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theroguedragon3 · 2 years

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Fire & Blood Vs House of the Dragon

Lucerys Velaryon’s Death Analysis

The general argument made by HOTD fans is that the book version (Fire & Blood) is unreliable narration, therefore the show is now canon, as stated by GRRM, because nobody can trust the historical recordings. While I can agree to some extent, I see it as rather an adaption rather than the facts based on the event.

My take is ultimately due to the writers' poor choices where they decide to insert a scene with Rhaenys crashing Aegon’s coronation for shock factor (1x09). Rather than having the newly crowned King, demonstrate the strength of the Targaryen’s to the people, by flying on Sunfyre as depicted in Fire & Blood, at least give him his moment. Then they try to justify Rhaenys not burning everyone, because she was moved by Alicent protecting her son, when we know, she will die battling TWO of her sons (unless they decide to change that too). They also have her explaining to Daemon and Rhaenyra that she didn’t want to be the one to start a war, when in fact she literally would’ve ended it, because all of the major players were at the end of her dragon, due to sloppy writing. Also, earlier in the season how Crispin coleslaw had plot armor, where he beat to death the knight of kisses in cold blood murder. Don’t get me started on Larys’ foot fetish.

The season finale had its ups and downs, but it was the ending that left me annoyed that the writers decided to push yet another accidental or misunderstanding narrative. So, after processing it I decided to re-read the Storm’s End section about the confrontation between Lucerys and Aemond. I wanted to expand upon the words with my interpretation of the situation and basically vent about how the interpretation/change makes Aemond look more of a fool than Mushroom. I wouldn’t have been as heated with this change, if it wasn’t stacked upon yet other misunderstandings and accidents. This event is what sets off the chain reaction and to have it be a result of Aemond accidentally killing Luke, it completely contradicts the nature of their strained relationship and the main theme of a bloody family feud.

The tragedy that befell Lucerys Velaryon at Storm’s End was never planned, on this all of our sources agree.

Firstly, the way I interpreted this quote is that it simply is fact. Lucerys had no knowledge that Aemond was already at Storm’s End securing a marriage alliance. Aemond had no knowledge of Lucerys being sent to remind Lord Borros, on where his allegiances should lie. Hence, there was no prior knowledge to actively plan his death.

Another interpretation would be how the HOTD adaption, relies on changing Aemond’s intent. They decided to go with the route of making him a “grey” character, by having the instigating incident that sparks the civil war, stem from an accident, something out of his control. Therefore, it supports the notion of it being unplanned and portrays him as a “grey” character, who we the viewer should feel sympathy for, only for me it backfired. He was riding on a literal war dragon terrorizing a significantly smaller dragon, who has never been to war, what did he think was going to happen. This decision makes him an egotistical idiot, not long after boasting about his studies on history and philosophy (clearly, he missed out reading about his own dragon’s history), yet he couldn’t foresee things ending in tragedy.

What was his intentions? What was his plan to chase after Luke? To scare and intimidate him, but the boy was clearly already scared back in the throne room. To torment him just for a laugh, only I had the last laugh in the end, because what did he expect Luke to do. Did he expect him to land on the rocky terrain and welcome him to rip his eye out, then continue on his journey back to Dragonstone. Did he expect to capture him, but what was his brilliant plan to do that, without getting them killed by his behemoth of a dragon. Even if it was for an eye and he managed to maim him back in the hall. Lucerys would’ve left with injuries, causing Rhaenyra to seek revenge, still sparking the war because Luke was attacked as an envoy, which is heavily frowned upon.

The only good thing the writers highlighted from this stupid taunt chase sequence was the bond between Lucerys and his dragon. Kudos to Elliot, because he really portrayed the amount of fear the character would be feeling, as he’s being pursued by the anime villain cackling fool on Godzilla. One thing I would like to add is that Arrax didn’t go on the offense, till Aemond spoke in High Valyrian demanding that Luke owes him a debt. Lucerys’ fear and anxiety probably skyrocketed, prompting Arrax to go on the attack to defend his rider. Arrax himself would be scared, as it’s being pursued by the biggest of its kind, it knows it is prey and the predator is on the hunt. Similarly, Vhagar would be able to feel Aemond’s contempt for Luke, as she saw no problem in destroying them, after having her scales ruffled.

So here for once we need not rely entirely on Grand Maester Munkun, Mushroom, and Septon Eustace. None of them were present at Storm’s End, but many others were, so we have no shortage of firsthand accounts.

This passage outright illustrates that the events that took place in the hall at Storm’s End, has been recorded in history from multiple first-hand accounts. We are no longer relying on the three unreliable narrators but are given details on the conversations that occurred. Unless everyone who witnessed the events were remembering things drastically different to one another or the story was concocted by some anonymous person, I tend to put more weight that the event was documented to as close to the truth, as those who had witnessed it. Otherwise, we would’ve been provided with other versions of the conversation, to allow us to put more weight into one scenario over the other. This is illustrated when the people observe Lord Borros’ demeanour after having the message whispered to him by his maester. Some say he was red in the face, probably from anger at the threat of punishment, should he break an oath sworn by his father, while others suggest he was gloating at holding the power over the two warring houses. It is left to us the reader to determine which observations we want to believe in.

“Look at this sad creature, my lord,” Prince Aemond called out. “Little Luke Strong, the bastard.” To Luke he said, “You are wet, bastard. Is it raining or did you piss yourself in fear?”

Lucerys Velaryon addressed himself only to Lord Baratheon. “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother, the queen.”

“The whore of Dragonstone, he means.” Prince Aemond strode forward and made to snatch the letter from Lucerys’ hand, but Lord Borros roared a command and his knights intervened, pulling the princelings apart. One brought Rhaenyra’s letter to the dais, where his lordship sat upon the throne of the storm kings of old.

This passage offers us an insight into adult Aemond’s character. Upon seeing his nephew, within the first breath he belittles him in front of another lord, under his roof, as a guest. Lucerys ignores him, because he knows that Aemond is trying to get a rise out of him. This interaction immediately sets the tone, of the relationship between the two. In another Lord’s Hall, he can’t even reign his emotions in and behave, as he is still a guest. This is further highlighted by his actions, as he has the audacity to approach Lucerys, ready to snatch the message out of his grasp, only for Lord Borros commanding his knights to stop a possible altercation. Need I remind you Aemond is still a guest, one who has such animosity and spite, once he locked eyes on Lucerys, that performing his duty as a prince, became overruled by his impulsive nature, similar to the fight when they were children (which again is portrayed different in the show).

But Prince Aemond drew his sword and said, “Hold, Strong. First pay the debt you owe me.” Then he tore off his eye patch and flung it to the floor, to show the sapphire beneath. “You have a knife, just as you did then. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave. One will serve. I would not blind you.”

Prince Lucerys recalled his promise to his mother. “I will not fight you. I came here as an envoy, not a knight.”

“You came here as a craven and a traitor,” Prince Aemond answered. “I will have your eye or your life, Strong.”

While the dialogue is similar to the show, the drastic difference is obviously when Aemond declares he would have Luke’s life, should he choose not to give him his eye, to avenge what happened to him. Of course, the writers had to cherry pick by cutting the end of this dialogue from the show, because there is nothing “grey” about Aemond’s intent. It is pure hatred that he feels for Luke, and it goes to further support that he is acting out of his emotions. Also branding Luke as a traitor, would give Aemond leverage to kill him, as he could justify it as serving his brother, the King, who is being “usurped” by Rhaenyra and the Blacks. This scene also serves to contrast their personalities, as Luke a 13-year-old refuses to rise to the bait, while Aemond a 19-year-old wishes to instigate a fight, while spewing threats to harm his nephew.

