but you were stopped by Harwin’s arms wrapping tightly round your waist, ��Harwin,” you whined but it came out as more of a laugh.

Harwin chuckled at your attempt to wriggle free, but his strong arms easily locked you in place, “You’re not going anywhere love,” he said as he stole a quick kiss, “I cannot leave your side remember,” he teased.

You sighed and tried to put on a serious face despite the urge to giggle like a young lady at court, “But what of our responsibilities? you have to train the new guard recruits,”

“We have other fine soldiers. let them train them,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face to gently hold your jaw, “I have marital responsibilities to attend to,”

You weren’t able to stop your giggle this time, but your protest did not end, “What of the children? I need to ready them and make sure they do not try miss their classes,” you said, settling into his chest as your protest turned to just words, “You know how fussy Rhaya gets when I am not the one to dress her,”

“Our children are lucky to have you as a mother,” he hummed making your heart warm. you had done your best to be a true mother to your children despite many of your station passing them off to others to be raised. “Maybe another lucky child will join us soon,”

you rolled your eyes with a light smile, “I have already told you the maester confirmed it was all a mistake. I am not with child,” you said. initially you had both been a little disappointed by the news but the busy hustle of your current litter of children made it easy to forget your upset.

however, a grin crept on Harwin’s face as his hands moved from your waist down your back to your ass, grabbing it suddenly making you gasp, “Not yet wife,” he grinned.

“Husband,” you scolded, hitting his chest knowing your fists were like taps to his frame, “You would make me late to our children for your own needs?” you said with fake annoyance, but he could see the grin teasing the corner of your lips.

“Not my needs dear wife,” he said, his hands moving slowly down to rest on the backs of your thighs, pushing your shift up so he could rub his thumbs over your bare skin, “My marital needs. after all I swore an oath to you. what kind of husband would I be if I did not fulfil it?”

“I think the five others who are currently tormenting their maids prove your more than capable sweet husband,” you said as you finally moved to sit up, but Harwin grabbed your hips, forcing you to stay sat on his lap.

he leaned forward, kissing you suddenly with one hand holding your jaw, the other your hip. the kiss was soft and slow as you felt his fingers squeeze the flesh of your hips which he often praised. despite being married with children he still took the breath out of you with just a kiss, “I suppose,” you said against his lips as you tried to catch your breath, “being a little late never hurt,”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, his lips brushing yours with every word as his hand found the back of your neck.

you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss as he lightly ground his hips up, pressing his growing bulge into your clothed cunt. you knew by how tightly he was gripping your hip there would be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. after all there were two reasons, he was called breakbone.

still, you gasped when he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Harwin grinded his hips down slowly, teasing you with each press of his hips against yours. his hands began to roam your body, squeezing your waist and breasts over your shift. his fingers trailed softly along the edge of your neckline before suddenly ripping the soft fabric. you gasped as the fabric ripped, the sudden breeze making your nipples harden.

your soft moans were covered by Harwin’s lips as his fingers began to softly roll your pebbled nubs between his calloused hands. his hands may be rough with a sword but soft on you as he traced around the sensitive buds between squeezes. “You still need to go?” he asked, breaking the kiss for only a moment.

“Im not going anywhere,” you said before pulling him back in for a deep kiss, your hands tangled in his hair.

you whined into the kiss when you felt his hands fall from your nipples, but an excitement began to build as you felt him pulling at his undergarment’s strings. your hands fell from his hair to run down his chest, feeling his muscles as you lightly trailed your fingers down his hot skin. however, it did not take him long to undo his trousers and push whatever fabric was in the way to the side.

you moaned as you felt his fingers trail along your cunt, pausing to tease the entrance of your hole, “Always so ready for me,” he praised as he moved to hold his cock. he lined his tip up with yours, the tip barely pushing in as you bit back a whine, “You want me to fuck you princess?” he asked, brushing the hair off your face with his spare hand, “Fuck you till you are filled with my child? till you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you moaned, gasping as he slowly began to push in, “Please Harwin please fuck me already,”

“I like when you beg,” he mused, his head falling to place soft kisses to your neck as he slowly pushed deeper inside, “you take me so well princess,” he said, his voice a strangled breath of groans and moans as he sunk his cock all the way in, “Such a good little wife,” he praised as he slowly began to move.

intuitively your legs wrapped around his waist, “please,” you whined, your eyes screwing up in anticipation as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, “don’t tease me this time. I need you. please,” your words seemed to move your husband as you gasped as he suddenly began thrusting in you.

Harwin wasted no time slipping a hand between your frames to find your clit, rubbing it precisely after many times of practise. you moaned as his lips worked harsh kisses along your neck to match his thrusts. he was called breakbone for a reason you thought as your nails dug into his shoulder blades.

as your nails trailed down his back you heard Harwin mumble praises and curse words under his breath, enjoying every scrape and scratch you were leaving. you could feel a familiar knot bubbling in your stomach as his cock stretched you out, pounding your defenceless bodily mercilessly into the bed. you wondered if the maids had grown used to the moans coming from your bed chambers of if the current sounds you were making still made them blush.

you did not worry for them however when Harwin grabbed your legs, pushing your thighs back so he could fuck you deeper into the plush mattress. your moans could probably be heard across the red keep by this point, “Please,” you moaned, each word interrupted by his thrusts, “Don’t stop, just like that,” you gasped as Harwin’s fingers dug into your hips tightly.

“I can’t stop myself,” he gasped, his thrusts growing messy, but it did not matter to you as you felt your knot tighten and your cunt begin to grip around his cock making Harwin moan.

“Please,” you began to whisper like a prayer till suddenly your body felt it would burst and you felt yourself come around his cock like a tiddle wave. your curses and moans did not make your husband stop however and you had to bite down on his shoulder as his thrusts grew heavier and you wondered if you would break.

“So good,” Harwin mumbled over and over as his thrusts grew sloppy and desperate before you suddenly felt that familiar feeling as his body tightened, his thrusts stopping, as you felt his seed spill deep inside of you.

you took the moment to catch your breath as your husband rode out his own pleasure before collapsing in the bed beside you. “That was- “he said between pants, “You are- I love you,” he finally settled upon as his gaze turned to you, wide eyed and exhausted.

“I love you too husband,” you giggled, as you rolled over to cuddle into his side, “But you owe me a new shift,” you joked as you traced hearts with your fingertips on his bare chest.

Harwin chuckled lightly as he wrapped his arm around you, “I’ll make sure to get you the finest of linens for it my dear wife,” he said as he pulled you tightly into his side, “See?” he teased, “Being late is worth it sometimes,” you rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed despite knowing he was right.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

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fan-goddess · 9 months

Text

A Mutual Feeling Of Hate

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong!reader

Summary: As Aemond Targaryen rounds up the male Strongs, he realises one man is missing, and in his hunt for him, he finds you…

Warnings: Explicit talk, p in v smut, breeding kink, murder, talk of SA, oral f receiving, praise in Valyrian, riding, sadism and masochism, jealously sex, exhibitionism, marking, let me know if I’ve missed anything

Taglist: @valeskafics, @arcielee, @blue-serendipity,

Authors note: I’m not as happy as I’d like to be, but still here we go hope you guys like it. It was my first time writing on Google docs 😅

Harrenhal had never truly been your home. Throughout the years you were forced to live there, in your eyes it had always been your husbands. Although according to him and, in the more recent years to come it would soon become the home of yours and his children too..

Your husband, Geralt Strong, had been merely a second son when the two of you first married. Yet after the tragedies that struck Lord Lyonel Strong and his eldest son and heir Harwin, it soon hit you that your husband was only an accident away from being appointed the supposed honour of representing his house as its Lord. However, you were not the only one who noticed this predicament, as soon after Larys was appointed with no wife or children of his own, your husband decreed it was time for you to fulfil your wifely duties, and provide him with heirs of his own.

He’d been drunk every time that he tried to force himself onto you, but apparently he was too weak-souled to do it while sober. The man would become so incapacitated, that he’d pass out from overindulgence before he could even properly get off his breeches. For the first time in your life, you were grateful to be married to such a weak minded man.

Although, to play your role in the supposedly ever so slowly closing in win of his succession, you would force yourself to finish taking off his breaches, and stroke him till he burst in your hand, to make it seem like he’d actually completed his part. When he eventually spilled, you would always feel disgusted, wanting nothing more than to wash it all off and clean your whole body of his filth, and yet you found a strange joy in it. Thinking that whenever you were forced to lick the salty taste off of your hands, you were practically eating his children, and his legacy from your very hands. In a strange way, you found honour as you played one of the gods…

Still, when your husband was not drunk, and managed to have his way with you, you still requested moon tea. A wet nurse that you surprisingly found yourself becoming close confidants with named Alys, would somehow always come to you whenever you need it, a small vial in her hand in preparation.

However, when the banners of war were officially brought out of hiding, and calls for soldiers and blood broke out amongst the land, your husband became much too preoccupied by the impending doom of Harrenhal to bother you. You can remember clearly in your mind the day Daemon and his men came for you all. It was something everyone present would remember. Ser Simon, the man who led House Strong while Larys was in kings Landing, was not a man in your eyes that day, as he surrendered easily during the assault of Daemon's attack. It was not difficult to spot Daemon Targaryen amongst the many of his men from your window, the colouring of his hair making him stand out when his helmet was shrugged off, and the wish that your husband could’ve been more like him stood out to you whenever you saw the man. You could not help but feel envious of the usurped queen whenever you saw him standing valiantly and without fear.

That however, was why It was strange, when the prince and all of his men left all of sudden in the night. All pondered over the reason, but then came the sound of a dragon's wings, and the distinctive noise of a dragon's roar, the sound of it echoed and vibrated through the air. It was not Daemon coming back, no. It was the colour green of their banners that told you who they were, and what this meant for you. It was time for you to shed yourself of that ‘Strong’ husband of yours.

Your husband in question has pushed past you to look on in horror as the men in green and gold marched closer. And while he was gawking down below at the sight, you yourself took hold of the intricately carved dagger that was gifted to you by your mother. There was no real need for you to be quiet, as Geralt's eyes remained solely on the now revealed Targaryen below, and when you stood behind Geralt silent to also get a glimpse of the sight, you were most definitely not disappointed.

It was not hard to decipher that it was Aemond Targaryen who stood there, and demanded that a sword be given to Simon Strong. The eyepatch that hung over his disfigured left eye made it easy to realise which Targaryen stood there. He uttered something to the trembling man, but sadly you were unable to hear what it was he spoke.

