#return of the sea kings son

[thecelestiallegacies]

Sul Sul Simmers! How was all that? It feels like a lot happened to me. What a year. It feels like a big shift is coming now that Grace and Lucy are teenagers, but below the cut I wanted to throw down some things I had written, that didn't really seem to fit anywhere in the queue. I figured it'd be good to get them out now so I'm not carrying them with me through the next arcs for this family.

Sweeney Todd, the master vampire, was slain by a hunter. In this altercation, she killed the hunter as well. That hunter was none other than Thorne Bailey, Vulcan and Hermes' paternal grandfather.

Knox Greenburg, Fatima and Venus Witherspoon all died in a tragic plane crash and I didn't want to write about it because Vulcan has been through so much tragedy I didn't have it in me to go into more detail on it.

Breaking up with Bella was rushed in because Vulcan literally did it in game on a whim. Like rolled into Creekside Smooth at 2am for guys night and just decides he wants to dump her. He just really, really wanted to be single. Uncertain if she'll get picked back up or not. Canonically she is an alien but because she wasn't raised on Sixam she doesn't know how to use any of her special abilities.

Mabel writing in her journal and reminding herself that she'll be a vampire by the end of the year. The early breakup changes nothing. The day after Harvestfest, the 13th year will befall Vesper and Fortune and their fate will be decided.

Brandy loves dancing. Tempted to make her a vampire hunter like her father, Thorne.

Vulcan is still brutally famous but his reputation is going down due to all the relationship drama.

Venus Generation Requirements (teen) New Trait- Romantic Aspiration- Serial Romantic [ ] Keep a retail job for 3 days. [ ] Have 2 romantic flings.

Fortune and Vesper count for this generation until they don't count.

Brandy is not part of this generation and will get a random trait when she ages up. May do a poll and let the readers choose her trait and aspiration.

Isla, the mermaid from Vulcan's summer in Sulani, has gotten into the gardening career and has flower arranger vibes. It's yet to be determined if that relationship will be revisited during Vulcan and the twins' week on the islands.

Also Mer-teens have been added in Sulani. A lot coming up.

I hope that was a good throw on stuff that I take random creative notes on while I'm playing the game that creates the stories you read. I really do appreciate it so much when I see the same handful of blogs liking multiple posts, and knowing that you're reading and loving this little nebula as much as I do means so much.

I might experiment a bit moving forward because this is my first time really rotating through multiple teenagers and getting through high school (though I got some practice with my vampire teens) I'm open to exploring other story telling devices.

And always, a special thanks to the CC creators and pose creators that allow me to tell the stories I do. I regret not exploring poses with Marisol because she absolutely deserved to be in some fun day time television interviews. Thank you creatives for doing what you do.

Onto the next season. A week in Sulani with Vulcan, Grace and Lucy where they'll explore ancestry, culture, celebration and the first crushes of teenagers on mythical creatures, all wrapping up and getting back home to Willow Creek just in time for PRIDE. The following Monday, Lucy and Grace start high school.

#the sims #sims story #sims #sims 4 #my sims #simmer #ts4 #nebulalegacy #the sims 4 #simblr #updates #out of character #writer to writer #writer to reader #next steps #sims stories #return of the sea kings son #pride #lgbt pride #queer #queer sims #planetarylegacymercurygen

[nikoisme]

actually the fact that odysseus knew he'd be gone for 20 years makes the gears in my brain turn. You kiss your son goodbye knowing you will miss every milestone of his. He will be a grown man and will not remember you. You will be a father only by title. Your wife will lay alone in your wedding bed, she will wake and see the side you've slept on is empty. You won't hold each other for a long, long time. Your parents may not even be there to welcome you back. You know you will return, but the war stretches on and on. Your comrades fall. Your ships are on fire. Your best warriors are nothing but ashes in an urn. But it's eventually over, you can go home. But still, there's more time left. First it's a storm. It's winding up in strange lands. It's hunger. It's temptation. Your men grow weary. You have twelve ships and then you have one and then it's only you on a single timber. You know you will return, but everything has gone so horribly wrong that you can't help but wonder if the fates fooled you. Everyone you know is either dead or are living again. You are the only one stuck in between. Neither dead or alive. You sit on a beach staring out to the sea from the moments the birds sing til the sun dips over the horizon. Every day is the same - you sit on the stones and weep, you trek the shores, during the night you're in her bed. Your skin is cracked and sunburnt, your beard long and tangled, your hair etched with more and more silver hairs. Your eyes are dull, sunken. Your bones ache when you walk, your breath is shorter. The sun rises and sets. The waves wash away your footprints. You are growing old but the island is the same. You are left behind. Your home will change and you won't change with it. In fact, everyone will change, but you will not recognize what's different. Some of the lines under your eyes will be the hauntings of war, while your wife's will be from the sleepless nights of buying you time. You flinch when you see each other. You expected to see someone else, and she expected to see no one at all. You could once hold your boy in your arms, but now it feels like he's the one holding you. The trees in your orchard have grown taller. Some of the houses in your kingdom are empty. The children that sat on your knees now have their own children on their own knees - or they lie dead, by your own hand. Who are you? Who is your son, your wife? You will get to know each other, you will change together eventually. But there will still be something off, like a brick not fitting quite right in the foundation. Off like a living man among the dead, someone who wasn't fated to die, but was supposed to die a long time ago. A dead man among the living. You will not belong, even though you are the father of your son, the husband of your wife, the son of your father, the king of your land. There will always be something missing, something aching.

And you are willing to let it all happen when you lift your baby son from the field, away from the plow.

#*throws up* do you get it. #odysseus #procrastinating on schoolwork woohoo #niko rambles #you could've left your baby boy to die. you'd have more kids. #but you didnt.

[wolfythewitch]

I get a lot of people telling me that they hate how much the iliad drags on with all these little bloodlines of each person who does but like

It FUCKS ME UP. Like. Here is a man who lived, a prince maybe, a son, a father, who had just gotten married, whose wife waits across the sea. Here is a taste of his life. Watched it be dashed against the ground.

Here is a boy, a trojan soldier. He has yet to be wed. His father waits for him to return home. He is speared on the battleground. His father weeps

There is a king kissing the palms of the man who killed his son. There is a soldier whose mother will never be able to hold again. There are these pieces of lives that bleed red

#iliad #im so sad about all those excerpts #there's one passage where it says that a soldier's father will never be able to hold him again and i think about it all the time

[odyssiaca]

man, i sure do love odysseus, son of laertes and anticlea (frail now, of body and mind, hands covered in soil and skin wrinkled. a mother never seen again, her heart shattered for the boy she lost on the open sea.) husband to penelope (tear stained, filled with remorse for all she should've, could've, would've- didn't. where are you? where have the gods taken you?) father of telemachus (he will not recognize you, son to a father he never knew and never will, for a man leaves and a ghost returns, terrified of waters and of travelling so far. mama, when will father be home?), king of ithaca. (the land people call barren, now kingless. once so full of life, now the young lords lay bloodied on the marble floor of the palace for their pride. you bounced them on your knee, have you no conscience?)

yeah, man, i just love odysseus. (sing, muse, of the man who could never be the same again with so much blood staining his hands.)

#greek mythology #the odyssey #achilles #diomedes #tagamemnon #odysseus #penelope #odydio #telemachus #homer #odypen #laertes #fyp #anticlea

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken I (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, some pushing and hitting

Author's Note: It's finally here! Sorry y'all, this month a) I found out my dog has terminal cancer, b) I got covid, and c) my laptop randomly went kaput in the middle of an episode of the West Wing. But it's finally here! As it says on the taglist, this will be a three-part series.

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his eldest sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess, Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

Now he was returning home – in haste.

He knew, then. That Daemon had let slip his secret. Perhaps it had even been the Rogue Prince’s last words. Spat in Aemond’s face in the seconds before his body tumbled into the lake below. Had she not been caught in the crossfire, she might have admired it for the masterful manipulation it was.

But in seeking to destroy Aemond, Daemon had destroyed her as well.

She was broken from her thoughts by the distant sound of people cheering. Aemond was making his way through the city more quickly than she thought. The streets weren’t as crowded as she hoped they would be this late at night.

It was late. Far later than she had become accustomed to. These days, she was often in bed and asleep not long after the sun had set, hoping that she would somehow find a full night’s sleep. Never to any avail.

For a moment, she thought of slipping beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak to Aemond until the morning. But he would only crawl into bed with her, and then he would see when she inevitably woke…

That was not a conversation she wanted to have today. Really, there was no conversation she wanted to have with Aemond, only that which must be had.

She was resolved that Aemond would not find her weeping or stewing in heartbreak. No, she would not let him think he held such power over her, even if he did. He always had, even when they were young children.

So, she resumed her nightly routine as though nothing was wrong, as if she was entirely unaffected by his betrayal. Sitting at her vanity, she began to unbraid her hair. Her maids usually did it for her, but she had dismissed them the moment she read Daemon’s letter, not wanting to see their pitying faces for longer than she had to.

Since learning she was with child, everyone – including her maids – fussed over her constantly. It was not without reason, she knew. There was indeed very good reason why everyone was so concerned about her. But after six months, she was tired of it.

Just the simple act of taking her braids out and brushing through her loose hair by herself brought a welcome feeling of independence that she had not felt in some time. Perhaps ever.

That feeling slowly faded away as the cheering and celebration from the city came closer and closer, until she could hear gauntleted hands clapping in the castle courtyard below.

Aemond was here.

Her hand fell to cradle her stomach and was immediately met by three quick thumps against her palm. She knew the child did not understand what was happening and was only responding to the touch itself, much in the same way a cat arches its back when petted.

Still, it comforted her. It made her feel like she was not alone.

“Kirimvossi, rūhossas,” she whispered with a smile before resuming brushing her hair.

Her smile did not last.

Sooner than she had hoped, she heard the clanking of armor as the guards outside her door straightened, bowed, then retreated.

A shiver went through her, stealing the air from her chest while cold gathered in her heart and began sinking to her stomach. Dragging her brush through her hair suddenly took great effort, as did every breath.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to banish the tears forming in her eyes and school her face into tired neutrality. To glance only once at the figure now lingering in the doorway before turning away without acknowledging him.

She did not know if it was strength or cowardice.

He called her name, his voice rasping and low – desperate. “We must speak.”

She did not respond. She didn’t even look at him.

Aemond sighed, calling her name again. “Please, my love. Look at me.”

Still, she did not move.

“Ābrazȳrītsos,” he said, a hint of command slipping into his plea. Little wife.

He had always loved calling her little. According to their mother, the first thing Aemond did when he saw her as a babe was exclaim, “She’s so little!”

Ever since, he’d been calling her little.

First, she was simply hāedus. Little sister.

Whenever she tried to follow Aemond when he went somewhere she wasn’t allowed or did something she wasn’t allowed to do, he would gently scold her, “Haedus, you’re too little.” Inevitably, she would cry. About half the time, her crying was enough to sway him.

Then, she became zaldrīzītsos. Little dragon.

“You’re my zaldrīzītsos,” he would say when she hugged him tightly after Aegon or one of the Strong boys mocked him for not having a dragon. She didn’t have one either, but she never felt she needed one, for she had Aemond.

For a time, she was maegītsos. Little witch.

Aemond had dubbed her so when she came to visit him in the Maester’s tower while he recovered from the loss of his eye. The Maester would give her some “special leaves” so she could brew a “magic potion” to help Aemond get better. In truth, the potion was simply tea. But Aemond always pretended that the potion had indeed worked miracles, just to make her happy.

Once he was healed, she was again zaldrīzītsos.