Let’s say if the writers wanted to push the “grey” character narrative and include the full dialogue, along with Maris’ scene that prompts Aemond to chase after Luke on Vhagar, only to suddenly decide to torment him, cackling like a maniac, till Arrax goes rogue and retaliates, then Vhagar kills both Luke and Arrax, by accident, because he only wanted to bully him, ending with shocked Pikachu face shot. In the end, there would be no way to justify it being an accident, because the intent is clear, which the writers knew would only confuse the audience, as Aemond’s reaction would be OC, so they have to discard it.

At that Lord Borros grew uneasy. “Not here,” he grumbled. “He came as an envoy. I want no blood shed beneath my roof.” So his guards put themselves between the princelings and escorted Lucerys Velaryon from the Round Hall, back to the castle yard where his dragon, Arrax, was hunched down in the rain, awaiting his return.

And there it might have ended, but for the girl Maris. The secondborn daughter of Lord Borros, less comely than her sisters, she was angry with Aemond for preferring them to her. “Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” Maris asked the prince, in tones sweet as honey. “I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts.”

Aemond Targaryen’s mouth twisted in rage, and he turned once more to Lord Borros, asking for his leave. The Lord of Storm’s End shrugged and answered, “It is not for me to tell you what to do when you are not beneath my roof.” And his knights moved aside as Prince Aemond rushed to the doors.

This passage essentially was the tipping point that pushed Aemond over the edge. His lack of manhood was literally insulted to his face, how could he not react. He was already agitated at the mere sight of his nephew, but hearing her taunts about a little boy (whom he despises) taking his manhood, it triggers him into seeing red. Instead of leaving straight away, he asks Lord Borros’ permission to allow him to leave, as he didn’t know if he would stop him like he had just previously done. Lord Borros wants to stay out of this feud, as he has no stake in it and clearly knew about his intentions, but wanted no blood on his hands, by suggesting he will not be responsible for Aemond’s actions once he leaves and thus the knights allow Aemond to actively go after Luke.

It was bad weather for flying, even for a dragon, and Arrax was struggling to stay aloft when Prince Aemond mounted Vhagar and went after him. Had the sky been calm, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter…but the day was “as black as Prince Aemond’s heart,” says Mushroom, and so it came to pass that the dragons met above Shipbreaker Bay. Watchers on the castle walls saw distant blasts of flame, and heard a shriek cut the thunder. Then the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them. Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long.

Observers notices the young dragon Arrax, struggling to navigate against the harsh winds, the pouring rain and constant lightning thundering around them. Unbeknownst to Lucerys, Aemond would be hot on his tail, coming after him with a vengeance, despite the fact he would strike the first shot against the blacks, kickstarting the civil war that both houses knew was inevitable. We are informed that the watchers on the castle walls were still able to see the confrontation, albeit at a distance, but enough to watch the blast of flames, followed by the dragons locked together in combat. After seeing Aemond rush to his dragon and fly off in pursuit of Luke, the people knew what his intentions were, once he caught up to Luke and their dragons engaged with one another.

For HOTD there is no way anyone else observe the fight, as they flew off into the storm, to the point they were literally above the storm clouds at the end of the scene. Now we are left with an accidental death, where the blacks will retaliate with intentional murder, making them appear as eviler out of the two. After all, Aemond didn’t mean to kill his little nephew, but he had no choice but to pretend he did it intentionally, carrying the stain of kinslayer everywhere he goes, only to become a maniac that commits mass murder on said dragon that he lost control of. At this point they might as well write him as losing control of Vhagar, while she burns down the Riverlands, omitting him of any responsibility, because he didn’t mean to kill thousands of people.

This whole white washing the characters intentions completely contradict the very theme of this story, which is a family feud, stemming from years of resentment that escalates into a bloody civil war. Both sides are hell bent in their beliefs on who should sit the Iron Throne, both are willing to go to extreme lengths to achieve their goals, both Alicent and Rhaenyra are ambitious, cunning and are not good people. Let the characters own their villainous characteristics, don’t strip them of their agency only to replace them, as naïve hesitant peacemakers hung up on a forgotten friendship.

#house of the dragon #hotd #anti hotd #aemond vs lucerys #fire & blood #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #hotd 1x10 #anti ryan condal #anti sara hess #analysis #hotd analysis #lucerys death #shipbreaker bay #anti aemond targaryen #character analysis #hotd commentary

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asoiafreadthru · 7 months

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A Game of Thrones, Eddard I

“You need to come south,” Robert told him. “You need a taste of summer before it flees.

“In Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see.

“The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth—melons, peaches, fireplums, you’ve never tasted such sweetness. You’ll see, I brought you some.

“Even at Storm’s End, with that good wind off the bay, the days are so hot you can barely move.

“And you ought to see the towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich.” He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump.

#a game of thrones #eddard i #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #eddard stark #robert baratheon #southron #summer #highgarden #the reach #house tyrell #storm's end #house baratheon #shipbreaker bay #westeros #seven kingdoms

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addamvelaryon · 11 months

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Had the sky been calm, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter…but the day was “as black as Prince Aemond’s heart,” says Mushroom, and so it came to pass that the dragons met above Shipbreaker Bay. Watchers on the castle walls saw distant blasts of flame, and heard a shriek cut the thunder. Then the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them. Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long.

Artist: iasve (deviantart)

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #the dance of the dragons #battle over shipbreaker bay #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #arrax #vhagar #dragons #fanart

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savingcontent · 2 years

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dotEXE 015: Does Decision Fatigue affect your gaming habits?

Welcome back dotEXE listeners! The fellas return with more random discussions, evolving into something resembling gaming. Want to hear about a new Goldfish Cracker flavor, adult decisions in the toothcare aisle, the true shape of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, and thoughts on Marvel TV shows? Then look no further than this latest dotEXE! Also included in this jam packed episode: Villainous, Bugsnax,…

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#American Truck Simulator #Bakery Simulator #Bugsnax #Dinosaur Fossil Hunter #DotEXE #Farming Simulator #Goldfish Crackers #Hardspace: Shipbreaker #Little Debbie #Old Bay #Podcasts #Pokemon #SnowRunner #Villainous #Zebra Cakes #zoo tycoon

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huramuna · 5 months

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selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

previous | next chapter

word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace.

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night.

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air.

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.”

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked up for ya, prince.”

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.”

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.”

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret.

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his.

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person.

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts.

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out.

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel?

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.”

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold.

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked.

Aemond said nothing.

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.”

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone.

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.”

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.”

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons.

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.”

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death.

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.”

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her.

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne.

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger.

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world.

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow.

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that.

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do.

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold?

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows.

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse.

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger.

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path.

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat.

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.”

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow.

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.”

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone.

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed.

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good.

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured.

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.”

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch.

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly.

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath.

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled.

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet.

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself.

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about.

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir.

“Where are you taking me?”

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along.

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?”

“Aemond.”

#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 #selkie's song

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superprincesspea · 4 months

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Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 1 - Spring

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

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Though summer had not yet fledged, the stifling heat in the keep of Storms End had become intolerable for every soul residing in the castle.

