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slavicdelight · 5 months

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EPHEMERAL

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targ!Royce!f!reader

Summary: Your father, Prince Daemon Targaryen never ackowledged you. Your mother, Lady Rhea Royce passed away when you were little, which leaves you to be raised by your uncle - King Viserys Targaryen, and his wife - Queen Alicent Hightower. As you grow up in the Red Keep, you grew close to the kings second son - Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: cursing, violence, canon divergence

A/N: part two is here HIRAETH

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Being the daughter of the infamous Rouge Prince was not easy, especially when your mother was a woman he despised up until her death or after that. You were not even supposed to exist, as your parents held such resentment towards each other, that their union was not consummated for a very long time, before one fateful night, when Prince Daemon was exiled from King’s Landing yet again by his brother, King Viserys. Your maid mentioned to you that your father was extremely enraged and got drunk inside the walls of Runestone. Your lady mother was also having an exceptionally bad day, and so she joined her husband in consuming a ridiculous amount of wine. One thing led to another, therefore you were conceived, and the Targaryen man fled the very next day.

You were born the same year as the eldest son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, growing up in the Vale with only your mother there, as your father, upon hearing the news of your birth did not even acknowledge you as his child and flew away to fight in the Stepstones. He could call you a bastard of his “Bronze Bitch” all he wanted, but even though you had brown hair, no one could deny the fact that you have the blood of the dragons flowing through your veins, for your eyes were the gorgeous shade of violet. Runestone was your home. You loved running in its halls, playing with various servants and guards, but your most favourite part was learning everything you could from your mother. Sadly your childhood joy did not last long. When you were two name days old Lady Rhea passed away in what was called a hunting accident. People of the Vale did not believe that story and were spreading rumours that it was her husband, who murdered her in cold blood.

Queen Alicent, after learning about your misfortune, convinced her husband to bring you to the Red Keep to be raised among your cousins. She mentioned a well-known saying going around the Targaryen family: “A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing”. And so, as a result, you were brought to Kings Landing and raised along with the queen’s and Princess Rhaenyra’s children. You got on with Helaena and Aemond pretty well. The princess was your closest friend, you spent most of the time together, because you were the only two girls among the royal family residing in the castle. You did not mind her riddles nor her fondness for small creatures, quite the opposite, you found it fascinating how smart Helaena is. Aemond was a slightly different story. You remember being drawn to him, something inside you did not let you pull away from the prince. For him you were his light in life, the only person he did not mind the company of. You both were polar opposites. You being very kind, talkative and a ray of sunshine, him being closed off and quiet. You disliked Aegon, even though you were the closest in age, because of his vile language and inappropriate behavior. He was also a bully and liked to tease you and Aemond for not having dragons, dragging the sons of Princess Rhaenyra into it as well. When it comes to Jace and Luke, you found them pleasant to be around when they’re not doing Aegon’s bidding. Your life in the Red Keep was going well and you thrived in this environment, but what you did not know, is that it would all soon come to an end.

time skip to the funeral of Laena Velaryon

After Prince Daemon won the war in the Stepstones, he came back to his brothers’ side once again, but it did not last long, as he left following the wedding of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor. During his presence in the castle, he was set on ignoring your existence, and you only saw him once, when he strolled through the gardens, where you were sitting with Helaena. He wed the lady Laena Velaryon soon after and left for Pentos abandoning you again. Now, you are all standing on Driftmark, attending the said lady’s funeral. Once again your father has paid you no attention and you decided not to let it bother you. After the coffin was laid down into the sea everyone started conversing amongst each other. You decided to stay close to Aemond, due to not feeling confident and you knew that he was the only person who could bring you comfort. As you headed to where the green siblings stood, you heard Aegon talking.

“We have nothing in common.” he said, clearly talking about Helaena, who sat on the ground playing with a spider. As you walked closer you heard her muttering one of her riddles. “She’s our sister.” defended her Aemond, right when you appeared next to him and took his hand, sending a small smile his way, which he returned. “You marry her then”. Lately, it has been revealed that the two eldest children of Queen Alicent are betrothed. You pitied your friend, Aegon was probably the most horrid person you have ever encountered.

“I would perform my duty, if only mother had only betrothed us. But I am to marry someone else.” with that he looked at you. “I am happy to be marrying you, as you are the best possible choice.” you said to him, squeezing his hand tighter. The small council also decided on a marriage between you and the King’s second son.

“She’s an idiot.” said Aegon and your blood boiled. “At least she’s not a complete moron and a drunk.” you bit back and Aemond had to fight back a grin. “Oh you little witch.” said the boy and tried to advance towards you unsuccessfully.

“She’s your future Queen” said the younger brother. It was a known fact that the Queen and the Hand wish to put him on the throne instead of Princess Rhaenyra. War was inevitable. “We do have something in common.” said Aegon, when a maid came over with a tray of wine. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.” and with that he strolled away in search for more alcohol.

That left you alone with Aemond. Suddenly the pair of you heard unmistakably a roar of the dragon in the distance. Vhagar, the she-dragon of Queen Visenya, that recently became riderless. You look at your companion and noticed the longing look in his eyes. “Aemond. What are you thinking?” you said to get his attention. He turned to you for a second before continuing to stare in the direction of the sound. “She’s hurting, mourning the loss of lady Laena. I always wanted to see her, after all, she is the last living symbol of the conquest. “ you kept going. “Hmm. Maybe we should go and see her then.” you looked at him as he said that. “Tonight, after everyone’s asleep so that no one stops us.”You were used to sneaking out, as you both often did so to spend time together in the keep’s library late at night, to read all the books you could find. After small moment of consideration, you nodded to let him know that you agree to the plan. Up untill the night, you spend time with each other exploring the Drftmark castle.

Soon enough it started to grow dark. You and your best friend stood next to the flight of stairs leading to the beach, looking at drunk Aegon. Just as you were planning to sneak off, the boys’ grandfather, Otto Hightower, came into view, grabbing the eldest prince to drag him to his bed. Aemond looked at you as they left and motioned to follow him, which you did without any worries. Both of you walked towards the place Vhagar nested in, and once the mighty dragon became visible, you were amazed. She was so big, that she did not need to open her mouth much to swallow the two of you. “Fuck” muttered Aemond. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” you whispered and couldn’t tear your gaze away. And with you saying that the white-haired boy proceeded to move closer towards her. Your brows furrowed at the act and you asked “My prince? What are you doing?”

Aemond turned to face you and said “She is unclaimed and she’s suffering. I can’t let it go on.”. You then understood what he meant and the idea of your betrothed going straight into the jaws of the biggest dragon alive made you uneasy. “Aemond. This is a bad idea! She could burn you! Or eat you!” you argued. “It is my right, both of our right, to claim a dragon.” you knew that, but there were so many dragons without riders. Surely you could make a trip to Dragonstone and try your luck with others, nonetheless, you knew that once Aemond set his mind on something, there is no changing it.

“Just please, be careful.” you muttered into his ear as you hugged the boy. Unwanted tears gathered in your eyes, as you saw him approach the animal. You were pretty far away and too lost in your own mind to hear him say anything. When Vhagar opened her mouth to breathe fire, you almost fainted from worry, but you believed that he could do it. And he did it, the dragon accepted him as his rider, letting him climb atop her for their first flight. You were so proud of the prince and you beamed into the sky screaming “Yes Aemond! You did it!” and laughing. Once the flight was done and he climbed down, he called you to his side. You came over slowly, wary of the dragon, as you knew, they don’t like the presence of people, who aren’t their riders.

“I did it! Did you see? I was flying!” Aemond became a ball of energy at this moment and you couldn’t help but grin. “You did it. You’re finally a dragon rider.” and with that, you hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”. He gave you a beautiful smile, but it slightly fell, once you said “But scare me like that ever again and I will kill you.”. Taking his hand, you both started walking back towards the castle and Aemond told you all about the experience, and how freeing, yet terrifying it felt. Neither of you expected to encounter a problem once you walked inside.

“It’s them.” said one of your half-sisters. In the entrance stood the daughters of the late Lady Laena, along with Jace and Luke. “It’s us.” confirmed Aemond when you both emerged from the darkness. “Vhagar is my mother’s dragon. She was mine to claim.” exclaimed Rhaena and you could clearly see rage overcoming her. “Dragons aren’t possessions to be passed down, dear sister.” you told her and everyones eyes turned to you. “Aemond had the right to claim her and she chose him. It is done.” you defended your prince and he gave you a small smile before saying “Perhaps your cousins would find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.” Not that long ago Aegon, Jace, and Luke pulled a prank on Aemond, dressing up a pig in wings, calling it Pink Dread. With that Rhaena tried to hit him, but he dodged the attempt and pushed her away, making Baela strike him on the nose. With that, all hell broke loose and you knew that it will not end well. You tried to stop them “No! Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything wrong!”, but someone pushed you away and you banged your head against the torch on a wall. You could feel the bleeding and the ache, but you ignored it to observe what was happening in front of you.