Since he finally had a true dragon, she worried that he would not want her anymore. When she came to him in tears one day as he was leaving the Keep to see Vhagar, he hugged her tightly and told her, “You will always be my zaldrīzītsos.” Then he brought her with him to ride Vhagar. It was the best day of her life.

Or it was, until the day they were officially betrothed, and she became raqiarzītsos. Little darling.

It was what he would call her every morning when he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. How he would summon her to his side at court events. What he moaned when they kissed unchastely each evening before saying goodnight.  

She had been so excited when she became his ‘ābrazȳrītsos.’ The first time he had whispered it in her ear at the wedding feast, she’d blushed so brightly that their grandsire inquired about her health. The next time he said it, Aemond made sure they were alone.

Little sister. Little dragon. Little witch. Little darling. Little wife.

Always little.

Once, the names had made her heart flutter with delight. Now, they only prompted another wave of nausea.

Aemond was everything to her – he always had been. She thought he felt the same way, but it seemed she was wrong. To him, she was just “little.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, of that word. How he spoke to her like she was some frightened animal poised to lash out.

Yet at the same time, her heart melted to hear the voice she loved so dearly after so long an absence. Merely the sight of him in the mirror sent a feeling of warmth and belonging flooding through her.

She hated him.

She loved him.

She was angrier at him than she had ever been in her life.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

She could do nothing but continue to brush her hair and stare into her reflection.

Aemond sighed, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “You won’t even look at me, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She gave no answer.

He whispered her name again, “Abrazȳrītsos, please,” Aemond’s voice turned quiet as he reached her and set a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her around by force, but she wrenched herself out of his grip, staring down at the floor. Though she did not look at him, she could almost feel the misery on his face. “Please look at me.”

“If I look at you, I fear I will be sick,” she explained weakly. “I don’t want to harm the babe.”

His irritation began to surge, she knew it even without seeing him. His breathing quickened slightly, and she could hear the creaking of leather as he rolled his shoulders and balled his hands into fists – he had been so hurried he had not yet taken off his riding gloves.

“You are my wife,” he huffed. She could hear him attempt to contain the sharp edge of barely contained anger in his soft voice. At least he was considerate enough to hide it. “You are my sister – my blood. You love me as I love you, and you carry my child within you. Yet you cannot even look at me?”

Fury roared to life like a surging flame within her. How dare he be angry with her when he is the one who ruined everything?

“Why did you come back?” she spat back, quietly yet viciously.

His stare continued to weigh on her through the mirror. “I promised you the day I left that I would return to you when the war was done,” he said, half-smiling at the memory. “The war is over, so here I am.”

She shook her head. “The war is not over.”

“Of course, it is. Daemon and Rhaenyra are dead, and – ”

“The fighting is over,” she corrected. “But the war is not finished. Peace must still be brokered. As Prince Regent, that is your responsibility. Yet you are here rather than with the rest of the soldiers and politicians at Harrenhal. Why?”

She wanted him to be the one to say it.

Aemond sighed, raising a hand to touch her, then pulling away. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed you and simply couldn’t stand to stay away a moment longer?”

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, standing from the vanity and turning to face Aemond, her hand raised and ready to strike.

But he caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her moments before her palm could impact his cheek – his scarred cheek. His eye was wide, filled with sadness and shock in equal measure. He turned to look at her hand as if it was some kind of curiosity he had never seen before, like he couldn’t understand how it could ever be raised against him.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks when he turned back to her, and his expression gave over entirely to despair. Aemond opened his mouth, but words failed him.

He lowered her hand gently, bowing his head slightly to the right to give her an easier target.

It broke something within her.

She dove toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

But the moment Aemond moved to return the embrace, she shoved him away. It only moved him a step back, still within her reach. He did not move closer, and when she began to pound her fists furiously against his chest, he didn’t try to stop her.

“Why did you come back?” she demanded as she pushed him once more. “Why did you not just stay in Harrenhal with your whore and leave us alone?”

Aemond did not respond. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing. He could do nothing but stare at her, his eye flitting between her belly, where his child had grown –so much he could hardly believe it – in his absence, to her eyes.

Those eyes. A warm, rich brown that shone with gold in the firelight. It was Aemond’s favorite color. For whenever he saw it, in her eyes or their mother’s, he knew he was home.

But now those eyes he loved so dearly were filled with tears of his own making. He wanted nothing more than to see them dry and sparkling with love once more.

“Abrazȳrītsos, you must know I will always return to you,” he begged, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on her belly. Almost immediately, he felt a stirring within her, and a weak pushing against him.

His child.

Was it reaching for him, or pushing him away?

Before he could truly ponder either answer, his wife pulled away from him, her arms curling protectively around her abdomen.

He had to say something. Something to take her pain away, to make everything well again so he would have the chance to hold her and the babe. Even if it was a lie, he would say it if it made her forgive him.

“Raqiarzītsos,” he started, only for her to take another step away and scowl at him. He sighed as the realization of how deeply had hurt her truly sunk in. He softly called her name, “My love, it was one mistake. One moment of weakness, I swear –”

“Liar!” Her voice had grown rough with her fury, and Aemond flinched at the sound. He had never heard her shout like that, not even when she was a babe herself.

She saw his discomfort and reveled in it. Seeing him suffer a fraction of what she felt gave her a sinful spark of joy, one that she felt no need to beg forgiveness from the Seven for. She turned away from him and retrieved the letter from Daemon, panting as she looked over the words once more.

“A mistress now lies in your husband’s bed. She was a wetnurse at Harrenhal, some Strong bastard. She must be something truly special, for she is the only Strong – trueborn or bastard – to have survived Aemond’s rather thorough purging of the bloodline. I suppose it is now clear why. I have not been able to learn much about her. She is called Alys, my spies tell me.”

With smoldering eyes, she turned to Aemond and began to read aloud. “She reports to your husband’s chambers every night without fail, as she has done from the very first week he arrived at that cursed place. One of my spies even reported that he calls her to him after each battle or razing of some poor Riverlanders, as well as anytime he feels frustrated. It is no surprise, then, that there is another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb. Your brothers do have a fondness for seeding unsuitable women, don’t they?”

When she looked up from the letter, she found Aemond’s face set in anger, his fingers curled as though they were aching to grip his sword and run someone through. His eye flew from the letter to her face, the rage burning there only softening for a moment.

The left corner of Aemond’s mouth twitched upward involuntarily, and he jerked his head to the side to try and hide it. “You would believe Daemon’s word over mine, abrazȳrītsos? After all he has done?”

She let the letter drift back to the table. “If all I had was his word, I would not have believed it,” she explained. “But it is not only his word.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, looking away from her. Incensed as he was, he would not make her the target of his ire. Never her.  “Will you tell me who else?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. There was a dark glint in his eye that promised violent retribution upon whoever she would name. No one deserved torture, or perhaps even death, for telling the truth.

With a nod, Aemond closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would not press her further, though she knew he would likely still try to find out who it was by other means. But in that moment, she could not bring herself to care.

She was so tired.

She had anticipated a long fight, and thought she was ready for it. In the hours she waited for Aemond’s return, she had carefully tended the spark of her anger so it would burn only when she commanded. But the moment she saw him, it escaped her grasp and became a wildfire in a dry grassland. It was fierce, quick, and lethal. In an instant, it had consumed every bit of her strength, leaving only the barest smoldering remains in its wake.

After a few more silent moments, Aemond again opened his eyes and looked down at his wife.

“I will not insult your intelligence by trying to deny it any further,” he said, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching for her, “and I know there is nothing I can say to excuse what I have done. But my love, I truly am sorry. For what I did, and for the hurt I have caused you.”

She stared at him, trying to detect and hint of insincerity. She found none.

“I love you. I know I have given you ample reason to doubt that but…” he swallowed thickly. “I do love you, abrazȳrītsos. I always have and I always will. I know in my heart that the gods made us for each other. And if they had fated us to others, I swear I would have defied their will and ripped them from the heavens so that I could love you.”

He licked his lips and removed his gloves before offering her his shaking hand.

Perhaps it was the result of the weariness pervading her entire being. Perhaps it was the tug of an unborn babe reaching out, somehow knowing its father was near. Perhaps it was the sliver of her soul that had always belonged to Aemond beckoning her to rejoin him and become whole again.

Whatever the reason, despite the protestations of her aching heart and her rational mind, she put her hand in his.

It did not fit as well as it used to.

If Aemond noticed, he did not acknowledge it. He raised their joined hands to his lips to kiss before resuming his plea. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will understand if you do not give it, but for the sake of my heart and the love we share, I must ask it. Abrazȳrītsos, can you ever forgive me?”

The world fell silent, and so did she.

If she focused, she could hear her heartbeat, along with two others, thumping out three different rhythms. It was discordant, yet somehow comforting. She listened to it for a moment, trying to hear a melody within it. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention to her hand in Aemond’s grasp. There was a welcome heat where his skin touched hers, but also a tingling numbness. A slight discomfort, akin to wearing new gloves before they had softened and molded to her hands.  

Then, she looked at Aemond. At the face that was more familiar to her than her own. It had changed in the last six months – more so than she would have expected. The color of his skin had deepened from so many days spent in the sun, and there were new blemishes that had not been there before. The shadows under his eyes, the roughness where it once was smooth, and the new smudge of a scar above the corner of his right brow.

All of it was strange. Known, yet unknown. Question, but no answer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What…” Aemond’s lip quirked again as he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I don’t understand, what don’t you know, my love?”

She winced slightly at the foreign sensation of his hand against her skin. He had callouses now he didn’t have before. “I don’t know how to forgive you, or if I even want to. I just feel… tired.”

Aemond nodded, bowing his head once more to hide the disappointment he could not keep from his face, and looked at her belly. “Of course, you are tired,” he said, “I am sorry, I did not consider how late it was.”

She caught his eye flicking towards the bed – their bed, or at least, it used to be. A cold coil of panic began to wrap itself around her heart. He could not sleep here. He could not see…

“I would prefer if you slept elsewhere,” she said hastily before he could ask otherwise. “For tonight, I would like to be alone.”

Tears shone in Aemond’s eye for a moment, but he did not let them fall. He gave her a tight smile and again kissed her hand. “If that is what you wish, I will obey, but may I ask one thing?”

It would be foolish to say yes. Foolish to give him the opportunity to persuade her at all when she knew how easily he had always been able to sway her with his sweet words. Foolish to do anything but send him away immediately.

And yet…

“What would you ask?” she whispered, betrayed by the foolish little part of her heart and soul that was still and would always be his ‘hāedus.’

“I ask only for a few moments, and then I will leave, as you wish. But it has been half a year, abrazȳrītsos, since I have seen you, or heard your voice, or held you in my arms.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his face, open and earnest and pleading. “So for only a few moments, please, allow me to hold you again.”

His softly spoken words were like a siren’s song, and she began to feel faint as she struggled to resist falling under its spell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging her mind to calm and think clearly.

“I promise, I will do nothing more than hold you,” he said, running his hand delicately over her cheek. “I just want to hold my wife.”

He did not deserve it, she knew. Nor did he deserve to be touching her as he did now, though she did not push him away. He did not even deserve her consideration of his request.

But it had been half a year for her, too.

Half a year with no one to kiss her good morning or good night. No one to carry her to bed when her legs and back ached. No one to hold her hair and whisper soothing words when she was sick.

She’d had her mother, her sister, and her maids. Even a Maester, at one very low point. But that was not the same. It was not the touch of a beloved husband.

Despite her anger, she was aching to be held by him.

“Just for a few moments,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Then you must leave.”

She did not have time to regret her decision before Aemond pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead as he thanked her. And before she could pull away, he was turning her slowly, so her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he assured her when she made a soft noise of confusion. “Trust me, abrazȳrītsos.”