Usually, you enjoyed the warmth of sunshine and would happily sit and bask in its glory for hours on end, but this was no mere heat. This was humidity. Hot and wet, lingering in the air and drenching heavy clothes to clammy skin.

You couldn’t escape it even when the sun went down, and everyone was miserable, too lazy to do anything more than sit and swelter and too uncomfortable to find any rest.

You, however, had other ideas.

You’re Father had strictly forbidden any of his daughters from leaving the keep without an escort and, even then, he did not readily allow it. But you had always been a somewhat unruly child and as a young woman you had certainly not become more obedient.

No, quite the opposite, you’d grown accustomed to doing as you pleased regardless of your fathers demands. He had daughters enough for obedience and you had no ambition to become a well-trained pet for him or any other man.

So, when breakfast was finished, you escaped the keep, ducking between the watchful eyes of your fathers' guards before wandering down to the pebble beach below the imposing castle walls.

Down here was the realm of smugglers and pirates but it had been years since the caves had been used for any nefarious purposes. So, you were alone, the beach clear except for the gulls which landed on the rocks before sweeping out across the waves.

As expected, the air here was much more tolerable if you could forgive the stink of seaweed and salt. More importantly, you could enjoy your own company while the creeping tide chased at your feet.

It was a risky game, daring the water to soak through your shoes and you didn’t want to spoil them. You wanted to take them off and hitch up your skirt to feel the cool lick of the bay's glistening sea. How refreshing, how scandalous, how irresistible ….

Your shoes slide off so easily as do your stockings before you find yourself tucking your skirt and chemise into the waistband of your dress.

It’s a precarious thing, exposing the bare lines of your legs for anyone to see and, all the while, you find yourself craning your head back and forth to check for prying eyes. But you remain alone down here, and the water feels as good as you’d imagined. In fact, it's bliss enough for you to finally take pleasure in the heat of the midday sun and, like a cat rolling on a cool stone floor, you relish it.

Ice smothering your legs while fire kisses your cheeks. The only sound is that of the waves and the occasional cry of a gull which, after days spent listening to your sisters complaining, is the sound of absolute serenity.

In the following afternoons, your secret trips down to the beach become routine. Even though the weather is not as insufferable as before, you like the solitude and the feel of the water on your legs. But it isn’t enough, and it hadn’t taken long before you’d began to toy with the idea of submerging yourself into the depths of Shipbreakers Bay.

What would it feel like to have salt and sand tangled in your hair? To float on the waves? To be suspended between air and earth in a crystal sea?

Those questions have tantalised you beyond rational thinking and, if you wait any longer, it might be too late to find their answer.

Already storms are on the horizon and when they arrive, this little stretch of pebble beach will be underwater for the foreseeable future. So, with this in mind, you’re wearing a gown that fastens easily in the front and, though the wool is far too hot for the climate, you do not plan on wearing it for long.

After removing your shoes and stockings, you do your usual checks. Looking up and down the beach to ensure you’re still alone while your fingers dally at the knots on your dress before finally conceding to unfasten them.

One by one, you loosen the ties while the prick of frightened delight coats your skin as the fabric becomes looser and looser before sliding to a pile at your feet.

Without your dress, your chemise billows about as if the wind has fingers which grasp and pull, urging you to freedom. But you need no encouragement, your mind was already set the moment you woke up and, when that happens, there is little chance of dissuading it.

You pull your chemise over your head and the wind snatches it away, sending it through the air like the sail of a ship before it snags on a boulder further down the beach.

Your heart is in your throat as you retrieve it, wondering what excuse you could possibly imagine to explain the loss of your undergarment. The answer is none. You have to be more careful. Yet careful is the exact opposite of what you’re being.

In all the excitement, you’d almost forgotten that you were standing on the beach wearing nothing more than a necklace which rests at the hollow of your neck, catching the sunlight. But you are naked. The breeze cool against your flesh, your nipples tightening to hard buds.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation just as a chill of unease ripples down your spine. If someone sees you now, it will be a scandal so terrible you’re not sure you could survive it. Yet that does not stop you from opening out your arms to embrace the air.

It isn’t often a high-born woman or any woman at all gets to choose her own actions but you’re choosing one now. Perhaps this will be the only time you ever swim in the bay, perhaps you will hate every moment of it, but it doesn't matter. At least for a single afternoon, you can be completely in control of your own autonomy. Men take such freedoms for granted but you will savour it.

With careful steps, you make your way into the bay, deeper and deeper until the water comes up to your chest and the cold bites harshly into your skin. You know you will grow accustomed to the temperature as you had done on previous days, so you keep moving, letting the blood flow into your limbs and the warmth return.

When you’re ready, you duck your head under the waves without regard for how you will explain your wet hair when you return to the keep. Instead, you dive down, propelling yourself through the water until your lungs begin to burn and you’re forced to surface.

With each dive, you can hold your breath for longer and swim further and the cold becomes a forgotten thing. You’re like a dolphin or a siren, a creature of the sea, flipping through the water with what feels like grace, and you know one thing is certain- Today won’t be the last day you’ll swim in the bay, not when it feels like this- or so you think.

With the sound of waves crashing against the wall of rocks beneath Storm’s End and the rush of water all around you, you’d be forgiven for not hearing the beat of dragon wings as they fly overhead.

No, too consumed by your own amusement, you don’t even notice the large shadow grazing the beach or see where Vhagar lands on a tuft of grass barely a stone's throw from where your clothes are strewn across the pebbles.

All you know is one minute you’re ducking under the water and the next, the sun is bright on your face and a tall black figure is standing on the beach.

A man .

Your heart plummets, the bay choking down your throat as you gasp and inhale a mouthful of water. Perhaps letting yourself sink and float away from all consequence would be the better option, but you resign yourself to whatever reprimand is waiting for you on the beach, coughing and spluttering as you move closer to shore

Wiping your eyes to bring the figure into focus, you expect to see your father or perhaps Ser Maurin Selmy but the person on the beach is an almost stranger. A man you have never met yet recognise by reputation alone.

Aemond Targaryen.

“Your Grace!” you exclaim, concealing yourself beneath the waves with little success. Afterall, he’s close enough for you to see the sigil stitched onto his doublet so you’re in no doubt of how easily he can see you- even with one eye.

A mischievous smile lights up his entire face as he glances at the black and yellow clothes piled at his feet.

“My Lady Baratheon?” he suggests, his manner surprisingly soft spoken yet commanding enough not to be lost against the waves, “you seem to have misplaced your gown.”

“I was taking a swim,” you say rather absurdly, and he laughs to himself before moving closer and bending down on one knee. Not close enough to be caught by a wave but close enough to touch the water, which he does with great care, carefully removing a single glove to dip his fingers in the surf when it stalks towards the toe of his boot.

“Far too cold for my liking but do not stop on my account,” he smirks, his good eye peering once more beneath the waves.

You wrap your arm a little tighter around your chest as though it will prevent him from seeing the curve of your body and the rise and fall of your nervous breaths but, of course, it doesn’t. The water is like glass and your bare skin shines brightly in the sun.

You’ve never been so exposed before, not even in front of your handmaid who only enters your room when you are already wearing your chemise. So, this is beyond anything you can imagine, and shame would have burned on your skin if it wasn’t for the cold seeping into your bones.

“Your Grace is right; the water has grown cold. I should like to get out.”