You were surprised though, when Simon Strong it seemed had finally grown a backbone, as he fought the prince in what was seemingly a trial by combat. However, it seemed he grew it too early, as the sound of clashing of swords was soon over, and instead the sound of a dragon's cry echoed soon after. It wasn’t until you heard the screams till you realised that the prince had fed the mangled corpse of the man to his dragon Vhagar. He made the man, who to you was undeserving of his own blood, into something as meaningless to his dragon as a common sheep. If you weren’t occupied with standing a few paces back from Geralt ready to strike him down, you most likely would’ve gone down to the prince and given him your utter devotion and loyalty, if he didnt make you into food for his dragon too that is.

The voice of Aemond Targaryen rings again, as you yourself twirl the dagger in your hand in preparation, and it booms loud enough for all to hear throughout the castle. “Bring me the rest of the men who possess the blood of House Strong!” You cannot help but feel excited at the tone the prince holds. Madness, and a type of pure unrelenting rage. It’s not hard to tell what the intention of his demand is, even the dumbest of men would be able figure out what he wants to do.

You almost miss your opportunity as you get swept up in your own excitement. Still, you make a noise similar to a yelp in an attempt to draw Geralt's attention from the spectacle below, and when he responds just how you had planned for him to act, with his body and neck turning swiftly to you in sudden alarm, you waste no time in plunging the dagger deep into the flesh of Geralt's neck. You can feel the warm specks of his blood as it splatters onto your face as you withdraw the blade, and as he staggers towards you while clutching the profusely bleeding wound in a poor attempt to stop it, you cannot help but find yourself smiling at the utterly pathetic sight. Thanks to the one-eyed prince and his hatred, there will be no more ‘Strong’ men left to stand in your way to freedom, and no so called ‘respected’ witnesses to your crime.

There’s a small series of grunts that manage to make their way from your husband's blood gargling throat. Although, soon his stumbles become too weak, and he collapses onto the hard stone floor. His movements are weak, as he seems to use all of his energy so he could look up and stare up at you. If you were honest with yourself, the sight before you feels like the greatest honour you could ever think of, to watch the life leaving Geralt's eyes. You feel like you are playing one of the Gods, because thanks to you, they are now forever immortalised with a permanent look of confusion and betrayal.

It hits you though, a thought of realisation that makes your very spine shiver in annoyance. The thought being, that there is no doubt about it, that the prince already has a list of names of those that he needs to kill in his rampage, in order to properly eradicate the house Strong once and for all. If he didn’t… Well then, the prince is more of an idiot than you took him for. Your husband was the man set to inherit everything if and when Larys Strong is to pass. So there is no doubt in your mind that he’ll be one that the prince will wish to make sure is dead at his feet.

There is a sudden knock at the door that drives you away from your thoughts, and you just know that it is the prince's men who have come to fulfil their orders. You take a moment to prepare yourself to play the role of the already mourning wife. The tears you feel drop from your eyes are fake, and yet as you open the door a fraction, the men who look at you see no difference. They’re young, only a couple name days older than you, and you thank the gods because of it, as with their inexperience they will be unable to decipher your tricks. In their eyes, you have already seen the taking of your husband, and by the blood on your face, he was taken not so long ago with some force.

They say no real words to you, other than a small grunt you presume is a type of apology, and leave you to your supposed mourning of your husband in solitude. Though as soon as you shut the door, you grab a chair and manoeuvre it to the window to watch the show below go on.

The sight of the one eyed prince successfully slaying an entire house brings a small smile to your face. He makes the man or boy say their name, and what makes them a Strong. The first to be slaughtered was Ser Simon, and soon after it was clear to all that not even the unclear bastards, with blood muddled and unknown origin, were even safe. None were spared from the Kinslayers blade.

From the balcony soon after the full-blooded men were slaughtered, you watched the beheading of an eleven name day old child. From your understanding of Harrenhal, the only reason that boy was here was because his mother was forced upon by the wrong man, and he refused to allow her the opportunity to rid herself of the child. It’s a sad sight, even you must admit, but there is truly nothing you can do other than let the show below go on.

It’s not long until the pile of corpses stops being enlarged, as the prince's men are forced to halt in their duty in bringing the men. The sounds of bloodshed are soon broken by the many sounds of high pitched women crying for their loves and their families. When you turn your head to look back at your own husband, still laying there in his own blood and filth, you can’t help but let out a scuff of disgust and disbelief, before turning back to continue to watch the prince.

You cannot help but ponder when it’ll happen. What will happen when the prince will eventually realise that no man has come forward to be slaughtered bearing the name of your husbands. Though it appears as soon as you begin to question it, the prince questions it too. “WHERE IS THE MAN THEY CALL GERALT STRONG?” He shouts. His voice somehow managed to echo over the sounds of the crying wives and daughters that resonated from their windows.

One guard steps forward, possibly one of the two who had visited your chambers earlier, but he’s too far to tell or not. He leans to whisper something into the prince's ear, and when the guard leans away, the prince looks somewhere in your direction. You can almost swear that you lock eyes with him, though he soon quickly looks away, before whispering some words to a knight, and beginning to walk towards the part of Harrenhal you reside in.

He disappears from your line of sight, and you begin to wonder if he’ll be searching all the rooms for Geralt. Though once again, It’s not long before you hear the sound of your chamber door being opened, with a loud creak of the handle. There is a sound of footsteps, although they seem to halt quickly. If you had to guess, they must have spotted the corpse. When you turn your head slightly, your eyes once more meet the single lilac eye of the princes. Although he does not make the contact last long as he breaks it to stare at the pitiful view of Ser Geralt Strong, still laying there in the pool of his own blood.

His face gives no indication of any particular emotion other than annoyance. Though you can’t help but notice an unfamiliar glint in his eyes as he looks back at you. “I thought I had ordered my men to bring me every living male strong.” It is not a question, as there is not a single inch of confusion in his tone. This was a statement.

“I know…” It's a strange feeling that resonates within you the longer the prince looks at you. One that makes your entire body strangely burn in a pleasurable sense. Not that you’d ever know what that would even feel like… “Your men followed their orders as they were told, my prince. As he was not alive before your men rounded them all to be apart of your genocide.”

You see that glint once more in his eye. It looks almost similar to admiration?

“I presume you are Geralt Strong's lady wife. Did you truly hate the man that much for you to risk your safety to kill him?” Again, this was not a real question. This was another statement and a demand directed for you. From the look in his eye, he already knew the answer.

“You are correct.” You say no more, and you don’t even need to, as the now dried blood that is still present on your face, slightly sticky to the touch you figured, and your eyes that have managed to remain bone dry with a matching expressionless face. They seem to say more than you ever could. Plus if anything, it seems the prince is the more emotional one in the room between the two of you. His own face holds in its possession a small smile, which looks much more akin to a prideful smirk, while your own is hellbent in an attempt to stay blank.

The two of you stay silent, him standing there not taking his eye of you, while you yourself continue to sit in your chair unmoving. It was strangely peaceful, until the prince began to walk towards you and took your throat in his hand, holding it firmly to not allow you head to move, but not too hard that you couldn’t breath.

“I suppose I must thank you…” He seems to muse, taking in your face as he presents it to himself. “Although-” He cuts himself off, peering down at your stomach with an almost pondering look. “How do I not know that you are currently hiding a Strong inside of your womb from me at this very moment?”

“Because I drink moon tea of course, my prince. Why would I wish to potentially burden my future children with the tainted blood that ran through my husband's veins, when there are hundreds of men throughout the seven kingdoms who easily possess blood ten times purer than his ever did?”

“And who are these men then my lady? Could you name a few so I may have an idea of your idea of pure blood?” He’s playing with you. Testing you even. And yet you must admit that it’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in Harrenhal the entire time you’ve been held practically as a captive there.

“Well there’s your brother of course, the king of the seven kingdoms…” The trail was unintentional, but you couldn’t help but let the next words die on your tongue just so you could admire the thundering glare on the prince's face at the mention of the king. You had heard about the disputes between the two, but you had no idea that this supposed brotherly hate ran so deep between them.

“Tell me who else,” He growls. The sound of it mixed with the feeling of his hand tightening around your neck sending the pure feeling of electricity straight to your already wet core.

“Why there’s many men, my prince! It wasn't like it was hard to possess purer blood than that of a Strong! There’s Dalton Greyjoy… Cregan Stark… Joffrey Arryn… I would even count your own Uncle Daemon to be possessing purer blood than my husband. He is probably one of the few men I would allow to give me my pure children…” With each man you list, the prince's face darkens more and more. You intended to play with the prince at first by making sure to name the men who appeared to side with his half-sister in regards to the throne. Similarly to how he had been teasing you moments ago. However, it seems you played too close to the flames. As when the name of his uncle, and now the name of a man seen as a sworn enemy of the crown, is mentioned from your lips, the prince pulls your face towards his own by the grip on your neck, and claims you with a fiery kiss. The warmth of him spread throughout you, and It truly at that moment felt like you were playing with a true dragon…

“What about me, sweet girl? Am I of purer blood than that of your dead tainted husbands? Am I worthy enough to overflow your womb with my seed and show the kingdoms of how worthy I am?” His whispers make your whole body burn up, as if the blood of the dragon was running through your veins.

“I cannot say my prince… I think you’ll have to show me if you truly think you are worthy enough…” It is the feral-like sound from which the prince releases from deep within, that reminds you once more who it is who is about to claim both you and your body. A dragon. That is what stands before you, and is ready to claim you and change your life forever.

The feeling of the prince's body forcibly overpowering your own as he drags you from the chair you were previously on to the bed, brings a feeling throughout you that Geralt could never have ever achieved.

“Present yourself fully to your prince.” The words drip with lust and desire, as he does not even wait for you to properly respond. Instead, he just tears the weak material straight from your body, leaving you left in only your small clothes before him. His single eye roams over your body greedily to take all of your nude self in. However, you can see it stop at the sight of your heaving chest, your shallow breaths leaving your chest to stutter slightly.

“Gevie…” He mutters before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth and sucking hard, no doubt forcing deep coloured marks to form soon after this is over. His mouth wanders even lower though, sucking and biting gently in his wake, before stopping at the skin of your inner thighs, biting softly at the flesh. The sensations make small whines to leave your mouth whenever his teeth seemingly went deep enough to leave indents of his teeth.