His hands skated down her arms, his touch featherlight and yet searing. She gasped as he began to cradle her belly, her head lolling back into his shoulder. If given one more breath, she would have pushed him away, but then…

He laced his fingers together and took the weight of her belly into his own arms.

It was a rapturous feeling, to have the burden of it lifted from her and her eternally aching spine, even for a moment. She sighed in relief and leaned back further into her husband. Gratitude flooded through her, and her hands flew to rest over his.

“Oh, Aemond,” she breathed into his neck.

Gods, she had missed him so much. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d been here to hold her like this. He had always known been able to help her, she should have known that even with their first child, he would somehow know what to do…

Her eyes snapped open, and her blood ran cold.

This was their first child, but it was not Aemond’s only child.

He had another, far away, within a different mother. A mother whom he had been there for as she grew, Who, thanks to her role as a wetnurse, would be able to teach him exactly how to help.

“Did you hold Alys like this?”

Aemond stiffened behind her, and his grip tightened. “Abrazȳrītsos…”

“Don’t lie to me, Aemond. Not anymore.”

Silence, then…

“Yes, I did.”

She seized his hands and ripped them apart, tearing herself out of his grasp as quickly as she could, heedless of him reaching for her. Stumbling, she crossed the room before turning back to him, eyes blazing through new tears.

“Do not ever touch me like you touched her,” she spat. Her rage had reignited, the barren grassland now an endless field of flame.

Aemond’s mouth hung open as he looked to her in despair, his arms held helplessly in front of him. His voice broke as he said her name – a plea. “I just wanted to hold you. To help you.”

“And you did. For a few moments, just as you asked. Now leave, as you promised.”

He was looking at her like she was a wild beast, primed to lash out should he make one wrong move. But she didn’t mind, for that was exactly what she felt like. He had made her feel that way, and she hated him for it.

Aemond just stood there, and she could see his mind working desperately to figure out what to say to placate her. She would not give him the chance.

“Leave!” she screamed, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, burning as it went. She could not help but wonder if that was what dragons felt when they breathed fire.

Lowering his arms, Aemond nodded. “I will leave, abrazȳrītsos. Just as I promised. I am sorry.”

“I don’t care.” She meant it. His apology meant absolutely nothing to her raging, broken heart.

She watched him carefully as he turned and walked through the door, ready to rage at him again if she needed to. Perhaps she would actually breathe fire the next time.

Aemond did not try anything to soothe her or convince her to change her mind. The warrior prince knew when a battle was lost. But she knew he had not yet ceded the war.

That much was clear when he paused in the doorway, looking back at her in determination. “I love you, abrazȳrītsos, and nothing will ever change that.”

Then he closed the door, and was gone.

But she could not stop crying, for she knew he would return.

Worse, she knew that as angry as she was, she loved him, too. And nothing would ever change that, either.

-

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan mitchell #what is broken

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy

Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2  🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust

>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?

>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either

>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too

>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep

>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available

>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected

>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life

>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness

>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely

>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned

>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart

>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys

>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?

>But the day finally came, where you had to leave

>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea

>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around

>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts

>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious

>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go

>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela

>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well

>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please

>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right

>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion

>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling

>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone

>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched

>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.

>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"

>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse

>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate

>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see

>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty

>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain

>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked

>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy

>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company

>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that

>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs

>But some of her words were now cryptic to you

>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you

>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night

>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye

>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?

>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did

>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye

>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters

>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?

>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye

>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you

#yandere daemon targaryen #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

[aelenavelaryon]

Daemon Targaryen x Selene Hightower

Summary: 𝓓𝓪𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓦𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓮 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

Warnings: not edited? Nothing too crazy maybe some age gap

When Daemon's wife, Lady Rhea Royce perished on a trip across the narrow sea, his brother began to look for a new match. The king, had just married not too long ago. He had just named his daughter his heir but he had no children with his new wife just yet and his daughter was not married either. He wanted to secure his line. And what better way than through marriage?

Selene Hightower was Otto Hightower's youngest daughter. She was just like her sister if not more dutiful. Daemon had never paid attention to her as she had been back to Old Town with her family. Her return was a surprise to her as was her wedding to Daemon. Daemon didn't bother to meet her or nothing of that matter. Selene knew to not expect much from him. She cared very little for him but she was here to do her duty and she did. 

Selene Hightower and Daemon Targaryen married in the in the third moon of the year 105. Nine moons later they welcomed their first child, a son who they named Baelon in honor of Daemon's father. Lady Selene showed off her son every chance she got and the lords and ladies loved the boy who earned their love and affection. Daemon, despite being his moody self loved his son. After all the young babe took after him in every way. He took him flying across the skies a few days after being born, just like his mother had done with him when home was born. Baelon's dragon egg hatched that same night.

Daemon tried to be there for his son, that meant he would have to spend time with his wife, Lady Selene. Selene and Daemon welcomed their second child, Aemon just a year after Baelon. Daemon was there this time, he held her hand as she brought their son into the world. The maester held the baby before passing it to the nursemaids. "A boy, my prince, my lady" he said and she smiled. It was one of the rare times when he smiled at her. A genuine smile. The nursemaids let her hold her child and allowed her feed him too.

Daemon often took his sons on Dragon rides, their mother often watched them fly through the city from her window, a smile always gracing her lips. It was well known that Daemon and his wife did not love each other but they did their duty so graciously that even the king was surprise at his brother's change. Daemon no longer visited the streets of Silk. He no longer looked for other companions. Of course, as the prince and his lady wife made a life the king and his new wife had no children, every pregnancy queen Alicent had came with a stillborn or never made it past the second or third moon. Prince Aemond came a year after his brothers, and for a while prince Daemon and his wife choose to stop there. But, not for long.

Two years had passed. Baelon was now five, Aemon four and Aemond three when prince Aegon and princess Helaena were born. By then, Rhaenyra had two children of her own, prince Jacaerys and prince Lucerys, two children who looked nothing like their father or mother. Everyone knew of their true parentage but Selene and Daemon always kept to their business and their business alone. Helaena had been Daemon's firstborn daughter. His sweet dragon he would call her.

When Aemond was born, their relationship changed. Daemon wanted to spend time with her even when the children were not around. He wanted to hold her hand as they walked the gardens or as they walked to a room. He wanted to dance with her for hours if she would let him, he wanted to take her on dragon back across the Narrow Sea. After the twins were born, Daemon took his family and never looked back.

Pentos welcomed the family with open arms. Daemon and his wife began to ally themselves with those who needed protection and in return they got everything they desired. Selene, remained by his side, for years. There was never a time or place where Daemon was without his wife. Their children grew up with the best comforts and luxuries money could give. They all had dragons, except for Aemond.

Ten long years and Daemon and his wife had yet to stop having children. In Pentos they welcomed a few new members. Just nine moons after their arrival to Pentos they welcomed another set of twins Baela and Rhaena. Daeron and his twin sister Daenerys. Lady Serene was pregnant with her tenth child when the news of Laena's passing reached Pentos. The return of Daemon's family came as a surprise to many but throughout the years Laena and Selene had form a friendship as Laena had married a lord from Pentos and both women had been their for their children's births.

When people heard Caraxes everyone was surprised. They were surprise that Daemon had made an appearance but then, behind were eight dragons, most of them the size of Rhaenyra's dragon. Baelon rode Selene, the dragoness was named after his mother. Aemon rode Balerion who he named after the black dread. Aegon rode Sunfyre, Helaena rode Dreamfyre, Baela rode Moondancer, Rhaena rode Morning, Daeron rode Tessarion and Daenerys rode Meraxes, a dragon she named after queen Rhaenys' dragon. Daemon's wife, lady Selene arrived by boat as she was pregnant to ride with her husband. Aemond had come with his father. All of Daemon's children looked like him, some shared a few similarities with their mother but they were more like Daemon.

As the ceremony began people kept glancing at Daemon's children and princess Rhaenyra's children. The prince's children were the very definition of Old Valyrian blood children while Rhaenyra's children were the definition of the first men blood in their veins. The ceremony felt long but not because it truly was but because of the awkwardness between the Velaryon's and Rhaenyra. Daemon kept to himself and his family. He could feel Viserys watching his every move. His children were consoling Laena's daughter's Jocelyn and Rhaella while his wife was with Rhaenys.

Alicent, her father and Ser Criston watched Selene, she was happy and healthy as far as they could see. They watched as Daemon watched her and their children. He cared for her, Alicent could go as far as to say that he loved her. When Selene turned to look for Daemon she quickly spotted him, she gave him a warn and wide smile one that he returned happily. She went back to speaking to Rhaenys who was glad to have someone who truly cared for her daughter.

Viserys then approached his brother. "Daemon" he greeted him. "Your girls are the very image of their mother" he began. "A comfort and an anguish as I well remember" he said as he looked at his younger brother. Daemon on the other hand had a look on his face that was almost as if he was trying not to laugh at his brother's words. "The gods can be cruel" the king said as he looked at Daemon's wife. "It seems they've been specifically cruel to you" he replied feeling some time of way about how he was speaking and looking at his wife. The king chuckle before mumbling a yes. Daemon's hard gaze on his brother softened.

From where she stood, Selene could see princess Rhaenyra looking at her husband, her gaze towards him was intense. Rhaenys noticed too but said nothing. "You should return with us to King's Landing" the king offered. "It's time that you came home." he added. "Pentos is my home and that of my family" Daemon replied. "Daemon..." the king began. "I know we've had our differences, but let them pass with years. There's a place for you in my court if that's something you should need" the king said but that upset the rogue prince. "I need... nothing" he replied with a stern look before looking down and walking away from him. "Brother.." the king said but that Daemon had already walked away.

Otto Hightower stopped him. "It was time for you to bring my daughter home. Where she belongs" he stated. "She is far better off away from you and your family of leeches" Daemon replied to his good father. "She is a Hightower, my prince. A lady of Old Town" there was a silence. "Her loyalty is with her house, her blood. Do not forget that" he told Daemon before he walked away.

Selene decided to take a walk. She decided to take a walk by the beach, there she saw Daemon with Rhaenyra. She could hear their conversation but truly paid no mind. "You once told me I was the woman for you" she told him. She watched Daemon smirk. "I said this when you were young and I wanted the throne" he replied. An honest replied his wife thought. "Selene is not like you, Rhaenyra. She does not lie, she does not use people for her own benefit. She is kind, good, and loyal. Something that you've always lacked" he replied. "Laenor could not give me the sons I need it and you know that!" she replied. "I know and truthfully I do not care" he said. "You promised you'd stay by my side through it all" she said.

Daemon watched her, she was begging for him. "I will stand by your side when you come to the throne but I cannot do anything that puts my own family in danger" Rhaenyra scoffed. "You are just like my father a fool lovestruck with a Hightower whore" Daemon grabbed Rhaenyra by the neck. "You call her a whore one more time and I swear to the old gods that I will kill you. You are nothing to me! Nothing! Selene is everything to me! You hear me?!" Rhaenyra nodded frantically before he let her go. The two saw Vhagar, Laena's dragon fly by. Selene smiled, she knew, somehow someway her son was on top of Vhagar.

She met her son, by the caves under Driftmark, she was waiting as she watched him get off his new found dragon. Aemond stopped when he saw her standing there, he rushed to hug her. "See? I told you you'd have a dragon one day" she said before she pulled him close to his chest. In that moment, the birth pains began. "Aemond, find your father and tell him the babe is coming!" Aemond nodded and rushed in to look for his father. Selene laid in the sand, leaning all her weight into a rock. She saw a dragon fly in the sky, she thought it was one of her children's dragon, or another dragon from the Velaryons but as the dragon descended on the beach she saw the dragon as clear as day. 