Aemond was holding Luke by the neck, while in his other hand he gripped a rock. “You will die screaming as you father did. Bastards.” he said and you were shocked, not because you didn’t believe it, but rather because he said it out loud. Everyone knew Princess Rhaenyra was having an affair with Ser Harwin Strong. How else would anyone explain the certain resemblance he has to the “Velaryon” boys? They do not look anything like their supposed father Ser Laenor. The King Viserys was conveniently blind to it, but everyone knew that he just prefered to conceal the truth to protect his “only child”. “My father’s still alive.” said Luke and you watched a smirk appear on the white-haired prince’s face. “He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong.” he continued and you had to intervene. “Aemond stop. That’s enough. Let’s finish this madness.” you tried to convince him to let the younger prince go. He looked at you and that’s when Luke broke free and both he and Jace attacked Aemond. Before you could comprehend what was happening you saw a flash of knife and blood chilling scream of your betrothed.

You ran towards him and saw him clutching his eye tightly. The bastard took his eye. “Aemond!” you screamed. “Guards! What are you waiting for?! Get help!” you yelled at your sisters and cousins, while trying to soothe Aemond. Soon enough guards poured in and one of them pulled you away from your best friend, much to your protest. “My prince. Let me see.” The guard turned Aemond around and saw the wound. “Gods be good” Gods be good indeed. You were all taken to the hall and the adults were called. By that time you felt very faint from the blood loss and passed out. You didn’t hear the exchange between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra as you did not wake in time, but you know, as did everyone in the realm, what transpired there.

You woke up two days later, and you took time to recover. It did not stop you from visiting Aemond in his chambers or going to the gardens and spending time with Helaena. One day as you were walking to your rooms, you overheard a conversation between Queen Alicent and Lord Larys Strong. They were discussing the issue of your father marrying Princess Rhaenyra and the scandal it caused. Both believed they had a hand in Ser Laenor’s murder, but what was said in this conversation rang in your head for days. “I would not put it passed Prince Daemon to murder the princess’s husband. After all, nothing stopped him from killing his first wife.” Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident, because it was Daemon who murdered her to finally be free of marriage duty. Since that day you hated your father even more and you promised yourself, that you would avenge your beloved mother.

time skip six years later

You and Aemond have been married for a year now and you recently welcomed a child into the world, a beautiful girl named Alysanne after the Good Queen, who looked like exact copy of the prince. Your husband a wonderful father and lover. Since the day your daughter was born he has been spending all of his free time tending to you both. Even though the Driftmark accident caused the prince to be colder and more intimidating, he was very caring and soft towards you, your daughter, his mother and his sister. Only the women of his family were privileged to see this side of him. After your wedding you relocated to Runestone and you took over your responsibilities as a Lady of the house. Aemond unsurprisingly thrived in the Vale as the Lord of Runestone, as he was dutiful, smart and formidable. You were content there, but you visited the Red Keep as often as you could on your dragons. Yes, you heard correctly. Dragons. About two years after the loss of Aemonds eye, you stumbled upon a dragon of your own. It was one of the wild ones, that terrified anyone who heard his name. You claimed the notorious Canniball. During the last visit to King’s Landing, Helaena gifted you both a dragonn egg from Dreamfire’s latest clutch to put into Alysanne’s cradle.

Just last night the three of you arrived at court for the Driftmark petitions, that are being held in approximately three days. Corlys Velaryon suffered a terrible injury during his voyage and no one could be sure if he will recover. This plundged the succession into question. Lord Vaemond Velaryon publicly questioned Lucerys Velaryon’s right to become the next Lord of the Tides. King Viserys has been bedridden for a long time now, and the realm was placed into the hands of Hightowers, who ruled in his stead. Princess Rhaenyra was informed of the petition and was to come to the Red Keep to defend her son, and along with her will come the whole black fraction of Targaryen family. You weren’t keen on seeing any of them again, especially Prince Daemon, as you held strong resentment towrads the man.

On the day of their arrival you and your daughter were on the country yard watching Aemond train with Ser Criston Cole. Soon you saw the two eldest sons of heir to the iron throne and smirked at their terrified expressions, while they realised what formidable fighter your husband was. With a few more strikes of the blade Aemond defeated Cole. “Congratulations my Prince, you’ll be winning tourneys in no time.” said the knight. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” you beloved answered and directed his eyes towards the boys. “Nephews. Have you come to train?”. In that moment the gate opened and in walked Vaemond Velaryon, advancing towards the keep, he casted the nastiest look he could muster towards his “nephews”.

After that Jace and Luke scurried away inside, probably in search of their mother or Daemon for protection and Aemond walked up to you and took your daughter into his arms, while she blabbed excitetly at her father. “It seems, my love, that you scare them off.” you said, smilig at him. “Hmmm. Good. It is best they learn their place. I am not so easily defeated now.” and with that he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you in direction of your chambers. When you walked inside, Aemond placed your daughter in her cradle, while you sat next to the fireplace. “I wish for you to behave today. I know that their presence irritates you, but it is not for long and we don’t need any fights today. Gods know my father is only waiting for a reason to kill us all, so it will be best not to give him one.” Aemond only hummed at that and went to stand behind you to massage you neck. “You’re tense.” he stated the obvious. “Of course I am. It is stressfull enough to be in one keep with him. Seriously Aemond, do not do anything to cause a fight today, I beg you.” you truned to look him straight into the eye. “For you, my darling wife, I will be civil, but don’t expect me to be nice.” he answered. You nodded in confirmation. That was all you needed.

Finally it was time for the petitions to be held. You stood between Aemond and Heleana, looking straight into the eyes of Prince Daemon Targaryen and he held your gaze, as if it was a staring contest. Lord Hand stood before the Iron Throne and declared the petitions to be open. First one to make his was Ser Vaemond. His statement was going all about the Velaryon blood, and how his supposed nephews did not have a drop of it in themselves. Princess Rhaenyra tried to intervene, only to be stopped by you mother-in-law. At the end of his petiton he put himself forward as the successor of his brother. It was now the turn of your stepmother to defend her son’s right. She walked gracefully towards the throne and started to say “If I have to grace this farce, I must remind you, that yearly twenty years ago in this very room..”

She was interrupted by the doors swinging open as the knight announced “King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”. Everyone couldn’t hide their surprise, after all, the king hasn’t been seen in a long time, too sick to even get up from his bed. And yet here he was, walking to the throne with a golden mask covering half of his face, leaning on the support of a cane. “Father has once again come to defend his only child.” sneered Aegon. You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips, it was true, he never shown any care to anyone other than his eldest daughter, and for that you hated the man almost as much as you did your father. In your eyes he was a weak king and even a weaker man. Disgraceful.

In that moment everyone knew that Driftmark will be going to Lucerys, no matter how wrong it was and how many people protested against it. Luke was a sweet boy, but he had no right to the Driftwood Throne. “I don’t understand why are we discussing a settled succesion.” the king said after finally settling on the throne. “The only one, who could offer keeper insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”. The said princess took a step closer before answering her cousin. “Indeed Your Grace. It was in Lord Corlys’ wishes for Driftmark to be passed to his grandson, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor my support of him. Princess Rhaenyra offered to betroth her children, Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” You all knew that is was pointless to argue now. Viserys affirmed Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides, but it wasn’t acceptable to Ser Vaemond as he openly declared the sons of the heir as bastards. “I will have you tongue for that” rasped the king, but it wasn’t necessary. Prince Daemon Targaryen unnoticed by everyone sneaked behind Vaemond, Dark Sister in his hand, and cut off his head in one strike. Everyone in the hall got startled at that and the petitions were over. The King had to be carried out of the hall as he suddenly fell down.

“Did you see them? Flaunting their privilege without a care in the world. It is horrible how they think they can get away with everything.” you spoke on the way back to your chambers with Aemond trailing behind you. “Darling. Do not worry, it will not last long anyway.” your husband tried to coax you to calm down. After walking into the room, you headed straight to the cradle where Alysanne laid awake, playing with a dragon plushie you made for her during your tea with Helaena. The prince dismissed the maid who was watching your daughter and walked over to you two. “I’m scared Aemond. You saw what he did there. He has no restrain, I fear what he would do to us, to her.” you said and looked at the babe. “He will do nothing, for he would be called a kinslayer. And I shall protect you both with my life. Nothing will happen, I promise you.” That made you hug him and bury your face in his chest. Everything has to be alright.