He raises his eyebrow, his tongue licking lazily across his lip before his smirk returns.

“Suit yourself,” he says, standing upright and towering even taller than you’d remembered. But he doesn’t walk away, he remains rooted to the sand, the waves daring to reach out and sully the soft suede of his riding boots.

“Your Grace?” your teeth chatter and his smile inches even deeper into his cheeks.

“My lady?” he says, toying with you and seeming to enjoy every ounce of your humiliation before he slowly steps back to where your clothes are still spread on the rocks.

Using his boot, he kicks your dress up into his hands and you think, for a moment, that he’s going to steal it away, but he doesn’t.

He tosses it a little closer to the water, grazing your body with one last look before he turns to face the wall beneath your Fathers keep.

In all this time, your heart has not stopped racing and your muscles are beginning to tighten painfully. Still, you wait another minute, hoping Aemond will leave altogether but he does not, and you have a choice to make.

Withdraw from the relative safety of the water and risk being seen, or remain in Shipbreakers Bay for the rest of eternity. So perhaps, when you think of it like that, you have no choice at all.

Bracing yourself, with a wary eye cast towards your escape route, you force your feet to move forward. Emerging with gooseflesh and chattering teeth yet cheeks burning hot enough to rival the sun.

You scoop up your dress, cursing yourself a thousand times over while your numb fingers struggle with even the simplest task. You can barely hold the fabric, let alone dress yourself. Yet more than anything, you curse Aemond and that’s before you notice him glancing back at you.

You pause, breathless with fear though you know you should be moving faster, dressing quicker, running away. But you’re like a frightened deer under his scrutiny. All you can do is stand there; the dress clamped against your body.

He could do anything to you, and it would be your fault. You had done this. You had disobeyed your father and all sense of propriety to leave yourself vulnerable and completely at the mercy of a Dragon.

Mercifully, Aemond’s gaze only lingers for a moment before it returns to the wall, and you move far quicker than before. Hurriedly pulling your arms into sleeves before fastening two of the strings in haphazard knots.

Though Aemond Targaryen might be a Prince, he is certainly not a gentleman. He glances at you again but this time you’re feeling bolder.

You blow out a huff of bad-tempered air, displeasure oozing from your every movement as you snatch up the rest of your clothes and make haste towards the slope which leads back to the keep.

You need to get away from him as quickly as humanly possible. But your escape is hindered by bare feet on jagged pebbles. You can’t ignore the sharpness and you don’t dare to stop, leaving you to slip on your shoes in an awkward half hop as you try to maintain the momentum of your furious exit.

Aemond, on the other hand, has no such hindrances and catches up to you with little effort, stepping into your path and blocking you again when you try to skirt around him.

Frustrated, you hold your ground knowing that in a physical fight between yourself and Aemond, you would certainly not be the victor. But you would not cower either.

“Will you not tell me your name, Lady Baratheon?” he asks, as though this was some ordinary meeting between strangers.

“I think your Grace has known quite enough of me for one day!” you snap through gritted teeth, your temper growing shorter as your body grows colder.

He laughs softly, bowing his head, “perhaps another day then.”

You expel a gasp of complete disbelief. “I shall endeavour to avoid it!”

Aemond’s smile broadens, and he seems surprised, even somewhat delighted by your candour as you push past him with a complete disregard for his name, his size, his strength or his dragon.

“Then we will see who is the victor,” he calls after you, but you ignore him.