Daemon spoke often of it. Caraxes who was near by rushed to see his riders wife, he felt her near by. Ever since Daemon's and Selene's relationship got closer and better, Selene and Caraxes created their own bond, kind of like a rider but not really. He was there to protect Selene from this Dragon. After Caraxes arrived other two dragons flew by, landing on the sand of Driftmark. Those dragons were Vermithor, Silverwing, and the Cannibal. Selene had no more time to wait as she heard other dragons, her children's own dragons. Lady Selene Hightower gave birth alone to three babes that night as the dragons of her children and husband roared welcoming the babes into the family.

Selene loved to carry scarfs and such with her, after birthing the first babe which was a boy, Vermithor approached the new born child before letting out a roar that made the child stop crying. "Jaehaerys" she said in a whisper before another pain came. After a few more minutes a daughter was born, Silverwing approached her. "Alysanne" she had named her. The last one did not want to come out. She was struggling, the Cannibal began to approach her, it was then that Daemon arrived with Maester's and the whole family behind him. But they all came into a halt when they saw the dragons of the old king and queen near each other and two bundles near his wife.

The cannibal was careful to not hurt the babes or disturb the dragons as he softly nudge her. A few pushes later, a baby girl was born. "Alyssa" she said said. The Cannibal stood there, watching the new born child, her children, born mere minutes ago had bonded with dragons that flew across the Sea to bond with them. Selene gave the dragons a nod and each and every single one flew away. Daemon who did not way another second rushed to her. "Look, Daemon. Three babes!" she said happily. "But, no more children, please" he nodded. "Whatever my beautiful dragon wants" he said as he kissed her. He brought the two babes to her as the children rushed to them. "This is Jaehaerys, and his twin sisters, Alysanne and Alyssa" she said before looking at Daemon who felt the tears forming in his eyes.

The births of the last Targaryen children of Daemon and Selene was known as the rebirth of Dragons. Some said she brought back House Targaryen. She gave birth to twelve Targaryen children. Six boys and six girls. And, all of her children had their own dragon. King Viserys gifted Dragonstone to his brother. Daemon moved his family into his ancestral home, the one he loved so much. Peace was in the family more than it had been before. Jocelyn and Rhaella would often visit their cousins, aunt and uncle as they like to call Dameon and Selene. Princess Rhaenys and lord Corlys visited them too. Rhaneyra had married Ser Harwin after Ser Laenor's "tragic" death. Rhaenyra was losing and she knew it.

Six years later, princess Selene was happy as ever. Prince Baelon was twenty and one. Prince Aemon was twenty, and prince Aemond nine and ten. Aegon and Helaena were seven and ten. Rhaena and Baela five and ten. Daeron and Daenerys were ten and their younger ones were six. Daemon and his wife often took them on dragon rides around the island. Things were fine for the most part until a raven arrived from Rhaenys. Prince Lucerys legitimacy was being question by Ser Vaemond Velaryon his "uncle" therefore the lord thought he should be the next lord of Driftmark if lord Corlys were to pass.

Daemon and his family stood next to king, he was hearing the whole ordeal to of course make it fair but everyone knew he would pick his daughter over anyone else. Daeron, Daenerys, Jaehaerys, Alysanne and Alyssa had stayed back in their chambers since they were too young to be in the court hearing. Vaemond had made a speech about his blood and line and how he would not see it end through bastards. Rhaneys was allowed to speak and it was then that she express the marriage proposals between Jocelyn and Aemond and one between Aegon and Rhaella. (Both twins are seventeen).

Rhaenyra looked at the woman thinking she would side with her. In a sense she had because she knew if she were to expose her things would soon spin out of control. Rhaenyra then spoke. "I propose a match between Jacaerys and princess Helaena, Luke to Baela and Joffrey Rhaena" Daemon looked at his wife, waiting for her permission and she nodded. The crowd had seen it. "We well consider your offer, princess" she replied with a smile. Daemon knew that if his daughter married Jacaerys she would be queen.

Although princess Helaena cared very little for such things he knew that Jacaerys was a good man. That, she was sure of. Baelon was to marry Nymeria Martell, Aemon Lyarra Stark. Daenerys was also bethroth to Qoren Martell, while Daeron to his cousin, lady Ceryse Hightower. The other three children were too young to even consider a match.

After the whole ordeal it was decided that Luke would be the lord of Driftmark. The whispers did not stop there though. It was said that the people believe prince Daemon and his lady wife would be better rulers than princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin. After the incident in Driftmark involving lady Selene people took that as a sign that her children were worthy of the crown. Unbeknownst to Selene her father was planning to usurp the throne from Rhaenyra and make his grandson, prince Baelon his heir. Selene was not supposed to find out but after an argument with Alicent the queen let's it slip.

Alicent had invited her to her private chambers. Selene, at her age, thirty and six she was still a beauty.

Alicent could see her, her beauty was radiant and pure. "You were always father's favorite child" Alicent began. Selene shook her head, to her it had never felt like that. "You were. Initially, he had plan for you to go to the King's chambers that day. But, he changed his mind, stating that he would find you something better. And I thought, what is better than a king? I see it now" Selene was of course confuse. "You are the queen, Alicent" she told her sister who scoffed.

Alicent looked at her. "Yes, I am. Yet, I bore the king no sons. No daughters. Nothing" she said back. "You on the other hand gave your husband twelve children. Healthy children that made it to adulthood. Your daughter might marry the future king. Your other children are marrying into good houses. Whilst me, I'm here. Alone. I've been alone after you left I had no one" Selene felt for her sister. Of course, she did. Alicent was her sister, her blood.

"Father never loved me. It may have seen that way to you but to me, he always made me do hard labour. I will not deny that at first my marriage to Daemon was not perfect. We hated each other. We hated what we stood for and what we believed in. I did my duty, I married, I gave my husband children, I was his wife, his servant, his nurse, his maid, his nymph, I lived to attend him, he used to make me do too much labor. I love him, i do. With all my heart. Daemon changed, he showed me how to be free, how to live, how to love. Our children are the light of our lives. And I am sorry that you were not as lucky as me. I wish, I wish you did not have to go through this, sister. I truly do" she said as she tried to hold her sisters hand but she had pulled away.

Alicent looked much older than she was. Way older. "Father has been planning to install Baelon as the new king. He wanted to do it for you" she said. "What?" Selene asked. She could not believe her own ears. "Alicent. What you are saying can be considered treason!" she yelled. "It's the truth. I swear it" Selene did not wait for her sister to say another word as she rushed out of the room in search of her father.

Otto was in his private office when she burst in. "Is it true?" Selene asked. Her face was red, the anger was noticeable. "Is what true, Selene?" Otto asked. "You're planning to take the throne from princess Rhaenyra?" she asked in a low voice. Daemon spied them, his guard told him his wife was seeing seething in anger walking towards her father's office. "Rhaenyra cannot rule after her father" he replied, making Daemon and his wife scoff. "Rhaenyra will be a good queen" she told him. "It won't matter if she's Jaehaerys born again. She's a woman" he replied. "I did not raise my son to take his cousins crown" her father laughed.

He stood and walked over to her. "When you married Daemon you hated him. Now, you love him? Better yet, you think he loves you?" he asked, mocking his daughter. "Daemon loves me. I don't care what you think about our marriage but keep my children out of your schemes. Or I will allow Daemon to kill you. I will not have my family destroy by your ambitions to take the throne that does not belong to us or our family" she said before she began to walk away. She stopped at the door.

"I love Daemon" she began. "I fell in love with him. He gave me the happiness I never thought I would find in our marriage. I have the same happiness you had when mother was alive" she turned to face her father. "I know mother would be disappointed in you. She would have never allowed you to marry Alicent and I off to our husbands" Otto stayed quiet. "So, are you saying you wished you never married Daemon?" Otto asked trying to twist her words. "Daemon was Daemon. I believe that one way or another he and I would've ended up together. We're meant to be. You may not see and you may hate it but I love him. I will always love him and my loyalty will always be with my husband and our family. I'm glad mother is not here to see what kind of man you've turned into" she said before walking away.

In the walk back to her room she didn't know what to do. This scheme had been going on for two decades. For as long as her son had been alive. She didn't find Daemon in their room and she was glad. The wine was set on the table, she had pour herself a cup and drank it quickly. She looked out the window. Her children were down there, the king had enjoy their company, especially the youngest, from Daeron to Alyssa. They loved to hear him tell them stories of old Valyria and from around the world. The older children spoke with their cousins and future betroths. She smiled at the sight. When she saw Baelon her smile dropped. Her son was in possible danger, if word got out of what was happening between the walls of the keep her son could pay for their mistake.

Selene was so engulfed in her own thoughts that she did not hear the door open. Daemon leaned against the door. He watched her watch their children. "My love" she heard him say. She turned to face him. Her face was full of worry and fear. Daemon, although knowing what worried her rushed to hug her. "Are you alright?" he asked and she shook her head no as she pulled him close. "I'm afraid, Daemon" she said in a whisper that he barely even heard. "Of what, love?" Daemon asked. Selene, told him the whole story that he already knew.

He pulled away, grabbing her face, making her look at him. "No harm will come to our children, you hear me? None. I will protect them with my life. Always have, always will" she nodded. "Do you wish for our son to be king?" he asked. "What mother wouldn't?" she replied. "All I want is for my children to be happy and content with what is given to them, with what they have and with what they have earn. I just want them to live a long and happy life" she cried. Baelon, Aemon and Aemond had walked in to their father consoling their mother, the three instantly got worried.

They rushed to their mother. "Mother! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Who has hurt you?" they all asked frantically scared for their mother. Daemon smiled proudly. Him and his lady wife had raised good men. "I am well. Just sad" she replied with a smile. Baelon and his two brothers were the exact copy of their father. It was like having a young Daemon in front of her. Aegon and Helaena shared their traits but Aegon was like his uncle Gwayne while Helaena was more like her aunt Alicent in her youth before marriage. Baela and Rhaena were the vivid image of their mother except for their purple eyes and their two strips of white hair.

Daeron was all his mother from the hair to eyes while his twin was all his father. Jaehaerys, Alysanne and Alyssa all looked like Daemon. Alyssa had one purple eye and one green, sharing the eye color with both of her parents and like her grandmother she had the same eye condition. She looked at her sons. "When I see you guys together, it reminds me to when you were all young, I missed my babies" she said as the tears began to fall once again.

Her children hugged their mother. Despite being men grown, they loved when their mother would sing to them, when she would play the harp, when she would rub their bellies as they laid on her lap while she read or when she would play with their hair. Daemon told their children their situation, they all knew they did not want the crown but soon enough they would realize the crown was meant for them.

It was a rainy night. Prince Daemon's family would be departing back to Dragonstone soon. In the hour of wolf, a Kingsguard arrive at the door of the prince and his wife. The king had called upon them. A important meeting. When they arrived, it was only the king, Harwin and Rhaenyra. No one else from the council was there. Daemon and his wife tensed up instantly. "What is the meaning of this?" Daemon asked as he held his wife close. "This morning, Rhaenyra came to with a petition" the king began. "She wishes to renounce to the throne" the room, was even more silent then it was before they arrived.

Prince Daemon and Selene were confused. Why would she asked that? Rhaenyra replied, as if she had heard their question. "The legitimacy of my sons has been put loudly to question since the day they were born and I am tired of it. I just wish to ride on dragon back and see the wonders across the narrow sea and eat only cake" she replied with a smile. Selene, saw it. Rhaenyra was given a heavy burden since the day she was born. She was married off to Laenor who everyone but her father and his father knew favored men over women. It was a marriage set to fail from the beginning.