The night came, and with it the dreaded family dinner, which was demanded by Viserys in honor of his family being all in the same place for the first time in six years. You were talking with Helaena about setting up another playdate for your kids, while your husbands stood to the side talking Gods know about what. Eventually, everyone took their seats. You and your husband were at the end of it, exactly in front of Lucerys and Rhaena. You all stood up when the King was carried in and so let the game of pretending begin. “It is good to see you all, together” Viserys started and Alicent proposed to say prayers. The King stood up for a speech. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was” he revealed his full face, which was missing an eye. He looked more like a skeleton than a human. “But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father.” he looked towards Rhaenyra, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. “your husband” he said to Alicent. “and your grandsire who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.” Everyone’s faces displayed something else, but what they all had in common, was pain of seeing him suffer. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”. After his speech, Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent made toasts to each other and the atmosphere became lighter. Everyone were enjoying themselves, the room was full of music, laughter, dancing, and pleasant conversations. It was all going smoothly until the pig was brought to the table and set directly in front of your husband. By that time Viserys was carried out as he felt worse. That made Lucerys chuckle, as he was reminded of Pink Dread, and send a smirk Aemonds way. This was his mistake, as the older prince suddenly slammed his hand onto the table, grabbed his cup and made the final toast of the night.

“Final tribute.” with saying that he had everyone’s attention and Aegon raised his cup in support of his brother. “To the health of my nephews: Jace…Luke…and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” every person in the room held their breath as their waited for inevidable. “Strong.” “Aemond” you and Alicent said at the same time, but he did not listen and he was not about to stop. “Come…Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” that made Jace mad and he went to retaliate. “I dare you to say that again” the bronze haired boy said and everyone stood up from their seats in case a fight erupted. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” continued your husband. “Enough of that” you said at the same time Aemond aksed “Do you not thing yourself Strong?”. Jace came over and hit the elder prince straight on the jaw, but it did nothing for Aemond only laughed and shoved the Velaryon onto the floor.“Jace!” screamed Rhaenyra. Lucerys tried to join the fight to help his brother, only to be stopped by Aegon, who slammed him on the table. “That’s enough” said Alicent. You were mad and decided to storm out of the room.

Not much later you husband stepped into the comfort of your chambers where he found you staring outside the window. He walked closer but you immediately took a step back and hissed at him “I asked you not to do anything today. But as always you had to let your pride ruin everything. Now you put a target on our backs. Daemon won’t let this go.”. “My love…” he started only to be cut off by you. “No! I do not want to hear your pitiful excuses.” Aemond scowled at you and you could see him getting angry. “That bastard dared to laugh at me. AT ME! Because of that fucking pig! I was only defending myself!” you only scoffed at that and walked towards the fireplace, further away from him. “If you had any decency you would have ignored it. But you didn’t! Instead you behaved like some peasant and started throwing insults and then began a fight”. “Jaecerys hit me first! He began the fight!” your husband defended himself but his look softened as he saw how worried you were. He kneeled before you and took your hand in his placing a kiss atop of it. “I’m sorry darling. I should’ve composed myself and ignore him. You are right. Please forgive me”. You looked at him and pulled the eyepatch off his face. “I just worry. I don’t want anything bad to happen. We should probably head back to Runestone. I think we overstayed this visit.” Aemond agreed and you decided to set back to the Vale in a couple of days.

But what you didn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be able to return to your keep, as for when you were sleeping, King Viserys drew his last breath and told his lady wife the dream of song of ice and fire, which was interpreted to put Aegon on the throne. War was on the horizont and no one was safe. Your and your family’s happiness and peace is about to become EPHEMERAL.

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A/N: My obsession with Aemond Targaryen and Ewna Mitchell reached to the point where i decided to give it a try and write something. Anyways, English is not my 1st language, so there may be some mistakes in writing. If you would like a part II of this story, please let me know in the comments. It would mean the world to me if you decided to leave a heat here ♡

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daenerysies · 2 months

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i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

#asoiaf #fire and blood #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys #team black #anti team green #anti aegon ii targaryen #the amethyst empress #the bloodstone emperor #the amethyst empress 🤝 rhaenyra 🤝 daenerys #i’m sick and incredibly tired so please excuse any typos in my ramblings lol

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humanpurposes · 7 months

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De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done // Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

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misguidedasgardian · 8 months

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (1)

1. The wolf and the sheep

MASTERLIST

Summary: Cregan Stark takes the capital

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon

Wordcount: 2.2k

Notes: Sorry for the delay people jeje, anyways, this is a warm up for the real thing, this is and will be very political, I hope it can go smoother than this

King Aegon, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, was dead

He had been poisoned by his own council

As Cregan Stark and an army of twenty thousand men strong, plus the survivors of the Riverlands, known as “the Lads”, and the Vale by the sea, all sieged the Capital in name of their late Queen Rhaenyra, he didn’t think of surrendering, he intended to keep fighting the war, killing hundreds of thousand more

He was never going to surrender, and he was going to get himself, and everyone else on the Red Keep, killed

The king had grown mad in the last year

How couldn’t he? he had lost his entire family but his daughter, and his dragon, and he was the cause for millions of deaths all over the seven Kingdoms

It had finally catched up to him

And he was going to harm the Princess, little Prince Aegon, and Baela Targaryen

Corlys Velaryon couldn’t let that happen

So in the crack of dawn, the servants found Aeggon dead in his bed, he seemed like he had perished in his sleep, but he was still holding a cup of wine in his hand

People celebrated his death

And now people could call him the usurper out loud

Because everyone knows the truth…

Cregan Stark was coming

They were dark weeks in which the wolf was looming over the herd of sheep

And the remains of the small council were still discussing what to do, Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, Maester Olwyle, who was let out of his imprisonment by Rhaenyra, and Aegon’s former King’s guard, Gyles Belgrave, and other Lords from higher houses, Borros’ younger brother

“Aegon the younger should be named heir”, said one

“King”, corrected another, “we are too late to name heirs, someone must sit the iron Throne”

“We have her older daughter” said Corlys, “if we don’t name her then all the war was for nothing, because we would be denying her in favor of the male heir”

“Let's marry them, they will rule together”

“Aegon is six, the princess is shy of turning eight and ten!”, fighted Corlys

“Aegon must marry princess Jahaera, to finally unify both fronts, and end this war once and for all”

“They are children”, fought another

“Addam Velaryon is alive, I will marry him to the Princess”, demanded Corlys

“Of course you will, so your bastard son will rule?”

“There is a inconvenience”, muttered maester Orwylde

“Which is?”, asked the Sea Snake

“According to the pact of Ice and Fire, a treaty signed by the late Prince Jacaerys and Cregan Stark, the princess is set to marry the Wolf of Winterfell”

“That was two years ago”, said Corlys, “many things had happened since then”

“Stark is marching on the capital in revenge for his Queen!”, the old man fought, “as said treaty dictated”

“When he arrives… who will he find on the Iron Throne?”, asked Tyland, “his betrothed? or her six year-old brother?”

“It is dangerous to have Cregan Stark as a King consort”

“I think it’s exactly what we need”, muttered Corlys

“You just now wanted to marry the princess to your bastard!”

“Where is the princess?”, asked Larys Strong, with a unsteady smile on his face

“She is her rooms”

“That girl is… she is not well!”, muttered Tyland

“She is traumatized…”, said another

“I checked her myself, she has no signs of being… unhinged nor unstable”, muttered Olwylde

“Aegon made his dragon eat her mother alive in front of her”

“Aegon, a six year old boy was also there present, the one you would prefer to sit on the Iron Throne, a child!”

“She will seat the Iron Throne!”, said Corlys, “we must agree to it, don’t we?”

“Yes we have to”

“Aye”, said Maester Orwylde

“Has anyone spoken to her?”, muttered Tyland

“No since Aegon died”

“The usurper”, called Corlys

“We cannot call him that, we served him…”, remembered the Lannister

“Cregan Stark, and the armies of the Riverlands are marching on the capital”, remembered the Sea Snake

“Do we know what his intentions are?”

“To take the capital for the blacks”, muttered Corlys, “and right now, we are all Greens”, the room was silent

“We have to please the wolf”

“We have the Queen”

“We have to surrender the city to Stark”

Lord Baratheon just watched, amused, Larys had his eyes on him, curious about what he wanted to say

“Open the gates, we receive Stark”, he demanded, and everyone looked at him

“He will kill us all”

“Not if we don’t put resistance”, he tried, “the girl or the boy, whichever we place on the throne, is from Rhaenyra’s blood, not our Queen, but our enemy, Stark is coming here to kill us, and make sure one of them sits the Iron Throne, if you want to survive this week, i say we grab the kid, send him to the wolf and the Lads as a sign of good faith”

“What about the girl?”

