#tales from the dancing sea dragon

[warlordfelwinter]

i think the funniest thing about the waterdeep party is that our networking is just out of control

like you've got celeste with a literal angel and the devil of all devils on his shoulders

nyalori the cleric seems to have deep sashelas himself following her around

corivier the ranger has some sort of connection to bahamut and now has a baby silver dragon companion

it's just a party of Specialest Little Guys

#as it should be really #dnd characters should either be Just Some Dude #or some uber powerful being's specialest little guy #we seem to have three of the latter which is cracking me up #i cant wait until they find out about asmo like #sashelas is a good aligned deity #silver dragons are good aligned #and then we've got celeste over here with the embodiment of lawful evil scooping him up into its arms #i gave them a chance to get a clue abt it with the painting but now they're going to have to work for it #celeste is very good about keeping quiet about asmo #he doesnt take a gods trust for granted #dnd #fel's ttrpgs #tales from the dancing sea dragon #oc: celeste #other people's ocs

[fragileheartbeats]

Can you make an original Valyria house (like Targaryen and Velaryons). A house that had the most beautiful people and rode ice dragons?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐑 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑃𝐸𝑂𝑃𝐿𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

─ 𝘐𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𖤐

─ 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴 𖤐

House Celestyr, descended from the ancient and mystical bloodlines of Old Valyria, stood as a beacon of beauty and grace amidst the dragonlords of their age. Their sigil, a majestic ice dragon mid-flight encircled by a ring of stars on a field of iridescent blue, symbolized their affinity for the heavens and the frozen beasts they tamed. Their words, "Beyond the Flame, Our Essence Soars," whispered of their nature, transcending the fiery passions of their kin to embrace the ethereal and the intellectual. The members of House Celestyr were paragons of ethereal beauty and physical perfection, their stature towering and their features fine. Their senses were sharp, able to detect the faintest whisper of a threat or the subtlest of nature's wonders. Resilient to the ravages of time and ailment, they were the embodiment of the Valyrian ideal, their slender forms housing a strength that belied their graceful appearance. Their connection to the ice dragons of the Shivering Sea, creatures as rare and enigmatic as the house itself, granted them a dominion over realms both frostbitten and arcane. The Celestyrs were lovers of the world's innate splendor, drawn to the sea's endless depths and the night sky's diamond brilliance. Their home, the Fortress of Frostfire, was a marvel of architecture, perched upon the edge of the world where the sea kissed the stars. Libraries and gardens adorned its halls, reflecting the house's unquenchable thirst for knowledge and beauty. Yet, the Celestyrs were not untouched by flaw. Their pursuit of perfection could breed a dangerous pride, and their hearts, though resistant to darkness, were not immune to the lures of power and vanity. It was their challenge to navigate the fine line between their noble pursuits and the temptations that came with their gifts. Among them, the most radiant was Valyra Celestyr, a name that echoed her house's affinity with the skies above. Daughter of a Targaryen princess and a Celestyr king, she possessed a beauty that seemed to cast a spell over all who beheld her. Her hair was a cascade of gold-silver strands that shone with the light of the stars her ancestors adored, and her eyes, a shimmering violet, held the depth of the cosmos. Valyra was the epitome of her house's virtues, a lover of nature, art, and the mysteries of the world. Her intellect was as renowned as her beauty, and her presence was as soothing as the sea breeze. But it was not just her mind and looks that drew people to her; Valyra's spirit, kind and unassuming, was a stark contrast to the ambition and intrigue that often surrounded her. The history of House Celestyr is a tapestry woven with threads of light and shadow, its legacy enduring in the legends of a people who soared beyond the reach of fire, to dance with dragons in the frost-kissed heavens. Their tale is a reminder of the beauty and peril that come with extraordinary gifts, and of the eternal dance between the lofty stars and the mortal hearts that aspire to reach them.

Chapter 1

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝒟 eαr dıαrч 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀ #house celestyr #my oc #house of dragons #game of thrones #hotd #song of ice and fire #house targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aegon i targaryen #hotd fanfic #daemon targeryan #aerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #daenerys targaryen #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd x oc

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys angst #hotd angst #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #manipulative reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

A collection of all my writing. ♡

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x OC

Series Masterlist (ONGOING) (18+)

Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge. But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light. With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge. Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance?

Warnings: Mentions of rape, m/f smut, violence

Studious (ONGOING) (18+) Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Moodboard by @sapphirehearteyes

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. The wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. But you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel. And though you don't know it, he is drawn to you as well.

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, masturbation (m and f) bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing), Aegon saying Aegon things, all the awkwardness in the world

What is Broken (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Sister-wife!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

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...

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future

Inconceivable (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Part I - Part II

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Warnings: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles... Angst, grief, forced marriage, more to be added

My Fair Lady's Maid (WIP) (18+) Prince Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Warnings: Smut

The Girl at the Table (WIP) (18+) Michael Gavey x Reader

Michael has a plan for Oxford: complete his degree at the top of the class, avoid the wealthy, spoiled pricks that make up the majority of the student body, and stay focused. The plan begins well, until a girl begins sitting at his study table.

Warnings: Smut, math

Monsters in the Garden (ONGOING) (DDDNE) (18+) Ettore x Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Warnings: SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape (WIP) Osferth x Reader

Series Masterlist

When he arrives in Coccham to join with Lord Uhtred Ragnarsson's band of righteous warrior, Osferth does not get the greeting he expected. Uhtred himself is very clear that he has only accepted the young monk to irritate his father, and the few warriors he is introduced to delight in picking fun at him. Still, it is better than the monastery, the Lady of the estate is kind to him, and the servant girl who leads him to his new chambers is... something entirely new to Osferth. Something that, perhaps, will help him understand what the Bible means when it speaks of love.

Note: This is a series of inter-connected oneshots that can be read together or on their own.

That Pointy-Eared Blond Bastard (WIP) (18+) Half-Vulcan!Aemond x Human(?)Reader

Graduation - Away Team - Red Alert - Holodeck - Pon Farr

You are Aemond's greatest rival at Starfleet Academy. Or you would be, if he cared enough to have rivals. Vulcans don't care that much. But Aemond is only half Vulcan. And you... you bring out something decidedly non-Vulcan in him.

A Companion (WIP) Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader

Series Masterlist

At the suggestion of Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys Targaryen had commanded that his Hand, Otto Hightower, find a new bride. Preferably at the King's own wedding to Otto's daughter Alicent. While the Princess intended the suggestion as a form of revenge for Otto's machinations which led to the royal engagement, he intends to make the best of it. While he has always known that his late wife, Madelyn, is the great love of his life, he welcomes the idea of finding a tolerable companion. What he doesn't expect is you, a lady widowed far too young, who begins to spark feelings within him he thought long extinguished.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond targaryen #ettore #ettore high life #ewan mitchell #studious #the silver dragon #monsters in the garden #a companion #What is broken #12 days of smuff

[queensharotto]

Brittle Doughie’s Cookie Run x Reader Masterlist (Part 3: Early 2023)

4/21/2023 This Masterlist is being updated

A masterlist of @brittle-doughie’s Cookie Run stories organized by month.

Genre Emojis

😞 is for angst, 🎃 is for Halloween, 🎄 is for Christmas, 🍪 is for Cannibalism, 💗 is for Yandere, 💝 is for Valentine’s, 👻 is for Horror, 🎂 is for Birthday.

The Indents are related to the featured cookies. If there are numerous cookies (Over 10 Cookies Featured), I’ll make a note on that as well.

Also, this ⭐️ will indicate a story featuring one of Brittle’s OCs.

January 2023 ❄️

• “Molded, Battered, Whole”

Featuring: The Five Dragons

• “Y/N Cookie getting Injured”

Featuring: ????

• “Foul Play”

Featuring:

• “Seize the Spin”

Featuring:

• “Face the Music!”

Featuring:

• “Two Sides of a Coin”

Featuring:

• “New Time Balance Department Cookies”

Featuring:

• “Sands of the Sale”

Featuring:

• “Memories”

Featuring:

• “Coworkers Delight”

Featuring:

• “Spared No Expense 2”

Featuring:

• “Y/N Cookie’s Valentine’s Day Experience” 💝

Featuring:

• “A Fish in a Barrel”

Featuring:

• “Good Day for Walks”

Featuring:

• “A Handycookie’s Expertise”

Featuring:

• “Chaos and Control”

Featuring:

• “House is Where The Heart Is”

Featuring:

• “The Serenity or The Charismatic”

Featuring:

• “Eternity”

Featuring:

• “Interactions with Milky Way Cookie during Episode 15”

Featuring:

• “Y/N Cookie Dislikes People Yelling”

Featuring:

• “No Deed Goes Unnoticed”

Featuring:

• “At Your Beck and Call”

Featuring:

• “Ayo, Their Pouch Responses”

Featuring:

• “No Dice”

Featuring:

• “Undeserving”

Featuring:

• “But the Dance is Today!”

Featuring:

• “Y/N Cookie’s Tailoring Hobby”

Featuring:

• “Lost Amidst Matrimony” 😞💗

Featuring:

• “Sweet Heartmender”

Featuring:

• “Burger Chain Backfire”

Featuring:

February 2023 💝

• “Antagonized”

• “Even More Heartbreak”

• “Star of the Industry” ⭐️

• “The Sugar Swan’s Treasure”

• “Y/N Cookie Blurbs (Various Cookies)”

• “Pet Times”

• “Y/N Cookie’s First Encounter with Stardust Cookie”

• “Moon Pie Cookie”

• “Tales of Sweetness” (Valentine’s Day Special)

• “If Y/N Cookie Hated Someone”

• “Movie Star Y/N Cookie”

• “Duel of Hearts”

• “A Very Much Invited Guest”

• “Fashion Week 2?”

• “Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to”

March 2023 🌱

• “Artist Y/N Cookie”

• “Y/N Cookie’s Costume Concepts”

• “Drawings for the Little Cookies”

• “Ya Like Raisin Buns?”

• “Sweetheart Timekeeper Cookie”

• “Stress from a Job”

• “Ancient Y/N Cookie’s All Nighters”

• “Y/N Cookie being part of a Royal Family”

• “Y/N Cookie having a Nightmare”

• “Downstream: Part 1”

• “Group Findings”

• “Volunteering to be a parent to Y/N Cookie’s child”

• “Sea Fairy x Y/N Cookie”

• “A Jammed Heart”

• “Croissant Cookie vs. Timekeeper Cookie”

April 2023 ☔️

• “A Forced Hand”

• “Y/N Cookie in Scovillia”

• “From Afar”

• “Kindred Souls”

• “Y/N Cookie Comforting Centipede Cookie”

• “Chocolate Frosting Cookie trying to redeem herself”

• “The Pudding Cup Circus”

• “Cookies of Darkness Go to the Movies”

• “Volunteering to be a parent to Y/N Cookie’s child (Part 2)”

• “Exiled from their Kingdom: The Darkness’s Offering”

• “No Simp September”

• “I’ll Miss You”

• “The Incorrect Quote Cookie Jar #2”

• “Y/N Cookie in the Crème Knights”

#brittle doughie masterlists #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run angst #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #yandere cookie run kingdom

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Being  Corlys’ Bastard Daughter in a  Secret Relationship with Rhaenyra Would Include...

I started writing this weeks ago and recently finished. Kinda went ham on it, sorry if it got too long! I’m also working on fics about this concept so stay tuned. Also spoilers for House of The Dragon up to episode 7, Driftmark. Hope ya’ll enjoy!

• You were Laenor and Laena’s half sister, since you were Corlys’ bastard daughter but you were legitimized in his eyes once you came into adulthood. 

• Rhaenys accepted you with open arms, seeing you as a daughter just as she saw Laena and Laenor as her children respectfully. 

• You didn’t care much for lady-like duties, choosing to chase behind Laenor and the other knights of your house to train in sword and shield. Corlys had his issues with it of course, but as long as you did what you could to keep up appearances, he was fine. Rhaenys was there to teach you all about being a lady, while sharing much of the fierceness a Targaryen could hold.

• Like Laenor, you had different tastes to what was expected of you. 

• You much preferred the company of the ladies of court as your father frequented Kings Landing as King Viserys’s master of ships. Being around other ladies of court wasn’t frown upon much, you were safe from rumors, unlike your brother Laenor, it was easy to navigate yourself through your specific tastes since close bonds between women of the court were common.

• It remained common as you could keep them, a few lingering smiles here and a few compliments there, until you met the crowned Princess herself, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

• She was betrothed to your brother Laenor but he didn’t see her like that, yet you did. The Princess noticed you, and complimented you accordingly:

“You’re just as pretty as your brother, Lady Y/N,” Rhaenyra said before kissing your hand. 

• Laenor may have been her betrothed, but Rhaenyra spent much time with you: listening of your tales amongst the sea with your father while Rhaenyra told you stories of dragons, even mentioning that she’d like to take you on the back of Syrax if you’d like to. 

• During Laenor and the Princess’s wedding, the both of you kept running into each other on the dance floor. Her eyes tracing your body as she moved from man to man, attention on the way the music took you. 

• Kept a close eye on you until the violence began, going straight towards you, keeping you safe through all of chaos. 

“I need to find my brother!” you said.

Rhaenyra shook her head, hands still holding yours. 

“I must protect you for him, my lady.”

• You knew you had feelings for the Princess after she married Laenor. The ten years away from her while she was in Kings Landing and you on Driftmark made you crave for her presence again. So you wrote to her, along with Laenor and Laena, respectively as she was in Essos. 

• Rhaenyra oft wrote back, telling of her children and how much she missed you. She detailed your beauty in her letters, joking about how she’d rather be the wife of another Velaryon than your brother.

• You gushed at the letter once it got to you, thinking over a fortnight of what to say back to the Princess. It was treason and down right wrong to think of Rhaenyra in a nonplatonic way yet the Princess’s words drew you with so much tenderness inside. 

• Rhaenyra’s letters kept arriving, wondering when you’d get back to her: both physically and by letter. You didn’t mean to leave her in the dark, but after hearing about her relations with Harwin and how she adored him saddened you. You wished to be the sole love she adored.

 • You didn’t write her back until Laena’s death, pouring out everything you thought for her and the hate you felt for Laena going off with Daemon to Pentos, for making Rhaenys a wreck and making your father quiet, so much so that he didn’t talk much until the funeral. 

• You and Laena weren’t the closest, yet she always made an effort to understand you the most, boasting that the blood of old Valyria was still strong in you, whether you weren’t full Velaryon or not. She never looked down or joked about your preferences, encouraging it along with Laenor.

• Laenor took Laena’s death the hardest though. You tried sticking by his side during the funeral, trying not to crack under your uncle Vaemond’s words of Velaryon blood, glancing at Rhaenyra’s own boys and you. It made it hard for you to handle your grief when anger bubbled inside, forcing you to clutch your hands tightly that red nail marks carved at your palms.  

• Rhaenyra noticed however, prompting her youngest son there, Lucerys to comfort you in some way. The boy reluctantly looked to his mother, than to you before bounding over (thanks to a stern, yet easygoing nod from Rhaenyra) and taking one of your clasped hands into his tiny one. 

• Your wall of rage tumbled just a bit, breaking your intense focus to see your nephew staring with wide eyes, steady and ready to bolt back to his mother and father if things grew awry. All you wanted was some one there who understood your pain, your rage, your heartbreak. You knew of the rumors, you may have been away from court but the gossip always ran throughout the seven kingdoms. The words bastard and Strong thrown around carelessly of Rhaenyra’s boys so much so that you felt terrible for them or even considering the truth that they weren’t Laenor’s boys.  

•Whether they truly had the “saltiest and thickest Velaryon blood” didn’t matter, even though  you were a Velaryon in Corlys’ eyes, yet in other members of the house’s eyes you were still the Sea Snake’s bastard daughter. A title you could never escape from. You didn’t know what Lucerys went though but you held his hand anyway, pulling him close for a hug. You may not know what the boy went through but it had to be something similar to your own strive.

•The boy hesitated but returned it immediately, clutching onto you for the rest of your uncle’s speech. You felt loved, you may have only met your nephew but you could tell Rhaenyra and Laenor loved and raised him decently so far. 