The prince does not appear to be in a hurry. As instead of acting like a true dragon would and just taking you, he just stares at the fabric concealing your dripping core from him with a hooded eye. He does not even attempt to move it, as a lone hand of his simply brushes over the fabric lightly. Your head tilts back at the pleasure, so you are unable to see him grinning proudly at the sound of your whines for him when he does this again, and again. Maybe this is your punishment for mentioning his traitorous uncle? Or maybe he is just simply teasing you again…

“Please my prince… show me how I deserve to be blessed with your seed…” You whine, the words must have driven some part of him, as the next thing you know, your smallclothes are being torn off you like the rest of your clothes, and a warm wet tongue is feasting on your cunt giving you the best pleasure you’ve felt in your whole life.

“Oh fuck!” You shout. There is no real need to be quiet, as who is there to hear you? While you yourself are moaning loud enough for the seven to hear, you almost miss the sounds of the prince's own groans, seemingly already addicted to the taste of your arousal that all but leaks from your quivering body onto his awaiting and eager tongue.

“Ao sylutegon se sȳrje … kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris…” He groans into the depth of your cunt, the vibrations adding that extra arousal needed to begin your push over the edge. The words themselves mean nothing to you, and you find that you don’t really care, as you feel the coil deep within you begin to tighten more and more. “Please my prince let me cum!” You shout, “Please my prince!” You try to stop yourself from releasing, you really do, but at the sight of the prince's head seemingly nodding in allowance, you feel yourself releasing on the prince's talented tongue harshly, leaving you breathless and lightheaded.

While you attempt to try and recover from your peak, you can still feel his tongue inside of you, the wet sounds reaching your ears. He acts as if he was trying to claim and taste the last remnants of your peak and arousal, before he no doubt soon rips another from your quivering body.

As the prince lifts his body up to take off his own clothing, you get the glimpse of his arousal covered face. In the current light, you can see his mouth and his chin shining, and it spreads an entire new feeling of arousal within you you didn’t even know was possible. It only worsens though, as you watch him collect some of your juices from his chin with his finger, before sucking on it with an appreciative sound as the taste glides over his tongue.

“Do not call me your prince, call me by my name. Call me Aemond.” He mutters, before he silences your response as he bends to your level to claim your lips with his own.

It’s the combined taste of your arousal on his lips, and the feeling of his erect cock touching the skin of your inner leg, that makes a pathetic whine leave your lips. You almost release another, when the prince, no Aemond, backs away for a moment to look at you with a hooded expression. He truly looks like a dragon about to devour you…

The prince's hands trail over your sweat layered skin with the kind savagery only seen belonging to a man in war. Because by technicality, he is. Aemond Targaryen has no idea when he will die in this Targaryen bloodshed, so he makes sure that he acts on his desires and takes all that you will give to him with great pleasure.

He pumps his cock a few times, to which you watch with eager eyes at the sight of beads of his pleasure coming from the tip of his cock. Much to your surprise and gratitude though, he inserts himself slowly inside of you, and the mixed sounds of his and yours groans of pleasure echo in the room, mixing as one.

Soon, the feeling of the prince's careful and precise thrusts whilst pleasurable, becomes not enough for you. Your legs hook around the prince's waist, and you take Aemond by surprise as you turn the two of you over and take no time in beginning to bounce harshly on his cock.

The deep groans that the prince lets out at the new position are easily one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros…” Again, the strange words' ,most likely to be that of Valyrian, are lost on you. But the way they sound coming from his tongue specifically, spark something almost primal deep inside. The grip that Aemond has on the skin of your thighs, will no doubt leave harsh and deep coloured bruises, and yet when you feel the sparks of pain from his actions, equally arousing sparks of pleasure get sent all the way up your spine.

Your hands grasp at Aemonds skin for some kind of stability, and your nails dig into his skin so harshly as you try to ground yourself, that you can see small droplets of blood beginning to mark the surrounding flesh. The very sight of it though does not deter you, and if anything it makes you harsher in your efforts for another peak to wash over you.

Although, Aemond surprises you by gripping at your hips and beginning to harshly thrust himself upwards into your wet heat. His cock reached the rough patch deep inside of you that you never knew existed. You were so invested in this new pleasure though, that you had no idea that at this development you had begun to practically shout your pleasures loudly and clearly into the room.

As his cock head bullies that spot inside you, one of his hands reaches to take hold of your neck similarly to earlier. But the grip he holds you now is harsher and less careful, and it makes you breathless. “Oh fuck…” You murmur as your head begins to fill with a strange fuzziness sensation. You feel like you could honestly die there and then. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before. Never with your husband, and not even with yourself whenever you tried exploring your body as a young girl. The feelings that Aemond was giving you, made the entire world numb, and your body fucking electric.

“Will you let me shoot my seed deep inside you?” Finally, he speaks some words you can understand, other than his deep groans he was serenading you with moments ago. “Will you allow me to show the seven kingdoms the woman who carries my babe in her belly?”

The whine you let out is involuntary, as well as the imagery that comes to mind of you walking eagerly with the prince, a swelling belly officially holding the babe of a man worthy of possessing his blood inside of your womb.

“Yes my prince… show me exactly how worthy you are of me…” A devious idea comes to mind, and a smirk is present on your face as you next speak. “Show me if you truly are better than my husband, the Strong…”

Aemonds face visibly darkens with anger, and the grip that he holds your skin with tightens. His thrusts are harsh as he forcibly brings you to your peak, the feeling of it all rushing through your body at speeds you had no idea was imaginable.

Even when you feel yourself try to recover, the overstimulation begins to set in as Aemond continues to thrust up into you, even as you begin to go numb all over. Still, you’re thankful at the sound of Aemonds deep growl as you feel the warmth of his cum fill you to your brim.

As you gaze down at the heaving body of Aemond, your eyes drink him all in. The blood that you had caused to be brought up from his chest, ran in small delicate trails down his skin, and it excited you all over again to see it.

A knock rings from the door, and to your surprise, Aemond merely sits up to hold you in his arms and tells the person to enter.

It is not a man who enters, but a boy who looks as if he was already scarred by the war he has joined. It is a pity to even look at, but it certainly looks up as you see the shock on the boy's face when he observes the room and spots the body of your former husband, now stiff and pale on the floor.

“What is it you need?” Aemond snaps, his tone making the boy's eyes snap to look at him, only for the boy's eyes to wander to you, and takes over you unashamedly. He is only able to see the nude form of your back, and yet your body still burns with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the situation.

“Ser Cole said that when we are sure all the male Strongs were dead, we were to await your orders my prince.”

“Now that the males are dead, I command you to tell the others to make sure that they leave no Strong alive, except this one… this one will be of great use to me…” Aemond murmurs, a single finger tracing the skin of your face to look only at him, as he gazes at you deeply.

You can hear the door shut behind you, and while the silence overcomes the room you cannot help but question Aemonds previous command. “What of the women like me?” The prince raises a single brow, as if he is confused. Yet he is Aemond Targaryen, the man who has near successfully committed a whole genocide on a single house in one day. You cannot allow him to dodge a question on the basis of fake confusion. “Women born not of house Strong, and yet sold to them to be wedded and bedded for their blood to be spread?”

“Why little one they too must die, for they have had the seed of a strong taint their womb forever more. While you on the other hand my lady, knew of the tainted blood of House Strong, and rightfully rid yourself of any opportunity to taint yourself. House Strong must die, my darling, and not only by blood, but by name as well. Surely you must understand, given out shared hatred moments ago?”

“Is my name not Strong currently, my prince?” You tease. Your face widening in a content smile as Aemond dots wet and no doubt marking kisses on the skin of your neck, high enough so your collars may not cover them, so all could see who has done this to you.

“Soon my darling… soon it shall be Targaryen. And it shall also be the name of my son who is currently sleeping in your belly…”

His hand traces your skin, and you hope he does not raise it higher in fear that he will hear the sound of your heart racing at his words. You cannot find yourself able to reply to him, as the words seem to die in your throat. Instead, you simply lay your head on his shoulder, and try to blank out the high feminine screams of your fellow women as they begin to echo on the cold castle walls. The single tear that begins to roll from your eye could easily have been from the emotional turmoil you have faced, or it could easily be sadness and regret of what you have just done. You will never know…

High Valyrian Translates Part:

• Gevie - beautiful

• Ao sylutegon se sȳrje… kesan brōzagon ao ñuha mērī ābra sir till se mōris - You taste the best… I will call you my only woman now till the end

• Qogralbar… Konir sagon ziry… sȳz līve gūrogon aōha pleasure hen aōha dārilaros - fuck… thats it… good whore take your pleasure from your prince

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patheticdarling · 1 year

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Traitors

Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon has now been confined to her bedchambers as preparations are made to crown Aegon II as King. She is given the choice to betray her mother and family or her husband, Prince Aemond.

Warnings: mentions of death/incest cause of marriage (established relationship with rhaenyra & laenor/harwin’s eldest daughter)/cussing/crying/arguments/pregnancy/marriage strain/break up?/ANGST/part 2...possibly?/ALL RIGHTS TO HBO

Word Count: 3530

*NOT MY GIF*

You were woken by the sounds of jingling keys and voices outside your door. You were quick to get out of bed, going over and rattling the locked knob.

“What is the meaning of this?” No answer, “I demand you unlock this door.” Again, nobody said anything. You could hear the armour of the guards shifting as they stood in front of your door.

More voices came from your window, you peered into one of the courtyards of the Red Keep. All the servants and workers rushing around. Something wasn’t right. You had even finally taken notice that Aemond was not in your bed. His sword and other weapons gone as well.

You paced around your room for what seemed like hours. You tried to distract yourself by getting dressed, doing your hair, and even tidying up your bedchambers. Yet, you still continued to ponder all the reasons there would be to keep you confined to your rooms like this.

You sat at the window before the door squeaked open, your mother-in-law, the Queen, stepping in, “Good morning, Princess Y/N.”

You took note of her rather glum demeanor but your frustration still got the better of you, “Good morning?” you scoffed, “I’ve been locked in my chambers for Gods know how long and that’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Apologies for the lack of decorum,” she sniffled a bit.

“Has something happened?”

“The King,” she stifled a bit before collecting herself, “he has passed.”

Your chest welled with sorrow at the news of your grandsire’s death, “How? When? I-I just saw him at dinner. How could this…” your voice faded as you let out soft cries, falling into a nearby chair.