“The road is no place for a princess”, he continued, “she should stay in the Keep, safe”

“As insurance”, mocked Tyland, “in case something happens to the boy”

“We send Aegon to The Lads, not to Stark”, said Alard Baratheon, “see if the Wolf takes the bait”

“She can’t know”

So the council grabbed Aegon the younger from his rooms, gathered a large caravan and delivered him to the Tullys, and leader of an army

While you… remained in your rooms unaware of what was going on.

. . .

The realms had been submerged in chaos for the last two whole years, brothers fighted sisters, kin usurped kin, dragons danced with dragons, and the results where incalculable loss of people, the fall of the greatest dynasty in Westeros, and the death of Dragons, the most incredible and powerful creatures

because dreams didn’t make the Targaryen Kings, Dragons did

The Red Keep, House of the Dragon since a hundred years ago, had seen four monarchs in the last three years, people had come and gone, killed for their alliances, traded for others, like a mythological creature.

One man, with one monarch to serve lost his head, two more, following a different monarch rose on its place

Now the castle lay inert, quiet, those who followed Aegon had been decimated, those who had followed Rhaenyra were killed or chased away, now everyone who resided there seemed to be replaceable, taken for granted.

It wasn’t the home of the reigning family anymore

It was a carcass, waited to be filled by the next power who dared to take it for themselves, waited to be lived again by those faithful to the next Queen or King of the Seven Kingdoms

The castle was grim, silent, Viserys, Alicent, Aegon, Rhaenyra, and then Aegon again, all of them had tried to make his mark inside these walls, so now it had taken a form of some sort of Chimera, a monsters with a different head, body and feet, a part of each animal, a part of each monarch.

The colors gold, green, black and red, one started where the other ended, melted together sewing the bloody story of what it was about to be known like the Dance of the dragons, it was upsetting

Uncertainty

Doubt

Three survivors of what it once a big and powerful family

Three broken children

A empty castle

A divided Kingdom

An empty carcass, and no brave men left to fill it

None but one

Cregan Stark had come home after the defeat of the winter wolves, to gather a powerful army of forty thousand men strong.

The mission was to eliminate the remain of the Green forces, and strengthen the position of his Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Even though as he gathered his army, his Queen had been assassinated by her brother

That did not deter Cregan Stark, if anything, it made his mission even more imperative, now, he was up for revenge

He knew Rhaenyra had two remaining children, her oldest and only daughter, and her son Aegon the younger. The first one, two years ago, he agreed to wed, back when she was the second older child, behind Jacaerys, and a princess with nothing to her name but to make alliances

It was for her he marched south, to keep his word to her mother

He planned in taking the capital, no matter the cost, he planned on killing every single last green, even though The Lads had gotten ahead of him, eliminating Borros baratheon and the remains of his army, the Green army

As he had no news of the capital since he left Winterfell, he knew the Usurper sat the Iron Throne, no, he didn’t actually, he sat on a wooden chair at the feet of it, since he couldn’t even climbed up the steps for it

He was going to surrender the city or die at his hands

He was the late Queen’s biggest supporter, and he failed her, he took too long, he had to make amends, make things right

He, and his army, was going to mach to all corners of the Kingdoms, until everyone was accounted for their part in the usurpation of his Queen

A rider reached his army when he was passing through Harrenhal

King Aegon the usurper was dead, killed by his own men

But this did nothing but to disgust the wolf

Snaked inhabited the capital, no one else

His new Queen, and his prince were there, in midst of traitors and turncloaks, so the news of the Usurper being dead only encouraged him to march south even Quicker

The Lads were ruling those zones, assumed to ambush everyone who passes through the king’s road, but even though his scouts encountered men from the Riverlands, they did nothing to prevent him from passing

A silent truce, and agreement, they were on the same size

They did not join one another, but The Lads let Cregan Stark pass through the RIverlands uninterrupted

Independently from Aegon the younger traveling to Harrenhal to The Lads as a gesture of good fiat, even though the young prince was part of Cregan’s mission, his main goal was to bring justice to the realm

And to keep you safe

With prince Aegon in his power, and the main commanders of the Lads, Cregan reached King’s Landing on the twentieth day of the sith moon of the year 131 AC

He found the city gates wide open, waiting for him

He found the city completely ready for the taking, the people didn’t stop him, he couldn’t see soldiers anywhere, when he arrived at the Keep, the small council was right there, on the steps leading to the great Hall where the Iron Throne was.

“Lord Stark”, greeted Corlys

Cregan was still atop his horse, looking down at this.. things, more serpents than men

He dismounted, not even caring to respond to the calling, his household, his most trusted men entered the keep, swords in hand

“This city is now under my control”, he demanded, “I have taken it, in the name of Late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen!”, he said out loud

The soldiers there did surrender their weapons, as the northerners spread all over the courtyard and the main streets of the city

A pack of wolves in a hunt

Cregan paid no mind to the weakened remains of the Green council, and he found no real authority there, Cregan Stark started to give orders

“Send word to Dragonstone, to send whomever is left from Queen Rhaenyra’s council”, he said to the maester Orwylde, who just nodded and limped away to fulfill the order. “Including a new maester”, he said with a demanding look on his face

Nobody questioned him

He was tall, and broad, long black hair secured by braids, two piercing eyes and a reputation in battle.

The wolf had come to the capital

He had taken the city without even shedding a drop of blood, without even unsheathing his sword

He entered the throne room, and he was not surprised to see it empty, The Iron Throne right there.

A strange wooden chair with wheels at the foot

“Have that burned in the courtyard, where everyone can see”, he demanded to his second in command, he nodded and took three men with him to fulfill his order, “For every green dragon banner that I see I will behead a Lannister, a Baratheon or a Hightower!”, he said aloud, and at least ten men from the Keep ran to get rid of the sickening symbol

He took only one step up the Iron Throne, he only needed the one, he turn around, to meet the council of traitors and cowards

“Where is she?”, he asked out loud

“Where is who, my lord?”, asked Corlys Velaryon

“Where is the Queen?”, his voice resounded en the entire Throne Room

taglist! <3

@lyannesworld @unlesshouse @mxtokko

#misguidedhour #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan #targaryen!oc

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anthurak · 29 days

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Takeaways from the Volume 9 Epilogue:

One thing I really like about Oscar’s ‘If there was anything I wish I could borrow from you…’ monologue is that it laid out/confirmed something I’ve always felt was a major aspect of Oscar’s dynamic with Ruby that I nonetheless feel a lot of the fandom has missed: That Oscar very much sees Ruby as a mentor and an example to follow, and how their dynamic is specifically a foil to what we saw between Ruby and Ozpin. That Ruby acts as a mentor and example to Oscar in the same way Ozpin was to Ruby, and that Ruby is a far BETTER mentor and example to Oscar than Ozpin ever was to her. Which, as an aside, is a dynamic I can’t help but feel a lot of people have been misinterpreting as ‘ship-teasing’ and is one of the main reasons I’ve simply never been able to see Oscar as any kind of viable love-interest to Ruby. Frankly the dynamic of ‘Ruby is the mentor and example to Oscar that Ozpin couldn’t be for her’ is simply so much more INTERESTING than any kind of romance could ever hope to be.

Even in animatic form, Winter basically going overdrive on the maiden powers was a sight to behold. And her own monologue had all the self-deprecation we were expecting. Our girl is clearly holding on by a thread and it’s going to be REAL interesting seeing how she reacts and adjusts to her sister not actually being dead. As in, I can imagine a situation where Winter tries to throw herself into a heroic sacrifice with the belief that Weiss would make a better Maiden than her.

Also, Winter’s monologue giving major focus to how Penny is super-super-dead-dead-and-definitely-not-coming-back-for-really-realsies, as she is talking to the sister who she ALSO believes is DEFINITELY also dead? Specifically with the words that Penny is gone, when Penny’s last words to her were that she’d be ‘part of you’?

Yeah, there is no way in hell we’ve seen the last of Penny XD

The CROWN. Like it was only a few shots, but as someone who read the CFVY Books (which you totally should if you haven’t, they’re great), holy shit I was NOT expecting them to pop up here.

I mean, in hindsight it makes perfect sense that they’d be involved in Volume 10. They’re basically Vacuo’s equivalent to Vale’s criminal element and the White Fang splinter faction as Salem’s co-opted insurgency group, with Jax and Gillian joining Roman, Adam and Jacques as the latest of Salem’s unwitting patsies. It’s definitely going to be real interesting seeing the crew deal with them. Like it’s really fun to imagine Team RWBY in particular being kind of exasperated at seeing Jax’s probably doing a whole ‘With Salem’s help I shall be King!’ shtick after everything they’ve seen with Roman, Adam and Jacques.