You would rather die than ever lay eyes on Aemond Targaryen again!

~~~

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you would like to see more.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader

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lukearys · 8 months

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Lucerys & Arrax flying above Shipbreaker Bay.

#lucerys velaryon #hotdedit #house of the dragon #hotd

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humanpurposes · 1 month

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Karma is a God, Chapter 15: The Lakeshore

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: 18+, spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence, angst, mentions of death and war

A/n: We're back after five whole months!! I've been deep in the brainrot for this fic recently, and I'm so happy I've come back to it. I've had this series planned out since December 2022 and I'm really excited to see it through.

Also, psa I guess, this series is no longer going to be updated on Tumblr, all future chapters will be posted on AO3.

I do want to say thank you to everyone who's shown this fic some love on here, it makes me so happy seeing it come up in my notifs, I can't wait for you all to continue reading it :)❤️

Full Chapter on AO3

The voice in Luke’s head whispers again. Blood.

It is everywhere, in the colour of the sky, in the clouds and the setting sun. It’s in the water, spilled from the bodies of two dead dragons. Watery red waves ripple over the lakeshore, rushing over her boots, running back to the lake and seeping through the pebbles into the earth.

Aemond is covered in it. He is on his knees before her, an arrow lodged in the shoulder of his sword arm, his riding leathers sodden, his silver hair soaked and stained pink. She wonders if he can taste it, the blood of Caraxes and Vhagar on his tongue.

Even when she takes up Dark Sister and places its point to his throat, he is staring at her with the intent of a hunter. His seeing eye is wide, his eyepatch washed away and his sapphire almost black in the absence of light. The scar that frames it, the scar carved by her hand, is inflamed, furious and red.

The last time she had seen it, he was holding a knife against her cheek, demanding retribution, seeking payment for her debt.

It seems like another lifetime ago, before Arrax, before Shipbreaker Bay, before she had clawed her way through endless, agonising pain to find her way to Jace, before she had buried two of her siblings, when Rhaenyra was her mother and not her Queen.

The sword– Daemon’s sword, feels wrong in her hand, but then it should not be hers to have.

“Remember all he has taken from you,” her step-father had said.

And she does. She remembers it all.

Aemond’s arrogance to not weep and grovel and beg for his life, after everything, is an insult.

She had never felt so sure of herself, so determined that she knew what path the Gods had mapped for her. Aemond would not have a noble death or the burial rites of their family. He would be lost to the lake with an arrow pierced through his black heart, remembered as a traitor and a kinslayer. She would be his end. It was only right.

Daemon had trusted her, handed her the bow she would use to kill him, told her to stay hidden amongst the trees and wait for the right moment to strike.

In the blur of battle, as night engulfed the sky and poisoned the air with its cold, she had missed her mark. She knew it the moment the arrow left the bow that it would not be enough to kill him.

The danger in that was Vhagar. The dragon howled in fury and surged towards her atop Grey Ghost. Aemond had his chance then. He could have finished what he began at Storm’s End, claimed her life, seen his debt fulfilled.

Then Vhagar had steered away.

It was hard to see what became of them in the final struggle. The dragons were a single mass of bloody flesh, joined with teeth and talons. Daemon leapt from his saddle, sword in hand. She might have screamed, either way it would have gone unheard.

Aemond must have realised what was happening when he started to fuss with his chains. He released himself and then they were falling.

Aemond and Daemon were lost to darkness but Vhagar and Caraxes plunged into the God’s Eye with a colossal splash that reached so high it appeared to match the height of Harrenhal itself.

She was standing on the lakeshore before she found herself in the mind of her dragon.

She watched through Grey Ghost’s eyes as he flew towards the lake and dived beneath the surface of the water. In that void his claws curled around a body.

She was standing on the shore again, inside her own mind again, waiting for Grey Ghost to deliver what– who he had found.

Grey Ghost set the body down. He may have had stained silver hair and Dark Sister clutched in his hand, but she knew right away it wasn’t her step-father. There was still life in him– in Aemond.

What will her mother think now?

She feels Aemond swallow against the blade, the movement of his throat piercing his skin. A droplet of blood trails down his neck, below his collar.

She knows what she has to do– what she should do: push forwards, watch him choke on blood and steel.

He draws his tongue between his lips. His voice is almost a whisper, thick and strained. “Please.”

Her hold on the hilt falters. Perhaps she should feel some semblance of pride, now that she has him at her mercy, breathless and broken.

“Please.”

She watches the blood trail from the small cut she has made in his neck. She imagines it spraying from a larger wound, coating Dark Sister, seeping through his teeth and his lips.

“You can beg better than that, surely,” she says...

Read the rest of Chapter 15 on AO3

Tags (comment to be added to either)

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @toodlesxcuddles @arcielee

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

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #fem!lucerys #lucemond #my fics #karma is a god

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witheredoffherwitch · 5 months

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Speculations and Spoilers: A Breakdown of the Trailer

Overall, here are my initial thoughts on the trailer: it exceeded my expectations. I was prepared for the rumoured "leaked" version but I am pleasantly surprised with what we got instead. The aesthetic of this season has already improved - the colour grading, costumes, and makeup all seem to have upgraded from previous seasons.

Now let's get to the trailer itself. I won't analyze every single scene, but rather focus on a few intriguing ones and share my own theories. Just a heads up, there may be some spoilers mentioned in the following observations. So, proceed with caution!

The first shot of Rhaenyra is absolutely heartbreaking. She appears shattered and defeated, likely searching for her son's body by the Shipbreaker's Bay:

Both shots seem to be part of the same sequence as she is wearing the same outfit.. and the first shot could be the aftermath of her unsuccessful attempt to find her son's remains.

In the next scene, we are presented with two dragons on opposite sides: Syrax and Rhaenyra on one side, and Seasmoke on the other. This will potentially show Addam or Laenor swearing allegiance to Rhaenyra's cause.

The third scene I wanted to highlight is Alicent caught in the midst of a riot. While many assume it will occur during the funeral procession, I believe it takes place much later in the series. One hint is from the leaks revealing Alicent's funeral attire, which looks quite different from what we see here.

The first image is from the leaked footage, while the second one is what we see in the official trailer. It's possible that they may have reshot the scene with different costumes, but it seems unlikely. In the second scene, which I assume will be set much later in the season, it seems likely that they might finally introduce the Shepherd. Personally, I will be thrilled if they bring him into the series earlier on as he becomes one of the most prominent voices against House Targaryen. His early introduction will showcase his growing hatred for their dragons, and his sermons will only become more antagonistic as Rhaenyra's rule progresses. Eventually, it will lead to the infamous storming of the dragon pit where the mob will eventually slaughter all of their remaining dragons.

A brief glimpse at Helaena's scenes with B&C and her attending Jaehaerys' funeral procession:

The second scene captures her gazing upwards, likely indicating one of two possibilities: 1. she is giving the command for Dracarys to Dreamfyre, or 2. she is looking up to see Aegon on Sunfyre, who may perform the final rites himself.

In addition to Rhaenyra's dragon-riding scene, we are shown Baela and Aemond on their dragons. Baela is decked out in armour, possibly indicating her involvement in a war. This supports the popular theory that she will be present at Rook's Rest.

Baela's scene has many fans speculating that it may be when she witnesses the death of Rhaenys.

Moving on to the Aegon scene, I am thoroughly amused by his attitude. I was afraid we would be stuck in another sombre period with Aegon, but thankfully we have moved on and entered his cunty phase.

Lastly, I won't delve deeper into these two scenes since I've already addressed the question here.

However, I have heard the theory about it being a dream sequence, which is something I personally prefer over the idea of it being about Alys.

Now, my final thoughts: Rhaenyra looks more pro-active as most of us had expected earlier. However, I still doubt if they will include her in any of the war sequences. Her role will be much more covert (which the maesters wouldn't have known to record in the history texts.) On the other hand, Alicent appears to have given up this season altogether. A side note: both women look stunningly beautiful in the trailer.

Aemond continues to dominate as the most interesting character, and it seems we can anticipate his reign as Prince Regent this season. Even in his brief appearances, he manages to captivate our attention and leave us wanting more. Aegon will be taking charge and we can expect a major comeback now that he is leading the Green faction.

AND that concludes everything for the time being! I may come back to this post later and make some revisions, but for now, this is all.