The Queen rushed over to you, taking your hands in hers as she knelt beside your seat, “I’m so sorry, Princess,” she comforted you, “I loved your grandsire, more than-”

Your mind finally caught up, “Wait,” you loosened your hands from hers, “But what does that have to do with me being locked in my room? And where is Aemond?”

Alicent stood back up, “Aemond is out with Ser Criston at the moment.”

“Doing what? Where?”

“Royal duties that needed attending to in the city. He is well, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What I’m really asking is what in Seven Hells is going on?” your tone louder than before as you sniffled, “Why are Aemond and Ser Criston gallivanting in the city?”

“Those matters are between the Prince and me.”

You rolled your eyes at her explanation, “Does my mother know about Viserys’ death? Has a raven been sent to her?” Alicent swallowed harshly at your questions, “Your Grace?”

“Princess Rhaenyra will be notified in due time-”

“Due time?! Her father is dead. She is to become Queen. My mother needs to know,” you erupted from your seat, “And what of my grandmother? The Princess Rhaenys. Where is she?”

“The Princess Rhaenys is in her chambers as well. Hopefully thinking over the offer I have given her.”

“Offer? What offer? And what of our dragons?”

“Princess Y/N,” she took your hands once again, “Your Grandsire, my husband, confessed something to me before his passing.”

“W-What?” your brow furrowed at her words.

She cleared her throat, “He said he wished for Aegon to be King.”

You ripped your hands away from her, “What? What are you talking about? King Viserys has never once swayed from having my mother as his heir. And now you’re saying that just before he died that he said he wanted my uncle to succeed him?”

“It is the truth. Believe it or not. I would not lie about-”

“He is your son, Alicent! Ever since he was born, you and your father have been trying to get him installed as heir. And now that my grandsire can no longer defend my mother’s claim, you plan to usurp the throne for him.”

“It was your grandsire’s dying wish, Princess. I am doing this to honour his memory. And I am asking for your support.”

“You are asking me to betray my own mother? My entire family. So that your son can become king.”

“They are not your entire family. You have Aemond and your baby,” she nodded towards your swollen belly, your hands instinctively wrapping around it, “If we have your support, it might help in getting Rhaenyra to bend the knee as well. That is also why we must keep your dragons.”

You shook your head, “This is treason. And I will not be used as a bargaining chip for your political schemes.”

Alicent scoffed, “What do you think your marriage to Aemond is, Princess? I only agreed to the match because it’s what Viserys wanted and because it was supposed to help bring our families back together, to amend those grievances.”

“And yet, here you are, making your plans to steal my mother’s throne. Every grievance in our family is no one’s fault but yours and your power-hungry father’s. My grandsire was a kind man with a gentle heart and you are destroying his memory. Get out.”

Alicent let out a heavy sigh, “I will leave you to ponder your decision, Princess. Ring the bell when you have your answer.”

And with that, the Queen left your chambers. You scoffed to yourself, thinking how could one person have so much nerve? And now you were a prisoner in what was supposed to be your home.

Hours seemed to pass once again as you pondered all of your thoughts. Thoughts on how to escape. Thoughts on where Aemond might be. Thoughts on how to get to your mother and family. All thoughts were interrupted as the bedroom door creaked open once again.

You looked up from the book you had been reading, “Hello, my love,” your husband smiled at you, his hair slightly tangled, looking as if he’d just been in some sort of scuffle.

“Aemond,” you rushed over to him, letting his long arms embrace you. You couldn’t help but cry softly into his chest, “Viserys, he’s-”

“Dead,” Aemond finished, “I know. I’m sorry I was not here to grieve with you.”

You pulled away, “Your mother said you were out in the capital with Ser Criston. Though she refused to tell me why. And what’s happened to you?” Your hands softly caressed his mangled hair and reddened face.

“She sent us to go find Aegon. To bring him back here for his coronation tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” you scoffed, “I have to give your mother credit. Her schemes work fast.”

“It is not a scheme, Y/N. Aegon is the rightful king, it’s his birthright.”

“Please do not tell me you’re actually supporting this usurping of my mother’s throne?”

“Rhaenyra cannot rule the Seven Kingdoms. War will ensue if she were to wear the crown.”

“And it won’t if Aegon is crowned instead?” Aemond didn’t answer, “Aegon is not fit to be king, you know that better than anyone. And my mother nor Daemon will ever bend the knee to him. Nor will my brothers, which you know.”

“They will have to or be branded traitors to the realm-”

“Your mother and her father are the traitors! So is everyone else who is complicit in Aegon’s ascension,” you argued, “King Viserys named my mother as his heir and did not waver from that for the past twenty years that Aegon’s been alive. Why would he have now?”

“Perhaps he realized the importance of tradition. And why putting Rhaenyra on the throne would be a mistake.”

“Oh, Aemond, please! Do not spout to me the importance of tradition. The King’s word is law.”

“And the laws and traditions say that the King’s firstborn son is-”

“Firstborn child,” you corrected him, “The laws and traditions say that the King’s firstborn child is the rightful heir. And that is my mother. Not Aegon. Even so, Viserys named my mother as his heir. Lords of the Realm swore oaths to her claim. Your mother and grandsire included.”

“Stale oaths, Y/N,” Aemond explained, “Those lords only did that to keep the King’s peace.”

“And whoever chooses to follow Aegon is no longer doing their duty of up-keeping that peace. The minute they put that crown onto his head is the minute they are declaring war against my mother.”

“Not if you bend the knee,” Aemond took your hands in his, “Rhaenyra will not attack the capital if her daughter is in it. Her grandchild as well.”

You snatched your hands from him, “You sound just like your mother,” you scoffed, “I am not a political pawn, Aemond. And I will not be kept hostage in my own home.”

“Y/N, that is not what I meant-”

“What else could you have meant, Aemond? I will not betray my mother nor will I allow you or your mother to paint me as a traitor for the sake of some power-hungry grudge that you all hold against mine.”

Aemond let out a harsh sigh, “Y/N, please. This isn’t just about your mother or mine. This is about us and what will happen if you do not bend the knee. We will be separated. Torn apart by a war that is not our own. Please, my love,” he took one of your hands while the other fell to your bump, “I do not want to lose you or our child.”

Your breath quivered as you met his gaze, placing your hand on his cheek, “And I do not want to lose you either.” Aemond’s demeanor eased at your words, “But I will not betray my family. I will not bend the knee to anyone but my mother.”

His jaw tensed, “You are choosing to break us apart then.”

“No, you are choosing to break us and the rest of the realm apart. I can assure nothing but destruction and loss will follow if Aegon is crowned. Aemond, you must realize this.”

“I realize that my wife does not understand the importance of up-keeping traditions and laws. Aegon is my brother, Y/N. You should not expect me to betray him.”

You scoffed, “But you expect me to betray my mother.”

“I expect you to do your duty to the Realm-”

“I am!” you shouted, “I have always done my duty to the Realm! I have always done my duty to my family. I have always done my duty to you. But what you ask is not duty. It is treason.”

Aemond just shook his head, “I am not losing you. Or our child,” he grabbed his sword from the side of the bed, strapping it to his waist once again.

“Aemond,” you grew worried, “What are you doing?”

“You do not wish to see them put the crown on Aegon’s head. That’s fine. You will stay here until the ceremony is finished.”

Aemond swung the chamber door open, you didn’t even realize what was happening fully until it shut in your face. You pounded against it as you heard the lock click.

“Aemond!” you cried, “Aemond, do not do this!”

“It is what has to be done, Y/N,” he spoke from the other side of the door, “I will not lose you.”

“Aemond, please,” your voice quivered.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice barely above a whisper before clearing his throat, “I will return when the ceremony is complete.”

That was the last you heard from him followed by the fading sounds of his boots on the cobblestone. In one fell swoop, the Greens had managed to destroy one of the best parts of your life because of their constant thirst for the crown.

You lay in bed for the remainder of that night, tears staining your pillow and deep sobs erupting from your chest. Though somehow, you had managed to find some sleep. But the sounds of some sort of scuffle outside of your room woke you up.

Ser Erryk Cargyll entered the room alongside your grandmother, “What��s happening?”

Your grandmother had a cloak over her, “Y/N, we must go now.”

“With me, Princess,” Ser Erryk extended a similar cloak to you.

You quickly threw it over yourself before taking your grandmother’s hand and following behind the two of them.

“Grandmother, what’s going on? Where are we going?” you panted as you all hurried through the Red Keep. Your breath nearly ceased as you saw the hanging body of Lord Caswell in the courtyard. You don’t know what could have warranted such a thing, he’d been kind to you growing up in the castle.

“We are getting you out of this city,” Ser Erryk answered.

“What of our dragons?” Rhaenys asked, “I won’t leave Meleys.”

“And I won’t leave Seasmoke,” you cut in.

Ser Erryk gave you both looks of pity as you trudge through the crowds of people in the city. City Watchmen were ushering people every which way, all three of you getting mangled in the crowd. Though your grandmother kept a tight grip on you, Ser Erryk was pushed ahead.

Your grandmother tightened her grip on you, “Do not let go of my hand, Y/N.”

You nodded as the crowd continued to push you forward. You looked up to see where everyone was going, seeing the Dragon Pit in the distance. You exchanged a knowing smirk with your grandmother. Aegon was to be crowned in the Dragon Pit.

The two of you had finally reached the Dragon Pit, Ser Erryk still lost somewhere in the sea of people that crowded into the building. You saw your family-in-law standing on a platform in the middle along with the High Septon and Ser Criston Cole. Aemond stood stoically, Helaena looking uneasy while your mother-in-law and her father only stood pridefully.

“People of King’s Landing,” Otto Hightower spoke up, “today is the saddest of days. Our beloved king, Viserys the Peaceful, is dead.”

Murmurs spread through the crowds at the news. Alicent looking melancholy, you weren’t sure if it was genuine or not. You looked at your husband, still standing statuesque. It broke your heart to see him up there. To see him so complicit in breaking apart everything you had built together.

“But it is also the most joyous of days,” Otto continued, “for as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him.”

The satisfaction in his voice nearly made you ill. The applause that erupted from the crowd hurt you even more so. You knew not everyone was in favour of your mother becoming Queen but did it truly take so little for everyone to turn against her?

Just then the City Watch and other members of the royal guard filed into the Dragon Pit. Pushing through the crowds and creating a path from a side entryway of the Dragon Pit to the platform where the Greens stood. Trumpets were blown before the City Watch presented their swords, holding them high and forming a tunnel. Aegon stood at the end of it, your grandsire’s dagger on one hip and a sword on the other.