Oh and if you don’t know, Jax has a mind-control semblance, so him trying to use that on Yang could actually lead to a sneaky callback to the Justice League crossover, ie; Yang doing a ‘Yeah, I’m not doing THAT shit again.’ XD

Qrow’s whole vibe through this is fascinating. Like his section may have been the one we already saw, but after seeing the abject depression and growing despair of all the other characters, Qrow actually being OPTIMISTIC hit so much harder.

Raven showing up at the end is… interesting.

I’ll admit that ever since we saw that specific clip a few months back, I’ve been rather conflicts about Raven showing up to deliver RWBY+J to Vacuo, particularly after Ruby’s tree vision. Like for one it felt a bit random and unnecessary. The tree already deposited the Ever After team outside of Vacuo so they didn’t exactly need help getting there. Not to mention that it kind of clotheslines the story-thread set up by Ruby’s vision; that she now has a reason to track Raven down to get the ANSWERS to what happened to Summer. Finally, it’s just kind of… random? Like where did Raven even come from to get the team?

But now having seen the clip with its intended context, I’m definitely more on board with it. Particularly hearing from Kerry and Eddy that the original ending for the penultimate episode had RWBY+J going through the portal to arrive at their memorial stone, and met by a ‘Mysterious Figure’, ie; Raven. Here it feels like were getting more set up to get answers later as to what Raven was doing at the memorial.

And really, now that I’ve thought about it more, this method kind of puts the thread of Ruby going to Raven for answers even MORE into focus. Like the story reintroduces Raven in the present right after Ruby got a vision basically saying ‘hey, Raven is important’. And now going into Volume 10, we’re pretty much perfectly positioned for Ruby to pull Raven aside for those all-important ‘Why were you fucking my mom? What happened to my mom?’ questions.

Finally… yeah that ending hit me a LOT harder than I was expecting. Like that ending was HOPE in its purest form and it was honestly beautiful to see. Particularly right now with the future of the show seeming so uncertain. I’ve personally been optimistic about RWBY’s future (in a manner not unlike Qrow’s vibes I suppose lol), but damn the hopefulness of that ending hit especially hard, and was something I’ll admit I needed. And I imagine the rest of us could use as well.

We'll be getting Volume 10. And 11, and 12, and however many more it takes to finish this story. At this point, I have no doubt of that.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 #rwby volume 9 epilogue #rwby ramblings #Team RWBY #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #Winter Schnee #ozpin #oscar pine #Raven Branwen #Qrow Branwen #rwby after the fall #rwby before the dawn #jax asturias #gillian asturias

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achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

the winner takes it all.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: the war had caused you to flee the Red Keep in favor of returning to your mother, Rhaenyra. however, it seems your husband has finally caught up to you. word count: 5.2k warnings: !!SPOILERS FOR DANCE OF THE DRAGON!! niece!reader, men having the audacity, sexism, canon typical violence, cheating a/n: i spent so long reading and revising this and i really enjoyed it :)

listen to this song to follow

I don't wanna talk/ About things we've gone through/ Though it's hurting me/ Now it's history/ I've played all my cards/ And that's what you've done too/ Nothing more to say/ No more ace to play

The shrieks from Meleys had now vanished, leaving a deafening silence in their place. After Rhaenyra, your mother, forced you to leave Dragonestone with Rhaenys, Rook’s Rest was supposed to be your safe haven. Your beloved mother claimed it to be the one place where the Greens could not reach you besides the Vale.

Yet here you sat in your bedroom, against the advisement of your attendants and guards. They all begged you to either mount your dragon for Winterfell, or hide in the crypts till Aegon and Aemond finished scouring the castle in search of anything they desired. But you were tired of running, of listening to what others thought best for you, rather than trusting your own intuition. Though you were also conflicted at what would be best… should you run or wait for him to find you…?

“It seems the scouts were not lying,” The voice of the blonde-haired prince echoed across the room, signaling that he had discovered your whereabouts, “My wife at Rook’s Rest…”

Tearing your eyes from the window, you turned to look at the man, your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen. He stood tall before you; adorned in all-black armor with a green cape billowing behind him. His signature eye patch still covered his lost eye. Though Aemond had hardly aged since you last saw him, it was clear to see that the Dance of the Dragons was taking much of his strength and energy.

“Aemond…” you whispered, taking in the sight in front of you.

“My wife,” Aemond nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards that were with him, “It has been too many moons since you abandoned me.”

With his words, you stood, looking crossly at him, “I did not abandon you.”

“You left me -- vanished out of thin air.”

“Aegon stole my mother’s throne! What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay with your husband! The man you married and vowed to be obedient too!”

“Obedient?” You repeated with a cold chuckle.

You then silenced yourself, thinking for a moment. It was no good to harp on whether you should or shouldn’t have left King’s Landing. For you already had, and it was impossible to undo the events of Aegon’s coronation and the days following. How Alicent locked you away for hours, Aemond being absent for reasons unknown to you, the way the Conqueror’s crown sat upon Aegon’s head, and how Rhaenys released Meleys into the coronation.

Or how, by your Queen Mother’s orders, Daemon flew to the Red Keep on Caraxes and freed both yourself and your dragon from the Greens to bring you home…

“It will do us no good to quarrel over what happened that day, I made the choice that I thought was best at the moment. If you must blame me for that, so be it…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser's standing small/ Beside the victory/ That's her destiny

Aemond cast his gaze down at your words, mulling over them. Every night since your disappearance, he dreamt of what it would be like when you reunited. When he had first heard word that you had returned to the ancestral home of the Targaryens of Westeros, he had been upset, even spiteful. Though he still longed, day after day, to see you again… to hold you again…

“You’re right,” He spoke with a curt nod, “It does not matter, because you’ll be returning to Harrenhal with me.”

Aemond began to stalk toward you with a determined look upon his cold features. You gave no indication of how you felt, instead just shaking your head, “I will go with you, but allow me to sit for a moment more.”

“You wish to delay me?” His brow furrowed.

“There is always time to spare,” You responded, nonchalantly. A silence fell over both of you. You looked at him -- how his hair was braided back, blood of fallen men splattered in it though his face was clear from it. But his soft violet eye reminded you of your childhood, when Aemond was far softer… far kinder… “Do you ever think back and wonder how this could have been avoided? How silly it is that the House of the Dragon is fighting itself?”

Casting your gaze down, a small smile came across your face as you thought of better days. Sure, there was still tension then, but there was no war at least.

“It does us no good to dwell on the past,” Aemond dismissed your question.

“No, but it does us good to remember.”

I was in your arms/ Thinking I belonged there/ I figured it made sense/ Building me a fence

Your childhood was filled with the most fantastic days in the Red Keep. Though you were naturally close with your brothers, you had also befriended your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena and you would spend hours braiding each other’s hair while discussing whatever piqued the princess’ interest. Aemond would often join, making jokes and teasing the two princesses.

However, once Aemond had lost his eye at the hand of your little brother, he grew more silent and observant. When he had first lost the eye, you were certain that he disdained you due to the association of your siblings. It took a great while, but you learned in time and in letters that your uncle did not blame you for his lost eye. You were not even there to defend him, only being awoken by your mother when all convened in the halls of Driftmark.

As you grew into your adolescence, the Queen requested that you serve as her ward -- so while your brothers enjoyed their teenage youth at Dragonstone, you spent your days in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had also sent you so that you could also assist in the care of your grandsire, the King.

At first, it was strange, being so far from your family but being reunited with your cousins. Mostly you observed how much Aegon tormented every living creature within the Red Keep and would often catch him fleeing to the Street of Silk when you would walk back to your personal chambers after spending late nights in the library.

After the third time of watching Aegon slip out of the castle, you decided it would be in the best interest of your family name that his promiscuity is reported. You could have gone straight to the Queen, and cry to her about how Aegon ran away nightly while poor Helaena had to carry his children. But instead, you found yourself in front of Aemond’s door. At the time, you thought that in telling him, maybe he could tell Alicent and it be more believable.

“Uncle!” You knocked at his door, loud enough to stir him, but not alert the rest of the Red Keep.

Moments later, Aemond opened his door, sleep still in his eye but you could tell that he did throw on his robe and his eye patch. He looked slightly cross and yet his gaze softened when his eye fell upon you, “My lady…?” “I’m sorry to awaken you at this hour… but I think something is… wrong?”

“Wrong?” He replied simply, crossing his arms.

“Yes…” You spoke softly, starting to feel awkward in your day gown, “It's’... it’s Aegon…”

In an instant, Aemond had tugged you fully into his chambers, shutting and locking the great door behind you. You glanced at him in confusion, backing away from the prince. The thought of being caught alone with your uncle, no matter how innocent the conversation, finally occurred to you and how it could affect your honor.

“What has Aegon done?” Aemond turned to you, stalking rather close, “Did he touch you?”

“What?” The breath trapped itself in your throat. His hands went to your shoulders, keeping you still before his eye.