“I-Is aunt Y/N all right?” Jacaerys asked as he approached you and Luke, holding his mother and father’s hands. 

Luke glanced up at you expectantly, hugging into your side, as if asking his brother’s question a second time.

“Y-Yeah,” you said. Your voice rough but you tried your best in sounding all right. “T-Thank you for worrying about me, boys.”

Rhaenyra met your eye as you ruffled the boys’ hair, totally not buying your words at all. 

“Laenor, take the boys to bed, please?” Rhaenyra said. She patted your brother’s arm before continuing. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Laenor seemed just as worn out as you, doing what his wife told was simple yet he still was rather sluggish in taking Jace and Luke’s hands, leaving you and Rhaenyra alone. 

 • Rhaenyra drew closer and like her son, she was cautious of touching you. 

“Alicent, and her father have been watching me,” she said as she glanced past and beyond you discreetly. “Walk with me to the beach?”

“Have I some how entered your circle of rumors, Princess?” you said.

Rhaenyra smiled weakly. “Something like that, my lady.”

  • Once you walked enough of the beach and nightfall began to cover you both thanks to the decline of the sun, Rheanyra took you into her arms, wrapping you close by the waist.

• Her touch. Finally feeling her skin, her warmth for over ten years made the emotions bubble up in you yet again as tears flowed from you. 

“I’m here,” Rhaenyra whispered. She pressed a hand to the back of your head. “I-I’m so sorry, Y/N”

You held onto her, crying into her chest, babbling about everything you held against you for the past ten years.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed. “With Laenor being your king consort and Laena dead, I possibly couldn’t be Lady of Driftmark or Lady of the Tides as a--”

Rhaenyra took your face before you could even say the word bastard. Through your tear stained eyes you saw her own crestfallen expression, water clinging to her own eyes. 

“You are a true Velaryon,” Rhaenyra declared. “It may not be official but I promise as queen you will be. It will be my first act.”

• The Princess then kissed you, hard, fierce and fiery as kissing a Targaryen should be. You shivered in her arms thanks to the brisk air Driftmark held, especially close to the sea as night continued to crawl through the final peaks of sun.   

  • Rhaenyra’s hands traveled over your waist, holding you as if you’d sail away at any moment, ship off for another ten years. 

“Come with me, us to Dragonstone,” Rhaenyra said. Desperation written on her face as she panted from your previous make out. “Be my lady in waiting, my sworn sword, I don’t care I-I just need you with me!”

The words “sworn sword” hit you in a sour way. 

“Like your former? He’s replaceable? W-Would I be?” you said.

Rhaenyra’s grip on your sides grew rough; you gasped at the slight pinch in pain as she pulled you to be inches from her lips again. 

“I loved Harwin, he can never be replaced,” she said, solidifying your worries. “But he isn’t you. A-And what I feel for you isn’t quite the same as I had with him.”

You shook your head, speaking the truth of the rumors. 

“You’d have children with me?” you said. “I-If we could?”

“I would and more, you’d be my Queen consort instead of your brother,” the Princess responded cheekily.   

• The both of you shared more kisses, along with touches that lingered. Rhaenyra wanted to go further, you both did but the lost of loved ones sought you both against it for now. 

• When you both found Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena bloodied from their scuffle with Aemond, you immediately formed a shield around all your nieces and nephews with Corlys, Rhaenys and Rhaenyra. 

• Luke clung to you instantly as Alicent tried attacking the boy, almost cutting you if Rhaenyra didn’t stop the mad Queen first. 

  • When Alicent cut Rhaenyra, you were at the Princess’s side but not before Luke scurried to her left, you to her right. You held her as she bled, immediately calling for a maester for not only Rhaenyra’s wounds but for that of your nephews and nieces as well. 

• You stayed by her side as the maesters stitched her arm. Luke clung to you again, asking his mother if she was all right while Jace held your other hand. Rhaenyra reassured him with a kiss on the forehead before doing the same to Jace. 

“You boys have cause a lot of trouble tonight. Now go off to bed, for real this time,” Rhaenyra said. 

Her boys did what they were told but not before hugging Rhaenyra then you as well. 

• Rhaenyra began to notice how much her boys got attached to you, especially Luke and deemed you as a second mother to them after your permanent stay on Dragonstone, and having them squire under you and Laenor.

• You became a quasi mentor to your nephew Luke, since he’d inherit Driftmark as Lord of the Tides. Of course he had trouble getting seasick but you still reassured him that he’d make a fine Lord of the Tides and helped him during short sea trips from Dragonstone to Kingslanding to help him adjust to life on the sea. 

• Rhaenyra would always fly over with Syrax to ensure that the both of you arrived and departed safely. 

• She always welcomed you with a tight embrace, checking over you as soon as she was done ensuring Luke was in one piece. 

•  Rhaenyra always found time to be alone with you, always thanking you for being amazing with her boys and always made sure you felt all right here with this family she cultivated on Dragonstone. 

“I hope you feel a part of this family as much as I believe you are,” Rhaenyra said while she held your hand. She cuddled next to you while she played with the braids of your silver hair. “Have ever I told you how beautiful your hair is?” 

You grew sheepish at her words, especially at the mention of being her family, finally a part of her life and finally able to be with her. 

“You really see me as your family?” you said as you tucked yourself against her chest. “What does that make me? Secret lover to the heir apparent?”

Rhaenyra shook her head and gave you a deep kiss. 

“You will be my only sole lover, Y/N Velaryon, a true Lady of Driftmark right next to the Queen of the seven kingdoms.”    

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #house targaryen #house velaryon #laenor velaryon #laena valeryon #corlys valeryon #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #velaryon reader #harwin strong #hotd imagines #house of the dragon imagines

[yandere-wishes]

𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙𝕤

Summary: Freminet is desperate to take you diving with him. You are rather reluctant. 

Author's note: Me: I should give reader a geo vision to depict her love of dry land and earth as opposed to water. 

Also Me: Give her a hydro vision, make her fear the power she wields. Make her vision represent how powerless she feels. Give her a hydro vision.

Warnings: Reader and Freminet are 18+ (NO NSFW), Reader is sad, sea monsters, angst (if you squint), do not read if you are aquaphobic, thalassophobic, scared of water in general. Written by an aquaphobic, 

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

Freminet's eyes shot open, his body weightless in the waters' gentle current. The sea has always murmured fairytales to Freminet. Tales of dragons and mermaids. Stories carried by the current from every corner of the Teyvat. Sometimes they tend to lull him to sleep much like his late mother's lullaby. 

Although lately -as if the sea truly knows every secret Freminet harbors within his cold heart- the fairytales have shifted focus. The ocean no longer sings of brave knights who vanquish dragons or mermaids who fend their homes of evil. Instead, it whispers tales of true love. Anecdotes of princes and princesses who reunite, who fall in love, who live and die in each other's arms. Each story has Freminet's mind racing back to you. 

People never ask about the sun's rays under the rolling tides of the sea. 

Never ask about the reefs that cradle one's body akin to a protective crib.

Instead, they ask about treasure, about pearls, and crystals. About the diamonds and rubies from sunken treasures. They ask how the ocean can make them rich, how they can steal what she's laid claim to.

But can't treasure also be found on land? It's a question Freminet can't help but ponder. Can't treasure be found between Fontaine's bustling crowd, during the early morning rush or the afternoon spectacles? Can't it be hidden between produce stalls and restaurant lounges? 

He knows it can be. For he sees it every day.

What is a treasure, if not a rare item unclaimed?

What is a treasure if not beauty that lies hidden on both land and sea?

What is a treasure of not a girl, a lover, an ally? 

What is a treasure if not the hydro wielder he sees every day from his bedroom window? 

But you don't see it the same, now do you?

Despite his reserved and timid nature, Freminet has unfortunately built up quite a reputation for himself. 'The Master Diver Of Fontaine' they call him. A name he holds absolutely no regard for. Yet it does very little to ward off all manner of people from pestering him for his expertise. Adventures, tourists, treasure seekers, all who wish to unravel the depths of the sea come to him. And he turns down every single one. Or rather he gets Lyney and Lynette to do it for him. 

But you're different, you're special in his eyes. Your warm smile melts the accumulated frost from around his heart. It had taken many months before Freminet had approached you. Blushing and stumbling as he rubbed the back of his neck. Awkward in every sense of the word. You had merely laughed and reached out to grasp his hand with yours. Frost leaked from his digits, melding with the water that always danced at the tip of your fingers. Hydro and Cyro mix chaining you together. Freminet had all but dragged you back home to get Lyney to unfreeze the two of you.

Amusing, how much a disastrous first meeting had left you wanting to see more of him. Funny how every night before he closes his eyes he feels your hand molded within his. 

"Please, I swear it's not that bad" He's at it again, begging, pleading. Imploring you to come see his world. The world beneath Fonatine, his secret fairytale world where you can be the princess and he can be your prince. But you refuse again and again. "Freminet I've already told you no. Please stop asking it's getting irritating." He's tried to reason with you, although his stuttering and shyness aren't persuading in the least. He's all but practically dragged you to the shore.

That's why, one day when Freminet resurfaces he's shocked to see you sitting by the shore. Shoes discarded to the side as you sit just out of reach of the tide. The water's cold today, almost saddened, and the waves tumble over themselves apathetically. Freminet stares at you, at your beauty. How you all but radiate so close to his hidden paradise. He watches as you gaze upon the waters. He dares not to ask what you see. What you ponder on doing. 

"I see you." You say, in a cheerful voice that matches not your face. For a heartbeat, Freminet wonders if he's the cause of your cheerfulness, if seeing him makes you as happy as you do to him. He steps onto the shore. The water droplets cling to him like stardust, as if begging him to return to the serenity of the ocean. He sits next to you on the beach, head spinning from being underwater for all so long. When he looks at you all he sees is sunken treasure. Another marvel to add beauty to his blue world. He's all so desperate to keep you away from others who'll steal your beauty for every wrong reason. To him you are perfect. He fights the urge to trace sea-stars on your arms, to relish in your warmth. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under your weight. "I hate the ocean Freminet. And the sea, and the lakes and the rivers. All of it I hate all of it.". He's quiet for a minute, mind racing to try and find an answer. "But..what about your vision? It's hydro isn't it." You pause, anger dancing across your face "I HATE it" you spite, "That useless vision is the cruelest joke the Archons ever decided to play on me. I've tried to get rid of it, even tossed it into the ocean from whence it came. But somehow, it always finds its back to me." Anger laces your voice, bitter and forlorn. It makes Freminet jolt, also fearing when people raise their voices.

The moon takes over the sun. As the two of you refuse to leave your seats. You paint him sea monsters and fanged beasts with your words. Tell him how they breach the surface for pleasure and for pain. You spin together double-headed leviathans breaching the surface to prey on unsuspecting Violetgold Angler Gulls. Tell him about how once, back when you'd been young and naive you had let some older kids trick you into going to the deep end of the water. You tell him what it's like to draw, what it's like to feel weightless in endless darkness. Freminet doesn't comment, although it all sounds rather enjoyable to him. He wonders if his perception of the depths has become warped. 

It's only when you decide to leave that Freminet gets an idea. Wicked maybe, but he's always been a selfish boy. Harboring greed within his heart as a secondary shield. He grabs your wrist and in a moment of unblaces, plunges you both into the very waters you fear. 

They're a scream, silent as it's washed under the raring tide. Freminet feels the terror and betrayal radiating off your form. You may hate him now. But that's okay, he'll show you the beauties of his world. A haven you can both escape to. Away from greedy people who wish you nothing but harm. Maybe it's because everyone he's loved has left him, maybe it's because losing you feels worse than death, maybe it's because he's finally found someone to fill the void in his heart. But he won't let you go. Not now not ever. 

You feel like a doll. Helplessly submerged in vastness. Freminet's body clings to yours like a second skin. Stiffly pinning your arms to your side. Your lungs are on fire and you swear you see an array of giants moving in the dark corners. You want to scream, to fight. But you can't your impolized by fear. This is it you think, as something strange swims past you. This is where you will die. 

There's something large swimming up to you. Something murky and dark whose sharp teeth shimmer in the stray rays of moonlight that have made their way down here. You see a dorsal fin, almost as sharp as the teeth. There's something else behind you, larger, with sharp scales that into your back. You feel its teeth sliding against your back as the first predator closes in. There's a noise, grotesque in nature, before you lose all sense in your left arm. You scream into the void, and move vigorously in Freminet's grasp, desperately trying to convey your fear. But he doesn't move. In all likeliness, he's mostly dead you think. The monsters got to him too. You shut your eyes tightly awaiting your demise...

There's a soft glow that lulls you into opening your eyes. Your body feels cold and wet. As your heart hammers at your ribcage, desperate to escape and flee. You feel something soft on your lips, something equally cold. Your eyes trace the glow of Freminet's face as he traps you in an extensive kiss. It's calming, despite the unspeakable thing he just did, you're just happy he's alive. That you're alive. "I love..." he mutters when he finally breaks the kiss. You look at him dazed, high on your fear, on your relief. The world spins stuck between fantasy and reality. Your fingers trace the sides of his cheek as he nuzzles into your touch. 

"What of the monsters that frolic in the sea? What of the death and destruction they bring?"

#freminet x reader #freminet x you #freminet #genshin impact #genshin impact freminet #genshin x reader #yandere freminet #yandere freminet x reader #yandere freminet x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yancore #lyney #lynette #genshin lyney #genshin lynette #fonatine #genshin fontaine #yandere aesthetic #freminet headcanons #yandere freminet headcanons #freminet x reader headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #headcanons #yandere headcanons #genshin headcanons #love aesthetic

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

JON SNOW AND ICE DRAGON

According to the World of Ice & Fire, Ice dragons exist in the Shivering Sea and these dragons are many times larger the Valyrian ones we are more familiar with thanks to House Targaryen.

Westerosi has named one constellation "Ice Dragon" and usually when that word comes up within the text refers to the said constellation. I said usually, because there is a single pov character who refers to Ice Dragons even aside from the constellation that's named after them. And since you probably read the title of this meta you know that I'm talking about our boy, Snow.

It's interesting that Jon informs us that Old Nan ( bless that woman)used to tell him stories about these creatures when he was younger. Normally, Old Nan told stories to all Starklings so we could go ahead and assume that the other Stark kids ( and especially those who where around Jon the most aka Robb, Arya and Bran) have also heard those tales. And yet, none of these kids mentions Ice Dragons - outside from the same named constellation - in their pov. It's like Martin only wanted Jon to talk about these creatures at all.

The first time he mentions an Ice Dragon is when during the Battle at the Wall compares a tunnel with the gullet of an ice dragon:

The door swag open. Pyp led them in, followed by Clydas and the lantern. It was all Jon could do to keep up with Maester Aemon. The Ice pressed close around them, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones. It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon[...]

ASOS, JON VIII

The second time, he compares the wind with the breath of an ice dragon while also remembering that Old Nan told him stories about it:

The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy.

ADWD, JON II

Another comparison between the tunnels and the belly of the ice dragon:

The road beneath the Wall was as cold and dark as the belly of an ice dragon and as twisty as a serpent

ADWD, JON VIII

And another one comparing the wind with the breath of the ice dragon( Jon you are getting repetitive in your own mind xD):

The snowfall was light today, a thin scattering of flakes dancing in the air, but the wind was blooming for the east along the Wall, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan used to tell

ADWD, JON X

Now, I don't expect an Ice Dragon to come from the Shivering Sea to aid Jon in the last two books ( although as a fantasy fan who adores dragons I can't say I dislike this crack theory) but I do believe there is a reason only Jon mentions these creatures.

Ice Dragon is an antithesis if you think about it. Dragons usually are associated with the fire they breath and here we have a description of those who are made of ice. Creatures who should be of fire are actually of ice. Similarly to them, Jon Snow, who is secretly a member of House Targaryen ( associated with both dragons and fire), was raised in the North and became a Commander of an Order which is located at the northest part of Westeros Even his surname, Snow, reminds us of the cold! He should be by the virtue of being a Targaryen more of fire but due to the circumstances of his life he's closer to the ice.