So, the princess seek comfort elsewhere. Harwin Strong. "And what does that have to do with us?" Daemon asked. "Well, since I have no other children aside from Rhaenyra, and seeing as Rhaenyra's children do not want the throne either, you Daemon are the next in line to the throne" Selene looked at her husband. Being king was all he ever wanted years ago, but now it was different. "Would you, allow us sometime to think about it?" Selene asked and the king nodded. She grabbed Daemon's arm and began to walk into their room.

"Daemon" she whisper to him as he say by the window. "When I was younger all I ever wanted was to be a great warrior and the best dragon rider. I wanted to be the best of the best. I never wanted the crown as everyone always believed. Viserys was more fit to rule, I was too wild and untamable to rule. I was made for the battlefield not a council meeting" she nodded. "All I ever wanted was for my brother's love and support. He has been king for years and he has never asked me to be his hand but now he wishes for me to be king?" he asked. He knew his brother meant well but, truth be told Daemon was scared. The throne was the most dangerous sit in the realm.

When the morning came, her eldest son, Baelon was called into their chambers and the situation was explained to him. "I will do my duty, father, mother, always" Selene pulled him into a tight hugged one that he returned. "I am so proud of you, my son" he nodded and kissed her hand.

Daemon and Selene returned to the council meeting and gave the king his answer. Days later, prince Daemon and princess Selene became King Daemon Targaryen and his Queen Selene Hightower. They were crowned in a beautiful sunny day, the city seemed fresh and new. It was a new beginning for the Targaryen family and dynasty.

Soon after came the weddings. Baelon, Aemon and Aemond married moons after their parents coronation. Daemon and Selene were having déjà Vu as they saw their sons married dark haired women. Daemon remembered the day he married his dragon. He did not like her but now, nearly twenty two years later they were together, with twelve children and now a crown on their heads. Daemon was in a place he never imagined himself to be. But, he had Selene, his Selene by his side. And as long as she was by his side nothing else could get on the way of his happiness.

King Daemon Targaryen died at the age of ninety and two while his wife, Queen Selene, as she was called even after her son and wife became king and queen died at the age of a hundred and five. She was the longest living queen. She lived twelve years after her husband. She saw a few generations of her blood raise to the throne. She saw hers And daemon's bloodline expand and live on through their children and through her children's children.

She lived a happy life. A long happy life. As she got older she liked to be read to. Her children and later on children, great grandchildren and great great grandchildren and such would read to her. They would visit her and tell her about their day. The queen lived her last days happy and content. Baelon and his son made a statue and a castle in the name of their mother, and another statue of their father. Her great grandson adding one more of both Daemon and Selene. House Targaryen prevailed and continued thanks to Selene Hightower the "Grace and Love of Daemon Targaryen"

#aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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[one-idea]

I love a Roger/Rouge lives to raise Ace or a Shanks takes Luffy with him one-shot as much as anyone.

But the main problem I always have is that the ASL brothers would never meet in these circumstances. So my brain (being the mess that it is) has tired to find a solution.

What if Rodger never got sick or at least it was not as deadly as it was. Still chronic but not a death sentence. He lives and Rouge has Ace (she gets pregnant a little later then in cannon so that she doesn’t have the crazy long pregnancy but Ace is still the same age).

To keep his family safe they travel with him on the Oro Jackson. They stay to relatively calm waters that the marines can’t easily get to. Some of the crew also leave to make their own crews. This gives the marines something else to chase.

Shanks is one of the ones to set out on his own. He leaves when he’s around 17 right around the time Ace is born. It’s the push he needs to set out. He wants to distract the marines as much as possible from Roger’s family. (Buggy did the same thing. They decided to split up to cause more mayhem)

Ten years go by. Shanks visits Roger when he can but for the most part he’s making a name for himself. And he’s doing a good job at it. So good he has to lay low for a while. So he decides to go to the East Blue for a bit. Get away from the Grandline while also hiding somewhere different than Roger. (That way if the marines find him they won’t also find Roger)

It’s here that he meets a 7 year old Luffy. And it plays out much the same as cannon. He adores this little ball of sunshine. This is his boy. He doesn’t care who the boy’s blood father is this, is his boy. So he gives him his hat, has Luffy promise to return it when he’s a great pirate someday. But he leaves out the part about that being the next time they see each other because he wants to see his boy again.

When Shanks returns to the Grandline he seeks out Roger to tell him about their new family member. And Roger hears about this boy who is sunshine incarnate, who dreams to be the freest person alive, who wants to dethrone him as pirate king and goes, “I can’t not meet him.” And there’s no way he’s waiting till the kids on the sea. (Plus Ace needs some friends. Shanks and Buggy had each other, Ace has no one his own age and Rouge is starting to worry for their son.)

So they set out for the sleep island in the East Blue.

Meanwhile Grap has moved Luffy to Dadan’s care. While Luffy is out wondering around he bumps into a blond haired boy named Sabo. It takes a while but Sabo starts to warm up to the 7 year old that’s following him like a shadow.

Just in time for a new kid to wander his way into their jungle. Oro Jackson has Docked and Roger has been (discreetly) looking around for this Luffy while the crew restocks. Ace has already made his way into the jungle because even though he was raised by his parents, he’s still feral. (He was raised on a pirate ship go figure) the three boys bump into each other and through some shenanigans Ace and Sabo start to get along.

It doesn’t take long for Sabo and Luffy to figure out who Ace’s dad is. You know since they actually get to meet them.

The Bluejam pirates still happen.

Maybe Ace doesn’t like Luffy at first. He’s a little kid and is annoying in the way all older kids find younger kids that just want to follow them around annoying. But it’s more than that, because Shanks has claimed Luffy. Shanks, who Ace grew up around and looks up to, came back to the ship and didn’t want to talk about anything except for this ‘amazing’ kid. This kid who his uncle/older brother gave up his arm to save. This kid who is so ‘special’ his dad just had to come and meet him. This kid who has his dad wrapped around his finger in under a day. This kid, who is wearing his Dad’s old hat like a crown and talking about dethroning his dad like it’s his right. This little crybaby who’s not even that special. He can’t even swim!

Even Sabo has a soft spot for the kid, Sabo who is now Ace’s first friend, but he obviously likes Ace better because Luffy is such a crybaby.

But then the Bluejam pirates show up and they heard that the king of the pirates is here with his son. His son he would do anything for. Wouldn’t it be nice to get the bounty for the king of the pirates? If they have his son they can probably force the man into handing himself over. They wouldn’t even have to fight him!

They set out to capture Ace. They see him hanging around Sabo and Luffy. When they attack Ace and Sabo get away but Luffy gets caught. He gets tortured as they ask him to give up the location of the Roger Pirates so that they can capture Ace and by extension Roger. But Luffy won’t tell them anything.

Roger comes to save him. The whole crew comes along with Ace and Sabo. After this the three boys are inseparable. Ace steals some of the crew’s sake and the three swear to become brothers.

While the three boys are doing this. Roger sent some men to find the rest of the Bluejam’s crew and find out about their plan to burn Grey Terminal and how they were hired by Sabo’s father. And that settles it for him. If there was any doubt in Roger’s mind that he was taking Sabo with them when they left this island it was gone now. He thought the boy was oddly dressed for a homeless boy, finding out he was a noble explained a lot. He’s not leaving the boy in this situation. Mainly because Ace finally has a friend/brother. Finding out that adopting the boy would make a noble lose their mind was a bonus!

But what about Luffy? He knows Shanks thinks of the boy as a son. He’s know he is Ace and Sabo’s brother, and they haven’t left his side since the kidnapping. Rodger has no clue who the boy’s family is. At this point Luffy has only introduced himself as Luffy. He lives with the bandits but they are not his family. So it’s seems like he’s got no one truly taking care of him. Honestly Roger is shocked Shanks didn’t just take Luffy with him when he left.

So Roger leaves the island. Stealing one noble son. And taking what he believes to be one free child with him. (There are no parents around to claim him? It’s free real estate) they sail away right as a navy ship is approaching. And Roger would recognize that ship anywhere. It’s Garp! What is Garp doing here? Was Roger that careless with his location. The Oro Jackson hasn’t had a true Marine encounter in years (Rouge is just that good at navigating them under the radar)

Garp sees them, of course he does. Roger sees Garp grab a den den mushi, one that projects his voice across the open sea between them. Roger is expecting his regular speech about how Garp is going to catch them, about how they should surrender, really any of their normal banter.

What he is not expecting is the very loud, very panicked, very angry “give me back my grandson!”

Roger and the crew slowly turn to face the three boys. It’s not Ace. Roger would know if he or Rouge were related to Garp but he still checks Ace off the list.

It can’t be Sabo. Roger can’t imagine a reality where Garp lets his child marry a noble. Plus the kid looks nothing like him.

That leaves Luffy.

“Luffy, what was your name again?” Rouge asked ever patient

“Monkey D. Luffy!” The boy says with confidence. It’s the first time the crew has heard the surname. Well, at least that confirms somethings.

After confirming that yep this is Garp’s grandson. Who he is apparently trying to train to be a marine? Who he’s apparently hit with haki infused punches. (Roger’s been hit with those. They hurt.) Roger grabs their own den den mushi and just calls out “finder keepers.” And they sail away to cannon fire and cursing.

Anyhow the three brothers grow up together on the Grandline. Shanks visits when he can and calls once a week at least if not daily to check in on Luffy and the boys.

Whitebeard definitely crosses paths with Rogers at some point and tries to adopt the boys from him. Rogers would fight him if Rouge wasn’t already fighting Whitebeard over her babies. In the end he becomes the fun uncle. Ace adores him. This is Roger’s worst nightmare! (It’s not. There are way worse things that could happen than his son liking his rival. But Roger loves to be dramatic)

When it’s time to make their own crews Ace and Luffy both decide to start from the East Blue. Getting dropped off by the Roger pirates.

At some point Sabo found out about the revolutionary army and decided that he wanted to join rather than be a pirate. He has his family’s full support (as long as he calls once a week. If he doesn’t they will find him) When he meets his boss for the first time he almost loses his mind and immediately calls Roger’s with a “I think I just met Luffy’s dad!” To which he gets the hilariously confused response of, “You’ve known Shanks since you were ten. What do you mean you just met Luffy’s dad?”

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #fire fist ace #one piece ace #portagas d. ace #gol d. ace #gol d. roger #portages d. rouge #shanks #one piece sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabo #I have thought about this for days. I just want one timeline where they all get to be together #roger approaching Ace: we have to take these kids with us for a bit. #Ace: these are my brothers now. we are taking them forever wether you like it or not. they’re mine now #asl brothers

[syrma-sensei]

→ A True Victory.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: polygamy, established relationship, breeding kink, creampie, light sub/dom dynamics...

word count: 2.4k

summary: the newly-crowned king of the narrow sea returns to court victorious, but his greater triumph is crowning you with the dragon sigil.

PART II: A DRAGON'S GLORY.

PART III: A LIONESS'S HOME.

masterlist | ao3

YOU LIKE HIS NEW HAIRSTYLE, in fact, the prince never ceases to enchant you by his sharp looks, and the ridiculous amount of shameless sighs and lingering eyes on him confirm that you're not the only one who's quite taken by the prince. However, any sign of infatuation on your side is masterfully hidden under a cold façade. You sip from your wine and keep on exchanging the silly topic you're having with the other courtier ladies. Untill another, more of importance, is brought up.

“I heard that Lord Corlys is seeking an alliance with one of the free cities.” Lady Redwyne says.

“To the son of the Sealord of Braavos, or so I've heard.” Lady Strong remarks, before her lips press delicately on the rim of her goblet.