“Did he touch you, my sweet niece?” His words were accusatory and yet soft as he spoke to you.

“I— no… he did not touch me.”

A sigh of relief came over him as he finally let you go from his grip. The relief confused you, but you did not press him on the matter.

“Aemond, he’s gone. For the past three nights when I am returning to my chambers from the library, I see Aegon sneak out of his room and flee toward the city… I believe he has been going to see…” The last word did not escape your lips, but Aemond fully understood what you meant.

“He’s going to seek the affection of whores…”

“So you know?” You asked innocently.

“My brother has his vices…” Aemond spoke incredulously, “And it is no secret that he is going to seek comfort on the Street of Silk… But, dear niece, why are you spending late nights in the library unattended?”

The way Aemond had turned it around on you was surprising for you, “I spend most of my time during the day with either the Queen or the Princess, so I thought that spending some time in the evening would be fine.”

Aemond nodded and thought for a moment before responding, “I will join you from now on. Even though the Keep is the safest place in King’s Landing, it is still unwise to be alone. So I shall be your chaperon…”

All you could do was nod in agreement, there was no reason to fight against your uncle. He was just trying to keep you safe.

Soon, your time in the library with Aemond became more regular. It was like clockwork. After supper, Aemond would escort you to the library and then back to your room. Some nights, he would read you the histories, other nights you would read him poetry, and on the occasion, he would take it upon himself to further advance your High Valyrian.

“Dārys” Aemond spoke first, the words always falling from his lips so eloquently.

“Dārys,” You would repeat, trying to replicate each syllable perfectly, “King.”

“Dāria”

“Dāria — Queen.”

Aemond smiled, proud of your improved pronunciations, “Gevie mēre.”

“Gevie mēre,” you repeated after him once more. Except you were not as familiar with this term…

“Gevie mēre…?” You repeated once more, picking your brain for what the words could mean.

Looking to Aemond, you hoped he would answer for you, the words simply lost on you. Instead, he chuckled and began to walk toward the couch. He ushered you to sit next to him, picking up one of the books he placed on the desk, “Come, ñuha riña, allow me to read to you before you must return to your chambers for the evening.”

At his words, you joined him, sitting comfortably by his side. From when he had originally decided to start joining you, it became a far more open space for the two of you, bonding you closer to each other. That’s why you tucked yourself into his side and he rested his arm around your shoulder while he began reading. The nightly company of your uncle was now one of the simplest pleasures in your life that you deeply cherished.

It was an honor to be the cupbearer for the Queen and her father, the Hand. Yet being in the small council room had its own frightening things as well with Jason Lannister often jesting that he would bribe the Queen to end your wardship and allow you to marry him. His disregard for your own mother disgusted you, as well as the fact that the Lannister man was already betrothed to the daughters of one of his bannermen. Instead of reacting to his advances, Alicent or Otto would dismiss his words with a glare or small correction for you.

However one day, Otto ordered for Aegon and Aemond to join the Small Council since they would one day sit in the room quite regularly. While Aegon would doze off and consistently ask you to fill his cup, Aemond would be fully attentive, paying you little attention. You didn’t mind, since you understood how seriously he took his duty.

But when Jason Lannister once again began his verbal torment against you, it shifted something in Aemond.

“My lady,” the Lannister Lord purred, “You are growing into quite a fine, young woman.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you nodded but offered nothing else to him.

With a smirk, he continued his flirtation, “Your mother or grandsire will soon have to marry you off. I can imagine there are many men that would enjoy taking you as their little wife.”

“My mother nor grandsire are considering any proposals currently, or while I serve as the Queen’s ward,” You spoke quickly, eager to get away from the man.

Before you could leave his side, Jason grabbed your wrist, “That is a shame. It would be a pleasure to have you myself, and watch your belly grow with Lannister children…”

Aemond’s voice soon interrupted the crude words, “Lord Lannister, unhand my niece.”

Aemond's voice was firm and his jaw remained clenched. There was a fire in his eyes that you did not recognize. However, the fingers around your wrist were soon gone and you escaped to stand between the Queen’s and Aemond’s chairs. You offered thankful glances to the prince, but he did not show you the same warmth.

That same night, instead of taking you to the library after dinner, Aemond sent you off to your chambers. Helaena attempted to reassure you, but you could not help but think about what you could have possibly done to upset him.

Soon enough, a knock was upon your door, your maid announcing that Aemond had come to fetch you.

Together, the pair of you walked silently and side-by-side toward the library. Once you arrived, Aemond went to sit by the fireplace while you would peruse the shelves for you favorite books of poems. The room remained quiet besides the shuffles of books and pages as you searched for your beloved texts. You finally found it on a shelf with some of the common histories of Westeros.

As you reached for it, the small book was just beyond your reach. Not even your outstretched fingers could close the distance to the binding. The footstep you would typically use was missing, so your struggle continued. It continued until a hand outstretched itself to retrieve it off the shelf before you. You turned around to face Aemond, who looked down at you while offering the book to you.

“Thank you.”

Aemond nodded but did not retreat. He looked into your eyes a moment more before he finally spoke, “Lord Lannister has requested your hand.”

“My mother would never allow it,” You replied simply, reaffirming your clear disgust with the Lord. Aemond chuckled at this, unsurprised.

“That is true…” Aemond nodded, “True since she has betrothed you to someone else…”

The book slipped from your fingers at his words. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself, “Betrothed? To whom?”

Aemond bent down to pick up the book. Instead of standing back up, he dropped to one knee and looked up at you, offering the book to you once more, “To me…”

Building me a home/ Thinking I'd be strong there/ But I was a fool/ Playing by the rules

The day you married Aemond was a beautiful one. A singular moment where the full House was together and a fight did not ensue. Originally, you knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had agreed to the betrothal so that old wounds could finally heal. Though the marriage would not see such hopes through, it was still a blessing enough to marry your sweet Aemond.

Days earlier, Lucerys had been reaffirmed of his position as heir of Driftmark which resulted in the death of your great-uncle Vaemond. Though the events had caused high tension in the court and at dinner that night, all members of the House of the Dragon attempted to be on their best behavior. Both you and Aemond had requested an intimate ceremony with just the family, and that the nobles of the realm could participate in the feasting instead.

Between dances with your husband, your brothers, and even your grandsire, there was a great joy that filled your heart. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had smiled for the first time since arriving from Dragonstone, and even Daemon and Otto did their absolute best to get along… which mainly meant not speaking to one another.

Yet as to be expected, Aegon had consumed too much wine, rendering him a drunken fool. No matter Alicent’s best attempts to refuse the wine bearers from filling his cup, Aegon had managed to come by enough wine to make him confident enough to instigate a quarrel.

Jacerys was twirling you while you laughed at a joke he had made. The strong bond between the pair of you was similar to Helaena’s and Aemond’s — a closeness that Aegon despised on all accounts. But while Aegon could not torture his brother this evening, he could torture his wife…

Aegon cut through dancing couples with stumbling feet as he approached the eldest Velaryon siblings. His hand rested itself on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“May I have this dance with the lovely bride?” He had phrased it like a question, though it was more of a demand.

Before Jace could respond, Aegon had tugged you away and attempted to join in the dance of the couples among the pair of you.

“My dear niece is now my brother’s little lady wife,” Aegon chuckled, tripping you with each misstep he took in the dance, “It is improper to dance with other men on your wedding night.”

“I have only danced with family,” You attempted to defend yourself, wishing to leave his hold.

At your words, Aegon released a great chuckle that echoed in the hall, “You say that as if our family does not regularly bed each other.”

An evil smile came to Aegon's face as the thought provoked him further, “In fact, I wouldn’t put it beside Jacerys for taking your maidenhood…Did he spoil you?”

Instantly, you let go of any hold you had on your eldest uncle, disgusted by such words.

“Your accusations are not only unjust, but they are disgraceful. I have not seen my brother for years,” Your jaw clenched.

“It does not matter to me in the slightest, for if you are still pure, Aemond will take it from you tonight,” Aegon’s eye raked over your body, “If he does not satisfy you, rest assure I can…” Before another word could be uttered, Aemond was at your side, tugging your frame into his safe arms. His glare was spiteful, a sneer growing on his lips, “Brother…”

“Brother,” Aegon nodded with a smirk, before scampering off.

Aemond turned you to face him, his hands instantly moving to cup your face. His eye shifted across your face as his hands soothed the sides of your head, “Are you alright, ñuha ābrazȳrys?”

“Mirre iksis sȳrī hae iksan lēda ao” ‘All is well while I’m with you’

The gods may throw a dice/ Their minds as cold as ice/ And someone way down here/ Loses someone dear

After your wedding festivities ended, your mother and brothers returned back to Dragonstone. The Stranger had paid a visit to the Red Keep, reaping your grandsire and King. Immediately, Rhaenys had beckoned you to her chambers so that you may see his body together. However, countless guards stood outside the door, trapping you inside. An archer was also posted outside the window so that no word could escape the Red Keep.