It's like he's the Ice Dragon that recites at the Wall.

#jon snow #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jon snow meta #valyrianscrolls #a post of ice and fire

[scratchtovoid]

📓 DAEMYRA FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS

• Someone You Knew In Another Life by @spreta-invidia - My current obsession. I made this post just for this story! Time travel fix it fics are popular for a reason with the Dance characters but in my opinion this fic does it best. Told from different points of view, this story centers on Aegon III going back in time to tell his parents about the coming war and their own deaths! What follows is deliciously written political scheming, deep discussions of what parenthood means for Rhaenyra and Daemon, and a tender family story that brought tears to my eyes more than once.

Complete || 65 Chapters || M || 176K || (link)

• The Sacrifice and the Sea Dragon by Fayte2008 - As someone who writes alternative fantasy asoiaf fics, I��m deeply partial to any writer that dares to reimagine these characters in new fantasy settings. So discovering this short but delightful tale of Daemon being sacrificed to a sea dragon made me incredibly happy. Written like a fairy tale, this story would not feel out of place in an anthology of Valyrian legends.

Complete || Oneshot || E || 1.7K || (link)

• your ivy grows (now I'm covered in you) by @charlie-leau - Personally I think anything by this writer is well worth your time! But what I love about this story of Rhaenyra facing an unexpected pregnancy is that it delves deep into both her complicated relationship with being a mother and the stigma of childbirth out of wedlock in a world like Westeros. Despite this series being only five chapters long, the Daemon/Rhaenyra love story feels earned at the end!

Complete || 5 Chapters || E || 87K || (link)

• put down that gravestone by darkgods - This fic will always be special to me because it was the fic that really got me into Daemyra fic in the first place! I don’t think I would even be writing fanfiction if I hadn’t read this series! And that’s because it so wonderfully balances the political intrigue we know so well from canon with a deeply satisfying love story that is all about family. In this canon divergent tale, Rhaenyra gets pregnant from a tryst with Daemon the night of the brothel (unbeknownst to them both). When Daemon is sent away and Rhaenyra is forced to marry Laenor, she raises her sons as true Velaryons. That is until Daemon returns to take his place at court, and Rhaenyra finds she can’t hide her sons’ true identities from the man who sired them.

Ongoing/Hiatus || 28/45 Ch || E || 249K || (link)

• Lavender Haze by madgirlslovesong (sympathy4thedevil) - In this AU, Viserys has a dragon dream of the coming war in which he sees Rhaenyra’s death. In order to change his daughter’s fate, he names Aegon heir and grants Rhaenyra the title of Princess of Dragonstone as a consolation prize. Resigned to a life denied, Rhaenyra finds renewed freedom when Daemon arrives offering her a world of new possibilities. If you want a fluffy, sexy, what could have been for Rhaenyra and Daemon, this is the one! This fic explores life outside of court and allows Rhaenyra to see more of the world than she got to see in canon. It gives the fic a completely unique feeling. There’s also some great fun with Viserys and his reaction to Daemyra’s relationship in a follow up oneshot!

Complete || 8 Chapters || E || 96K || (link)

• Deep Tissue by @luthien-under-bough - Rhaenyra gets a massage that has her feeling especially relaxed! Just trust me on this one, you should read it.

Complete || Oneshot || E || 4K || (link)

• Blood Sweeter Than Honey Wine by Me! - Yes, I’m including my own fic on this list. If you want a taste of my writing or if you’re interested in a completely different kind of fantasy AU, you might like my twisted tale of a Prince who washes up on an island long thought to be abandoned but is actually home to a mysterious Queen with a dangerous secret!

Complete || Oneshot || E || 11K || (link)

#daemyra fic #daemon x rhaenyra #fanfic rec

[delicrieux]

hello darling! soo i’m one of the Aemond gals, could you maybe write something with him? maybe the reader is from our world and just out of blue she finds herself in Westeros! Aemond is so dumbfounded - here she is, this weird girl, talking about some nonsense things, well educated in history and philosophy (another nurts obvi) with sparkling dragon-like coloured irises, so lost but welcoming everything that surrounds her, even all of him. welll as you can see - I’m so deep in it! if you decide to write something about this, thank you so much!! take care! 🌟🌟

TRAVELER | endless drabble series (winter edition)    

summary: differences can actually be appealing pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader a/n: i changed it up a bit, i hope you don’t mind!! i didn’t rly know how to incorporate our world reader into westeros, so i just made her origins unknown but heavily implied to be from sothoryos, which, to be fair, is kinda from a different world too! used 4. mulled wine from this list <3

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the winter prompts list 1 & 2 !

It had been a regular flight - easy winds, no storms but an odd fad of snow - when he had noticed a strange figure asleep in the frost covered plains up North. From so high up, Aemond could not yet tell if it was a bear or a human - the first would be easier to explain, but his curiosity was quipped and so Vhagar cast her wings and dipped down and what he saw proved to be quite extraordinary.

There, a woman in a dress, asleep in a ring of dewy grass. The only thing valuable seemed to be her jewels - big, heavy silver rings and long, clunky pendants made from black oily stones. Like a lily submerged underwater, he figured she had died from the cold. But as he landed, and the ground shook, so did the body, and the woman slowly, achingly opened her eyes to see the mouth of a dragon.

That waxen face now breathes with life in a local tavern. Drunken sonnets spill into the air like ale on wooden tables, and she nurses her second cup of mulled wine. The cup’s clay, chipped - she had cut her lip when she first took a sip, though it seemed that she did not notice. Aemond, sitting across from her, measures her up and down once more - so far, she had given no indication of knowing where she is, or who he is, nor did she portray any surprise faced with a dragon.

Covered in furs and deer hide, she’s finally warm enough to speak, “My thanks, stranger.” She says, and he’s fascinated by her accent, a fluid song broken by the harsh rasp of the chill. She smiles, and her jewelry glimmers in the dancing fires of the hearth.

“It’s surprising you didn’t die,” He comments, holding his own cup, “the North is not usually so kind to travelers.”

“I am lucky,” She admits, almost shyly, “though I don’t recall how is it that I got here, nor where I came from.”

“Perhaps you’re from beyond the Wall?” He suggest smugly, but she only shakes her head with a small smile.

“In the Lands of Always Winter, I do wonder what world lies there. Where it ends, and where it begins - at the same point of measure, perhaps? It’s easy to get lost in the snow, turned around all over; perhaps there are dragons there as well that breathe frost, not unlike those in the Shivering Sea?” She tilts her head at his confusion, “You’ve read the histories, no?”

“I’ve had the leisure.” He says curtly.

“Then you must know a great deal of Valyria.” She says, “Have you ever been?”

“There’s nothing left of it.”

She blinks, “...Truly? Nothing? No graves or gold or cadavers to tell tales older than time? No ancient ruins and histories lost to us, only to be rediscovered?”

“You seem to know all but of the fact that old Valyria is covered in greyscale. Or did you forget to read that page in the tomes you poured over before falling ill in the North?”

She laughs, “Are you afraid?” She lowers her head, watches him under her lashes, “A Prince, afraid of sickness. I figured Targaryens cannot be burned, thus cannot be ill. Or are those all fairy tales as well?”

He raises a brow, “So you do know who I am.”

“Hard not to when the bard sings praises of Prince Aemond One-Eye as soon as you walk in with me in tow,” Her gazes fixates on the leather patch, “what happened to it?”

“My cousin cut it out.” He retorts.

She hums, “Blood for blood. Have you taken your vengeance yet?”

“I’m a patient man.”

“Patience is a kind virtue unless used otherwise.” She empties her cup, “More, please,” She pushes it to him, “I still can’t feel my fingers.”

He looks at her rings as he holds up a hand for the waitress, “Those seem expensive. You surprise me, traveler. I wonder how they have not been stolen.”

Something shifts in her expression, and a chill creeps up from behind. The waitress pours wine and the traveler smiles, but it’s a strange smile, one he should not trust. She feels dangerous, suddenly, and he is all the more intrigued.

“Would you like to keep one?” It’s an innocent question, but it holds something dark underneath all of that loveliness.

“I have no fancy for jewelry,” He refuses easily, though his heart beats just a tad faster. If he did not know any better, he’d think it’s from nerves, “as a prince I have many and find it quite ugly. My brother would like one, though.”

She retracts her hands and her smile falls, “He didn’t save me from the snow, so he has no use for it.”

It did not quite seem as if she needed saving, but the severity in her voice urges his pride. Perhaps he’ll be a hero yet.

“Have you got a name?” He inquires, and he’s all past common decency, never had any to begin with. He wishes to know.

She thinks, “Everyone has a name, no? Surely, I do think everyone does. Even toys, the objects of our affection, and our sword, and ships, and pets, do. I heard some ladies name their favorite perfumes. It builds attachment, you never forget something or someone with a name. I must have a name, I think, only for the life of me I do not remember it. Which begs to question whether I ever had one at all.”

After a pause, she sighs, “I suppose I’m fortunate. I can pick one for myself. Become new, here, in the North. But I don’t think it important. I have no one to share it with, and no one here would like to recall me.”

“I’d like to know your name,” He says, “but only because I wish to know who I saved.”

She grins, “...Then you are free to name me yourself, prince.”

hope u liked it! xx

#aemond imagine #hotd #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #got #game of thrones #request

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter six: A storm of green and black.

previous ///// next

Summary: Colours of green and black begin to descend upon the children of the house of the dragon.

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 14k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of Death.

Taglist: @grungegrrrl

Masterlist

Laenor Velaryon sat on his knees for the twelfth time that day, sorrowfully joining the tides dance. Shoulders shaking with soft sobs, wallowing in his own grief and her committal had yet to happen. His state had worried all of whom surrounded him, all who had greeted him since the arrival of himself and his family to Driftmark were met with a lash of rage from the tormented man or were fortunate enough to be met by a cascade of hot tears and loud wails. Corlys had his son confined to his chambers, but he always found his way back towards the shore. Blankly staring off across the narrow sea, damning it for keeping her so far away, and envying it for the sea was where she was to return.

Daenerys kept close watch of her father from her mother’s bedchamber windows, she would always find him at the shore never anywhere else. She feared he would get a cold, or grow weak with hunger, the only thing he had bothered consuming these passing weeks were entire pitchers of wine.

Rhaenyra had kept the children away from him, for she wished to grant her husband time to grieve alone, and to protect her children from encountering the ugly face of grief so early. She had found it painful enough to explain the death of Harwin Strong to them, it grew agonising to explain the death of her beloved friend to her confused younglings.

The sound of shrill cries pulled Daenerys away from her watch, paying quick glances over her shoulder to her father before rushing to her brother’s crib. “Hello Joff,” she greeted softly, offering her finger to the babes flailing arms. Her attempts at hushing him proved fruitless “here, look!” she rushed to the couch where her silver compass was and brought it back to his cradle. Carefully swaying the compass above him with the chain, Joffrey cooed, his little hands reaching up to play with what he perceived was a toy. Daenerys rested against the wooden cradle, a small smile on her lips as she watched him giggle and play.

The chamber doors clicked open, and her exhausted mother came rushing in “Daenerys.”

“Hello mother,” she answered still swinging the compass about “he was crying.”

Rhaenyra hummed “how fortunate he is to have had you nearby,” she told, sitting upon the stool beside her “I hope he has not tired you.”

Daenerys shook her head “No, I quite enjoy being here.”

Rhaenyra frowned, for she had noticed the open window in her room “I’m sure this room offers the perfect place to keep watch of your father as well, hm?”

Daenerys tensed avoiding her mother’s worried gaze “I can keep watch of both.”

Rhaenyra tucked away a strand of her daughter’s hair “I do not doubt it, but I had allowed you to stay here with Joffrey for I had hoped him to offer you a distraction.”

Daenerys’s lip twisted to the side before she had asked “how are Jace and Luke?”

Rhaenyra sighed, fiddling with her fingers “Jace is… angry, and Luke, I could barely get the boy to sleep.”

“Do you need me to speak with them?” Daenerys offered; brows knitted together with worry.

An appreciative smile graced her mother’s features, Rhaenyra inching towards her daughter “No,” she answered, before cautiously speaking “I had hoped to speak with you instead, if that’s alright.”

Daenerys’s lips parted as she considered her mother’s request “is this about Ser Harwin?” she asked.

“Since I told you about his passing, you’ve barely spoken to me,” Rhaenyra told.

Her daughter’s lip quivered “I should not be mourning him,” she spoke “he was just a guard.”

Rhaenyra frowned in pity “Sweet girl, you know not grief to be saying that.”

“It feels as though I’ve seen it,” she spoke, wincing as she recalled her father’s cries “it needn’t be explained to me.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head to see her daughters face “grief, is not something to be explained my love, no matter how much you think you know it, it never ceases to surprise you with its ways.”

“How do you know that?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered about her daughter’s face “Time is often a great a teacher,” she rested her hand upon her daughter’s cheek “Now go get some rest it’s getting late,” she fixed her daughters hair “we’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Daenerys nodded before gently tugging away the compass from her baby brother. Rhaenyra went to pick Joffrey up as she heard him begin to whine, Daenerys stood up giving her brother and mother a quick kiss “good night.”

Rhaenyra clutched the back of her daughter’s head, restating “sleep,” she earned a sheepish nod from her daughter before planting a long kiss upon her head.

Daenerys clutched her compass close to her chest as she made her way out of the room, giving her mother a smile before disappearing behind the closed doors.

Rhaenyra’s smile quivered away rocking Joffrey in her arms, making her way to the window where she watched the shattered Laenor being hauled away from the shore for the hundredth time this week. As the sun fell upon the island, she glanced down to the bundle in her arms with a head of curly dark hair and her resolve had crumbled.

She collapsed into her chair, fighting the frown that danced on her lip as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Trying to soothe her crying boy and her own aching heart, pressing her face into the side of his head, humming a broken song to her son. Pressing her lips to where the lips of her love had last rested.

Her brown eyes danced about the ceiling above her bed, eyes sore for they had run dry, no tears left to shed. She sat up and looked across the room, to where her sister had rested, her back facing her.

“Baela?” she asked. Her voice hoarse and shaky

Baela had not answered her sister, but sleep was not the cause for her silence. Baela thought that if she had not answered her sister, then Rhaena would eventually succumb to sleep. For she would not need to bite back her sobs anymore.

Rhaena frowned, not appreciating her sisters silence, she had wished for a sound to fill this hollow room. Swinging her feet off the side of the bed, she made her way to the window, standing up upon the tip of her toes to check on her mother’s dragon. The mountainous Vhagar, sleeping on the shore, having seized her song of grief to her late rider. She sighed in relief before resting back on her feet. Looking back to her resting sister, she glanced to the chamber doors. Pursing her lips as she considered exploring beyond those doors without a reminder of her mothers absence.

She put on a dark dress over her nightgown before rushing to her sisters bed, tucking a lock of white hair behind Baelas ear and kissing the crown of her head “I’ll be right back,” she said before leaving the room.

Baela’s eyes flew open with worry as she heard the doors click shut.

Rhaena carefully shut the door behind her, cautious not to awaken her grandmother, whose room was across from theirs.

She moved about the halls, hoping to find something interesting, something distracting, but there was nothing she had not seen before. She had hoped that this quiet walk would make her forget for even a moment, but how could she, the only shoulder she had to lean on when her father paid her no mind was gone. She could no longer hear the sweet words her mother would tell her with her calming voice. She feared that a day would come where she would forget the presence of her mother, she dreaded such a thing.

In her daze of thought, she had not realised that her feet had guided her to the hall of nine, her grandsires prized accomplishments all in one room. She gasped as she saw an unfamiliar figure observing her grandsires possessions. Dropping to hide behind the railing of the stairs.

Daenerys flinched as she heard the sound, fearing that she must have overstayed her welcome. She pouted for she was only halfway through observing these treasures. To her dismay, she had to rush back to her room, fearing to have been caught by either her grandmother or grandsire. She had been too focused on returning to her chambers undetected to notice that she had been followed.