Joselyn Redwyne's puckered lips tighten in distaste, “Oh, that is awful to hear,” Her eyes drift momentarily to the King who's laughing along his brother on something the Queen has said, “The King mustn't stand by and do nothing about it. The retreat of the Velaryons' fleet will weaken the royal navy, thus, will put the King's reign in danger.”

“I do not think so,” Lady Strong answers, “Now the Prince is back at court victorious, and the two royal brothers made peace with eachother. The realm is stronger than ever. Isn't that right, my lady?” She turns her head towards you, a taunting grin visiting her lips.

A cold smile slips into yours, “The house of the dragon is at the height of its strength, Lady Strong, one more fleet or less cannot prove that his Grace's grasp on the realm has faltered.”

“Even when your prince husband fled to Dragonstone with two thousands men of the City Watch?” Lady Redwyne says.

Your grip tightens around the stem of your goblet. That again. They must always rub it in your face; your husband's abandonment of you, they're impudent enough to do so; it gives them a large amount of self-satisfactory to make a lioness of the rock who's wed to a fierce and royal dragon cornered, humiliated even. You smile at her, nevertheless; you'd never rise to the bait. Instead, and like the dutiful lady you are, who harbours great love for her husband, you choose to defend him.

“My prince husband had his personal reasons to pass some time alone on Dragonstone away from court.” Your gaze shifts to the prince, and fuck, he's looking at you, smirking. Your eyes lock for a moment before they flit back to the old lady. “And as Lady Strong just said, the Prince is now home, triumphant with the Triarchy destroyed. The realm owes him a lot.”

“Dear me, such a shame he did not want his wife's company in his time of solitude there.” The old lady murmurs.

The anger that has been huddling within your chest since the Prince's return finally snaps, and you decide to let it out on the old hag that chose not to keep her mouth shut. The moment your lips crack open, ready to shoot a snarky remark at her, you feel a very familiar warmth surronds you from behind.

“A shame indeed,” You hear the usual drawl in your husband's voice, “But such cold and grotesque island as Dragonstone is no suitable place for my delicate lady wife. Do you not agree, my ladies?”

“Prince Daemon.” Your company of nattering ladies all dipped in short courtesy for him.

You allow yourself to grin, just slightly, before you press your lips purse into thin line.

Your husband's hands perch gently on your shoulders, his thumbs squeezing a bit, and you shiver under his touch. His rough-padded fingers trail up to your neck, tilting your head aside so he can look at your eyes. You have the famous green eyes of the Lannisters, and they're burning no less than the wild fire. “Her Grace, Queen Alicent, has just mentioned to me the new additions to the gallery. Would you care to tour me around, my lady?” His thumb traces your cheek in a circular pattern. His public show of affection has been one of the perks you take huge delight in once. How he'd kiss you, caress you in front of the court. Abashedly, declaring his love and devotion to you. You took sick pleasure in making the ladies at court jealous and envious of your position. The woman who has it all. That what some would call you, and how would they not. You're the younger sister of the Lannister lord twins; a high-born lady with generous wealth, who happened to catch the interest of the King's younger brother, he took it so far that he named you the Queen of Love and Beauty after he's won an attorney, and decorated your head with a crown. Offending both his and his wife's houses. But he doesn't care. And perhaps that's the most alluring trait that made you fall in love with the handsome prince; he's taken you as a second wife, in the tradition of his house. He didn't care about the havoc he faced for that, and your family didn't actually mind as it comes back at them with the advantage of having you marrying a royalty.

A dragon marrying a lioness, it made quite the shake in the realm. And everyone acquiesced to the viciousness of your love.

Daemon could've sworn that the fire in your eyes is more lethal than Caraxes', and the Rogue Prince is fond of playing with yours. You smile cordially at your husband, “Of course, my love.” Then you turn to your companions, “If you will excuse us, Your Ladyships.” You remove his arms from around you, but he offers you his elbow, and you have no choice but to accept it.

You two walk into the palace in silence. Your feet clanging against the corridors floor, your hand still latches onto his arm. Once in the gallery, Daemon orders the servants and guards out. When he makes sure that you two are alone, he takes the opportunity and leans into your neck, pressing light kisses on your anointed skin.

“How I have missed you.” He whispers desperately as he inhales the sweet scent of the Lysene oils he's used to gift you. You almost give in. Every resolve you solidly built to fortify yourself against him is falling apart at a mere touch of his. You truly love him, and he truly owns you, body and heart. You're his precious prize, therefore, he cannot treat you as such, and you'll make sure that he'd pay for hurting you. He's your husband, your lord, your prince, your beloved. But you're a lioness of the Rock, who holds great pride, and your dragon wounded it deeply.

You shake away from his touch, “Oh have you?” Turning your head to face him, your feigned smile finally drops. “Well, I have not.”

You step forwards, making sure his body warmth is fairly away from you.

He strides towards you, “(Y/N), darling...” His steps come to a haul when you spin around to stop him.

“You cannot go and abandon me in an overnight, and come back after four years like nothing happened, Daemon!”

The latter stills on his spot, looking at you blankly, “We were at war, love, what did you expect from me?”

“You did not fly to Dragonstone because you were at war, Daemon.” You hiss at his face through gritted teeth.

“I was at one with my brother.” He replies frankly.

“And you deemed that leaving me, your fucking lawful wife, here suffering from courtiers looking at me sideways, and whispering the foulest things behind my back, to the point they don't have any sliver of courtesy and say it in my face, would be a great notion? How smart of you, husband.”

A small yelp escapes your throat as Daemon's hand clasps on your forearm and drags you behind him, splaying you open at one of gallery's walls. His face is few inches away from you, his hot breath slamming your soft skin, searing like the one his dragon produces. Your own grows ragged. His violet eyes pouring into yours. Glowing amethysts clashing with scalding emeralds.

“I did not take you with me, because if I did, you going with me into exile would have condemned the entirety of your house as well.” His tone is calm. However, the fires within his eyes tell you otherwise. “And who ever dared to hurt you in my absence, I shall gouge their tongues myself.”

A shudder sweeps over your body, you know your dragon is true to his words. However, that will come later. “But I'm your wife, Daemon.” You murmur breathlessly, “The one you fought the world for, or do you not remember?”

Your husband grins wickedly, “Of course I remember.” He tugs a strand of your golden hair behind your ear, “Do you think I shared interests with Lord Corlys only for the sheer lust for victory and to taunt my kingly brother?”

“Wouldn't put it past you.” You say in whisper, “You did it to win your post in your brother's court back.”

Daemon chuckles, “Can't deny I did.” His slender fingers twirl a tress of your hair, “Nevertheless, it came clear to me, after four years in exile, three of them at war, that there is no victory can compete with the one I've achieved of having you.”

A crimson hue smudges your face, and your prince pops your nose playfully. “Ah, here she is, my good kitten.”

Kitten, is the pet name he's given you when you show hints of your more submissive side, that only him gets to see it. The wild lioness that everyone is intimated by turns into putty in the prince's hand. Her resonant roars turn into delicious mewls when the dragon coaxes the worst out of her.

His hand is warm against your cheek when he cups your pretty face. He roams your body up and down with his eyes. You're wearing a sleeveless dress, made of green velvet. The fabric was a present from him. The colour brings out the green of your eyes, and the golden embroidery patterns accentuate the gold of your mane. You lean into his touch, and his hand grazes up to your mane, grabbing it a tad to make more available skin for him to feast on.

You whimper weakly, your body is already raging with need; four years deprived of this... of him. You never imagined you'd have to go celibate after you married Daemon, he always had you in his bed, fucking you almost every night, teaching you the arts of love and carnality in his sheets, the ways of hedonism you never thought of before. He pleased you and taught you how to please him. And you did so eagerly.

His hands touch your bare arms, pressing your hands and bringing them up to his lips, kissing each knuckle and fingertip of yours. You giggle and he grins. Daemon dips again and trails a line of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, jaw, and chin. He decides to look at your eyes before he presses his lips against yours. Your breathing is heaving, your eye are half-lidded, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. Hungry, lustful, and burning. Daemon grasps your shoulders as his lips crushing against yours, growling desperately in your mouth. Then his hands drop to your skirts, you help him lifting them up, and shuffling your undergarments down.

“Gods,” He hisses as he slips a finger inside of you. “You're as tight as you were at our wedding night.”

“Daemon, please...” You moan when you feel his thumb brushing your clit. “Please...”

“How cruel of me,” He remarks, a hint of mockery tinting his voice, “Leaving my wife unfulfilled and unsatisfied.”

You slap his chest playfully, “For four years you fucking twat.”

He grips on your hair again, with a bit more force this time, “That's no way to talk to your prince, my lady.” He kisses your lips again.

You laugh between the kisses, “And that was no way to treat your lady wife, my prince.” He groans in irritation, “Your lioness became hopeless to the point of considering returning to her original den, Casterly Rock.”

Daemon freezes, “What?”

“See, husband?” You sassed, “If you had been a little more late, you wouldn't have found me here.”

He grumbles, “Then I would have mounted my dragon and come to you, darling, and nothing could've stopped me from taking you again like I did first time.” He turns you around, your breasts pressing against the cold wall.

“Oh, shall I test the waters, my prince?” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers hit that delicious spot of you. He hasn't forgotten.

“Do not tempt the dragon, darling,” He snarls next to your ear, “You'll only get burned.”

“I've taken much more harder things, Daemon.” Your chuckle is interjected by moans.

“You're taking much more today.”

He continues to touch you, to ease your skin, with his lips and hands. His fingers coax your insides untill you're begging for his cock. He knows exactly where to touch you, earning your submission once again.

He clasps your hands, your fingers interlocking, as he thrusts deeply into you. All wet and warm for him. You gasp, your body craving for more. And Daemon knows, from the way your walls are sucking him up greedily and eagerly. His tip kissing your cervix each time he snaps his hips. You spin around and cling to him in desperation; your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

“Ah... ah... Daemon...” Your head snaps backwards, and his lips are on your neck. “Give it to me please, husband, please!”

Daemon doesn't stop untill he gives you both, his and your high. And he fucks his seeds through your pleasure. In hope of a child will be born nine moons from now. You quiver, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands clawing at his back, and you bury your face into his neck. You don't wish him to see you crying. Daemon does indeed relish in watching you submit to him, but he never is fond of weaklings.

But Daemon senses the shake of your chest and sees the shinning beads on your face.

“What is it darling?” He tugs your hair away from your forehead, cradling your face in both hands, “Speak to me, love...”

“Never leave again.” Your words came out hushed, fragile.

“I never will.”

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #Daemon Targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon #game of thrones #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fic #Daemon Targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen fanfic

[geronimosong]

Okay, for a long time, I had a head cannon. Now that we have a great new adaptation, it is a good time to share it.

I firmly believe that the Neriad Percy meets after his fall from St. Louis Arch is Amphitrite, the Sea Goddess and Wife of Posiedon. Why do I believe this well? Firstly, she is the highest regarded Nereid, and after Amphitrite married Poseidon, the Nereids became part of their royal court.

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River." "Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court." "And … you serve in Poseidon's court?" She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest."

"If my father is so interested in me," I said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?" A cold current rose out of the depths. "Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism.' "Even to their own children?" "Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift." She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. - Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

Theseus and Amphitrite, Athenian red-figure kylix C5th B.C., Metropolitan Museum of Art

Secondly, in mythology, King Minos questions Theseus's parentage with a ring thrown into the sea. Proving his connection to Poseidon, Theseus dives, carried by dolphins, to Poseidon's palace. Amphitrite treats him as a son, gifting him a purple cloak and a crown. Theseus triumphantly returns to his ship with these divine presents, reminiscent of Percy's encounter with a Nereid in "Lightning Thief."