The Queen would arrive shortly and have you escorted back to your husband’s apartments. Thus secluding you from the outside world, except for Aemond. But soon, he too would leave on dragon's back to do the bidding of Alicent and the Hand.

The bedroom door opening with a creak easily woke you. You never slept well when your husband was not sharing the bed after your wedding night. He had been gone, off at Storm’s End for the last three days, negotiating with the Lord Baratheon so that he would support Aegon’s claim to the throne.

The past week had been a tempest between the death of your grandsire, the coronation of Aegon II and thus usurping the crown from your mother, and the escape of Rhaenys from the Red Keep. Sleep would not come easily to you.

You sat up in the bed, quietly observing him preparing to join you in the bed. He stripped himself of his outerwear and changed into his night shift. As the clothes hit the floor, you noticed the great thud in which they made, signaling how soaked they were. But why would your husband rush back to the Red Keep in a storm?

Finally, he joined you in the bed, tucking himself close to you. But his back was facing you, rather than his sharp face. You did not push him, but instead began to detangle his wet hair with your fingers, being as gentle as you could, “Welcome home, ñuha valzȳrys…”

Aemond gave no response.

“I missed you dearly…”

Still, silence.

“Is everything well, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

Aemond sat up fiercely and turned to you. His eye patch had been discarded and his face was mixed with a sense of great sadness and anger.

Instead of answering your question, Aemond began to cry — softly, quietly at first, before escalating to sobs that shook him. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, and whisper kind words to him.

“Shhh…” You stroked his hair softly. It was all you could do to comfort him without knowing what made him so upset.

Once his cries began to subside, Aemond lifted his head, but could not look you in the eye, “Aegon used to talk about running away from his duty… I didn’t understand why, but I think I do now…”

“Aemond, what has happened? What has upset you so deeply?” You attempted to cup his face, but he tore himself away from you.

He continued to look anywhere else but at you. The silence began to creep in and eat away at both of you. Unease washed over you.

Aemond cleared his throat before speaking once more, “Lucerys is dead…”

“What?”

“I killed him…”

The winner takes it all/ The loser has to fall/ It's simple and it's plain / Why should I complain?

“How is Aegon?”

“It is King Aegon, you should address him properly…” Aemond glared down at you.

A small, sad smile crept onto your face at his correction, “I remember you saying that Aegon would never be a proper King.”

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eyes, but did not negate your claim. Even now, parts of your Aemond were still there — the war hadn’t taken that away yet.

“Will Aegon recover?” You asked though you knew the answer. The King would never be the same again. His cries of agony could be heard throughout the halls until he had been sedated with milk of the poppy.

“I will be serving as Prince Regent until my brother is well enough.”

You nodded, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed your palms over the skirt of your dress before looking back to him. Aemond was looking right back at you as if he were closely observing you. It wasn’t the first time he had done such, often intimately observing you for as long as you could remember. But it always made a warmth wash over your face.

“You are coming home with me,” Aemond spoke once more as he moved to stand closer to you, “This is not a request, but a command.”

“A command of my captor?”

“A command of your husband, the man you vowed loyalty to,” Aemond’s voice was stern, but his eyes were longing, full of affection.

But tell me, does she kiss/ Like I used to kiss you?/ Does it feel the same/ When she calls your name?

“Loyalty?” You repeated, shaking your head.

Aemond took the closed distance between you to bring a hand to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed over the soft flesh of your cheek as he admired your features.

“I’ve heard about the witch woman,” You spoke with a sigh.

“Then you understand how desperate my search for you has been…”

“Aemond…” You looked at him more intently. Would he make you truly say it? “I know about Alys…”

There was a pause in the air. Aemond understood the infliction in your tone, the hurt hidden behind your calm demeanor. He went to speak, to apologize maybe, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed whatever he was originally going to say.

“Do you expect me to apologize?”

“Not really,” You chuckled to yourself, “King Aegon I took two wives, so why shouldn’t you? I believe Daemon had the same logic during his whoring days. And your brother too”

“Do not compare me to them,” His words were harsh as he gripped your chin between his fingers, “You made me desperate to find you. I sought the means I deemed fit.”

“The means of sleeping with a bastard and a witch?”

“You had left me!” his voice was firm as he strained himself from committing any action to harm you, “Left me desperate, left me thinking you had been killed!”

Jaw clenched and the skirt of your dress fisted between your fingers, you snapped back at him, “So you turned to an old wives tale of sex magic?”

Aemond retracted his hand, “I killed for you. I burned down villages for you. I have violently searched for you. Are you so envious of some woman that you would be blind to how much I have suffered to have you back? To be by your side once more?”

“You are a fool,” You spat, “A fool and an adulterer. Why would you allow some minx to convince of such things? Why would my own mother have me killed? Did you ever truly consider that before you—”

“They killed Jaeherys! Our nephew, sweet Helaena’s baby boy, the boy that you played with at dinner despite my mother’s harsh looks—”

“I know! You think I didn’t weep for him!” You finally stood, allowing the emotions to now freely flow through you.

“What right do you have to weep and mourn him when Daemon had made the order? Were you with him when he commanded such?”

Aemond’s words cut into your heart deeper than expected. That he thought you just as heartless as the other tyrants in your family shattered something within you.

Somewhere deep inside/ You must know I miss you/ But what can I say?/ Rules must be obeyed…

“You don’t believe that…”

Aemond stood silent… His brooding demeanor began to shift

A shaky breath escaped your lips as tears began to billow over. What caused the tears? His words… his presence…

At your tears, Aemond raised a hand to cup your cheek. His thumb delicately began to wipe away the fallen tears. Even in his anger, Aemond hated to see you cry, especially if the tears were caused by him.

When you didn’t reject such actions, Aemond softly pulled you into his arms. Both his hand now rested under your jaw, causing your gaze to remain fixated on his face, looking deep into his violet eye. Your own hands rested on the dark metal of his breastplate, tracing over the embedded dragon sigil.

“I didn’t want to leave you…” you finally confided in him, “But I could no longer tolerate the looks of the Queen and the Lord Hand, the whispers of the nobles, or the guards constantly at my side… I was a hostage in the place I had grown into a woman.”

Aemond sighed, “Alicent was concerned that you would be a spy for your mother…”

“I had not seen my mother for six years until our wedding day and once she returned to Dragonstone, I did not see her until Daemon fetched me. I could never even read a letter from my mother unless the Queen was at my side, and she would even read them before I had the chance to break the seal myself — so how could I? How could I have ever been a threat?”

“These were necessary precautions. Are you still such a child that you can not understand this?”

“Were you so blinded by loyalty that you slaughtered my brother who was hardly yet a man grown?” You questioned while pushing out of his hold, “Are you so clouded by the judgment of your mother that you forced your wife to run away?”

I don't wanna talk/ If it makes you feel sad/ And I understand/ You've come to shake my hand

“So now you admit to not only fleeing but running away…”

“Aemond, you have to understand that I wasn’t running from you—”

Aemond chuckled in disbelief at the notion, “Did you see the opportunity to escape your one-eyed husband and take it? Run away from the Kinslayer?”

Your jaw clenched at the harsh words that even he knew were untrue, “I was a hostage under a usurper! Despite all my tears and promises that I was a faithful wife, you still allowed me to be tormented and disgraced!”

“I was protecting you!” Aemond grabbed your wrist with quick ferocity. You had only seen such aggression from him in training yards or battlefields.

With eyes wide, you looked from his violet eye to the pale hand squeezing around your wrist. His eye trailed to follow your own gaze. When the realization washed over him, Aemond was just as quick to let go, even stepping away from you. Clearly, he was disgusted by his thoughtless action.

I apologize/ If it makes you feel bad/ Seeing me so tense/ No self-confidence

Gingerly, you brushed your fingers over your wrist. Though it was sore, you were sure that it would not bruise. In all your time with Aemond, he had never once acted so violently toward you. Your heart felt paralyzed by all that had transpired just today.

“My love,” Aemond finally broke the silence, “Please…”

In an instant, your mind thought back to many, many moons ago. Days of your adolescence that were now long past resurfaced with a small glimpse from Aemond. How he looked at youon your name day when you became a young woman of five and ten… The elegant dress you wore as he asked for a dance and the way it flowed when he would twirl you. Or the look in his eye as both of you sliced open each other’s lip to mix blood in custom with the Targaryen traditions of old Valyria. Or how he looked to you now…

His gaze caught your eyes as he stood far less confident than mere moments ago. His demeanor had rapidly changed — the Aemond of the battlefield softly replaced by your Aemond.