#house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd trailer #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaena taragryen #baela targaryen #team black #team green #rhaenys targaryen #hotd discussion #hotd discourse #hotd speculations

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myfandomprompts · 2 years

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𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3

Masterlist (Part 2 - Part 4)

Warning : Angst, fluff

Summary: After your confrontation with Aemond, you get sick and is to stay in Storm's End for now. His insistence in your care forces you to navigate the many feelings you are struggling to hide.

A/N: Short chapter but next one coming sonner than expected

The day after the dreadful events that occurred over the Shipbreaker Bay, you were stuck in bed, sick from the harsh weather you endured the night before. The apartments you were kept in seemed gloomy, for not the many comes and goes of your aunt, the maids and sometimes some Lords who were keen to check on your health. In reality, you knew they wanted to know what exactly you were to do now that Lucerys Velaryon, the boy you came with, was dead.

You mourned deeply, quietly. Ravens were sent to Dragonstone, but you were to stay here. You would honour the promise you made to your friend, and try to convince Lord Borros to keep his oath to the Queen. Although you were to stay in bed as advised by the maester, you preferred when visited, to be seated and able to make conversation graciously, even when it cost you your forces. Although you had claimed not to be able to swallow anything edible, some maids still brought you food early in the morning, and when you noticed what was on the plate, you forgot to send it back at once. Tea and cinnamon cake with cream, and you understood why the maids went against orders. You remembered better times in King's Landing and you smiled.

It was at dusk when you woke up from a restless slumber, and the figure sitting next to you started to move. Your aunt often came to keep you company at your bedside, knitting or else to pas the time. But as you adjusted to the light, you saw a purple eye looking down at you.

You straighten up in your bed, forgetting the fact that you were only in your nightgown. Seeing him after everything that was said last evening made you bitter. He must have felt your resentment because he fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably, unable to tear his eye away from you, none of you willing to let go anyway.

"You seem to be regaining some colours, my Lady," he said quite clumsily, eager to break the tension.

"No thanks to you, my Prince," You didn't really mean it, but you couldn't help from trying to fluster him. He only nodded gently, eye resting on your form, going silent.

And then you felt it, his grief, radiating through the distance that separated you and reaching you. You both shared it, even if his was overwhelmed with guilt. Both Aemond and Lucerys grew up together, when there was a time of childish innocence in the Red Keep, filled with games and complicated glances. Only after Driftmark has Aemond become fierce, unforgiving, but still, he grieved for his nephew, and you understood here and there that he couldn't show his mourning to the others. Only with you.

"...What happened up there Aemond?"

The question left your lips before you could stop it. You spoke softly, and when he looked at you he only saw tenderness, encouraging him to confide in you.

"I chased him," he admitted, looking down only at his hands he anxiously fiddled with, unable to meet your eyes. "Vhagar grew restless and would not heed my command as she went for him. I believe... I believe Lucerys found himself in the same predicament as Arrax fired at Vhagar against his consent."

He stopped. You were petrified. Had it really come to this? A deadly dance of dragons, too young or too old to be properly tamed?

"Vhagar did not let this pass. I tried to hold her back, but she found Arrax above the clouds as he fled and..."

The end of this sentence died in his mouth and your hand reached for one of his, bringing it toward you on the bed. You still held his gaze when he finally looked up, surprised at your sudden touch. A sob escaped you as you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb, sinking into the comfortable atmosphere of your shared grief. He watched your movement over his skin for a while before speaking again, sadness forced to be left behind.

"As soon as you feel better, I will take you back to King's Landing."

"So you wish to steal me away after all," you remarked.

His smirked resurfaced briefly as he continued. "Do you not wish to see your father again?"

You thought of your promise to Lucerys. And then you thought about what your father would say if you were to put yourself in danger when you didn't even know where he stood on alliances.

"How is he?" you asked, concerned.

Aemond knew what you implied by your question as he now took his turn at caressing your hand. He knew that your father was loyal to King Viserys, and not to the Hightowers.

"I came to find Lord Donnel the morning of the death of the King. I knew he would not stand for Aegon. So I convinced him to bend the knee nonetheless. My grandfather was to gather the lords in order to make them pledge to my brother. I couldn't let your family become traitors, so for your sake, I went to him."

Darkness almost filled the room now in this already gloomy atmosphere. You heard waves from afar as you still watched Aemond as if you wanted to make up for all these months of distance at Dragonstone, far away from his warmth.

"He wasn't easy to convince," Aemond continued absently as he now intertwined his fingers with yours, "He was concerned for your well-being, scared you would be held hostage. He even dared ask me permission to join you, behind my mother's back. But only when I promised him to bring you back to him that he agreed to bend the knee and stay."

He looked up at you, his eye intensely focused on your expression now, "Thank you," you answered.

Indeed, you were glad your father didn't follow his honour for once. You have heard what has happened to traitors to Aegon II from Princess Rhaenys back at Dragonstone. The fate of your family was not sealed yet, and your brother was too young to be enrolled in all of this madness.

Aemond was closer to you now. You looked at his eye patch covering his scar. You never saw what was underneath, because as you heard him say one day: he did not want to scare ladies like you at court because of his looks. You had laughed at the time and never dared to ask him to remove it. But now in the dim light of some lit candles and the feeling of his fingers over yours, you were tempted to reach for it and lift it up yourself.

With his free hand, he reached for a strand of hair resting on your shoulder, playing absently with it. It was a pleasant sensation, repressing your need to lean into the gesture. You both kept company to each other, and the warmness that filled your body as he was closer and closer to you was very much to your liking.

A servant boy broke the spell as he entered your room, and announced that Aemond was asked to meet Lord Baratheon for dinner. Aemond didn't move a muscle, obviously annoyed as he didn't even turn around to look at the intruder. The latter did not shy away, however, and continued to talk. "My Lord wishes that you spend some time with your betrothed, as he hopes the marriage to be held under two moons."

At this statement, Aemond's eye shot at you, tensing as his grip on your hand became more firm. He witnessed your reaction, and what he saw made his guilt greater.

Was Aemond to marry one of Baratheon's daughters?

Of course, you thought. Only this could the Greens offer to the Stag Lord, as Lucerys was already promised, and Lord Borros was too proud to be whistled away by only an oath his father did more than twenty years ago. You felt sicker somehow, silly as you hadn't even realised it could be a possibility. Aemond was free to marry, Alicent smart enough to use this to their advantage, and Aemond too loyal to refuse.

Your heart was getting heavier, your hand freeing itself from Aemond's as your eyes began to fill with tears. Again. You were sick of crying. You felt betrayed, but you couldn't do anything about it, it was you who chose to go away when you had doubts about the twins' father. You had no play in this.

The twins. You had almost managed to forget about it, in denial of the truth. But it all came back as a wave, and you felt like you were sinking, your hand covering your mouth as to steady yourself. You ignored Aemond as he said your name with a hint of despair in his voice.

"Please leave me," You managed to say through aching lungs, "Your host demands you, it would be rude to make him wait."

He watched you for a very long time, you felt like a prey as you tried to make your body as impassive as you could, not allowing the blond-haired prince to see anything other than anger, not even looking at him.

When another maid came to request both the servant's presence and the Prince's, only then Aemond turned away in great strides, taking a last look at you as he passed the doors.

You were alone at last, and despite the pain in your head, you stopped your tears from flowing, looking at the void, not moving a muscle for what seemed like hours.

Sadness engulfed you once again.

You barely ate the day after, you had stayed up most of the night watching the moon over the sea. The last thing you knew, maids were in your room with the mission of dressing you for a visit. You understood the Lord of Storm's End himself was to meet you in your chambers.

Honestly, you felt better, but you avoided admitting it to your aunt because if you were allowed outside, you could cross paths with Aemond, or even one of Baratheon's daughters. You didn't know why you were behaving so unladylike, but in your grief, it didn't even matter any more, you just didn't want to bother.

Lord Borros was an impressive man, suited for battle, no doubt. When he went to sit across from you, you sat yourself after him and waited for him to speak, "From what I heard, my Lady, your father has recognised Aegon Targaryen as King," he stated.

You nodded as he continued, waiting to see where it would go.