Though Theseus proves his parentage to Poseidon, the god is not in the underwater palace. Theseus gains the ability to breathe underwater from Amphitrite. This parallels Percy's first underwater experience. You might ask why his stepmom would decide to help him; well, it is her kingdom that is at unwanted war, and Percy is her hope, too. In Riordan's own words, Poseidon and her have an open relationship:

“Most of the gods are jerks,” Delphin agreed. “And they have a lot of girlfriends even after they get married—” “Gah!” Amphitrite said. “I wouldn’t care about that. I’m not the jealous type. I just don’t want to be mistreated. I want to be my own person, do my own thing, without some man lording over me!”

As the years went by, Amphitrite discovered that Delphin was right. She did love her children even more than seabass, and most of the time Poseidon was a very good husband. He did have a lot of affairs with nymphs and mortals and whatnot, but strangely that didn’t bother Amphitrite so much. As long as Poseidon didn’t try to own her and tell her what to do, and as long as he was good to their three children, Amphitrite was cool. She was even nice to Poseidon’s demigod children, unlike some other goddesses I could name. (Cough, Hera, cough.) One time the hero Theseus came to visit, and Amphitrite treated him like an honored guest. She even gave him a purple cloak to wear, which was a sign of kingship. She’s been pretty cool to me, too. She doesn’t freak out when I leave my dirty laundry in the guest room. She makes cookies for me. She’s never tried to kill me that I know of. Pretty much all you could ask of an immortal stepmom. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

The description that Percy gives of Neriad matches the way he describes Amphitrite in Percy Jackson's Greek Gods, Although it could be argued that all the Neriads are described in the same Percy imagines the Neriad to resemble his mom because of the warmth she emits.

She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. - Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief

She came in riding a hippocamps, in traditional depictions Amphitrite is represented either enthroned beside Poseidon or driving with him in a chariot drawn by sea-horses (hippocamps). It is one of her queenly attributes that separates her from the other Nereids along with her crown.

Amphitrite was gorgeous. The more she tried to avoid the gods, the more they pursued her. Her black hair was pinned back in a net of pearls and silk. Her eyes were as dark as mocha. She had a kind smile and a beautiful laugh. Usually, she dressed in a simple white gown. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

Amphitrite sat on a coral ledge, watching the sunset filter through the deep water and make rosy streaks in the seaweed forests. A seabass lay in her open palm, all blissed out, because Amphitrite really had a way with fish. Normally I don’t think of sea bass as cuddly, but they loved her. Delphin could see why Poseidon liked her. She radiated a sort of kindness and gentleness that you don’t see in a lot of immortals. Usually with gods, the longer they lived, the more they acted like spoiled children. Delphin wasn’t sure why, but that whole thing about getting wiser as you got older? Not so much. - Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

Hestia is the only other God that Percy has such an honorable description of in this entire book. This is significant. So, I can't wait to see if the show proves my theory to be right or not.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #disney percy jackson #grover underwood #pjo #pjo series #pjo theory #pjo thoughts #poseidon #Amphitrite #percy series #greek gods #greek mythology #lightning thief

[hamletshoeratio]

I'm getting too emo over "What belongs to the sea can always return to the sea" because of fucking Theseus of all people.

Theseus is remembered as a hero mainly because he defeated the minotaur, but that isn't where his story ends. He abandons Ariadne, who is literally the only reason he made it through the labyrinth in the first place. He either is cursed to forget, or he himself forgets to raise white flags so his (mortal) father knows he survived, and said father throws himself into the sea in despair and dies thinking his son is dead. Becoming King of Athens as a result of that, he eventually becomes a tyrannical king after being led down a dark path by a toxic friend. Where once he was brave and cared for other people, only attacking after first being attacked, after meeting Pirithous, he began acting without thinking, doing dangerous and cruel things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. He becomes cruel and self-serving. He kidnaps a thirteen year old Helen of Sparta, intent on making her his wife (never mind the wife he already has). He tries to help his buddy kidnap a literal goddess so that they both can be married to daughters of Zeus (forgetting that said daughter of Zeus is freaking Persephone, who is already married to Hades, so not a smart plan at all). Hercules saves his ass from Hades' punishment, but even despite all of the above bullshit, the Gods still don't abandon him. Not until he murders his own son do they abandon him. He's old, and his own people despise him, so he decides to try and be a hero again. He fails. Eventually, he is either pushed or he himself jumps (depends on the retelling) into the sea and drowns.

Thesus represents the worst aspects of Poseidon. He's possessive, temperamental, violent, selfish, impulsive, and all-consuming. He doesn't take no for an answer. Percy, on the other hand, represents the opposite. He represents the best of Poseidon. He's powerful, but he's gentle too. They share a father, and they both killed the minotaur, but Percy is the one who remembers to send his mortal parent the signal that would tell them that he had survived. Theseus is reclaimed by the ocean, consumed by it, almost as if the waves are trying to cleanse away his sins. Poseidon lets Percy go to forge his own path, says that he deserves to rest (toa;ton). Percy may come and go to the sea as much or as little as he wishes.

What belongs to the sea can always return to the sea.

We do get to see Theseus once in the botl, when he's summoned by Nico. He seems to have learned from his mistakes, as he tries to persuade Nico not to go down the same path as he did (trust someone who would lead him down a dark path) and suffer the same fate as a result. I'm looking forward to the shows interpretation of this if we're lucky enough to get it.

#pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo #pjo spoilers #percy jackson and the olympians spoilers #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #poseidon pjo #theseus #to be clear theseus is still up there in my ancient greek figures i want to fight list but dam that line hit me hard

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.” 

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!” 

“Dwacawuys!” 

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?” 

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress. 

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her. 

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?” 

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop. 

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?” 

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.” 

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger. 

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here. 

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself. 

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.” 

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date. 

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything. 

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down. 

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand. 

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.  

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed. 

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor. 

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer– 

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!” 

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved. 

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air. 

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling. 

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but… 

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever. 

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?” 

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…” 

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?” 

“All very good.” 

“... Helaena?” 

“Yes, brother?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.” 

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!” 

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?” 

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.” 

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked. 

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.” 

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.” 

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?” 

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?” 

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.” 

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye. 

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie. 

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the maid's folly #aemond x servant

[blacklegsanjiii]

Shirohige!Sanji being held by his family:

Marco, holding ten year old mummified Sanji and pointing at the night sky: That's the Big dipper, there's the Little Dipper, the sea king...

Thatch, holding eleven year old Sanji and the first meal he made for the crew by himself: I found the next Fourth Division Commander!

White Beard, holding a crying twelve year old Sanji: I don't care where you came from, I care about your heart and what's in it. Family are those that love you, not in spite of the bad or because of the good. Both are what makes us alive, boy! Therefore you are my son!

Vista, holding a 13 year old Sanji and several swords: So you don't want to use swords to protect your hands? Fair enough! You protect what is precious to you. You do what you can and we'll do what you can't!

Jozu, holding a 14 year old homicidal Sanji: Some battles are not worth fighting, Sanji. You will understand as you get older.

Teach, holding a drenched 15 year old Sanji: It takes a special type of person to do that without a devil fruit, you know? Means you're stronger than you know!

Marco, holding a 16 year old Sanji in his talons while flying: Respect is always earned and I think you just earned the governments!

Ace, holding a sleeping 17 year old Sanji: You have shown me a new way to love and be loved. I want to do that for you.

Zeff, holding an 18 year old after a bad dinner rush: You are always so eager to help yet never ask for anything in return. You need to be selfish sometimes.

Shanks, post Marineford, holding a dead on his feet 19 year old Sanji: It's okay to rest, you know? I've learned the hard way always pushing will wear you down faster than anything.

Ivankov, holding a 20 year old Sanji: The past can't be changed, look to the future. Have faith.

Shirohige, holding a 21 year old Sanji as the Hats and Ace watch at a party: We're so glad you're alive and you're our family. Never doubt you are loved by so many.

#black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #portgas d ace #redhaired shanks #vinsmoke sanji #fire fist ace #marco the phoenix #shirohige!sanji #thatch op #white beard #white beard op #marshall d. teach #black beard op #sanji x ace #ace x sanji #acesan #sanace #shirohige #white beard pirates #one piece

[fireismine]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

Day 6: House Targaryen → Targaryen Women + Love of Flying

Rhaenys the Conqueror

Rhaenys, youngest of the three Targaryens, was all her sister was not, playful, curious, impulsive, given to flights of fancy. No true warrior, Rhaenys loved music, dancing, and poetry, and supported many a singer, mummer, and puppeteer. Yet it was said that Rhaenys spent more time on dragonback than her brother and sister combined, for above all things she loved to fly. She once was heard to say that before she died she meant to fly Meraxes across the Sunset Sea to see what lay upon its western shores. Whilst no one ever questioned Visenya’s fidelity to her brother husband, Rhaenys surrounded herself with comely young men, and (it was whispered) even entertained some in her bedchambers on the nights when Aegon was with her elder sister. Yet despite these rumors, observers at court could not fail to note that the king spent ten nights with Rhaenys for every night with Visenya. - Aegon’s Conquest, Fire and Blood

Rhaena the Black Bride

At the age of nine, however, Rhaena was presented with a hatchling from the pits of Dragonstone, and she and the young dragon she named Dreamfyre bonded instantly. With her dragon beside her, the princess slowly began to grow out of her shyness; at the age of twelve she took to the skies for the first time, and thereafter, though she remained a quiet girl, no one dared to call her timid. Not long after, Rhaena made her first true friend in the person of her cousin Larissa Velaryon. For a time the two girls were inseparable…until Larissa was suddenly recalled to Driftmark to be wed to the second son of the Evenstar of Tarth. The young are nothing if not resilient, however, and the princess soon found a new companion in the Hand’s daughter, Samantha Stokeworth. - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

Princess Rhaena had many a suitor as well, but unlike her brother she gave encouragement to none of them. She preferred to spend her days with her siblings, her dogs and cats, and her newest favorite, Alayne Royce, daughter to the Lord of Runestone…a plump and homely girl, but so cherished that Rhaena sometimes took her flying on the back of Dreamfyre, just as she did her brother Aegon. More often, though, Rhaena took to the skies by herself. After her sixteenth nameday, the princess declared herself a woman grown, “free to fly where I will.” - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

Aerea Targaryen

Little and less need be said of the return of Rhaena Targaryen from Estermont after her daughter’s death. By the time the raven reached Her Grace at Greenstone, the princess had already died and been burned. Only ashes and bones remained for her mother when Dreamfyre delivered her to the Red Keep. “It would seem that I am doomed to always come too late,” she said. When the king offered to have the ashes interred on Dragonstone, beside those of King Aegon and the other dead of House Targaryen, Rhaena refused. “She hated Dragonstone,” she reminded His Grace. “She wanted to fly.” And so saying, she took her child’s ashes high into the sky on Dreamfyre, and scattered them upon the winds. - Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Their Triumphs and Tragedies, Fire and Blood

Alysanne Targaryen

The last years of Alysanne Targaryen were sad and lonely ones. In her youth, Good Queen Alysanne had loved her subjects, lords and commons alike. She had loved her women’s courts, listening, learning, and doing what she could to make the realm a kinder place. She had seen more of the Seven Kingdoms than any queen before or since, slept in a hundred castles, charmed a hundred lords, made a hundred marriages. She had loved music, had loved to dance, had loved to read. And oh, how she had loved to fly. Silverwing had carried her to Oldtown, to the Wall, and to a thousand places in between, and Alysanne saw them all as few others ever would, looking down from above the clouds. - The Long Reign: Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy, Progeny and Pain - Fire and Blood