“Forgive me, I— this day…” Aemond sighed in defeat, tears threatening to spill, “Please come home with me…”

Following his words, Aemond stretched out his hand to you - the illusion of choice. It looked like he was giving you the option to remain at Rook’s Rest, but you knew that choice did not truly exist. Either way, you would be leaving with Aemond, willingly or not.

You released the breath you had been holding as you approached him. Gently, you rested your palm atop his own…

“You must know that Rhaenyra shall send Daemon to fetch me once more…” You swallowed, concerned for your family, relieved to be with your husband once more.

“Hmm…” He lift a brow as he began to escort you out of the tower, “I’m counting on it… but no one shall take you from me ever again…”

But you see/ The winner takes it all…

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Text

THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair were dark, but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen and her wrath was not different from the one that burn inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 3

Ysilla had loved her time in King's Landing. Her uncle was a sweet man, and he liked Ysilla's company. It had been strange for the little princess because no man had ever treated her like family. She had only her lady mother in Runestone. But King Viserys had been very kind to her, allowing one of the Maesters of the Dragonpit to follow her back to the Vale so that he could attend to her dragon.

"Your grace," she had asked timidly one morning as they were breaking their fast. Queen Alicent was with them as well.

"Tell me, dear niece," Viserys answered with a smile.

"I would like to learn High Valyrian," she noticed how the King shared a look at his Queen. A hint of sorrow was in his eyes, and Ysilla wondered if she had asked too much.

"That would be a lovely idea," the King said, smiling gently at her. Ysilla blushed, happy that her uncle appreciated her wish. "From your mother's words, I know you like to learn."

"It is true, your grace," Ysilla answered, nodding her head. The Queen chuckled softly.

"Let's hope our Aegon will have the same endeavor for knowledge," Vyseris said.

Ysilla had met the little Prince Aegon, who was almost two years old. The girl did not know what to think of him; he could not even talk properly yet.

"Is my father happy to hear it as well?" Ysilla asked curiously. But then again, she noticed how the King shared a look with his wife.

"I... I'm sure he is, dear." Those words should have made her happy, but they didn't because she was not sure how true they were. Was her father not happy with her? Was she disappointing him?

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked, confused.

"Of course not," her uncle was quick to say, "Your father is at war; it's been long since I last saw him."

Ysilla looked down. She was truly so silly. She was only two when the war on the Stepstones started. But she wanted to meet her father and talk to him.

She had been trying to talk about him sometimes, but no one would talk about Daemon Targaryen. She was not sure why, but it seemed to her that the Hand of the King didn't like her father, while the king seemed pained to talk about his brother. But no one explained anything to her; she was too young, they said.

She had hoped to get to know her father better in King's Landing, but he was far even in a place that he had loved. Or so her mother would say.

Ysilla missed Runestone, but she could understand why her father loved King's Landing so much. Her favorite place was the Dragonpit; she even loved the smell of dragons. And it seemed that her own dragon liked to be there, too. At first, she was afraid he would not have recognized her, but he did, happily and clumsily crawling in her direction.

"Is Vhagar in the Dragonpit as well?" She had asked curiously at Rhaenyra one morning under the Heart Tree.

"She is too big," Rhaenyra answered. "Why? Do you want to see her?"

Ysilla smiled, "Visenya was Vhaghar's rider," she explained, "I like stories about Visenya."

"I like them too," her cousin answered, sitting closer to Ysilla, "I would have liked to have a sister like you."

Ysilla felt like blushing, but then she got curious, "You've got Aegon, though," but Rhaenyra's eyes lowered silently.

Did she not love Aegon?

Ysilla wondered why. But she dared not to ask, not wanting her cousin to get sad.

"I hope my dragon will be as big as Vhaghar," Ysilla confessed, "And that I'll become as strong as Visenya." And that her father would be proud of her.

"I'm sure you will," Rhaenyra promised.

Ysilla was enjoying her time in King's Landing. She enjoyed spending time with Rhaenyra and the Queen, but never together. The two of them didn't seem eager to stay in each other's presence, Especially Rhaenyra.

"You truly look beautiful," said Alicent the morning of Aegon's second name. The Queen was wearing a beautiful red gown, and her auburn hair was held together by a net of jewels. Ysilla blushed at the compliment. No one ever complimented her appearance. Her mother didn't want her to focus only on her physics. She was a woman of the Vale, stronger than most. But Ysilla wished to be pretty. She sometimes wished that her hair was silver like the rest of her family and not strange like hers. Dark and streaked with silver. It always looked messy; it didn't matter how many times she'd brushed it.

"I wish I was as pretty as you," she said, biting her lips.

"You are just five of age," the Queen told her gently. "You've got time to think about those things." Then she put her hands on her shoulders and said, "Shall we go?"

That would have been her last week at the Capital, and she was very sad about it. She enjoyed that visit as much as her dragon. He was little, but he was not afraid of other dragons, and he was growing healthier by the day.

The feast for Aegon's name-day was like nothing Ysilla had ever seen. So many people were dressed in rich, embroidered clothes and the finest jewels. All the ladies fussed about Aegon, and they were all happy and made a lot of compliments. They seemed to love him very much, the first son of the King.

"May I introduce you to my niece Ysilla Targaryen, Lady Redwine?" The King said, lightly pushing Ysilla towards an old lady. The woman looked at her. Her eyes lingered on her hair, but then she smiled. It was a tight smile; it didn't fully reach her eyes. "The daughter of Prince Daemon," Ysilla nodded her head proudly at the woman's words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, princess."

Ysilla bowed clumsily, "The pleasure is mine."

"What about Lady Rhea?" Lady Redwine asked the King. "Is she not present?" Ysilla didn't like her tone. She seemed to be judging and mocking. But she had no right to speak in such a way about her noble mother.

"Lady Rhea is a very busy lady," her uncle answered, "But Ysilla is here in her place."

The woman nodded, "To not let people forget." Ysilla frowned, looking up at her uncle, who was glaring at her for some reason.

What should people remember? Ysilla asked herself. She did not understand that woman.

"How about Prince Daemon, your grace?" Lady Redwine asked Viserys, "What words are from the Stepstones?"

Viserys smiled with tension. Ysilla could tell he did not like the question. "A war of little concern for the realm." Ysilla frowned again.

Her father was fighting. His brother. Why was that a little concern?

"Ysilla," Alicent called her, gesturing to get closer to her. The little princess looked at her uncle once more before doing as she was asked. "What about you sit here with Aegon?" she asked, gesturing to the wet nurse to put Aegon on a soft carpet. You could play together."

Ysilla was not sure what she should have done, but she nodded nonetheless. Then, she sat quietly next to the little prince, but her eyes remained on her uncle.

I wish I was older, she thought. I could understand better.

Ysilla started to play with Aegon a little, but her eyes kept looking at the people around. And she noticed it. They would whisper as their eyes lay on her.

Is it for my hair? She asked herself. But even if she hated her hair, she was not quite sure that was the reason behind their gaze and whispers.

Then suddenly, she felt something pulling at her dark lock, not enough to hurt her. When her eyes moved, she noticed Aegon looking at her hair curiously before his lips turned up into a smile. He seemed to like it.

It is not for my hair. She thought, looking back at a man with golden hair and a roaring lion embroidered on his chest, whispering to his twin brother.

Did they know something she didn't? Did something happen to her father at the Stepstones, and no one would tell her?

She wanted to know.

Ysilla managed to get away from Aegon's grip before telling the wet nurse that her tummy was empty and that she would have to go to eat something and then come back. Ysilla walked to the table, observing the food as if she were truly hungry, hoping to catch someone talking about the Stepstones and her father. But she didn't catch anything. Women were talking rumors, and men were looking forward to the hunt that would have closed the Prince's celebration.

Nothing of her interest, then she heard it.

"The King does not want to help," she heard the Hand say to a man with the sigil of House Hightower on his chest. "Daemon and Corlys Velaryon acted without His Grace's word," Ysilla was as quiet as a shadow as she walked closer to hear them better.

"He has always been a disgrace," the other man said, "And the folly about Dragonstone."

Otto Hightower nodded. "His Grace wanted him to go back to Runestone, but he never wanted to."

"We all know how he disrespects Lady Rhea and his daughter." Ysilla felt her hands shaking. What did it mean? She did not understand.

Otto took a breath, "The goat and the goat's daughter. He truly is vile."

Ysilla felt her eyes fill with tears, but she was quick to walk away. Wanting to forget about that conversation. But she couldn't. Her father couldn't have talked about her and her mother in such a way. Why?

That could not be possible. They must have been lying. The Hand didn't like her father; she knew that. But could that really be a rumor? What was his end?

Those words had been repeating themselves in her ear for all the rest of her visit to King's Landing. And they never went away. They've kept coming louder and more painful.

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