Carefully shutting her bedroom door, she let out a breath of relief. Stepping away from the door and hoping that her venture of the castle had exhausted her enough to get some sleep. Not even a few steps away from the door, she was startled by the sound of a slow knock. She knew it not to be her mother, for her mother had a confident knock, this one sounded unsure. Her brothers were sound asleep by now and her father, her father was busy knocking down bottles of wine.

She stared at her door a moment longer before answering after the third knock “who is it?” she asked warily.

Rhaena pondered her answer as she wondered who the girl possibly was, so she guessed “Daenerys?” she asked, “it’s me, your cousin, Rhaena.” She spoke. She was taken aback by how fast Daenerys had opened the door. She could not help but have her eyes widen in surprise as she got a good look at her. Stark opposites of one another, Daenerys had curly locks of unremarkable brown hair, while Rhaena had locks of ethereal silver white hair, Daenerys’s complexion was ivory, while Rhaena had a complexion of bronze. Eyes of purple stared into eyes brown, one held curiosity the other was painfully reminded of her obvious illegitimacy.

Daenerys blinked away her hurt and brought the kindest smile she could muster upon her face “Rhaena, how nice it is to see you today,” she said, her cheeks flushed pink “Tonight I mean, forgive me.”

Rhaena chuckled “it’s alright.”

Daenerys’s brows knitted together, feeling awkward in the current moment. She had not known what to say or do at the moment, she had always imagined the day she would meet her cousins, never had she imagined it to happen under such a saddening circumstance. Daenerys’s lips parted before she asked worriedly “should you not be asleep? Forgive me if I had wakened you, I had not meant to.”

Rhaena shook her head “you hadn’t, I could not find sleep.”

Daenerys’s eyes softened as she saw the slight wince that fell upon her cousin’s features, she thought for a moment before asking “do you, do you wish to come in?”

Rhaena glanced up in surprise before nodding, gracious for the offer. Daenerys was something new for her to distract herself with. Stepping inside she glanced about the room, eying the few trinkets on Daenerys’s bedside table. She turned to face Daenerys once the door had clicked shut, the two girls stood in silence a moment longer. Daenerys fiddling with her hands as they clasped together in front of her, a few words danced at the tip of her tongue, the urge to say, ‘I am so sorry for your loss,’ felt so wrong to her. Tying them down by biting upon the inside of her cheek before asking “would you… like to sit?” she offered, gesturing to the long chair at the foot of her bed.

Rhaena nodded in appreciation before making her way to the chair. Daenerys pulled the chair from the vanity and set it down in front of her.

The silence seemed to last a moment longer before Daenerys cut through it “might I ask when you arrived to Driftmark?”

Rhaena answered “weeks ago.”

Daenerys chuckled nervously “I hadn’t seen you.”

She answered, “Baela and I were in grandmother’s bed chambers,” looking away from the pitiful gaze she had grown to hate.

Daenerys nodded along, trying to seem oblivious of the painful reminder she had accidentally given her. She looked down ashamedly for what she had done, tugging at her ear as she awaited her to speak instead of risking another regretful interaction.

“Do you always wander around places?” Rhaena asked curiously.

Daenerys looked up, surprise replaced with bashfulness “it’s a tendency,” she admitted “many would say a dangerous one.”

“How so?” Rhaena asked.

Daenerys blinked for a moment, surprised by the interest of her cousin, who at the moment she would have expected to have been mourning a terrible loss. “Um, I often wandered close to the dragon caves.”

“At Dragonstone?” an eager Rhaena asked “there are unclaimed dragons there?!”

Daenerys raised her hands, gesturing for her cousin to quiet down “yes!” she whispered excitedly “but they are terribly dangerous!”

“How many are there?” Rhaena asked. Inching closer to her cousin, hands clenched tightly with excitement.

“I think four?” Daenerys answered, “Wild they all are, spare for Vermithor, but none have attempted to go near him.”

“Have you seen him?” she asked again, question after question, after question she threw at her cousin.

Daenerys grinned as she began to describe “Haven’t seen him, BUT, I’ve heard accounts of his appearance.”

Her face contorted with each exaggerated expression as she described the bronze fury, the once mount of the old king Jaehaerys, scaly skin of bronze and great wings a shade of tan. Rhaena’s eyes had practically glowed with bewilderment. Every overwhelming thought was set aside as her mind venturing far as she pictured the magnificent beast.

Daenerys eyes widened as she recognised this interest “you don’t have a dragon either do you?” she chuckled softly as she saw her cousins face flush red “I hadn’t known there was anyone besides Aemond and I.”

“There’s someone else?” Rhaena asked.

Daenerys hummed in answer “we’re few but in the eyes of our house, we are enough,” she said with a soft chuckle.

Rhaena’s lips twisted to the side before she asked, “have you ever tried to claim a dragon?”

Daenerys shook her head “I’ve learned there’s no worth claiming a dragon if I die trying,” she told “Mother has always told be to be patient.”

Rhaena giggled, a sorrow mask of joy dancing across her face as she reminisced “mother would tell me the same thing,” she spoke “she would tell me that she hadn’t claimed a dragon until she was fifteen,” her lip began to quiver “and because of that she became the rider of the largest dragon in the world,” her hands clasped upon her knees as her face contorted with anguish “she was the rider of the largest dragon in the world.”

Daenerys looked at her a moment longer, standing up and slowly sitting beside Rhaena, granting her the time to push her away. Rhaena sniffled “I fear the day the world will forget her achievement,” she shook her head, scared of the feeling that once again wrapped its grimy tendril about her “I fear forgetting her.”

“Rhaena we must go back to our room,” a voice came from the door, the two girls glanced up to find the red-faced Baela standing at the door, hands clenched into fists at her side, and cheeks shining with tears.

 Rhaena glanced back to the ground “you seem to have found sleep easily,” she said, “did father help you move on?”

Baela shook her head “no, he didn’t, I was simply tired.”

Rhaena frowned in envy “Father must be faring better than us, had I only been like him.”

Baela frowned as she heard her sisters wishes, making her way to her sister’s side as she spoke “why would you ever want that?”

“He doesn’t love,” she spoke plainly, shoulders beginning to sway “he doesn’t hurt.”

Daenerys pushed her hand closer to the sobbing Rhaena, allowing Rhaena the decision of whether she could hold her hand in comfort or not “I do not know much about the ugly face of loss,” Daenerys admitted mindfully “but, I do know that the grief it causes, keeps their memory alive,” she spoke, granting Rhaena and Baela a sheepish smile as they turned to look at her “the hurt of your grief, forever reminds you of her, that way you will never forget,” she rested her hand atop of Rhaena’s, whose eyes reflected the first light of sunrise seeping into Daenerys’s bedchambers “to not love, is to not grieve, yes, but to not love is to forget,” she assured, her smile wavering as she saw Rhaena’s face begin to contort once more “and I, having not met your mother, can tell by how much you love her, and that she was a wonderful woman and the world will feel her absence through you.”

Rhaena’s shoulders began to shake with the sobs that she could no longer hold within her chest. Relieved to hear such words of assurance, she appreciated her grandmothers comforting touch, and dejected by her distant father, she knew not how to deal with the emotions of loss, she did not expect such guidance to come from her elder cousin. She leapt into her, wrapping her arms tightly around the startled Daenerys. sobbing into her shoulder. Daenerys carefully wrapped her arms tightly around the grieving Rhaena.

Baela was wary of her cousin; this was the first time they had ever met but appreciated the comfort she had so willingly offered her sister.

The Velaryon banner stood tall above the stone coffin of Laena Velaryon which laid before the mourners who gathered to bid her the respects she so deserved. The stoney cove carved by the waves crashing against it, waves awaiting to embrace the carved coffin of Laena Velaryon. The stone immortalising the expression she so commonly had on her features, calm and content.

Vaemond Velaryon, clad in black and pastors gold, recited words of farewell to his niece, watching on with controlled sorrow as they readied her to return to the sea.

“We join today at the Seat of the sea,” he announced in Valyrian to those in attendance, bowing their heads to words they had not understood “to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon, to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King.”

The Sea Snakes head hung low, unbothered by the ache in his neck as his eyes danced about the ground beneath his daughter’s coffin. For every time he caught a glance of it, he would be reminded of his guilt, and how he should have never granted his daughters hand to the reckless Daemon. He looks to his wife, who held a solemn face as she looked on, holding her beloved granddaughter Baela close.

“Where he will guard her for all the days to come, as she sets to the sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore,” Vaemond spoke, his eyes slowly moving over to Rhaenyra and her children. She pulls her boys closer to her as she feels herself shrink beneath the prying gaze of all who understood his words  “Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood,” Vaemond stares on with disgust at Rhaenyra, his words may have been foreign to many in attendance but his eyes spoke a language too clear “Salt courses through Velaryon blood, ours runs thick, ours runs true, and ours must never thin,” words spoken with bitter outrage laced within them.

Daenerys wrapped her arms tighter around her father’s shaking one, glancing to her mother worriedly before looking back to Vaemond. Trying to mask her disdain for him, at an occasion like this, legitimacy should have been a trivial matter.

Viserys frowned as he heard the man’s words, as unspecific as they were, it was of no challenge to understand the meaning behind them. He thought himself free of such insinuations on a day like this, how wrong he was. He sent an indiscernible glance to Rhaenyra; she could not make of it how he felt in the moment. She only knew she had not enjoyed the look.

Everyone was startled by an unexpected sound, one of which was not made to be found at a place like this. It had made everyone lift their head and turn to look at the source. Daemon Targaryen had his head hanging low, shoulders not shaking with sobs, but with laughter. What was funny, only he could have possibly known, but his wife’s funeral was no laughing manner. His action drew away from Rhaenyra, and all the prying and judging eyes were now upon him, but he was terribly unbothered by them.

Daenerys grimaced at the man, disgusted by his actions. She already had concluded her opinion of him from all she had heard of him before. Now it had only solidified, he was a cruel man, with no regard for even the woman that bared his kin.

“My gentle niece,” Vaemond spoke, away was his disgust and returned his sorrow “May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart,” tossing salt upon her moving coffin as he spoke his words “from the sea we came, to the sea we shall return.”

Laenors lips parted as he watched his sisters coffin slowly be pushed off the edge. Even with the weeks he had before the committal to accept the death of his dear sister, had not been enough. For in the very moment, it slowly began to dawn upon him, it was as though the tides had taunted him with a splash of their cold waters as they engulfed Laena Velaryon to their depths.

Daenerys glassy eyes looked away from the now vacant edge and up to her quiet father, who shivered against the cold air. She laced her small hand in his, squeezing it as tightly as she could and pressing herself up against his side, a feeble attempt at granting her distant father whatever warmth she could give to his cold and empty body. For as present as his body may have been his mind had long departed it.

After the committal, all had gathered to the courtyard outside of Hightide, for a solemn gathering. The many seemed to have moved on, engaging in chatter with one another, their masks of condolence only returning when they faced the daughters of Laena who were left alone at the far side of the courtyard, sat together at a bench. Rhaena’s head bowed down and Baela sending strange looks to all the mourners that frowned and pouted in pity for the two girls.

Laenor returned to the shore, followed closely by his watchful daughter, tailing him the entire day. Not bothering to greet the king and his family once they had arrived to Driftmark. She watched from the dry sand as her father swayed with the tides once again, she was thankful that they were much calmer than they were the weeks prior.

Corlys had taken to speaking with Lucerys, a confused look on the boy’s face as his grandsire spoke to him of all the duties the boy would be inheriting decades from now. As confused as Lucerys was, he discarded his toy as he patiently listened to his grandsire speaking to him.

The Rogue prince loomed at the edge of the courtyard with an empty cup in hand, not hiding his grimace of disdain as nobles dared to approach him with their condolence. He was both large yet so small, it was difficult to not notice him, but it was just as difficult to deny that something had changed within him. A change unrecognisable to even his brother.

Alicent could not find ease, squirming with guilt with every stare that lingered too long upon her, a grimy feeling of cold remorse. Clasping her hand tightly around her chalice as she stared ahead of herself, she was fortunate enough to have the loyal Ser Criston to be the eyes that kept watch behind her.

“Lyonel Strong’s son has been staring at you since we arrived your grace,” he told, sending a sneer towards the man “unabashedly.”

Alicent looked over her shoulder, earning herself a courteous nod from the odd man, and that was enough for a cold shiver to run through her. How she hated this alliance between them, one of which she still questions if she had willingly entered.

A shuddered breath had escaped her before she assured him “it is only a look of pride Ser Criston, Larys is the new lord of Harrenhaal.”

Rhaenyra abandoned the wine table to search for her scattered children and husband, her curious gaze had landed upon Daemon. For a second longer than it should have by Alicents standards, she had not hidden her disgust as she stared at Rhaenyra.

Tearing her eyes away from him she turned to her left and saw her son Jacaerys stood alone at the far edge of the courtyard. She rushed to him, a few nobles bowing their head to the heir, others sending her odd looks as she brushed past them all.

She rested her hand on his shoulder as she asked “have you seen your father?” she glanced about the courtyard, her eyes landing on the daughters of Laena Velaryon. She was too distracted worrying for them she had not noticed her son’s reluctance in answering her question.

She brushed his hair away from his face as she told “your little cousins have lost their mother, they could use a kind word.”

Jacaerys glanced to the two girls before speaking, too bluntly for his mother’s comfort “I have an equal claim to sympathy-.”

“Jace,” she spoke, fearful that any had heard her sons words.

“We should be at Harrenhaal mourning Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin,” he stated.

She grasped his hand in her own as she firmly spoke “it would not be appropriate,” she knelt down to him as she saw him unconvinced “the Velaryons are our kin and the Strong’s are not,” she affirmed again “do you understand?” He gave her a hesitant nod before making his way to Rhaena and Baela.

Helaena knelt beside a table, where her wandering eyes had landed upon a beady eyed crawling spider. she reached out her gentle hand towards it, offering the naïve yet dangerous spider a new plane to crawl upon “hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread,” her other hand reached for the shell beside her “hand turns loom…”

Aegon grimaced in disgust “we have nothing in common.”

Aemond gave an obvious reminder ���she’s our sister.”

“You marry her then,” Aegon told, taking another swig from his cup.

Aemond looked to his sister “I would perform my duties, if mother had only betrothed us,” he stated.

Aegon scoffed, longing for such a prospect “if only.”

“it would strengthen the family, keep our Valyrian blood pure,” he explained to his disinterested brother.

Aegon had hoped to state his disdain for the situation he was forced into a bit plainly to his younger brother “she’s an idiot.”

Aemond frowned “she’s your future queen-,” his breath had hitched as he saw Daenerys return to the courtyard from the shore.

Aegon frowned and followed his brothers gaze, smirking as he saw what had caught the attention of his awkward brother “we actually do have one thing in common,” he told, reaching for a cup from one of the wenches, grinning at her as she walked away before leaning down to tell his brother “we all fancy creatures with very long legs,” he stepped away from his brother and clapped his hands “Wench! Another!”

Aemond frowned as he spoke disappointedly “Aegon…” he glanced back towards where Daenerys had been and to his dismay she was no where to be seen. His eyes had wandered until they had landed on Jacaerys, how terribly hesitant he was as he pondered approaching the boy. Warily making his way too him, he bowed his head before peering up at him, making an attempt at offering the boy a comforting smile. His actions only seemed to earn him a grimace from Jacaerys, who had not the idea what Aemond imagined this exchange to look like.

“Hand turns loom; spool of green… spool of black… spool of red,” Helaena muttered as she watched the spider crawl into the shell in her other hand, her gentleness went away once she had it in her grasp and clasped her hand shut over the shell.

Daenerys reluctantly ascended back up to the courtyard, mind still occupied by her dear father. She could not deny she had been avoiding the yard for most of the day. a moment to herself would have been something she would have greatly favoured, to continue her lonely ventures and to sit in her own thoughts.

Her mind since the beginning of the committal had been plagued by thoughts of her cousins, her father, her brothers, her mother, and Ser Harwin, not a moment to consider her own troubles. She feared they may suffocate her in her sleep. Sighing she pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders, as she looked out across the sea. The poor girl had not realised her fathers soothing habit had made its way to her as she swayed with the wind.