Aegon began to walk through the makeshift tunnel as the guards lowered their swords as he passed them. Everyone in the Dragon Pit practically held their breath as he walked through the crowd.

“They gave him Blackfyre,” your grandmother whispered over to you.

Your eyes fell to the large Valyrian steel sword that rested on your uncle’s hip as he walked, “Aegon the Conqueror’s sword.” It made you uneasy to see such a powerful weapon in the hands of an ingrate like Aegon.

“It is your good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this:” Otto started up again, “a new day for our city, a new day for our realm. A new king to lead us.”

Alicent stepped to greet Aegon with a kiss on his forehead before guiding him to the High Septon. You and your grandmother continued to watch as Otto instructed Aegon to kneel before the High Septon.

You felt your grandmother’s hand on yours, “Come, Y/N.”

“Where are we going?” you whispered as she pulled you along through the crowds. The High Septon’s words faded as you got further away from the platform.

“We are getting the dragons and we are leaving,” she answered hastily as you ran through the dark tunnels beneath the Dragon Pit.

“Wait,” you stopped dead in your tracks, your grandmother’s hand slipping through yours.

“What?” she looked over you worriedly, “What is it?”

“Aemond,” you answered softly, “I-I don’t want to leave him.”

“Y/N, you are Rhaenyra’s firstborn daughter, a challenge for the throne. Your child as well. Do you truly think the Greens will let either of you live?”

You shook your head as tears fell onto your cheeks, “Aemond would never. He-”

“It is not Aemond that you should be worried about. It is everyone else. Aegon, the Queen, Otto Hightower,” she took your hands into hers, “You and your child are no longer safe here in King’s Landing. We must get to Dragonstone. We must warn your mother and Daemon. They are all in danger.”

You knew she was right. Aemond would try to protect you. But for how long? What happens when he’s sent off as an envoy on behalf of his family? Who would protect you and your child then?

“Fine,” you nodded, “You’re right, Grandmother. We need to go now.”

She stroked your cheek, “I’m sorry this is how it has to be, sweet girl.”

Your hand fell onto hers, “As am I. But we must go.”

The two of you went off to where both dragons had been nesting. Seasmoke growled as he woke up.

“Shhh,” you purred at him. His growls turned to deep coos at the sound of your voice, “Sȳz valītsos.” Good boy.

You stroked the side of his large head, continuing to soothe him in High Valyrian. You carefully climbed up his side and onto the seat on the top of his back. You could hear the ceremony continuing.

“The crown of the Conqueror passed down through generations,” you heard Ser Criston’s voice, muffled by the cement above you, “Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the heir to the Iron Throne.”

There was some sort of pause before the High Septon began to speak, “All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!”

Your face curled in disgust at all the titles having been bestowed upon Aegon. He never deserved to bear them nor had he ever shown any interest in doing so.

The bells of the city began to toll, “Aegon the King!” Ser Criston cried. The crowds of citizens erupted into cheers and applause. How could they cheer for such a lecherous man?

Your thoughts could hardly register when you heard the harsh roar of Meleys and the crumbling of the stone above you. Meleys broke through the floor, terrorizing everyone in the Dragonpit. Seasmoke crawled to the top as well, roaring deeply. Both dragons stomped through the clouds of rubble.

They both finally settled as Seasmoke growled deeply at the Greens while Meleys moved slightly closer to them. The Greens stood petrified by the fear of you and your grandmother’s dragons. Alicent pushed Ser Criston to guard Helaena while she stood protectively in front of Aegon. Aemond tried to stand bravely, staring down the dragons in a futile attempt.

You looked over to your grandmother, unable to read her face as Meleys continued to approach the Greens, “Grandmother,” you called to her, soft pleas in your eyes. She looked at you, letting out a sigh as she turned back to the Greens. Alicent closed her eyes, preparing for your grandmother to utter the word that would have ended them all.

Your eyes fell on your husband, his gaze already fixated on you, “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered back, biting back tears. You closed your eyes as well, trying to ready yourself to hear the cries of burning people. But your hands quickly flew to your ears as Meleys let out an ear-piercing shriek.

Your eyes blinked open, the Greens were unharmed other than looking completely terrified. Your grandmother looked over to you, giving you a slight smile before patting Meleys who turned and flew out of the Dragonpit.

You turned back one last time, looking at your husband, his face begging you to stay. But you both knew that wasn’t a possibility anymore.

“Soves,” you whispered to your dragon. He turned and quickly flew out of the Dragon Pit. You looked back to see the doors to it shutting completely.

You looked at the sky and clouds that now surrounded you. It should’ve been a joyous feeling, to have finally escaped what could have been a dire situation. But all you could think about was the look on Aemond’s face. His entire demeanor begging you to stay. And you left him all the same. You might not have betrayed your mother. But you were still a traitor in an even worse way.

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kataraavatara · 3 months

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While B&C is horrific and in no way justifiable, let’s talk about the fact that Aemond ALSO murdered children, the children of House Strong. Official art commissioned by GRRM shows at least one child being brought to slaughter and let’s be honest with ourselves, it’s damn near statistically impossible that he murdered an ENTIRE house and there was not a child among them. And yet, Team Green and most of the fandom at large is only outraged over B&C because child murder to them is only wrong when it’s against the purple eyed blonde haired Valyrian looking ROYAL children because those are the only kinds of children who matter to them.

#anti team green #rhaenyra targaryen #asoiaf #dance of the dragons #house of the dragon #team black #a song of ice and fire #anti aemond stans #anti aemond targaryen #house strong #justice for house strong #and its children #aemond is a serial killer

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vices-aand-virtues · 2 years

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House of the Dragon + Reductress headlines (11/?)

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kimbee00 · 1 year

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The coincidence in the Twitter username tho😂

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loutino94 · 2 years

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I just... He was only a few seconds in HOTD and my heart, body and soul is already his. You know what I mean? :D

Absolutely can’t blame Rhaenyra for choosing him (even if not for a husband). Good taste girl.

The last gif though... I am blessed

#and he is only five years older than me #ryan corr #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #house strong #brakebones #golden cloack #what a man #house of the dragon #my gifs #behind the scenes #daemon targaryen #hotd

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murmel-malt · 5 months

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what can I say, I love sad redheads

(A little thank you for @emilykaldwen of her Strong!OC Abrogail)

#my art #others' ocs #believe it or not the background actually took the longest. so many ways to merge aegon's and the strongs' sigils #another early christmas present #hotd #hotd oc #fyeahhotdocs #house of the dragon #house strong

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nicetoseesofttotouch · 2 years

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It hurtssss

#ser harwin strong #harwin Strong #rhaenyra and harwin #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house strong

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rhiannonnouveau · 9 months

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Witch queens of Harrenhal

Alys Rivers has been getting a lot of hype recently but Danelle Lothston deserves love too

#asoiaf #asoiaf art #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon #harrenhal #house Lothston #house strong #Alys rivers #danelle lothston

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lilosdraws · 2 months

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Adoration of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Twitter Instagram

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Lemon Cakes and Other Gifts

Pairing: Aemond x F!Strong!Reader

Summary: Someone has been leaving Princess Helena’s lady in waiting gifts in her chamber and Helena and (Y/N) struggle to figure out who until (Y/N) catches him lemon cake handed.

TW: none

Word Count: 1959

Part one. Part two is up and linked at the bottom.

Masterlist Here

There were few comforts at court since your father and brother died. You still technically had Larys but while he was your ward you had never been close with your older brother. At least not as close as you had been to Harwin. You were so much younger than the pair that Larys was often bored of your presence, but Harwin had loved it. he loved having a little sibling to play with and take care of. He taught you how to fight with a stick then a wooden sword then eventually, without telling your father, a real one. Larys wasn’t mean or cruel he just…didn’t care. So you were surprised he decided to keep you with him at court when your father and brother died. You expected to be sent back to Harrenhall. Instead, you stayed at court and became Helena’s official lady in waiting. You had always been friends before this, being raised side by side in court due to your father being the king's hand, so all your duties were basically just doing what you usually did. You would read with her, talk, take walks, do her hair, and listen to her dreams. But Larys seemed happy with the ‘upgrade’. Being so close with Helena meant being close to her brothers. While Aegon and you knew each other you rarely spoke though when you did it was often him asking for milk of the poppy for his hangovers. Aemond talked to you more often however still not a lot. Occasionally you would have dinner with his sister and him, and sometimes the rest of the Targaryen Hightower as well. He would talk about all things polite and expected but you would often catch him looking at you.

When you walked the halls with Helena you couldn’t tell if he was watching you or his sisters. However, even when Helena was not around you could swear you saw him glancing. You never had the nerve to glance back more than once. Sometimes if you were brave twice. It was hard not to stare but somehow you managed. After a long day at court of fake smiling and making connections that made you nauseous, you returned to your chambers to find a plate of lemon cakes sitting on the table by your window. You couldn’t help but smile as you relaxed with your treats by the window, watching the sunset. You didn’t even question who had left them. Then the next day arrived, and you found more treats in your room. A plate of iced currant cakes sat in the same spot the lemon cakes had. The day after that it was spiced cake. After that, it was gingered brie tart then cheesecake then strawberry pudding on the 7th day. Each day you grew more suspicious that the kitchen didn’t just feel like being nice to you. You had asked a servant who often attended your chambers but she said she didn’t know. Who had been coming into your room to leave treats? Then it made sense. “Helena,” You smiled as you jogged to catch up to her and take her arm. “(Y/N)! you look happier than usual,” she said, linking her arm with yours as you began to walk together. “Would you like to join me in the gardens?” “I would love to,” You beamed, “Also I wanted to say thank you. The cakes were so sweet, but you really didn’t need to,” Helena’s face scrunched up “what cakes? Though im glad they’re making you happy. If I knew that’s all it took I would’ve hired a personal baker,” “The cakes? The ones I’ve been finding in my room every night,” You stopped walking and Helena turned to look at you “It’s not been you leaving them?” “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about,” After filling her in on all the details you finally arrived at the gardens. You sat together on the grass by a large yew tree on the edge of the garden. “That’s so strange,” she said, “but im more worried about what stranger is going into your room. Unless the servant girl was lying and does know,” “But why would she lie? Who wouldn’t want me to know they’re a nice person?” you said. Suddenly Helena's smile took over her face, “You must have a secret admirer. Oh (Y/N) this is so adorable. Some starry-eyed lover is leaving you cakes!” You laughed as she took your hands, “Helena that doesn’t change me not knowing who’s been going in my room,” As you both laughed and talked together, speculating who it may be, you saw Aemond walk past, and your eyes felt glued to him however when you saw him walking over to you both you tore your eyes away. “Sister. (Y/N). you both seem very giggly today. Should I be scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, Before you could stop her Helena already started “(Y/N) has a secret admirer. Someone has been leaving her cakes in her room for the past week. We’re trying to think who it could be. Have you heard anything,” you felt your cheeks grow redder as she spoke. A smirk began to ghost Aemond’s face, “I can’t say I have but I will be sure to keep an ear out. Are there any suspects in particular?” “Not yet,” Helena said, “but im dying to find out who. I wonder what they’ll leave you tomorrow,” “Well if they keep leaving cakes my teeth may fall out,” you joked. Aemond’s smirk disappeared but you couldn’t tell why. He was probably getting bored of your conversation, “then again id be happy with anything he left me. It’s just nice to be appreciated,” Aemond smiled “I understand. I’ll let you girls know if I hear anything. Goodbye sister. (Y/N).”