Alyssa Targaryen

The princess was seldom long away from the Dragonpit after that day. Flying was the second sweetest thing in the world, she would oft say, and the very sweetest thing could not be mentioned in the company of ladies. The Dragonkeepers had not been wrong; Meleys was as swift a dragon as Westeros had ever seen, easily outpacing Caraxes and Vhagar when she and her brothers flew together. - The Long Reign: Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy, Progeny and Pain - Fire and Blood

Laena Velaryon

Though Princess Rhaenyra had been proclaimed her father’s successor, there were many in the realm, at court and beyond it, who still hoped that Viserys might father a male heir, for the Young King was not yet thirty. Grand Maester Runciter was the first to urge His Grace to remarry, even suggesting a suitable choice: the Lady Laena Velaryon, who had just turned twelve. A fiery young maiden, freshly flowered, Lady Laena had inherited the beauty of a true Targaryen from her mother, Rhaenys, and a bold, adventurous spirit from her father, the Sea Snake. As Lord Corlys loved to sail, Laena loved to fly, and had claimed for her own no less a mount than mighty Vhagar, the oldest and largest of the Targaryen dragons since the passing of the Black Dread in 94 AC. By taking the girl to wife, the king could heal the rift that had grown up between the Iron Throne and Driftmark, Runciter pointed out. And Laena would surely make a splendid queen. - Heirs of the Dragon: A Question of Succession, Fire and Blood

~

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.) In the Vale, Prince Daemon reportedly whipped the serving man who brought the news to him within an inch of his life. Nor was the Sea Snake pleased when word reached Driftmark. House Velaryon had been passed over once again, his daughter, Laena, scorned just as his son, Laenor, had been scorned by the Great Council, and his wife by the Old King back in 92 AC. Only Lady Laena herself seemed untroubled. “Her ladyship shows far more interest in flying than in boys,” the maester at High Tide wrote to the Citadel. - Heirs of the Dragon: A Question of Succession, Fire and Blood

Rhaenyra Targaryen

At the center of the merriment, cherished and adored by all, was their only surviving child, Princess Rhaenyra, the little girl the court singers dubbed “the Realm’s Delight.” Though only six when her father came to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra Targaryen was a precocious child, bright and bold and beautiful as only one of dragon’s blood can be beautiful. At seven, she became a dragonrider, taking to the sky on the young dragon she named Syrax, after a goddess of old Valyria. At eight, the princess was placed into service as a cupbearer…but for her own father, the king. At table, at tourney, and at court, King Viserys thereafter was seldom seen without his daughter by his side. - Heirs of the Dragon: A Question of Succession, Fire and Blood

Baela Targaryen

“She is overly fond of boys,” the castellan wrote Baela’s father, Prince Daemon, after that incident, “and should be married soon, lest she surrender her virtue to someone unworthy of her.” Even more than boys, however, Lady Baela loved to fly. Since first riding her dragon Moondancer into the sky not half a year past, she had flown every day, ranging freely to every part of Dragonstone and even across the sea to Driftmark. - The Dying of the Dragons: Rhaenyra Triumphant, Fire and Blood

Rhaena of Pentos

During the first quarter of 135 AC, two momentous events were the occasion of great joy throughout the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. On the third day of the third moon of that year, the people of King’s Landing woke to a sight that had not been seen since the dark days of the Dance: a dragon in the skies above the city. Lady Rhaena, at the age of nineteen, was flying her dragon, Morning, for the first time. That first day she circled once around the city before returning to the Dragonpit, but every day thereafter she grew bolder and flew farther. - The Lysene Spring and the End of the Regency, Fire and Blood

Daenerys Stormborn

Memories walked with her. Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. Rivers running bright and blue below, glimmering in the sun. Will I ever see such sights again? On Drogon's back she felt whole. Up in the sky the woes of this world could not touch her. How could she abandon that? - Daenerys X, A Dance with Dragons

~

Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he'd borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city's sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought. - Daenerys X, A Dance with Dragons

#danyweek2023 #canondany #asoiaf #daenerys targaryen

[house-strong]

— LOVE, PARENTS, and truths ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“can u do one where the reader is married to jace and they are having their 2nd or 3rd child and Alicent disapproves as he is a bastard?”

pairing ; husband!jacaerys velaryon x pregnant!hightower!reader

notes ; i had the lovely idea of making this a family argument so this is a vent post with happy ending!! also he looks so happy and handsome here?? dunno if the word ‘auntie’ exists in got dialect but it does now!

“i want to go back to court.”

the statement draws the attention from prince jacaerys, his brows furrowing as he lifts his head to look at you. he opens his mouth surely to protest, but he closes it and straightens his back instead. his study’s across the painted table are abandoned, and instead, he crosses the room to be by your side.

your eldest boy, with hair as black as night and soft curls twisting the ends, he looks up at his father and babbles something incoherently. your hand immediately go to your sons’ hair, ruffling it gently.

“i thought you said that you never wanted to go back to court?” he asks.

you look down at the small loom in your hand, already beginning to fiddle with the spools of cloth that hung from it. you avoided his eye contact and focused on your stitching instead. you knew jacaerys had no like for your family; your cousins, ever the charmers, decidedly always sneered at jacaerys and lucerys and your aunt always seemed vexed at the presence of princess rhaenyra’s family. you never understood the rivalry that begun for the targaryen children of the late king viserys. you were lucky enough to be sired from alicent’s brother and thus out of range for their spewing hatred.

somehow, love had blossomed between you and jacaerys with your time at court. you had defended him whenever your cousins came around and oftentimes you embarrassed aegon and aemond as a result. jacaerys found warmth within you, the kind that made him feel safe and wanted; a warmth that burned within a castle and kept it warm despite the outside cold, and he liked it. he wanted to call you home one day, so thus began his attempted courtship.

with your father outside of court and entrusting you to his sister, queen alicent, she was oftentimes the spoke-person for your hand. you were grateful she didn’t marry you off to just anyone, but she gave jacaerys more trouble than she should have. when jacaerys had asked for your hand, she didn’t tell you that she had ushered him away and told him you were promised to another. that was a lie, of course. when he came to your room, begging an audience and the truth, you decidedly ran from court with him.

his mother, rhaenyra, wasn’t happy about how upset the court was going to be, but she allowed you and jacaerys to hide behind her wings.

that was almost four years ago.

“my aunt wants to see our children,” you say after a moment of thought. jacaerys’ eyes widen for a moment and he kneels down to play with his son as the silence settles between you. “she sent a letter not too long ago, pleading for me to return to court with them.”

he inhales deeply, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“no, but she is my family, jacaerys.” your hold tightens on the loom, enough to turn your knuckles white. your father had caught wind of the elopement between you and jacaerys. he came to dragonstone himself, wished you the best, and said no ill will. you were glad your father was more understanding. “i can’t keep my family away from her forever.”

jacaerys wants to remind you of the obscenities that he endured while he resided at the red keep when he was barely a teenager. he wanted to tell you how vile your cousins were and how unwanted he felt in the presence of your aunt’s side of the family. as he returned his gaze upon yours, the look of hope and bargaining was evident in them. he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, absentmindedly fiddling with his sons toy.

“i’ll make the preparations then.”

in two days by sea and carriage, you, jacaerys, your son and daughter, had arrived at the red keep of kings landing. your welcome was more than what you thought it would’ve been, a small procession of lords and lady’s sworn to house hightower had welcomed your arrival. though, their obliviousness to the prince jacaerys was awfully obvious. you had to introduce him yourself, which instilled a deep annoyance for the velaryon prince who, due to his station, was used to being formally greeted.

it was also hard to miss the fixed gaze queen alicent had on your children.

the welcome party had moved to inside the castle and soon, you and your children were in queen alicent’s private room. she was playing with your daughter and wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“your children are adorable,” your aunt says, setting your daughter down on the floor where she began to babble to her brother. “they are spitting images of,” she pauses, almost as if to swallow her pride and the bile in her throat, “your husband.”

your jaw becomes set as you relax your back against the cushion of the chair, “beautiful, aren’t they?”

alicent is hesitant to respond, but she nods her head and mutters a spiteful yes. there’s a silence that falls over both of you, one that you almost grow comfortable in. however, alicent mumbles something under her breath.

“hm?” you respond, your gaze moving from the spot where your children played to where the queen sat on the opposite side of the room. she has a grimace on her face, one that only softens once she locks eyes with you.

she shuffles to the edge of her couch, her hands gathered in her lap, “they’re bastards, dear (y/n).”

the sentence alone is enough to make your blood boil. you feel your body begin to flush with warmth and the tips of your ears grow hot. you bite your lip and attempt to stay unbothered. maybe you should’ve listened to jacaerys’ attempts to stay on dragonstone.

“why does my husbands parentage vex you so much?” you ask. alicent hesitates and avoids your gaze as if there was some unspoken and undying hatred that would’ve been revealed in her gaze. she frowns, playing with the skirt of her dress. “i asked you a question, auntie.”

alicent attempts to ease the tension by reaching for your hand across the small, glass coffee table, but you pull your hand away.

“he’s a bastard with no royal claim, you’ve condemned both you and your kids to a life of regret,” she pauses for a moment, but you don’t hear the next words that come out of her mouth. you assume it was some fretful sentence where she claims she’ll help you.

you shake your head and scoff audibly, “his mother is the princess rhaenyra. he came out of her womb and he bears royal blood through her.”

“but, my dear–” she attempts to reach out for you again, but you swat away her hand.

“but nothing, aunt alicent.” you spit towards her. your teeth gnash together and you’re sure you’re going to get a toothache later. you stand up, shaking your head in disbelief. “jacaerys advised me not to come here–he told me that this is what you would say.”

you laugh, tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill over, “i thought you would have set this petty rivalry aside and be happy for me–happy for anyone else for once, but your selfish disdain for the feelings of everyone else makes me realize what you truly.”

the words that come out of your mouth are hurtful, yet alicent understands. your feet carry yourself to where your children sat and carefully and slowly, you pick up your daughter. you blink through tears that have blurred your vision and your brows furrow.

“goodbye, alicent.” her name spills like venom off your tongue. the once sentimental name now felt foreign and distasteful.

you reach down for your sons hand and usher him to his feet, practically pulling him as gently as you could to the door. the door is opened for you and you exit, making a beeline for your own assigned, personal quarters. the multiple stares you receive as a result of trampling through the corridors with a cloud of despair following did nothing to help the ache in your heart.

when you enter your quarters, jacaerys looks up with a smile on his face, but it quickly disappears when he notices the tears that have slipped down your face. he moves to you, sliding off the bed with ease and taking your daughter from you. he cups your face with his other hand before pulling you into a tight embrace.

“it’s alright, my sweet love. what happened?” his voice is warm and genuine, full of everlasting concern. you can feel his chest vibrate with the baritone and it does it’s best to soothe your discontent.

you steady your breathing before pulling away to look at your husband, “you were right.” his chest cavity once again moves with a tremor as he hums in acknowledgment. he knows what you’re alluding to; the topic of conversation he had warned you about. some part of you felt stupid for believing you could get around that.

you notice that his jaw has becomes set with prominence and his eyes were fueled by a fire you couldn’t name. you gently stroke his clothed bicep as if settling an animal.

“it doesn’t matter what they think,” he begins, though his voice is thinly laced with annoyance. all these years and they still bring up his bastard parentage. “what matters is me to you, and you to me.”

his sentence seems to be for more himself than you, but it works wonders to dull the hurt in your rib cage. you muster a fond smile at him, raising a hand to stroke his cheek and fiddle the small mullet at the back of his head. he leans into your touch, grasping your wrist gently with his own hand before placing the ghost of a kiss on its skin. the toddler in his other arm babbles quietly, reaching out to grab your hair.

you both laugh and you give her cheek a kiss.

“it’s just me and you.”

#jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd imagine #hotd fic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #my writing