“Dany!” a familiar voice had called out, to her delight it had belonged to Aemond. Forgetting how he was cast aside by her brother only moments ago, for if this was how his sympathies would be met by the boy, he would leave him to wallow alone.

She turned to face him, a soft smile found its way on her lips as she saw a face unblemished by a frown “Aemond…” she spoke.

He stopped before her, thankful that she had not ignored him “I had been looking for you, I had not seen you since we arrived.”

She winced as she recalled, she had not been a part of the greeting party at the king’s ship “I’m sorry, I have been far too focused keeping watch of father that I had not been able to greet you.”

There was a twitch of a frown before his face before he stuttered out his question “where might he be?”

“Alone, angry,” she described “grieving,” her jaw clenched as she looked to the ground hopelessly “the stranger has showed his face three times too many this year.”

He nodded in tentative agreement “we must not let the strangers doing cripple us.”

She shook her head “you sound so sure, though I don’t think they’ve ever paid you any mind,” she spoke before rushing to correct her bluntness “though I hope they don’t.”

He hummed “you speak as though he has already visited you.”

She looked to Aemond, her eyes fluttering away in the wind “they haven’t, but they’ve passed too close to me, I fear I may be next, and I fear whatever name I need remember after their doing,” she chuckled shaking her head at her words “Forgive me Aemond, for these weeks have been long, and I’ve been without a moment to myself to ponder this years… tribulations,” that word seemed wrong on her tongue, as even it was not a fitting way to describe. She reached to tug at her ear, but Aemond, as nervous as he was at extending such a gesture, was quick to rest his hand atop of hers. It had been long since they have been in the others presence, the others understanding or will to understand. How he hated that she had left and how he knew she took no pleasure in this departure either, something about her had dimmed, for as bright as her lilac eyes had shone before the sun, her own light had been dampened.

He squeezed her hand as he pondered away to reignite that light once more, not noticing the bashful look on Daenerys’s face as she stared at their joined hands. His face brightened with realization as he told her “Come with me, I’ve something you must see.” He had not waited an answer as he pulled her along with him.

Alicents eyes followed the two as they moved across the courtyard together. Suspicious of Daenerys as she made her way back into the tight fold of her family, one of which Alicent had thought herself fortunate enough to have had the girl driven away from without having to intervene. Ottos words never seemed to escape her mind, they only echoed louder as she saw her once again.

Viserys sent a glance over his shoulder to his dear brother. pondering to himself whether or not he should approach him, but this was a better moment than ever the king had believed. They both knew a similar loss, they may both have the ability to land on similar grounds. Standing up from his chair, he marched to his brother with a mask of sympathy and hope across his face.

“Your girls are the very image of their mother,” he spoke fondly “a comfort and of anguish as I well remember.”

Daemon looked over his brother, brazenly grimacing in disgust before the king, whose hands were covered with leather gloves, his face so dry it cracked and flaked, hues of red and purple trailing up his neck, and a slight stumble in his step.

“The gods can be cruel,” Viserys told, assuring his brother that no guilt lied upon him.

Daemon scoffed at the irony “it seems they have been especially cruel to you,” he pitied.

Viserys chuckled “yes,” he agreed. Looking out to the sea, missing the look hint of worry on Daemons face as he looked over Viserys’s ill stature once more.

Looming amongst the crowd Rhaenyra was as she watched from afar her uncle and father’s exchange. She was hopeful for her uncle to pay a glance her way as she stood plainly before him and not behind the chatting nobles.

“You should return with us to kings landing,” the king hopefully suggested, his face showed how sure he was that his brother would accept such an offer “it’s time that you came home.”

“Pentos is my home, and that of my children,” no matter how hard he thought he had tried, his face had shown that he had not believed the words that left his mouth.

Viserys was smart enough to have seen his brother’s uncertainty “Daemon… I know we’ve had our differences, but let them pass with the years,” he sighed, desperate to get his brother to stay, to mend at least some of the broken bonds of his family “there’s a place for you in my court, if that’s something you should need.”

Had he been offered this a decade ago he would have accepted, but this was not a Daemon familiar to Viserys. To his surprise, Daemon had spurned him “I need… nothing.”

The two locked eyes a moment longer, but Daemon could not spend a second longer in the suffocating air of pity that he could not escape. He stormed past his brother and the worried Rhaenyra, to his dismay only to be stopped by the gloating Otto “sorry for your loss, my prince.”

Daemon stared at the man angered by his gall “no matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal,” he told before descending the stairs, past the drunken Aegon and down towards the shore.

Rhaenyra glanced about the crowd, searching for any prying eyes but thankful for none. She rushed towards her two sons, wanting to send them off before she departed in search for her uncle “where’s your sister?” she asked Jace.

He shrugged “she may still be with father.”

“Find her, and go to bed,” she commanded.

“But, mother-.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder and restated “go to bed,” she patted Luke’s shoulder, and left for the shore. The eyes of Otto following her as she disappeared the same place her uncle just had.

As Viserys arose from his seat, the path cleared before him, groaning tiredly as he walked past them all and stopped before his wife, Alicent. Not bothering to face her as he spoke over his shoulder “I’m going to bed now, Aemma.”

Alicent froze, too startled to correct him, for the first time she was unbothered by the stares they had received by the nobles who had heard his misnaming of her. She was far too focused on the name.

Lord Westerling slyly corrected the king “shall I see to queen Alicent, your grace?”

Viserys looked up at her, no shame in his eyes for his mistake, but a hint of disappointment for it having been truly Alicent and not Aemma “No, Ser Harrold,” he told and continued his way, without a goodnight exchanged with his wife, Alicent.

“You have the nights watch, Ser Criston,” Harrold told as he followed the king.

Snapping away from his burning glare towards the king “Lord Commander.”

Alicent scoffed in disbelief, queen Alicent scoffed. He calls her Aemma after she had granted him the sons Aemma never could, he calls her Aemma after she had bared him at his worst, he speaks her name with a love laced within them, a love the name Alicent never knew. How fucking unbelievable.

Aemond grinned as he looked at the dunes that lined the shore, resting their hands together on the railing as he glanced to her joyfully.

She frowned “what is it?”

He shook his head before pointing towards the sandy hills further away “look closely.”

She rolled her eyes before narrowing them at the dune lines She was startled when one of them seemed to have moved, for a moment she feared the ground would begin to shake but no it hadn’t “it’s her…”

“Magnificent, is she not?” he admired.

Her lips parted as she raked her mind for the right words “I suppose-, gods, she’s much bigger than said in the book.”

He chuckled “of course she would be!” he proclaimed before he had said “I plan to get a closer look.”

His words had snapped Daenerys from her awe “why would you want that?”

He looked back at her, surprised by the look of disbelief on her face “why, I intend to claim her, of course,” there was another look on her face that he had not seen before, nor could he to discern whether it was good or bad “I only wished to show her to you, I am the elder of the both of us so it is only fair I have a greater right than you do.”

She stared at him a moment longer, awaiting him to tell her that this was all a jest, he had not. She glanced to her grieving cousins, thankful that her grandmother had emerged to comfort them. stepping closer to Aemond as she chided “Have you gone mad?”

He frowned at her words “pardon?”

“Aemond- she’s,” she sighed, as she attempted to find the right words “Many still mourn the memory of Laena, to claim her dragon would be brash of you and disrespectful,” she explained pointedly, for she could not believe she needed to explain such a simple thing to Aemond.

She looked at him with a scathing stare, irked by how he would not meet her gaze as he kept his focus on the dragon. She sighed “let us say you care not for their grief, and you go and try to claim Vhagar, the mount of the woman who died,” she reminded “you go to her, during her sorrow and attempt to claim her, let us say that happens, and she instead spurns you,” he had finally turned to look at her, frowning at such a prospect for he was sure that he would be able to claim the she-dragon “do you think she’ll let you go?”

“I-.”

“She won’t!” she answered for him “she will leave nothing for us to find and leave only a name to remember,” she continued, hands clenched at her sides “have you even considered that, or has your ambition blinded you?”

“Daenerys that won’t happen.”

“I never said it will, I said it could and that should be enough of a reason for you to set aside such a desire,” she told, grasping his arm as she advised “no dragon is worth a life.”

With a scoff and roll of his eye he told “as though any would care for mine.”

Her brows furrowed “There may be few but there are enough,” she reached for his hand, for he had not met her gaze once again “Please Aemond, I’ve enough names to remember this year, and I am not ready to see the strangers doing again yet.”

He looked down to their hands, twisting his lips as he contemplated, before speaking to her “If it will grant you comfort, I won’t do it.”

She was uncertain of his honesty, but she knew him to be smarter than to risk his life.

Jacaerys eyes widened as he saw his sister with Aemond, frowning in dismay at the sight of their joined hands “Dany!” he angrily called out.

“Yes Jace?” she asked as she turned to him.

“Mother told us to go to bed!” he told, glancing to the displeased Aemond “now!”

Daenerys frowned, it was still early, why would she send them to bed so soon “I’ll be right there!” she gave a wary look to Aemond as she turned to look at him once more time “I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ve many stories to tell about Dragonstone.”

He nodded happily “I’ll see you then, now go get some sleep,” he dismissed, his acceptance of her leaving once again was surprising to her. he would often spend a time trying to convince her to stay, but today, he seemed so eager for her to leave.

She smiled softly at him “don’t do anything your brother would do,” she told before walking away and past Jacaerys. Her brother sent a final cautioning glare to Aemond before turning to follow her.

As the moon had taken its place above Hightide, the courtyard had begun to empty, to Aemonds fortune. The guards had begun their nights watch, but Otto had remained. Aemond needed no eyes to catch him in his plan so he made his way to his grandsire.

“Is it not time for you to retire to your chambers grandsire, tis getting late,” he told as he stepped to him.

Otto looked to his grandson with surprise before he told “I find myself not needing it this day, there is much I need to attend to, and sleep is but a trivial matter to be at the moment.”

Aemond hummed, raking his mind for a way to send his grandsire away. He glanced over to the stairs, his escape route, where his brother had drunkenly passed out.

“I do believe there is a matter worth your time,” he told.

Otto frowned “what would that be?”

“Aegon has drunk himself to sleep on the stairs, not the sight you would want to see of a future king,” he told nonchalantly, not paying any mind to the red-faced Otto.

Otto looked about for any unwanted ears before growling out “take me to him, now boy.”

Aemond guided him to where his brother was watching as Aegon was kicked awake and practically dragged away from the courtyard, whining and groaning.

The sound of a bellowing croon echoed in the night sky, above the clouds. Aemond turned his eyes to the sky searching for the source, finding its song to be a call for him, to claim what was his, to rid himself of his plight. For one last time he looked around himself, thankful to see that none had paid him any mind before descending to the shore, in reckless search of his right.

Within the hall of nine, Rhaenys had found herself reading between the lines of her daughters letter for the hundredth time that day.

“She wanted to come home,” she told her pacing husband, carefully discarding the letter upon her lap “and he denied her.”

Corlys sighed “Daemon did what he thought best.”

She scoffed at her husband’s characterization of her cousin “Daemon only ever does what is best for Daemon,” her anger began to brew as she took off her rings “Laena needed our Maesters.”

Corlys halted in his tracks, balling his fists as he stared at the ground, still denying that his daughters death was caused by anything but the gods will “the surgeons in Pentos are as Well-trained as our Maesters,” he approached his now silent wife, who rested her head against back of her chair, blankly staring ahead of herself “you are look to place blame for an act of the gods.”

“Mayhaps the gods have scorned us,” she told, clattering her last ring on the table “for our insatiable pride.”

Her husband stared at her with disbelief “the crown was yours, until those fools at the great council plucked it from your head.”

She shook her head at his words, knowing it was not her dignity that he wished to avenge.

“is it such a terrible thing for your husband to wish to win it back?” he spoke.

She huffed, for it was the hundredth time he had proclaimed his anger for her spurning “tonight of all nights, let us lay aside this falsehood,” she told, staring at him as she spoke and not at the burning flames of the fireplace that she glared at with hate “it is not justice for your wife that drives you, it is your own ambition, Tis’ desire for the throne, if not for yourself, then for the scions of your house, I gave up the idea of wearing a crown a generation ago, it is you, lord husband, who refuses to abandon this pursuit, even now, at the cost of our children!” she spoke with a ferocity and anguish.

His face softened at his wifes words, fearing she had not understood the meaning of his desires. He sat beside her as he told “what is this brief mortal life… if not the pursuit of legacy?”

She had not looked at him as she spoke “legacy may be why you live your life, Corlys,” she accused with no argument from her husband who knew that to be true.

He rested back against his chair, finding no will to argue with her. she turned to look at him as she addressed an important matter, one detrimental to his pursuit for legacy “I want Driftmark to pass through Laena’s line to Baela, to true Velaryon blood,” she told, unbothered by the bewildered stare of her husband “declare it now, while all are gathered, and we will say that is how we will honour Laena’s memory.”

“And disinherit our son?” he asked, finding such a decision unappealing.

She reminded him of the benefit of the match he had fought for “he will be the King Consort; his daughter will one day sit the iron throne.”

He frowned in disbelief “you would have me cast an even darker shadow over those little children than already exists.”

She rolled her eyes at his obscurity “we are alone here husband, you can speak the plain truth as we both know it:” she told but was only met of a silence from the stubborn man “Rhaenyra’s children are not of your blood,” he hand gently clasped his own as she saw the truth dawn upon his face “But Laena’s are, they are her legacy.”

Corlys stared at the flames, a silent cry of sorry sounding from his mind to his daughter, as he looked on the flames that had robbed her from him. Before spitting on her memory and legacy for his ambition, his words struggled to pass his lips “history does not remember blood, it remembers names.”

He snatched his hand away from Rhaenys and left to their bedchambers, leaving her to her own anger and disbelief at her husbands’ willingness to turn a blind eye.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walked the shore together, exchanging recollection of their years apart. Their doings hidden by the blanket of night. Daemon was far eager to learn of her marriage to Laenor and how it had faired with the years.

“Laenor has been restless for years,” she told Daemon, regretfully, she had hoped for more from him but with his state now she knew the plain truth “but now, he will be useless, or worse,” she winced as she imagined her daughters outrage at her choice of words, across her eyes had flashed the faces of her beloved children “I know better than anyone that our marriage is a farce, but I at least make the effort to maintain appearances.”

“You have more to lose,” Daemon evidently told.

She scoffed “Yes, well, that has been my lot since my father’s named me heir.”

“Four children, I thought Laenor eager when I first heard,” he jested.

She chuckled and shook her head “No”

“Not even the plum eyed marvel?” he asked.

She shook her head once more, defending Laenor to the extent she believed she could “we did try, to conceive a child, we- performed a duty as best we could, but to no avail,” she sent a wary glance to her uncle before assuring to him “there was no joy in it, I found that elsewhere.”

Daemon grinned as he saw the loving smile on Rhaenyra’s face.

“It felt good to be desired,” she told bashfully as she reminisced, earning her a hum of understanding from her uncle.

“I understand Ser Harwin was quite…” he noticed the warning look from Rhaenyra as he chose his word carefully “devoted to you.”

She frowned sorrowfully before she answered “yes, he was, and I trusted him,” she shook her head as she blamed herself, wishing she had exacted her powers upon him “I should have forbidden Ser Harwin from returning to the riverlands, Harren’s curse is said to be as strong now as it was after the Conquest-.”

“That’s a ghost story,” Daemon interrupted with a scowl “one Ser Otto and the Queen would gladly exploit.”

Her eyes fluttered with surprise as she struggled to imagine such a thing “I do not believe Alicent capable of cold murder.”

“Each of us is capable of depravity, and more than you would believe,” he explained to his no longer a nave niece.

She pondered his words a moment before bluntly stating “I believe it of you.”

“If you’re accusing me of some depravity, you’ll need to be more specific,” he told, shockingly offended by her depiction of him.

She halted in her tracks and turned to face him “I’ve been alone, you abandoned me.”

“I spared you,” he corrected “you were a child.”