Later that night you returned to your chambers and went to check what treat you received this time only to find a book instead. Maybe your admirer had realised the effects of eating so many sweets. From that night your gifts started to vary far more. You found books, flowers, fruits, honey, perfume, wine, and still the occasional sweet treat. After a full month of these gifts, you were desperate to find out who had been leaving them. The servants insisted they had no knowledge, and you didn’t like to try intimidating them. By this point, Aegon had also found out and took to teasing you about who it could be. You just hoped it didn’t get back to your brother. Usually, you didn’t head back to your chambers till after yours and Helena's usual dinner at 7 however her son had spat up on you halfway through and you needed to return to change. As you walked down the corridor from Helena’s room to your own you attempted to wipe the stain away with a rag. You were so preoccupied you didn’t even see Aemond until you had already knocked into him. “Im so sorry my prince I- “ “It’s okay,” You looked up and watched as his face went red, “I was just leaving. Goodnight,” You watched as Aemond rushed down the corridors and disappeared down the stairs. He had rushed off before he went to either his mother's or Helena’s chambers, only Helena’s children’s chambers and your own and there were in this corridor. You couldn’t help but wonder what happened. Maybe the smell of the baby's spit had grossed him out. You couldn’t tell. Eventually, you turned and headed to your own chambers to change. After a struggle of trying to get your dress on and your nightgown on did you even think to check the table by the window. You walked over to the table and found a velvet box which you opened to reveal a gold chain necklace with a flower pendant. You smiled as your fingers traced the flower and carefully took it from its box. The chain felt so delicate against your skin. After putting it on you sat by the window, watching over the courtyard with one hand on the necklace. You looked down to see Aemond walking across the courtyard. He stopped and turned for a second and he looked up at your room. You smiled and used your free hand to wave. For once you didn’t feel afraid to look at him. You couldn’t tell if he smiled back but he waved back and continued walking.

The next day you showed Helena the necklace and she gushed over it. she insisted it meant he was getting more serious, and he’d show his face soon. You weren’t so sure, but you couldn’t help feeling excited. A few days passed and you headed to Helena’s chamber to have your usual dinner when you found out she was ill. She insisted it was nothing and you would have dinner the next night but she was just tired. You kissed her forehead and wished her well and returned to your own room to have dinner there. You opened the door to your chambers and went to walk to your bed when you heard something smash and your head snapped to where the table by the window was. “Aemond?” you asked as he frantically tried to pick up the broken plate and now ruined lemon cakes. “Are you okay?” “Im fine im sorry I just knocked this over im sorry,” “Hey, it’s okay,” you said as you walked over and crouched beside him, gently taking the pieces out of his hands, and sitting them on the table, “Its only lemon cake,” Aemond nodded his head and finally stood up but wouldn’t look at you, instead staring at the floor. You placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” he mumbled, eyes still glued to the floor, “I’ll leave you be. Goodnight (Y/N),” As Aemond quickly walked to the door you looked at the plate and then to him, “Did you leave these here?” Aemond froze. You had never seen him lost for words. He was quite sure. But he was quiet by choice. He always had a response for everything. But now he stood in the middle of your room silent as a ghost and almost as pale as one. “What are you doing in my room Aemond?” you pressed, walking towards him. “Are you the one that’s been leaving me all these gifts?” You walked in front of the prince, forcing him to look at you. “And if I have?” he asked. “Would you be mad?” “Why would I be mad?” you smiled. “I don’t know,” He whispered as he looked down again. You smiled, taking a step closer, “Well if it had been you, I would need to say thank you. Then id need to try make up for all the gifts you gave me,” Aemond eyes darted up to look at you. A smile finally started to come across his face. “How would you make it up to me? If I had of course,” “Well, if you had,” you said taking another step closure, only being a few inches apart, “I might just have to kiss you,” Aemond waited no more time and closed the gap. He grabbed your waist and brought you in to kiss you. Your hands went to his chest to try to steady yourself which only seemed to make the kiss get deeper. Eventually, you had to pull away for air and you rested your forehead on his. “I’ll need to get you more lemon cakes,” Aemond said as he grinned down at you. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, “I can think of something I want more than cakes right now,” you said as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

Part two here

A/N: First time writing for GOT/HOTD and spell check hates their names. It’s also my first time in 3 years writing fanfic again so it was fun.

Very tempted to make a part 2 because the thing that inspired this didnt even make it in the story

#aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon fluff #house strong #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #got imagine

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patheticdarling · 1 year

Text

Decisions

Part II of Traitors

Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon & her grandmother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen have now successfully fled the capital and have just landed on Dragonstone to warn her mother, Queen Rhaenyra, of the inevitable war to come. Princess Y/N is faced with the toughest of decisions.

Warnings: ANGST/switched povs (aemond’s + reader’s)/cussing/crying/swords/pregnancy/mentions of miscarriage/childbirth/talks of war/burning bodies/ALL RIGHTS TO HBO…possible part 3 👀

Word Count: 5770

*NOT MY GIF*

*Y/N’S POV*

The two of you had made it to Dragonstone safely and quickly. Luckily, the Greens were too busy readying everything for Aegon’s coronation that they hadn’t been prepared for a stunt like the one you and your grandmother pulled. You should’ve been happy as you dismounted Seasmoke, your feet landing on the soft sands of Dragonstone’s beaches.

“Are you alright?” your grandmother asked, rushing to check you over.

You pulled your hands from hers, “I’m fine.” A lie. You both knew it. You had just abandoned the love of your life and it wasn’t even your choice.

She pushed your hair behind your ear, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. If it could be another way-”

“But it cannot,” you cut her off, “Let us go. I’m already dreading telling my mother the news.”

Your grandmother sighed, “Which do you think will upset her more? That her father’s dead or that her stepmother and siblings have betrayed her and usurped her throne?”

“Gods be good,” you muttered as the two of you began your climb up the long steps of Dragonstone. Your swollen feet would’ve given out had it not been for your grandmother lending you an arm.

It had been a while since you’d been to Dragonstone, your mother had taken all of you there to live shortly after Joffrey was born. You had returned to King’s Landing for your wedding when both you and Aemond came of age then you didn’t see your mother until just recently when she came to defend Luke’s right to Driftmark and simultaneously announced your two eldest brothers’ engagement to your younger cousins, Baela and Rhaena. It almost seemed foreign to you even if you had spent most of your early childhood here.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Rhaenys,” Ser Lorent greeted you, “We weren’t expecting you. And on dragon back no less.”

“We need an audience with Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon immediately. It is a matter of extreme urgency,” your grandmother explained.

He gave a curt nod, “Follow me.” He led the two of you through the gates as you waddled and held close to your grandmother. He stopped before a set of doors, “One moment.”

Ser Lorent slipped into the room. You waited for a few moments before he returned, “They’ll see you now.”

You followed him once more into the Great Hall of Dragonstone, “The Princess Y/N Velaryon and the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

“Y/N,” your mother beamed at you. You practically ran into her arms. You laughed as your swollen bellies collided a bit, “You’re glowing. Motherhood becomes you.”

“You as well, Mother,” you smiled back before letting out a soft sigh.

“Princess Rhaenys,” she greeted your grandmother, “Might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?”

“Viserys is dead,” she replied rather bluntly.

“Grandmother,” you snapped at her slightly.

Your mother’s welcoming grin had fallen as Daemon’s head whipped around, “I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart,” your grandmother walked closer, “There is more,” your mother’s hand tightened around yours as tears built in not just her eyes but yours as well, “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.”

A soft wince left your mother as she dropped your hand to cradle her stomach slightly, “They crowned him?” her eyes nearly vacant as the tears slid down her cheeks.

“How did Viserys die?” Daemon asked as he leaned himself and Dark Sister against the Painted Table.

“I could not say,” Rhaenys sighed.

Your mother’s voice quivered, “How long ago?”

“A day past, perhaps two,” your grandmother answered, “Y/N and I were made prisoners in our quarters while the Queen made her preparations.”

“Viserys has been slain,” Daemon asserted.

“Alicent demanded you both declare for Aegon,” she looked between you and your grandmother.

“She did,” your mother’s brow raised at your grandmother’s answer.

“We refused her,” you cut in.

“And yet you are alive,” Daemon had a teary glare set on the two of you.

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit,” Rhaenys explained.

“We witnessed it ourselves just before we fled on Meleys and Seasmoke,” you continued.

“They crowned him before the masses,” your mother’s voice filled with agony as her hand clutched the end of the table.

“So that the masses would see him as their rightful king,” you clarified.

Daemon’s voice full of anger, “That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you both could have burned them all for it.”

“A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure,” Daemon nodded slightly with a grunt, “But that war is not mine to begin. Nor is it Y/N’s. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house.”

“The Greens are coming for you, Mother,” you added, “And for my brothers and for me and my baby.”

“You should leave Dragonstone at once,” Rhaenys turned to leave.

Tears fell from her eyes before a sharp gasp left her mouth, one of her hands clutching her belly and the other on the table for support. All of you turning to her, concerned.

“Mother?” you put your hand to her back as she keeled over, “What is it?”

She quickly folded up the ends of her dress, sticking her hand up the ruffles. A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of her bloodied fingers, “The babe is coming.”

“Maester!” you cried out, “Get the Maester! Now!” The guards in the hall rushed out, Daemon and you moved to support your mother. The Maester met you outside of her chambers.

“We’ve got her,” he reassured you.