"However I am to understand that you just came back from many months spent at Dragonstone."

You swallowed. So it was about your allegiance, the very thing that had you betray your loyalty for the late King, and your father's. "Yes my Lord, I was under the maester's care, as I am studying healing properties of plants and the volcanic terrain of Dragonstone submitted many more species to study."

He hummed quietly at that, seeming momentarily lost in thought.

"I thank you for your hospitality, my Lord, my aunt and your people have taken great care of me," you took the opportunity to say while he seemed to ponder something.

But he hummed again, and a flash passed through his eyes, "I understood that Prince Aemond was planning on taking you to King's Landing on dragon back."

You tensed. He said that, did he? You never really talked about this with him, and you sure were not eager to leave with Aemond now, after everything that has passed. You were mustering a response when Lord Baratheon interrupted you.

"He seems to spend a great deal of time with you."

"We grew up together,, it is only natural for a friend of the court to check on the health of his subjects, as it has been long since we've seen each other," you managed to say, more and more suspicious.

"Do you know he is meant to marry my eldest daughter?" he asked again. Not waiting for you to respond, he continued. "And yet I hear he spent the entire afternoon at your bedside yesterday."

You didn't flinch as you felt your heart thaw a bit of the ice you recently built around it. The thought of Aemond watching you asleep for a whole day, putting his duties aside came into your head in flashes. He indeed was there when you woke up.

"This marriage is a great arrangement, my Lord, I must congratulate you," you chose to ignore his last comment as you smiled. A fake smile, but a smile nonetheless.

The dark-haired man seemed to lose his patience and advanced in his seat toward you. "My court is very observant my Lady, and I will not have my daughter humiliated for rumours of disloyalty and non-allowed courtship."

His tone was harsh but clear. You stood tall in your chair, as to prove you did not fear him, "I believe I see now what your concerns are, my Lord, and I assure you, I have no wish to talk to or even see the Prince, for even his sight reminds me of the loss I have recently endured."

You were half lying. Of course Lucerys' death would not be as easily forgotten, Aemond's greed for revenge completely responsible, but on the other hand, you spending time with him yesterday sent mixed signals to any external observer. And to you.

However, Lord Baratheon seemed to take your last words as a promise, a promise to never deal with Aemond, and it was enough for him. At least as long as you remained here, you thought.

"You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish my Lady," he said right after as he stood up. You sighed with relief as you did the same.

When he left, you thought about your promise to Lucerys. If you were to stay when Aemond was gone, maybe you would be able to remind the Stag to honour his oath and fight for Rhaenyra. Although, after this encounter, the chances were greatly diminishing.

You settled yourself to think of a plan now, completely unaware that Aemond Targaryen had listened to the whole conversation, hidden behind the door. He had meant to come and see you, but as he heard his host’s voice from the inside of your room, he had patiently waited until he heard his name.

As he was now descending the stairs, he tried to control his emotions, his hurt, and not to remind himself of what you felt when you looked upon him. He felt his heart beat faster as he hoped his presence near your chambers would go unnoticed. But as he arrived outside, it turned out to be difficult. He felt his fists clenched at his side and his anger resurfaced.

You would not escape from him, not again.

-0- Part 4

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov

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mejcinta · 4 months

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This bit from the trailer is an interesting hint at Aemond's persistent ambition and a foreshadowing of his regency.

My initial guess was that this moment is from ep 1 because his outfit resembles what he wore when he visited Borros Baratheon and the weather outside matches the one in which he killed Luke over Shipbreaker's Bay. Maybe Aemond is still pretty upset with Alicent's reaction to what he's done as well as Otto's rebuke. And he seeks some kind of 'solace' in the throne room here, before all he's ever truly wanted since he was a child: the power, recognition and adoration that the throne could give him as opposed to the disgust and disappointment Alicent and Otto have seemingly treated him with.

Conversely, this scene could take place in episode 5 after the rough finale in episode 4. The Battle of Rook's Rest will probably leave Aemond shattered and traumatised as he's made to witness the near death of Aegon. Now he feels he's won the throne but at what cost? Could he be experiencing some kind of trepidation here for the Iron Throne? Yet he seems determined to tame it, to challenge it and evade whatever bitter punishment it wants to slap on him, something that Viserys and then Aegon were unable to escape.

#hotd trailer #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon season 2 #aemond targaryen #prince regent #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower

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cambion-companion · 2 years

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Thank you for answering me and for accepting my request ❤️ as far as the scenerio goes I'd like to see reader (aemond secret lover who's also the eldest strong) finding out about her brother's passing and confronting aemond about it

Hi my love! Yes, we can get some angst up in here! I hope you like!

Aemond x Strong!Reader | haha they're also pretty strong | No content warnings | Pre-established romance between the two

Your hair streamed behind you, cloak flapping in the wind as you strode across the beach at Dragonstone. It was late, the moon already hung high in the sky, reflecting its light off the crashing waves. No one knew of your departure, least of all your mother the queen and heir to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra would never have let you leave for King’s Landing during such a perilous time, but the anger rushing in your ears would not allow you to sit idle. Your young dragon, Nirsiphes, waited for you by the high black rocks. Her inky black scales the perfect camouflage for a nighttime flight. You climbed up to the leather dragon saddle, shouted “Sōvegon” to Nirsiphes, urging the dragon to launch herself into the night sky.

The flight to King’s Landing was a short one on dragon back, you had made it many times before. You did not know exactly what you would do once there, you planned on landing a discreet distance from the city walls and sneaking in through one of the many covert entrances you knew about. But once at your final destination, you shook your head, you would deal with Aemond when that time came.

The beauty of having a small dragon is you can land them relatively near a large city and go unnoticed, the downside of having a small dragon…well…your little brother Lucerys had had a small dragon. “Umbagon, Nirsiphes.” You urged your dragon to stay in the place you had chosen to land, raising your dark hood over your head you hurried toward the Red Keep.

It was the earliest hours of the morning and the stars still shone brightly above you as you winded your way through the empty streets. Your boots made soft sound on the stone floor as you snuck past the guards nodding off at the doors and into the fortress. From there it was short work, your movements quick and decisive, making your way to where you knew Aemond’s chambers to be. His rooms were nearest to the library, as that was one of his favorite haunts, your feet knew the path well.

With gentle care, you tried the handle and found his door unlocked. The fool. You quietly eased the door open on polished hinges, just wide enough for you to slip through and close it again behind you. Moonlight spilled in through the windows and balcony doors, illuminating the room enough for you to see the sleeping form on the four-poster bed.

You approached him, flexing your hands nervously at your sides, coming to a stop directly over Aemond. His eyepatch was off, as you had seen him before countless times, the sapphire glowing from the light of the setting moon. His hair was splayed on the pillow, surrounding his face in a web of silver. You hadn’t seen him look this peaceful before, his angular face slack in sleep. He didn’t deserve to be at peace, not when your brother’s corpse floated somewhere in Shipbreaker Bay.

You reached toward Aemond’s face, whether to slap him or smother him, you knew not which. His eye snapped open, glaring at your face, his hand shot up gripping your wrist. He pulled and brought you tumbling onto the mattress as Aemond maneuvered himself above you, pinning you to the bed. “I wondered when you would show up in my rooms, Y/N.” You struggled against him, but Aemond used both his hands and legs to hold you fast. “However, you don’t strike me as an overly competent assassin.”

“I didn’t come here to kill you.” You said, not sure if it was the truth. You stilled against him, a curtain of silver hair framing his handsome face.

His hands moved quickly, searching your body for weapons. Upon finding none Aemond sat back, still sitting on your legs to prevent you moving. “Then why are you here, if not to exact revenge for Lucerys.”

“Don’t you dare say his name.” You hissed, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You murdered him, Aemond. He was a fourteen year old boy!”

“Keep your voice down or I will gag and bind you like a trussed turkey.” Aemond growled down at you, his face twisted with anger and…something you couldn’t place. “I am well aware how old he was.” He looked away from you briefly. “Will you allow me to speak, or have you decided my guilt already?”

The sudden weariness in Aemond’s took you by surprise. As he got up off you, standing and moving to light a few sconces in the room, you sat up and pulled your feet under yourself. “I wish to know the truth.”