“Yes, Yes I was a child and look at what my life became without you,” she told, dejected, and disparaged, the only shoulder she ever had to rely on, had escaped her while the other died because of her, she lifted her arms up in defeat as she turned away “Droll tragedy.”

He grasped her arm and spun her to face him “and I wonder what you think of mine by comparison.”

She scoffed “I know little of it,” her face softened as she saw the hurt crinkling his brow “did you love her?”

“We were happy enough,” he told.

She hummed finding it amusing in comparison to her own union “well, that in itself is a great achievement,” she bowed her head ashamedly, realising her neglect of understanding his plight “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured, before reminding her of her own trouble “I am at least allowed to mourn my losses.”

Her head shook in dismay of her situation and lip trembled. How the gods have dealt her a terrible hand, and how they had blessed her by presenting her their best card. She warily looked up at the still Daemon. Her hand brushing up his arm and resting upon his chest. Her movements were stiff and unsure, for as mature as she had grown to become, she still had not known how to approach her indiscernible uncle.

He glanced down to her wandering hand as it traced his jaw, how right it had felt, he mustered as much resolve as he could, and that was only enough to speak her name with reluctant warning “Rhaenyra…”

She assured him softly, eyes locked on his trembling lips “I am no longer a child.”

Her lips pressed stiff against his own, they had not melded with passion, instead their lips had only pressed together to feel the others softness, the others presence. Their hands beginning to roam and grasp at what they could, cradling the others face as though it would disappear at any moment. Fearing to be torn apart once more by their duty, unwilling to allow their love to succumb to it once again.

As their lips parted, Daemon looked at her longingly while she stared at him with desperation, as though stranded on a sinking ship and he was her only salvation “I want you.”

He looked at her with compassion in his blue eyes, drawing her into his comfort once more. No longer had they needed to remember the others touch as their lips clashed together with such ardour. For the first time, Rhaenyra had felt the desire she so longed to feel again. To be desired again, such an addicting feeling it was.

Aemond was too blindly guided by his ambition to notice how far he had ventured from Hightide. Running through the tall grass, guided by the sound of Vhagars thunderous heaving breath, the stronger the ground had seemed to shake, the more he knew he had grown closer to his prize.

He threw himself to the ground as he finally saw her, the boy had nearly mistaken her for a hill had he not checked again. Her skin was a darkened bronze, hues of a moss green scattered along her aged and shrivelled body. Torso covered with the broken straps of old saddles, scars of tribute to the thousand wars she had fought.

Aemond thought to himself ‘what dragon could be a more suitable mount for myself?’ he spoke.

The boy could not deny his fear as he glanced behind him, realising how far he was from hightide, “fuck,” he muttered.

He slowly descended down the hill, and towards the monstrous Vhagar, eying the saddle on her back, trying to gather the will to step any closer to her. with quiet steps he approached the netting on her neck, hoping to climb up to her saddle without waking her. How he had failed, for the moment he had grasped the rope, her eyes had shot open.

He rushed away from the netting and stood before her stiffly as she craned her neck to see who had dared intrude upon her slumber. She gave him a look of warning before turning away from him, hoping that her piercing glare was enough to set him away before resting her head against the sand once again.

Aemond was too foolish to accept getting away with just a warning. So he went to reach for the netting once again.

As large as Vhagar was, she did not lack speed, she turned her head to face the boy again, and she was not one to warn twice. Her mouth came open and an orange glow omitted from the back of her gullet.

Aemond raised his hand up towards the dragon shouting out “Dohearas, Vhagar! Lykiri!”

Vhagar was surprised by the boy’s command, and to his surprise, she obeyed. Her mouth came shut and she curiously leaned her head towards him, her bright hazel eyes followed the boy. Thinking he earned himself permission enough to ascend upon her saddle. It was as though dragon smiled with amusement at his fearlessness.

He situated himself comfortably upon her saddle, taking grasp of her ropes, he felt unsure for he knew not how one was supposed to sit upon a dragon, but he was foolish enough to think books were all he needed in order to learn how.

Aemond looked about the saddle one last time before commanding the dragon “Soves!”

She stared at him, bewildered by the command at first, but this was not the first time she had found herself with a different rider.

“Dohearas Vhagar! Soves-.”

He was interrupted by the sound of her feet falling flat again the ground, as she began to arise and stretch from her slumber. Aemond would not have been so alarmed had the sounds not been so frightening, for with every movement Vhagar had made, it was as though a crack of thunder had sounded.

Vhagar yawned and growled as she shook away the sand and birds on her body. She nearly threw Aemond off her back, had she not been so mountainous, he would not have feared such a fall. He gripped tightly on the handles, yet even that may not have been enough as Vhagar readied herself for a steep rise and even steeper fall. Aemond holding on by her reigns as his legs flailed about in the air.

He groaned and mustered all his strength to pull himself up upon the saddle securely. Terror splashing upon his face as he saw Vhagar begin to dive towards the sandy ground, quick to action, Aemond grasped her reigns and pulled them back with a strength unfound within him before. Shifting Vhagar from a dangerous dive to an exhilarating and swaying glide.

Aemond peered up from behind the grips of the saddle, feeling safe enough to look at his surroundings from such a grand height. He ducked his head as Vhagar flew into a flock of birds. He laughed at the euphoria of it all, what high could have possibly matched the feeling of riding a dragon. No troubles could possibly find him when he was all the way up here, no trouble could possibly face him with the largest dragon in the world as his mount. He felt invincible, and dangerously, he had felt powerful.

Baela and Rhaena had awoken from their slumber, the sound of Vhagars roars as she took to the sky had startled them awake. They rushed to the window and saw the small speck of a person mounting the dragon as she took flight. The two shared a look of dread before rushing to get dressed.

“Who could it be?” Rhaena had frantically asked her sister as they rushed towards the bed chambers of Rhaenyra’s children.

Baela answered angrily “I only know one who would possibly attempt such a thing.”

Rhaena’s eyes widened “she wouldn’t,” her sister had sent her a certain look, to which she denied “Daenerys would never, not after what he had told her!”

Baela huffed and looked ahead of herself only to be stopped by Rhaena “She is not cruel!”

Her lips pursed before she told “go find out for yourself then, I’ll go wake the boys,” she tugged her arm away and quietly entered the room.

Rhaenas lips had quivered, fearful that her sister’s words may have been true. As she made her way to Daenerys’s bedchamber, her dread grew and grew. Knocking on the door, she was met with no answer, pushing the door open she gasped in horror. Her bedcovers had been untouched, and she was nowhere inside her rooms.

She returned to her sister, her eyes wide with anguish and betrayal “Shes not in her rooms,” she muttered, barely loud enough for Baela to here.

Lucerys frowned “who isn’t?”

“Your sister,” Baela told as she lead them all to the path ways beneath the castle, that had lead outside to the shore.

Jacaerys frowned “what of her?”

“She must have stolen Vhagar!” Baela accused angrily, startling Jacaerys.

The boy was quick to his sister’s defence “she would never.”

“Then do tell me why is she absent from her-,” Baela’s words were cut short once her eyes had found the true perpetrator “it’s him!”

Aemond was disinterested in whatever they had to say but he humoured them none the less “it’s me.”

He had intended to find Daenerys, to celebrate his achievement with her, for he had believed she would have been thrilled. Instead, he was met with the faces of his cousins and his nephews, to see the faces of Jace and Luke without their irking grins and taunting remarks, granted him a feeling foreign to him. Gone was the timid expression on the boy’s face, instead he now donned an expression of smug pride. One of which he had relished unashamedly in.

Rhaena was relieved that it had not been Daenerys that had claimed her dragon, but she could not ignore her newfound hate for the boy who had stolen from her what was hers to inherit.

“Vhagar was our mother’s dragon!” Baela told.

Aemond had no sympathy for the anguished girl for he was too blinded by his own vanity “your mother’s dead! Vhagar has a new rider now,” he proclaimed with a smirk on his lips.

Rhaena’s face twisted with rage “Vhagar was mine to claim!”

He rolled his eyes at her proclamation “then you should have claimed her!” he sneered at the girl as he gestured to Jace and Luke “maybe your cousins could find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.”

Rhaena charged forward, outraged by the insult, had Aemond a bit of sympathy he would have held his tongue. She wrestled with the boy, but she was foolish to think she would have faired any good against him. Aemond threw her to the ground beside him, vulnerable to an attack from Baela. The piqued Baela struck him across the face with her tightened fist, a blow that would have made her father proud. The strike had sent Aemond to the ground.

The blow had not been strong enough to knock the boy back to his senses, he arose from the ground, madness in his eyes. Striking Baela across the face with no hesitation and no shame. His attack was charged by his rage at the girl’s gall, how dare she strike a prince of the realm?

He laughed as he heard her whines “come at me again and I will feed you to my dragon!” he threatened.

Baela looked up at him with terror, clutching the side of her face as she scrambled away from him.

Jacaerys, ever the brave and honourable one charged at Aemond after shoving Lucerys away from the fight. Striking Aemond once before being kicked to the ground.

Lucerys shrieked as he charged at Aemond, but the boy was too inexperienced to even know what to do with his fists. Aemond grabbed the boy by his neck and granted him a punch straight to the face. Breaking Luke’s nose and harshly throwing him to the ground.

Daenerys had found herself struggling to sleep once she had arrived at her chambers, she took to wandering about the halls once more, candle in hand. A challenge it had proven since the nights watch had been pacing nearly every hall close enough to the king’s bedchamber.

She marvelled at the crab feeders mask once more, such a powerful man he was, but even dead, his battle never wished to end. She gasped as she saw the mask begin to shake, along with the entire hall. She reached for it, holding it still as it shook.

Daenerys frowned in worry ‘what could have shaken the foundations of High tide?’ She thought to herself. She knew it was not long before the entire castle had awakened from its slumber.

The girl frantically rushed back to her chambers, careful as she walked past the doors of her brothers’ rooms. She halted in her tracks, for when she had stood before them they were left open. Warily entering her brother’s bed chambers, her heart dropped with worry as she found their beds empty. She raked her mind, wondering where they could have gone, it was as though the gods had granted her an answer. Daenerys froze when she heard the sound of her brother’s shrill cries echoing through out the halls.

she dropped her candle against the cold cobblestone and ran towards the sound of her brothers’ cries. As she grew closer, the clamour had grown louder. As she rounded around the corner her eyes widened in horror of the sight, Lucerys was clawing at the hand of Aemond as he gripped his neck tightly, stone raised in the other, ready to strike.

“You will die in flames just as you father did!” Aemond told, before looking to Jacaerys as he insulted “Bastards!”

Daenerys grimaced, for she had thought her ears and eyes had betrayed her, but the stutter of her heart had proven they hadn’t. as she looked at the bloodied face of her brother and the bruised faces of her cousins, her face hardened with a fury, rushing forward to Luke’s aid. She grasped her brother’s arm and kicked Aemond to the ground “get away from him!” she roared, shielding Luke.

Aemond groaned as he curled on his side, eyes twisted shut as he clutched at his stomach. He had not known who had struck him, for it was a tone he had not recognised, and an action he would have never associated with his beloved friend. Arising from the ground he drew back the stone and struck Daenerys with such a force it had sent her collapsing to the ground.

Her eyes lulled from left to right before she propped herself up upon her knees, for every move had earned her a pulse of pain omitting from her cheek. Reaching her hand up she flinched away from her own touch for her skin had ached with warning. Looking at her hand she froze as she saw it stained with blood. Daenerys glanced between her bloodied hand and the boy who had done this to her, the boy she would have fondly called friend once. She found it difficult to piece together that this was his doing. A cloud of her fears began to storm above her head, with each clap of thunder these words had echoed ‘They are all the same, how foolish you are, to ever think him any different to his brother.’

Aemonds eyes widened in horror as he saw what he had done, stone still in his clenched fist. His lips twitching up into a scowl at his own actions, for what he had done to her. The left side of her face had gone red around the gaping and oozing cut on her cheek bone. She had never looked at him in such a way before. She would always have compassion or joy in her eyes whenever she looked at him, but now, there was nothing but fear. The wounded Daenerys tensed in her place, screaming at herself ‘what do I do? How do I stop this? He couldn’t have met any of what he had done! But Luke is hurt and Rhaena is crying, and Jace… I’ve never seen him so angry,’ her eyes darted about the ground ‘he hurt me, he promised me he would never, but he did, worse than Aegon ever could, he lied to me, he lied.’

Jace felt a rage burn within him that he had not felt before, with a knife drawn he charged at the startled Aemond. He jumped back and struck the boy with the stone, knocking the blade out of his hand.

Lucerys came to his brothers aid, quick to action he reached for his brothers knife, and glanced to him for permission.

Daenerys came to her senses as she saw the weapon in her brother’s hand crying out “Luke, Don’t!”

Jacaerys tossed a handful of sand onto the startled princes face, and his younger brother followed with a blind swipe of his knife.

Aemond cried out as he fell to the ground, clutching at his face as he writhed on the floor. His hands trembled over his face as he blindly searched, he had not known where the wound was for his face burned with a searing pain. He thought his eyes had refused to come open, for he could not see. In truth, both eyes were wide open, one blinded by the thick blanket of blood covering it, the other was severed in half.

Lucerys was rooted in his place as he looked at what he had done, knife falling from his shaking hand. his face contorted with terror, lips quivering and eyes beginning to water with heavy tears.

“SEIZE THIS AT ONCE!” Harrold Westerling cried out.

Daenerys shot up from the ground and pulled Lucerys away, holding him tight as he sobbed in her arms. She glanced down to the squirming Aemond, worry in her eyes as she feared the worst had become of him.

Harrold pushed past all the children, dashing towards the groaning boy “my prince… let me see,” he carefully turned the boy on his back, and pried his hands away from his face.  

Daenerys ‘s face paled as she saw the open wound. The gaping red void that took over the half of his face, absent of an eye, blood beginning to ooze from it.

Aemond was still unaware of what had happened to him, in a state of stupor, as he looked over to Daenerys his remaining eye widened with trepidation as he saw the horror on her face. The searing white pain had begun to dampen, he had thought it was but a scar, but their faces and the words that left the mouth of the lord commander were enough for him to know it was more than just a scar.

“Gods be good.”

The king stared at his kin with disbelief, glancing at the state of every one of them, each seemed to be in a worse condition than the last. He found it harder to comprehend that this was not some attack at dead of night upon the children of the house of the dragon, but it was the incomprehensible horror that they all had turned on the other.

“How could you let this happen?” Viserys asked, still denying the terrible fact as he questioned his guard, who seemed as baffled as he was “I will have answers.”

Harrold bowed his head in shame “The princes were supposed to be abed my king.”

“Who had the watch?” he questioned.

Ser Criston had answered “The young prince was attacked by his own cousins your grace.”

Viserys stood from his seat, roaring at his guard “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!”

Harrold continued to bow his head, muttering apologies to his king. While Ser Criston defended “The Kings guard has never had to defend princes from princes, your grace.”

Viserys yelled in dismay, practically spitting at the knight’s face “that is no answer!”

Alicent clutched her son’s hand, caressing it assumingly as she watched the Maester stitch away at the wound “It will heal,” she assured both her son and herself, forgetting to ask “will it not, Maester?”

The Maester informed her “the flesh will heal,” granting her a moment of false relief, as he tugged to harshly on the thread “but the eye is lost.”

A shuddered breath of horror left her lips as she mourned her sons loss, such a visceral reaction her body had as she reeled back. Viserys eyes fell shut with disappointment as he heard the news, bowing his head as he pondered, what reprimand could he possibly enforce upon these children, and what could have led to such a thing ever happening.

Helaena’s face softened for her brother as she watched him being tended to. Her gaze lifting only to follow her mother as she stormed towards the innocent Aegon.

“Where were you?” she hissed at him.

“Me?” the boy credulously asked.

Helaena looked away with fear as she watched her mother strike her son across the face. Aegon cried out “what was that for?”

Alicent gripped his arm tightly as she told “that was nothing, compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!”

Aegon bowed his head fearful of another strike from his mother, he was at not at fault for what had happened to his brother and yet he had received the worse of her wrath for it.