“Mother, are you sure-”

“Get out!” she practically shrieked. You and Daemon were quick to listen and scurried off.

“Where are my brothers?” you asked him, practically running to keep up with him as he stormed through the halls.

“Your grandmother has already gone to fetch them from the beach,” Daemon’s voice curt.

“Daemon,” you stopped him, “There was nothing we could have done.”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “Rhaenys, I understand. She’s never been the biggest adversary to your mother or to me. But you? They stole your mother’s birthright and you just let them-”

“I did not! I was made a prisoner. The Queen only kept me alive so she could use me as a political bargaining tool to get my mother to bend the knee! And yet I refused her even when she assured me that no harm would come to any of you if I bowed to Aegon.”

Daemon scoffed, “The One-Eyed Prince must really have you wrapped around his finger.”

“I beg your pardon?” you hissed, “Do not speak of my husband in-”

“Your husband is a traitor. And do you know what happens to traitors, Princess?” your jaw clenched at his words, “They die. Screaming.”

“My husband had no choice, just as I did,” you spat.

Daemon scoffed, bordering on a chuckle, “You just keep telling yourself that.”

*AEMOND’S POV*

“Aemond, please, stop pacing,” Alicent groaned, “Drink some water and-”

“Water?” Aemond scoffed, “Will water bring my pregnant wife back to me, Mother? Will water ever convince her to forgive me? Or me to forgive her? Tell me, Mother. Will it?”

Alicent sighed, “I only meant that you need to ease your mind, darling. Your grandfather has already gone to give Rhaenyra the terms of surrender. No harm will come to any of them, especially not to Y/N.”

“You don’t know that,” he shook his head, “She is going to be surrounded by people who only thirst for the throne, no matter the cost. It was my job to keep her safe and now I cannot even do that. My child will be fatherless and-”

“Your child will not be fatherless because they will have a father,” the Queen Mother cut in as she took her son’s hands in her own, “You will be there to father your child, Aemond. Rhaenyra will agree to Aegon’s terms because it is the best thing for the Realm and all will be as it was.”

Aemond’s hands fell from his mother’s, “It will never be as it was. My wife and child are lost.”

“That’s not true, Aemond,” Alicent sniffled.

“It is, Mother. I will have to learn to accept it. Live with it. I have duties to this family and I cannot allow my judgment to be clouded.”

The Queen Mother was taken aback by her younger son’s words. She had never seen Aemond happier than when he was with Y/N and she nearly wept tears of joy at his excitement to become a father. But that light in his eyes was dwindling and it broke her heart to know that she was partly to blame.

She cleared her throat, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, “We need to send terms to the larger houses first. Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Lord Borros Baratheon seems an ideal man to-”

“I will fly to Storm’s End myself,” Aemond cut in, “Lord Borros has four unmarried daughters. We could promise Daeron to at least one of them.”

Alicent nodded in agreement, “Yes, we could. But Aemond, I only want you to go if you feel-”

“I leave on the morrow,” he answered quickly before leaving his mother’s chambers.

The One-Eyed Prince had chosen to stuff his feelings away, not only from others like his mother, but from himself as well. Aemond had forced himself to face the belief that he would never see his wife again, would never kiss her or hug her. And that his child would never meet him and he’d never get to hold them or watch them grow. His entire heart was gone.

*Y/N’S POV*

The wind carried off the dark smoke of the funeral pyre. You wept softly with your brothers as the flames cradled your late baby sister, who your mother had lovingly named Visenya, after Aegon the Conqueror’s fierce sister-wife.

“This was not supposed to happen,” you sniffled.

Your twin brother, Jacaerys sighed, “No, it wasn’t. First, they killed Grandsire and now our sister. The Greens will pay for this.”

“Jace,” Luke whispered, “Not here. Not now.”

The attention was drawn away from the funeral pyre as a member of Viserys’ former Kingsguard approached your mother. He removed his helm, revealing Ser Erryk, your saviour back in King’s Landing. You turned to your grandmother who already held a small smirk on her face.

Ser Erryk removed your grandsire’s crown from his bag and knelt before your mother, “I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers,” he began to recite the Kingsguard vows as Daemon took the crown from him, “I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honour,” Ser Erryk finished.

Daemon approached your mother before gently placing the crown onto her head and falling onto his knee, “My Queen.”

The rest of you followed suit, slowly bending the knee to your new Queen. You held Joffrey’s hand as you guided him down with you and your older brothers. Everyone was then instructed to gather in the Great Hall to await the arrival of your mother. You elected to walk alongside your brothers and cousins.

“She was born to wear that crown,” you spoke proudly.

Luke smiled slightly, “Grandsire would have been proud.”

“Not if what the Greens claim is true,” Jace scoffed, “He would have rather seen Aegon bearing it apparently.”

“Jace,” you snapped at him, “Our mother is the rightful Queen. No one here thinks otherwise. The Greens will be dealt with when the time comes.”

“And what of your husband, Y/N?” Rhaena had cut in.

You had not thought about Aemond after the events with your mother, “I am not sure, Rhaena. What happens to him will not be up to me but to our Queen.”

“And what if she wants them all dead?” Baela asked, “That seems to be the customary punishment with traitors. Aemond is a traitor, is he not?”

You swallowed hard as you fidgeted with your wedding ring, “I know you’d all prefer it that way,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes, “Aemond, good and dead. Vhagar free for Rhaena to claim, as it should have been, right?” They all stood silent, “I know you all hate him and I know you all have good reason to. But he is still my husband. The father of my child. And the man that I love. So, my apologies if talk about murdering him does not bring me as much joy as it does to you.”

“Y/N, that is not-”

“It’s alright, Luke,” you cut him off, “I do not wish to discuss it further. It is time for us to hear from our Queen.”

You turned, walking ahead of them towards the Great Hall. The rest of the lords and ladies congregated around the Painted Table as it lit up in all its glory. Rhaena had become your mother’s designated cupbearer and waited near the top of the table, Baela joining your grandmother’s side while you and your brothers walked to the far end of the table.

Your mother, accompanied by some of her Queensguard entered the room as Daemon moved to introduce her, “Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” All of us bowed to her, “Your Grace.”

Rhaena approached her, “Wine, my Queen.”

Your mother kindly took the goblet, “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she nodded for both your cousins to join at the table. There was a slight awkwardness that filled the air as you all stood around. Your mother looked uncomfortable, “What is our standing?” she asked.

“We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men at arms,” Daemon answered, “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” the Maester explained as Jace placed the pieces onto the table.

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother pointed to the Eyrie on the table, “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace,” the Maester noted, “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother huffed, “He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.”

“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon answered.

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Steffon Darklyn asked.

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And with House Stark, the North will follow,” Lord Bartimos Celtigar answered him.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” your mother declared before turning to your grandmother, “What news from Driftmark?”

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys answered.

“To declare for his Queen,” Daemon interrupted.

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke. He decides where they sail,” she rebutted.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support,” your mother stepped in, “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” she turned back to the table, “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon explained, “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

“Without the Lannisters we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” your mother concluded.

“No,” Daemon was quick to disagree, “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot,” one of the lords spoke up, “Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

Your mother was a bit stunned at first, “The Greens have dragons as well.”

“They have three adults, by my count,” Daemon was again one of the first to speak up, “We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys,” your grandmother scoffed under her breath at the mention of her dragon, “Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Your daughter has Seasmoke. Baela has Moondancer.”

“Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war,” your mother argued.

“There are also unclaimed dragons,” Daemon ignored her as he continued, “Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” your mother asked. Oddly one of her messengers rushed up the stairs, Ser Erryk going to meet him.

“Dragonstone has thirteen to their four. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon continued, “Now, we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host,” he placed a piece down, “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

Your mother’s jaw tensed at Daemon’s attitude before Ser Erryk interrupted, “Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Daemon was quick to move, “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies,” he snatched Dark Sister from the table. The guards, your mother, and Daemon went to go meet with whomever washed up onshore. You knew Aemond had not accompanied them, he would’ve rode in proudly on Vhagar.

You were sitting in your chambers, reading an Old Valyrian story and humming softly to your bump, “Ahem,” you looked up to see Jace and Luke standing in the doorway, “May we come in?”

You nodded, “Yes,” placing down your book and standing from your seat, “What is it?”

“We just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Luke answered, “We should not-”

“Not we,” Jace stopped him, “Me. I know what you did couldn’t have been easy, Sister. And I apologize for my lack of empathy. I should have been more understanding of your situation.”

You sighed, “It’s alright. I know your past with Aemond is not a pleasant one,” Luke shifted uncomfortably, “But it is the past. We have grown. We’re not the same people, we’re not children anymore. And whatever is about to happen to all of us is larger than some childhood quarrel. I just want you to both understand that.”

“We do,” Luke nodded, “I’ve wanted nothing more than to put all that ugliness on Driftmark behind me. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did and I know Aemond won’t either. But, that does not mean we should dwell on it. He is my brother-by-law and the father of my future niece or nephew.”

“You’re a good man, Luke,” you smiled at him, reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze.

“Man?” Jace chuckled, “He’s still a boy.” You both rolled your eyes at his lame teasing, “But, he is right. We care about you and the baby far more than some fight from years ago.”

You reached over and gave his hand a squeeze as well, “Thank you, brothers. This talk meant a lot to me.”

“You’re our sister, Y/N. We love you,” Luke smiled softly.

“I love you both,” you hugged them, “I just wonder what the next step is.”

“As do we,” Jace agreed, “The Greens are wise enough to know that they are outnumbered when it comes to dragons. Ships are another thing. Without Grandsire’s fleet, we’re left to whatever men we have on land.”

“Grandsire is a loyal man. House Velaryon is not fickle,” you explained.

There was word that your mother and Daemon had returned from their meeting with the Greens. Otto Hightower, himself, had presented Aegon’s terms of surrender to your mother. All the lords who backed your mother continued to argue back and forth on what should be done next, Daemon and your mother especially bumping heads on the matter. Your paternal Grandsire, Lord Corlys, had finally landed on Dragonstone but he was still weak and needed his rest. You opted to walk the halls of the castle in an attempt to ease your own worries.

“Y/N,” you turned to see your mother walking towards you.

“Mother,” you greeted as she joined your side, “How are you? Is Daemon-”

“Fine,” you could always tell when she lied but you decided not to push the matter further, “And Princess Rhaenys is with Lord Corlys as we speak,” she stopped the both of you, taking your hands, “How’re you, my sweet girl? I feel that with everything that has been happening, I have neglected to check in on you and your condition.”