“And if the truth is I killed him?” Aemond crossed the room to a table and poured water into two pewter goblets, glancing over at you.

“Then I will kill you.” You said simply, earning a rueful smile from the prince as he looked you over.

“I appreciate your anger and I regret your grief.” Aemond returned to you and offered you the goblet. “I did not want your brother dead. I tried to stop it.”

You gazed at his face a moment, his expression was grave, earnest. You at last took the drink from his proffered hand. Aemond did not move to sit with you, instead he remained standing beside the bed. A silence fell as both you and Aemond took a pensive sip of water.

“‘Tried to stop it’?” You prompted after a moment.

Aemond’s eye, which had been looking out the window, flicked back to your face. “We lost control of our dragons. Arrax blew fire into Vhagar’s face, and she pursued him. I was…powerless to stop what happened next.” A fleeting wince crossed his face at the admission.

“Have you told anyone else this?” Your knuckles were white as you clutched the goblet.

“No one. Not that they would believe me.” Aemond looked to the ceiling as if searching for a reprieve there.

“What…exactly…were the circumstances leading to you losing control of the largest dragon in Westeros?” You voice dripped venom.

Aemond heard it and downed the last of his drink. “Lucerys arrived at Storm’s End to parlay with Borros Baratheon, trying to get him on the Black’s…your family’s side. I had arrived long before and already offered an engagement to one of his daughters.” Your heart constricted at his words, but you fought off the feeling. “I demanded Luke give me one of his eyes as payment for mine. He fled. I pursued.”

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not lose control of your temper. “You pursued.” You echoed. “Not thinking of the possible consequences? Forever entrenched in your own desire for revenge?”

With a sudden movement, Aemond’s face was very close to yours, his violet eye wild. “I did not know it was possible to lose control of my dragon, Y/N. I wanted to scare the boy, not kill him.” Aemond withdrew, quick as a snake, turning his back to you and running shaky hands through his tousled hair.

You stood. “And how did that work out for you, Aemond?”

He did not answer, nor did he turn to look at you. Instead walking to one of the window’s gazing listlessly out across King’s Landing, his long fingers tapping the windowsill.

You made your way to the table, pouring yourself more water.

“I would not do that to you.” Aemond’s voice was soft, you almost didn’t catch his words.

“What?” Glancing up you saw he now faced you, his expression had lost all pretense of anger, instead falling into utter sadness.

It pulled at your heart and, almost against your will, you found yourself setting down your drink and crossing the room to take his face in your hands. Your thumb traced his jaw, the vertical scar on his cheek, along the lips you knew so well.

Aemond pulled you closer to him, his hands at your waist. “I am named ‘Kinslayer’, viewed as a degenerate and monster.” He raised a hand, brushing the back of his fingers down your face. “The pieces are falling, Y/N, what happened to your brother set in motion irrevocable damage. Your family is soon to be at war with mine, one I don’t see many surviving.”

His purple eye glistened with suppressed grief. Conflicting emotions flitted across his features as he looked down at you. Guilt, anger, sadness, affection. Several tears dropped from your eyes, running down your cheeks as you gazed at him. Aemond brushed them away with his fingers, leaning down to place a kiss below each of your damp eyes.

“You should leave, dawn is soon to break, you will need to be out of the city before daylight comes.”

His grip on you did not loosen and you snaked your hands around his torso, leaning your head on his chest. You felt his sigh ruffle your hair as Aemond rested his chin on your crown.

“Am I likely to see you again?” You knew the answer as you asked it.

Aemond paused a moment, his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

“I hope not, Y/N.”

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annabethwarriorprincess · 5 months

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Consider

Season two opening shot: Rhaenyra at Shipbreaker Bay searching for Luke's body

Season two closing shot: Alicent at The Gods Eye searching for Aemonds body

Neither of them finds their sweet baby boy and they're both irreparably broken....

#hotd #rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #queen rhaenyra #queen alicent #hotd speculation #hotd spoilers

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childotkw · 1 year

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Oh my God you like lucemond. My favorite writer likes my new obsession. The best tomarry/Harrymort writer I know likes lucemond.

When can we expect the fics? (Pretty please?)

Nnggghhhh fine. I'm thinking of calling it ruination because it's ✨dramatic✨

(Also, anons, you flatter me - let me repay your love by feeding our budding obsession)

It's essentially a 'Lucerys survives the fall and keeps his memories' story. The piece of Arrax's body that he was attached to took the brunt of the damage, and he washed up on a small rocky, uninhabited island, miraculously alive.

--- -- --- -- ---

Lucerys woke on the shore of an islet.

Cold water lapped at his legs, a teasing threat, and his body ached down to his bones. Each breath brought with it a fresh wave of agony, his ribs rattling in his bruised chest.

But none of that could eclipse the yawning, cavernous, echoing sense of loss ringing like a death knell in his heart.

Arrax.

His eyes burned with sea salt and sand and fresh tears. A sob caught in his throat, iron pooling in his mouth as his new reality etched itself into his soul.

His dragon, his life-long companion, his friend - gone. Snatched. Taken.

...

Eventually, Lucerys managed to pull his battered body further up the shoreline until he collapsed, trembling, at the base of the dark rock outcrop that seemed to dominate the tiny island. As he dragged his weakened legs close, leaving red imprints from his blood-soaked clothes, his dark eyes finally scanned his surroundings.

And what he saw made the sorrow the flooded him feel but a drop compared to the rage that seared its way through his blood.

He hadn't washed up alone.

Chunks of flesh - soft pink muscles and pearlescent white skin - were scattered up and down the small inlet.

The sight hollowed out what remained of his lucidity.

--- -- --- -- ---

It'd explore what the violent and sudden loss of his bond with Arrax would do to him.

For days Lucerys would be trapped on this islet in Shipbreaker Bay. The waters would be too harsh for him to dare to swim (not that that meant much with the distance between him and the mainland), and his only source of water would be the collection of rainwater that pooled in some hollows in the rocks.

He'd manage to create a small fire from some sun-dried wood that washed up, but when the hunger kicked in and the shaking got too much for him to try to hunt fish - he'd have one thing to eat.

The idea would disgust him, horrify him - a desecration and a last betrayal towards his friend. But hunger's a hard foe to battle, and another part of him would think that even now Arrax was looking after him, protecting him from starvation.

This would be the catalyst, because two days later is when Cannibal came for him.

--- -- --- -- ---

Arrax had been light and warm, their bond crackling merrily like a campfire. Inviting. Mischievous. Young.

Cannibal reminded Lucerys of the jagged mess surrounding the Iron Throne. Cold steel and dangerous. Steeped in a history he would never experience, that he could only see the end result of.

He loomed large in the edges of Lucerys' senses, still as wild and threatening as he had been when he came for him that day.

Their bond was nothing like his and Arrax's. There was no love there, no affection - only a keen possessiveness and the rumbling, storm-like understanding that they were the same.

Cannibals. Cutting their teeth on the flesh of other dragons.

--- -- --- -- ---

Cannibal would fly Lucerys back to Dragonstone - their return a mix of terror and jubilation.

Jubilation, because the son they feared dead had come back to them.

Terror, because not all of him returned on the back of the largest, most infamous wild dragon.

A light in Lucerys had gone out, the last dregs of his innocence died in Vhagar's jaws, and it would be obvious to everyone that looked at him.

He would be sharper, darker and more aggressive as his bond with Cannibal settled and their ferocity fed on each other's; and he would be aflame with the need to avenge his first, gentler dragon.

Rhaenyra would be concerned, dreading what these changes meant; but Daemon would be the one to turn the endless rage into a weapon.

--- -- --- -- ---

Daemon's hand curled around the base of his neck, the weight familiar and firm and warm. Lucerys allowed his step-father to tilt his head, a thumb pressing against the hinge of his jaw, and he met those purple eyes without fear.

"Alright?" the man asked, whisper soft and painfully gentle despite the violence evident in the lines of his face.

Lucerys paused, blinking heavily, and exhaled with bitter honesty. "No," he answered.

Daemon smiled at him, a small quirk of his lips filled with fatherly fondness. "You will be," he promised, tugging Lucerys in until his forehead rested against the man's chest.

--- -- --- -- ---

Eventually, news would break that Lucerys survived and now rode Cannibal.

And Aemond, who no longer had kinslayer hanging over his head, the word whispered at his back like a dagger sinking into his soft flank, would be torn between relief, guilt and the same niggling want that had dogged his steps every day for the last ten years.

#anonymous #HOTD #ruination AU #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #i just want dark and slightly feral lucerys that bonds with cannibal and immediately makes it everyones problem #his eventual reunion and clash with aemond would be so packed with drama omg #tw: symbolic cannibalism #in that lucerys eats a bit of his dragon and *not* a human #but theyre targaryens so it might as well be

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