You caressed your belly, “I’m alright. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“That is understandable. You have been through quite a lot in the past few days. But,” she moved to pull something from her pocket, “Perhaps this will help put your mind at ease.” she extended a letter to you, the Targaryen wax seal still unbroken around it, “Otto Hightower brought it with him. He told me that it was for you, from Prince Aemond.”

Your breath caught in your throat, “Aemond?” you practically choked out as you stared at the letter in her hands, “Did he say anything else? What it might be about or-”

She shook her head, “Only that it be delivered to you directly and urgently.”

You fidgeted with your wedding ring, wondering whether or not you should take it, “I..” you could barely find your words.

“Y/N,” she took the ringed hand you had been fidgeting with, “Take it.”

“But, what if he wants me to come back? Or worse, what if he never wants to see me again? I-I wouldn’t know what-”

“You won’t know what to do until you read the letter,” she cut you off, “So,” she placed it into your hands, “Go to your chambers. Read it. Then decide.”

You nodded, “Yes, Moth- sorry. Yes, Your Grace.”

She caressed your cheek, “I am still your mother. Doesn’t matter if I wear a crown or not,” she kissed your head, “Now go.”

You let out a deep breath before heading towards your chambers. Shutting the door behind you as you finally broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. Immediately recognizing the neat cursive that he had always worked so hard to perfect because “how will I ever be taken seriously if I write like a seven-year-old?”

My Dearest, Y/N,

I know you little thought to hear from me. I little thought to even be writing this letter in the first place. However, I knew I needed to because there is so much I need to say.

I miss you, my wife. My true family. And I know you could probably never bring yourself to forgive me and I cannot say I blame you. I know my decision broke your heart just as yours did mine. I should not have made you choose. And I know we are both in an impossible situation. But I believe I may have found a solution to these problems.

Tonight, at the hour of the wolf. Meet me on the far side of Dragonstone, away from the guards and the castle. Come alone and tell no one.

All My Love,

Your Husband, Aemond

You continued to re-read it as hundreds of questions flooded your mind. What did he mean by solution? What if this was some sort of trap set by the Greens? What if this wasn’t from Aemond at all? And none of them could be answered if you didn’t listen to the instructions.

Even if you told your typically understanding family, war was afoot. Even if your mother trusted it, Daemon would never. He’d go to meet Aemond himself, Dark Sister in hand. Telling anyone was not an option. Once again, you had no choice.

The darkest time of night came faster than you would have hoped for. You paced your chambers for quite a while, spinning your betrothal ring over and over as you did. You nearly jumped whenever you heard guards or servants pass by your door. And before you could think twice, you had thrown on your cloak and boots before walking out of your chambers.

You tried to conceal your face with your hood as you hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone. The sound of your heels against the cobblestone echoed throughout them. You continued a quick pace, well as quick as you could go at nearly eight months pregnant.

“Y/N?” a voice called from behind you.

You turned to see your mother, “Mother,” you gave her a nod, “Good evening.”

She raised a brow at you, “Where are you off to? It is quite late.”

You stuttered a bit before finding your words, “I was just going on a walk. It has been quite hard to find sleep in these last few months of pregnancy.”

She smiled softly, “It was the same for me when I was pregnant with you and Jace. I suppose it must be first-time mother worries and such. Would you like me to ring for a servant? Perhaps they could give you something to help you sleep.”

You shook your head at her offer, “It’s alright. I’ve found that evening air has been the best remedy thus far.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “Be careful. Be sure to find sleep at some point. There is another small council meeting tomorrow and your attendance is needed.”

“Your Grace,” you smirked as you curtsied.

“Good night, sweet girl,” she smiled before turning to her own chambers. You waved her goodbye before continuing on your mission. You had elected not to take Seasmoke, worrying that you might wake someone. The air was crisp and cool as you trekked to the other end of the island. When you had finally made it to your meeting place, the breeze from the ocean was salty as it hit your face and tousled your hair, your fingers twirling your ring round and round.

“You never could break that nervous habit,” his familiar tone practically rang in your ear.

You whipped around to face him, “I-I was not sure what to expect. Part of me believed this to be some sort of trap. I’d be a fool not to be nervous.”

He let out a low chuckle as he finally stepped into the moonlight, “You know me well, my love. But I assure you, I am not here to trick you.” Aemond stalked closer to you, one of his hands slowly taking yours while the other rested on the curve of your bump.

“Then why are you here, Aemond? Surely, it is not to back my mother’s claim or convince me of your brother’s.”

“I am to take a new wife.” At first, his words seemed to be in some foreign language. That was the only possible explanation your mind could muster before they finally sank in.

“W-What?” your voice shook, a combination of anger and sadness. You tore away from his touch.

“My brother’s council speaks of annulling our marriage and betrothing me to one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, so that we may ensure the loyalty of Storm’s End. I am to fly there on the morrow to present the terms to Lord Borros in person.”

The tears welled in your eyes, “And you are telling me this, why?” You did not give him the time to answer, “Did you truly need to hurt me even more? Why not just drive a blade through my heart and be done with it, Aemond? I would rather be dead than live just to see you be given to someone else!” you sobbed, “I-”

Your voice faded off as a sharp pain hit your abdomen. A tightening cramp-like feeling making you gasp and nearly keel over.

“Y/N? What is it?”

“The babe...” you grunted between words, trying to catch your breath, “The babe is coming. Now!”

Aemond did not hesitate to scoop you into his arms, the pain of your contractions distracting you from just how fast he was running.

“Stop there!” Ser Erryk tried to step in front of Aemond.

“Princess Y/N is in labour,” he huffed, “You must let me pass.”

“Prince Aemond, you helped in the usurping of the throne. I cannot allow you-”

“Seven Hells, just let him in! We can deal with all this political horse shit afterward!” you cried.

Ser Erryk seemed taken aback, “Y-Yes, Princess.” The guards finally stepped aside as Aemond carried you through the halls, finally arriving at your bedchamber.

“Get the midwives and the Maester now!” he barked his instructions at one of your handmaidens.

“AHHHH!” your screams practically shook the walls of the castle. Nearly all of the staff questioned Aemond’s surprising presence in the room but were too focused on your labours to pay attention for long.

“Y/N?!” your mother’s voice trembled with worry as she entered your room.

“Mother,” you called out for her, shakily raising one of your hands to her.

“I’m here, sweet girl,” she quickly took your hand, sitting at your side, “I’m right here.” She had been too consumed with you to even note Aemond’s presence on the other side of the bed, “What in Seven Hells is he doing here? Guards!”

“No!” you stopped her, “I-I want him here. He...Seven Hells...He needs to be here. Please, M-Mother.”

She nodded hesitantly as she stroked back your hair, “Alright, Y/N.”

“Push, Princess,” one of the midwives encouraged, “Push!”

“AAAGHHHH! FUCK! AHHHHH!” you screamed, pushing with all your might.

Hours and hours seemed to pass and still, your baby was not here. Sweat dripped from your skin as you tiredly clung to Aemond and your mother.

“I-I can’t,” you whimpered, “I’m...exhausted.”

“The child is close, Princess,” the Maester reassured you, “Just a few more-”

“I cannot!” you exclaimed, panting as your head lolled over to Aemond, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head fervently, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I do, A-Aemond. I could not be the wife you needed. I can’t even birth our child. I-It’s no wonder you will be taking a new bride.”

“You are doing what?” your mother glared at him, “Do you truly think you could just make a fool of my daughter? Of your child? Of our family? I could have your head-”

“Your Grace,” he stopped her, “I have no intention of annulling my marriage to your daughter or make a fool of anyone of you especially not Y/N or my child.”

“B-But you told me that...”

“I told you that my brother’s council desires this. I do not desire being married to anyone but you, my love.” he corrected, “Iksā ñuhon hae iksan aōhon.” You are mine as I am yours.

Aemond pressed his forehead to your damp one, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” I love you. “Now, push. Our child is nearly with us.”

You nodded as you took in a deep breath before resuming your labours. Your nails dug into both your mother and Aemond as you pushed. A sudden relief overcame you as the soft cries of your newborn filled the air.

“A girl,” one of the midwives announced, “As healthy as can be. Praise the Mother!”

Smiles filled the room as they handed the infant to you, “Y-You’re so beautiful,” you cried. But before you could truly enjoy the moment, there was some sort of pressure from between your legs. You assumed it was the afterbirth as you pushed again.

“There is another babe,” the Maester frantically answered as he resumed his work.

“Another b- AHHHHH!” a final scream before those soft whimpers filled the room once again.

“This one’s a boy, Princess,” the midwife smiled, “Just as healthy.”

They handed Aemond the squalling baby boy, “Seven Hells.”

Your mother kissed your forehead, “Well done, sweet girl. They’re beautiful.”

You sighed contently, “Mother, I have something to ask you.”

“Anything,” she smiled.

“I think I want to name her Visenya.”

Tears fell from her eyes, “It is wonderful. Just wonderful,” she sniffled, “And for the boy?”

“Viserys,” you answered, “After Grandsire.”

“My dearest girl,” she sniffled, wiping her tears as she stood from the bed.

“What do you think?” Aemond had hardly pulled his gaze from your children.

He let out a content sigh, “They are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Absolutely perfect.”

And that’s what that entire moment should have been. Absolutely perfect.

Your mother had rejoined your side, Daemon accompanying her this time, “I’m sorry but I must insist that Prince Aemond is removed from these chambers and brought to the cells to await proper questioning.”

“Mother, please,” you begged as the midwife took your son from Aemond while Daemon went to seize him, “Daemon, no!”

“I warned you, Y/N,” Daemon spoke, “This is how it has to be.”

“No, it is not,” Aemond finally cut in.

“You betrayed your Queen,” Daemon scoffed, “You committed treason. And now you must pay-”

Aemond fell to one knee, pulling his sword and raising it towards your mother, “I pledge my sword and my allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” He stood again, sheathing his sword, “I love your daughter, Your Grace. And if bending the knee is all it takes to prove my loyalty to her, then I will do it. And whatever else I must to ensure that I never risk losing her again.”

You bit back tears as you rocked your children. All eyes fell to your mother for the final decision, “Very well. Prince Aemond Targaryen, you are hereby the sworn protector of Princess Y/N Velaryon as well as her children Princess Visenya Targaryen and Prince Viserys Targaryen, and any future heirs she may bear. By order of your Queen.”

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