Corlys’s voice boomed in the hall “What is the meaning of this?”

Rhaenys gasped as she saw the beaten faces of her granddaughters, beckoning them to her “Baela, Rhaena! What happened?”

The girls began to cry as they fell into her arms.

A dishevelled Rhaenyra marched into the room, followed by a proud and curious Daemon. She was startled by the audience, calling out to her children before finding them stood to the far left of the room, away from the prying eyes.

Alicent sent an incredulous look towards Rhaenyra and her kin.

Rhaenyra was horrified as she saw the bruised and bloodied faces of all her children, not even her youngest was spared. She looked to Daenerys who seemed to be mere stumbles away from falling, she grasped at her daughters’ shoulders and whispered, “what happened, who did this?” she grasped the small face of Luke and Daenerys, Luke whining as she touched his nose.

Aemond shouted from his seat “they attacked me!”

Jace defended “he attacked Baela!

Aemond argued from his seat “SHE STRUCK ME FIRST”

Jace scoffed before he shouted, “By a girl!”

Rhaena was held back by her grandmother “he took Vhagar! My mother’s dragon!”

Aemond snapped again “SHE WAS MINE TO CLAIM.”        

Realisation dawned upon Daenerys as she realised the cause of it all, her face twisted with disappointment as she glanced towards Aemond pointedly.

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Alicent interjected, the look she held for all the children sent a cold chill up the uncommonly quiet Daenerys’s spine.

The echoing slam of a walking stick caused the most damning proof that showed that Aemond was in the wrong to be cut off. “THAT IS ENOUGH!” Viserys roared.

Jacaerys pulled on his mother’s arm, whispering to her “he called us bastards.”

Rhaenyra’s face stilled at the word, she brushed Jace’s shoulder in thanks for his information before turning to face the court. Shielding her children as she began to ponder what to do, how to twist this to her benefit.

Viserys stepped down from the driftwood throne towards his son “Aemond, I will have the truth of this, now.”

Alicent frowned at the king’s question, what use was there of it if the answer laid plain before him “what else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed her son is responsible,” she told, pointing at Lucerys.

Rhaenyra grasped Lucerys’s hands in her own, bowing her head as she told “a regrettable accident-.”

“Accident?” Alicent turned her eyes towards the court as she told them, pleading for their sympathies “the prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush, he meant to kill my son.”

It was as though a burst of green had omitted from the queen, their wisps dancing in the air.

Rhaenyra noticed what the queen had been trying to attempt, mustering a passion as she spoke aloud, drawing their attention “it was my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!”

Lucerys reached for his sister’s arm “he attacked Dany…”

Viserys glanced towards the girl, whose left eye was a flood of red.

Rhaenyra called out to her father’s attention “vile insults have been levied against them, my king.”

He frowned in confusion “what insults?”

Otto peered from around the throne, not moving from beside it. Eagerly awaiting to hear what insults had been thrown at them.

Rhaenyra’s lips twisted as she considered uttering them, acknowledging them before so many “the legitimacy of my children’s birth was put into question.”

“What?” the baffled Viserys asked, an anger laced within his words as the matter was brought to him again.

Jacaerys did not sugar coat his words like his mother had, instead he spoke them plainly “he called us bastards,” his answer had earned a gracious nod from his mother.

Aemond smiled to himself, to hear them say it was music to his ears, no longer had they a place to hide.

“Your grace, my children are in line to inherit the iron throne!” worry etched in her words “this is the highest of treasons” she reminded “prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we know where he heard such slanders” she glanced to Alicent, ignoring the incredulous look Aemond had sent her.

“Mother!?” Daenerys whispered in disbelief. Surely her mother would not demand the torture of a boy. She was pulled back by her brother Jace, who demanded her silence.

A burst of raging black began to omit from Rhaenyra, the colour dancing and clashing in the air with the wisps of slithering green.

Alicent was bewildered by Rhaenyras words “over an insult?” her voice wavered as she asked “my son has lost an eye” she reminded of the obvious, but Rhaenyra’s resolve had not wavered.

Daenerys retreated behind her mother, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched her mother fend for them, in a manner Daenerys and the children had never seen before.

Viserys glanced towards his son, who stared blankly at the floorboards awaiting this ‘sharp questioning’ he would be subjected to. Viserys spoke “you tell me, boy, where did you hear such lies?” Aemond felt scorned, for his father did not speak his name nor call him son.

Alicents nerves spiralled as she saw her son glance towards her, she cut in “The insult was training yard bluster, the lot of boys, it was nothing-.“

“Aemond” her words had pittered out into the air as Viserys ignored her “I asked you a question.”

Aemond stayed silent as he pondered, would he speak truth and place his mother at the forefront of his father’s wrath. Or would he protect her for she was all he had left.

His mother continued to attempt and tear away their attention from her son “where is Ser Laenor I wonder? Their father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter.” She asked.

The king had acknowledged her words “yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know your grace. I… could not find sleep, I had gone out to walk.”

A scoff left the queens lips, not shying away from making a sly remark before Laenor’s parents “entertaining his young squires I would venture.”

Corlys and Rhaenys shared warning looks at the queen’s words towards their son.

Viserys turned to look at Aemond once more, the irony as he asked him “Aemond, look at me, who spoke these lies to you?”

He gave another glance to his mother, who stood rooted in her place for fear of whatever answer he had. Aemond looked back to his father before he could notice and answered, “it was Aegon.”

“Me?” Aegon felt his stomach drop.

No words could describe the relief Alicent had felt at her sons answer.

Viserys stared at his eldest son, the venom of disappointment woven in every word “and you boy?” as Viserys left, Aemond took the chance to give his mother a reassuring nod.

Aegon was frozen in his place as he dared not look at the face of his angered father “where did you hear such calumnies?” his irritation had boiled over at that point, such accusations coming from within the house of the dragon, he roared in the face of his son “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

He frowned in fear, as he carefully chose his words “we know father, everyone knows.” He looked away from the wooden floor and at the three dark haired children, a grimace of disgust lining his lips “Just look at them”.

Rhaenyra stepped back towards her frightened children as she saw the eyes of the throne room shift to them. Her eyes glazed over as she met those of her fathers, who could not bear this no longer.

His eyes stared around the room, seeing each of the children’s faces bloodied bothered him so, his arms flailing about as he spoke his words with a passion “This interminable infighting must cease! All of you!” he roared, his voice wavering as he continued “we are family!”

Aemond looked up at his father, awaiting something, anything that would give him justice for the eye he had lost. Pleading that his mother would not be the only one to stand in his defence, pleading that his father would avenge him for what he had lost.

Viserys looked away from the eye of his son, not bearing to look at it any further “now make your apologies and show good will to one another.” he saw the reluctance across all their faces, and he shouted, “your father, your grandsire, your KING demands it!”

Aemond stared at his father before staring back at the ground again, dejectedly. He thought no one was to stand at his side until his mother spoke, unwilling to allow it to end with none held accountable “that is insufficient, Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my king,” She reminded, thinking the king had forgotten about the obvious injury his son had suffered “good will cannot make him whole.”

He sighed “I know Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it has been taken,” she declared.

“What would you have me do?” he confusedly asked.

Her voice did not waver as she spoke, and it scared all of whom were within the throne room “there is a debt to be paid.” Viserys stared at her bewildered, what debt could possibly pay for a lost eye? “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.”

“My dear wife-.”

“He is your son, Viserys, your blood” her voice broken by the fact her husband cared not to avenge her son but the maintenance of the family that took something so precious from him.

“My dear wife…” Viserys spoke again “do not allow your temper to guide your judgement.”

A sigh of frustration left her lips before she stated, “if the king will not seek justice the queen will,” She ignored the look of disbelief her husband gave her “Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Lucerys, frightened grabbed onto his mother’s skirts “Mother?”

Corlys had gathered Rhaenyra’s children, huddling them all together with Rhaena and Baela, encircling them protectively with his wife.

“Alicent!” The king questioned, hoping for this to be a jest.

But this was no jest to her, they would need to pay for the crime they had committed “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.” Her eyes staring into Lucerys distressed face.

“You will do no such thing” she warned the knight.

Viserys commanded the contemplating Ser Criston “Stay your hand.”

“YOU ARE SWORN TO ME” she would not have herself denied.

Ser Criston would have brought his queen the eye of all of Rhaenyra’s children if she had wished it, but the stare of the Lord Commander had warned him against it and the kings warning had made him wisely reconsider “as your protector, my queen.”

Her shoulders fell at his words, her shuddered breaths were followed by tears as she stared blankly into the eyes of her husband, eyes that her children had shared “Alicent, this matter is finished, do you understand?” she had searched the piercing blue pools, for something, anything, how could he leave her out to fend for their son alone?

Aemond turned to look at the boy who had maimed him, pathetically hiding behind his mother, and held in the arms of his once friend. His scowl had wavered as he locked eyes with her, and she stood taller, fell away her sympathy for she was now faced with a choice, her brothers, or her friend. Daenerys had not the need to think too long for whom she was to choose. He finally understood his Grandsires warning. The voice of his father had given him hope that some action would be taken to avenge him.

“And let it be known” the king announced as he cautioned all who were present “anyone whose tongue DARES to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children.” He looked at the direction of his wife and her children “should have it removed”.

Alicent could not describe the let-down of his words, willing to act for his bastard grandchildren and not his son. The taunting voice of Rhaenyra only pushed her further.

“Thank you, father.” She turned to look at her three children and gave them a reassuring smile, her hands rested upon her daughters bruised face “It will heal don’t worry.”

“I want to go back to Dragonstone” Daenerys told her mother, despair clear across her face.

Pursing her lips, she gave a light nod and mouthed “ok” and before she could gather them all, the flash of horror that went across her children’s faces startled her. Turning around upon hearing the cries of fear from her son Luke.

She saw the queen, the woman she once called a beloved friend, the woman who she would lay with beneath the tree of the godswood and read with to the heart's content, the woman she had wished to take to the skies with, charge at her children, with a blade in hand. She gripped at her arms restraining the queen from attacking further, pushing her away from her children. The crowd parting around them like oil recoiling from a drop of water.

Lord Westerling shouted for his guard to stay their hand, but all had listened but a Ser Criston Cole who seemed eager to charge at the princess. He was blocked by Daemon, who finally left his station in the shadows.

Corlys Velaryon guarded his grandchildren and ushering them behind him. shielding them all from the horrific sight, but Daenerys was tall enough to peer through and watch.

Rhaenyra kept a tight grip on the hand that wielded the knife “you’ve gone too far” she told. Terrified as Alicent kept attempting to force the knife towards her.

“I?” she questioned “What have I done but what was demanded of me?” she asked, the question was not for Rhaenyra to answer “forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law.” Her rage far exceeded her restraint as it had all slipped away at this very moment “While you flout all TO DO AS YOU PLEASE!”

Viserys worriedly looked on as he commanded “Alicent, let her go!”

Her face soon contorted into desperation, desperation for reaffirmation “where is duty? Where is SACRIFICE?! It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

Otto HighTower’s voice echoed as he called out “release the blade Alicent.”

She did not hear her father commands, but her strength had faltered as she recalled his words to her, the pain Rhaenyra would inflict upon her children had already begun “You take my sons eye, and to even that you feel entitled.”

Rhaenyra held no sympathy for the woman who dared raise a blade against her children “exhausting wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” she spoke her words with vitriol.

Alicents lips quivered at her words, she had garnered no sympathy from Rhaenyra, nor had she any for her. The corner of her lip began to twitch into a scowl.

“But now they see you as you are” her whispered words drove through Alicents resolve and she pushed her away. Dragging the Kings blade of Valyrian steel down Rhaenyra’s arm.

The silence that befell the throne room was so loud that the soft trickles of blood spattering upon the ground rang within the throne room. Rhaenyra’s staggered body supported by Corlys.

As Alicent saw the result of her outburst the dagger slipped from her hands and clattered upon the floor. The weight of her actions befalling her, baffled as she saw the gaping wound on Rhaenyra’s arm.

Viserys stared at his wife, mouth agape with outrage at what he had just witnessed.

Colours black and green had begun to settle upon the children, done was their violent dance for they had all begun to choose their favoured host.

Aemond stood from his place and glanced between the knife on the ground and the wound on Rhaenyra’s arm. Restraining the want to smirk at his half-sister, but not concealing the pride he felt for his mother’s support.

The boy reassured his mother as he spoke “do not mourn me mother, it was a fair exchange.” She gave him a pained look as she stared at the injured face of her son “I might have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

Everyone stood in silence as they stared at one another in disbelief, if only the boy had spoken earlier. No bloodshed would have ensued.

Viserys sent a displeased look to his wife as he announced, “These proceedings are at an end.”

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #Helaena targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #harwin strong #laenor velaryon #dragons #a song of ice and fire #aemond targaryen x reader #want for nothing

[warlordfelwinter]

reworking. i love overthinking things that don't matter

#behold my natural handwriting #it fucking sucks #the infernal will be unreadable to any but asmodeus even if they speak infernal #it'll just look like lorem ipsum or something #here it says 'i will protect you' down the arm and then 'i love you' on the hand but that's just for me #i am excited for celeste to be a warlock eventually but i think i'll get him to level 3 monk first #so he can get dancey things #doodles #oc: celeste #fel's ttrpgs #dnd #tales from the dancing sea dragon #that wall of flower meanings could also just say 'im avoiding studying for finals' #did you know there's a flower that means declaration of war #i think war should only be allowed to be started like that #with a bouquet

[brittle-doughie]

Brittle-Doughie’s Main Page

Heya! The name is Brittle, I go by he/him and I’m a writer for a bunch of things Cookie Run, you’ll probably find me on the Cookie Wars with the various stuff I put out on the tag! Welcome!

[Request Box: Open!]

MASTERLIST #2 >>> HERE

———————————————————————

[Guidelines]

Gender neutral readers are my way to go, so everyone can enjoy my fics! :D (This will always be the case unless the fic states otherwise)

The type of writings can vary, which could be either be headcanons, one-shots, etc etc. Whatever I feel like works best for the time.

The main fandom I write for is Cookie Run! Whether it be Wars, Ovenbreak, or even Kingdom!

Angst, fluff, yandere cookies, it’s all good with me!

My blacklist is fairly standard with a bunch of NSFW or MAJORLY cursed stuff not allowed. (Pedophilla, Incest, scat, etc etc)

Also, please keep your asks short and simple. Paragraph long ones just make my brain silly.

[Masterlist #1]

Ovenbreak/Kingdom

The Incorrect Quote Cookie Jar V1.5

I’ll Miss You (Ancient Cookies)

Downstream Part 1 (Affogato Cookie)

Group Findings (Cauliflower and Peperoncino Cookie)

From Afar (Croissant, Lime, and Sour Belt)

A Jammed Heart (Original Cookie Character)

A Forced Hand (Ancient Cookies)

Y/N Cookie Blurbs (Various Cookies)

A Very Much Invited Guest (Hollyberry Kingdom)

Pet Times (Carrot, Cheesecake, and Baguette Cookie)

Duel of Hearts (White Choco and Rose Cookie)

Tales of Sweetness (Valentine’s Day Special)

Fashion Week 2?

Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to (Carrot, Beet, Spinach, Rambutan Cookie)

Costume Concepts

Ya Like Raisin Buns? (Black Raisin Cookie)

Star of the Industry (Popping Candy, DJ, Rockstar, Parfait, and Shining Glitter Cookie)

Even More Heartbreak (Black Pearl Cookie)

Antagonized

But the Dance is Today! (Hollyberry Kingdom)

Undeserving (Affogato Disciples, Dark Cacao, Adventurer, Captain Ice Cookie)

Anguish Before Matrimony (Pure Vanilla and White Lily Cookie)

No Dice (Ancient Cookies)

At Your Beck and Call (Pearl Legion/Custard Soldiers)

No Deed Goes Unnoticed (Dark Cacao Kingdom)

Milky Way Cookie Blurb

Eternity (Snow Sugar Cookie)

The Serenity or the Charismatic (Pure Vanilla v. Clotted Cream Cookie)

House is Where the Heart Is (Raspberry Mousse Cookie)

Chaos and Control (Twizzly Gang)

A Handycookie’s Expertise (Time Balance Department)

Good Day for Walks (Pure Vanilla Cookie)

Fish in a Barrel (Affogato Cookie)

Spared No Expense 1.5 (Cheesecake Cookie)

Coworkers Delight (Maple Taffy Cookie)

Memories

Sands of the Sale (Yogurt Cream Cookie)

Two Sides of a Coin (Hollyberry Cookie x Male Reader)

Face the Music! (B.A.D 4)

Seize the Spin

Foul Play (Cherry Stars)

Molded, Battered, Whole (The Five Dragons)

In a Heartbeat (Pink Choco Cookie)

From the Brink

What If: In Your Name

When the Jingle Bells Rock (Christmas Special)

The Flipside

Spared No Expense (Cheesecake Cookie)

For Their Majesty (Amber Sugar Cookie)

Speak of the Tree (Millennial Tree Cookie, Churro Cookie)

The Deal with Ancients

Bake It till You Make It

Polar Opposites (Timekeeper Cookie)

A Phenomenal Photo

Let Me Be Your Relay Cookie

A Tune for You (Vagabond Cookie)

Real Y/N Cookie Birthday Hours

Missing You

Sunrises (Missing You Alt)

The Face of the Future (Director Croissant, Stringy Gummy, Ephemeral Flow Timekeeper)

The Spooky Cookie Tapes

The Deal with Dragons (The 5 Dragons)

The Thrill or The Peace (Adventurer Cookie v. Blackberry Cookie)

Marketplace Ruckus (Hollyberrian Marketplace)

Time Travel, Woo! (Croissant Cookie)

Biggest Fans (Cherry Stars)

The Idol and the DJ (DJ Cookie)

The TBD’s Handycookie (Time Balance Department)

The Apple in this Doctor’s Eye (Dr. Bones Cookie

Heartbreak (Kumiho Cookie)

Pizza’s Here (Pizza Cookie)

The Beloved of Duskgloom Sea (Black Pearl Cookie)

Picnic Time (Cherry Blossom Cookie)

The Incorrect Quote Cookie Jar (Various Cookies)

———————————————————————

Wars/Jellywalker AU

[Q: Question based. Though some questions do evolve into full on fics.]

Heart of the Horde

Protectors of the Horde’s Heart

Death of the Heart

The Starved Heart

Heart Amongst Legends

Recollection 1 (White Ghost Cookie, Vagabond Cookie, Cream Unicorn Cookie)

Recollection 2 (Financier Cookie, Vampire Cookie, Dark Choco Cookie)

Recollection 3 (Infected TBD)

Wandering

Wandering #2

Gift Mode | Keeping Quiet | Little Ones | Wandering Part 3 (Jellywalker AU)

The News Gets to Them (Walker AU. Sorbet Cookie, Lilac Cookie, Black Garlic Cookie)

The News Gets to Them #2 (Walker AU. Lilybell Cookie, Choco Ball Cookie, Poison Mushroom Cookie)

Q: Various Cookies as Walkers

Q: Various Cookies as Walkers #2

Q: Bosses and You!

Q: Guard Duty (Jellywalker Knight Cookie)

Q: If Y/N Died

Q: Would The Dragons Help?

Q: How did Y/N get infected?

Q: Y/N Captured

Q: Shared Emotion of Y/N Cookie and the Horde

Q: Showoffs of the Horde (Fire Spirit Cookie, Cinnamon Cookie, Skating Queen Cookie)

Q: If Y/N was cured?

Q: Argument Amongst the Horde

———————————————————————

#masterlist #navigation #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #jelly walkers x reader #cookie wars x reader #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak

[darklinaforever]

Oh for Lord sake yes a connection, built on grooming not love. Daemon doesn't love anyone but himself and even his ending is the proof of it. Im talking about the Canon one in the book, not the romanticized one yall made up in your mind ignoring the details yall prefer, to push the “Daemon loves Rhaenyra” agenda

The Show :

Book :

"Princess Rhaenyra was also enamored of her uncle, for Daemon was ever attentive to her. Whenever he crossed the narrow sea upon his dragon, he brought her some exotic gift on his return."

"He praised her beauty, declaring her to be the fairest maid in all the Seven Kingdoms. Uncle and niece began to fly together almost daily, racing Syrax against Caraxes to Dragonstone and back."

"On Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra was once again great with child. She too took to her bed, with her husband the rogue prince ever at her side." - The Rogue Prince.

“Rhaenyra’s dragon Syrax laid several clutches of eggs, doubtless the result of matings with Caraxes”

"It was upon the twenty-second day of the fifth moon of the year 130 AC when the dragons danced and died above the Gods Eye. Daemon Targaryen was nine-and-forty at his death.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm's Delight and the Half-Year Queen, passed from this veil of tears upon the twenty-second day of the tenth moon of the year 130 AC. She was thirty-three years of age."

Oh. And for the book whose details I "deliberately ignore" :

Also, I highly recommend @horizon-verizon to educate you on all things historical context, daemyra + grooming bullshit, daemon being a predator of young women, with Daemon seemingly being a pure villain instead of the gray character he is, Daemon and his relationship with Nettles and much more.

#daemyra #daenyra #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x daemon #daemon and rhaenyra #rhaenyra and daemon #pro daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #anti hotd #house of the dragon #anti house of the dragon #fire and blood #pro team blacks #pro team black #team black #team blacks #anti team green #anti team greens #anti greens stans #anti green stans #anti greens #anti green

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon Masterlist

Lady Arianwyn Targaryen of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge. But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light. With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge. Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance? 

4s ago

The Silver Dragon Chapter 1

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape, violence, sex, harsh language

Author's Note: I'm currently revising all currently published chapters. Previously posted chapters

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Chapter 1: The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Archived Version

Chapter 2: Youth

Arianwyn and Aemond grow side-by-side.

Chapter 3: The Bench

On Arianwyn’s thirteenth nameday, a grand reception is held in her honor. Though most guests are not in attendance for the Lady of Runestone, but rather the Princess Rhaenyra, who is mere weeks away from giving birth. But Arianwyn does not care, for Aemond is there. And he has a present for her.

Archived Version

Chapter 4: The Book

Though Arianwyn wants nothing more than to devour the book Aemond gifted her, she finds herself tear her mind from Aegon’s taunting words. But as she recalls a difficult conversation with her cousin and lady’s maid from the night before, she decides that perhaps she does not want to be married – ever.

Archived Version

Chapter 5: Rune of Endurance

Over the next few months, the young scholars begin to make their own translations of the Runes of the First Men. However, the lives of a Prince and a Lady are not all leisure. After a harrowing encounter in the Dragonpit, Aemond needs Arianwyn to comfort him.

Archived Version

Chapter 6: The Funeral

As the Targaryen and Velaryon households gather on Driftmark to mourn the late Lady Laena, Arianwyn is anxious about meeting not only her half-sisters, but her father for the very first time.

Archived Version

Chapter 7: Cold Fire

Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.

Archived Version

Chapter 8: The Beach

After overhearing a conversation between Prince Daemon and Corlys Velaryon at dinner, Aemond recruits Arianwyn to help him achieve a lifelong dream.

Archived Version

Chapter 9: The Tunnel

On their way back from the beach, Aemond and Arianwyn are confronted by their four furious cousins.

Archived Version

Chapter 10: The Decisions of Fathers

Aemond is permanently maimed, Arianwyn wounded. As their family quarrels over how to deal with the aftermath of the fight, all they can do is cling to each other.

Archived Version

Chapter 11: Prayer

Faced with the possibility of their separation, Aemond joins Arianwyn in prayer.

Archived Version

Chapter 12: Dearest Friend

As Arianwyn adapts to her new surroundings, and Aemond heals from his wound, the pair take comfort in the letters they exchange.

Archived Version

Chapter 13: The Girl in the Tower

With the knowledge that she will not soon be released from her father’s control, Arianwyn finds what comforts she can on Dragonstone, and receives a gift from Aemond.

Archived Version

Chapter 14: The Sapphire

Aemond struggles to adjust to Arianwyn’s absence. But on his fifteenth nameday, Ser Gerold Royce arrives with a bronze-wrapped present.

Archived Version

Chapter 15: The Garden

For the first time in the six years she’s been on Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra asks for Arianwyn to join her for a walk in the gardens.

Archived Version

Chapter 16: A Holy Sight

At long last, Arianwyn returns to King’s Landing.

Archived Version

Chapter 17: The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys

After being reunited after so long, Aemond has one request of Arianwyn: to read him a story.

Archived Version

Chapter 18: Families

Arianwyn is joyfully greeted by Queen Alicent, Princess Helaena, and her young children. But the happy reunion is soon ended as she is called to attend dinner with her Daemon, Rhaenyra, and their children.

Archived Version

Chapter 19: The Petition

When Vaemond Velaryon petitions the Crown to grant him succession of Driftmark, Arianwyn is faced with her worst fears.

Archived Version

Chapter 20: Final Tribute

Arianwyn delays her escape to attend the King’s family dinner to say goodbye to Aemond. But emotions run high, and a final toast may jeopardize her plans.

Archived Version

Chapter 21: The Library

Daemon confronts his daughter.

Archived Version

Chapter 22: Beneath the Weirwood Tree

Arianwyn meets Aemond in the Godswood.

Archived Version

Chapter 23: The Bedding

To prevent Daemon from contesting their marriage, Aemond and Arianwyn proceed with the Bedding Ceremony.

Archived Version

Chapter 24: The Shears

The following morning, Aemond and Arianwyn tell the Queen of what happened. But they soon realize an important figure is missing.

Archived Version

Chapter 25: The Trial of Brynna Taler

Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna. Larys Strong informs them that she has been taken to the Throne Room by none other than Daemon, who claims that it was Brynna herself that attacked him the night before. Not only that, but he also accuses Aemond of forcing Arianwyn to marry him, and of raping her so that the marriage could not be dissolved.

Archived Version

Chapter 26: The Breakfast

With Brynna safe and Daemon on his way back to Dragonstone with the rest of the Blacks, Aemond and Arianwyn enjoy some time alone. However, they are quickly interrupted by the Queen, her children, and her grandchildren joining them for a family breakfast.

Archived Version

Chapter 27: The Women

Arianwyn, Helaena, Alicent, and Brynna sip tea (and wine) and enjoy a moment of relaxation as the dressmakers and craftspeople of King’s Landing present them with their wares.

Archived Version

Chapter 28: Pillow Talk

Together in bed, Aemond & Aria exchange new vows and old secrets.

Archived Version

Chapter 29: Vhagar & Emrys

Six years after the beach on Driftmark, the Queen of All Dragons and Emrys, the young black dragon called Balerion, Second of His Name, by the smallfolk of King’s Landing, finally meet.

Archived Version

Chapter 30: The Bath

Aemond and Arianwyn relax with a shared bath after their dragonflight.

Archived Version

Chapter 31: Storytime

Arianwyn is summoned to the Queen's chambers to fulfill a promise she made to Prince Jaehaerys.

Archived Version

Chapter 32: The King

Arianwyn asks for an audience with her uncle Viserys. He has not woken since the family dinner two nights before, and she is not sure that he will even hear what she says. She is not even sure what she wants to say. Still, she needs to say it.

Archived Version

Chapter 33: The Sound of His Voice

After her visit with the King, Arianwyn returns to her husband.

Archived Version

Chapter 34: The First Death

Aemond and Arianwyn awake with grand plans of spending another day together. But they are met with the news that the King has died in the night, leaving not only their plans unsure, but the fate of the realm.

Archived Version

Chapter 35: The Search

The King is dead. Aegon, his heir is missing. While Aemond ventures into the heart of Flea Bottom to find him, Arianwyn is left in the castle with the Queen as she realizes her fairy tale has likely come to an end.

Archived Version

Chapter 36: The Hearth

Aegon has been found, and will be crowned in the morning. But Aemond’s mind races. As he descends deeper and deeper into the darkest recesses of his mind, there is only one person that can pull him back from the brink of despair.

Archived Version

Chapter 37: The Coronation

Aemond wakes from a vivid dream. The family gathers at the Dragonpit to crown Aegon.

Archived Version

Chapter 38: The Beast Beneath the Boards

Chaos erupts at the coronation and Princess Rhaenys, mounted on her dragon, Meleys, bursts from beneath the floor of the Dragonpit.

Archived Version

Chapter 39: The Feast

Though the events of the coronation cast a dark cloud, a feast is held at the Red Keep in celebration. Aemond makes a decision, and Arianwyn dances with the new King.

Archived Version

Chapter 40: The Small Council

A plan is made to secure the support of the kingdoms. Unfortunately for Aemond, that plan involves sending Arianwyn on a diplomatic mission. Alone.

Archived Version

Chapter 41: The Long Goodbye

Aemond and Arianwyn mount their dragons to fly in separate directions. But not before saying goodbye.

Archived Version

Chapter 42: Three Days, Part I

On the first day they have spent apart since they were wed, Aemond and Arianwyn fly far away from each other on missions for the new King.

Archived Version

Chapter 43: Three Days, Part II

In the Vale, Arianwyn receives a wedding present from Ser Gerold and has a candid discussion with her Godsmother. At Storm's End, Aemond goes on a tumultuous hunt with Borros Baratheon. Both are met with unpleasant interruptions to their missions.

Archived Version

Chapter 44: Three Days, Part III

Aemond returns to King's Landing. Arianwyn tells the Vale the truth.

Archived Version

Chapter 45: The Curse of the Kinslayer

Arianwyn returns to King’s Landing triumphant, having not only won the support of the Vale, but by striking a great political blow to Daemon. But her feeling of triumph is quickly shattered when she learns that Aemond has already returned – with blood on his hands.

Archived Version

Chapter 46: The Silence

Arianwyn wakes in Aemond's arms and faces the fact that her world has changed irrevocably.

Archived Version

Chapter 47: The Truth

Now that Aemond has broken his silence, what truths will he reveal?

Archived Version

Chapter 48: The Brothers' Lament

Arianwyn hides something from her husband and ends up encountering his brother, King Aegon. Aemond wakes alone.

Archived Version

Companion Stories

Daemon POV

Lord Flea Bottom's Heir

Daemon had expected to be welcomed with the news of his wife's demise when he returned to King's Landing. Instead, he is greeted with the decidedly unwelcome news that the Bitch was to give him an heir. His plans to finally take Rhaenyra to wife thoroughly dashed, he leaves the Red Keep behind to wallow in his own domain: Flea Bottom.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic

[helix-studios117]

Halo Reloaded: Make-A-Wish

The pediatric wing of the hospital had transformed into an impromptu superhero headquarters, with Spartan supersoldiers from Blue-Team and Silver-Team taking cautious, elephantine steps through the sea of tiny, eager faces. The formidable figures of John-117 and his comrades were sheathed in gleaming armor, a stark contrast to the vibrant drawings and soft pastel colors of the hospital walls.

John, the Master Chief himself, stood slightly to the side, his towering form casting a long shadow.

Despite his stoic appearance, there was an unmistakable tension in his posture—not from discomfort at being surrounded by children, but from the simple uncertainty of what to say or do. His comrades, however, took to the scene like ducks to water.

Silver-Team, consisting of Vannak-134, Riz-028, and Kai-125, brought their own brand of quirky heroics to the hospital’s pediatric ward, weaving a tapestry of delight that was equal parts whimsical and touching.

Vannak, the powerhouse of the team, had discovered his knack for balloon artistry, though his massive Spartan fingers struggled with the tiny rubber. Amidst a colorful explosion of balloon swords, dogs, and hats, his serious facade cracked into a grin as a particularly stubborn balloon squeaked and twisted under his efforts.

“Operation Inflate is tougher than I anticipated,” he declared in mock-seriousness to the wide-eyed audience of children. Each successful twist was met with cheers, and every popped balloon was a dramatic “casualty” that had the kids in stitches.

Riz, always the quick-witted and agile thinker, turned a simple game of "Simon Says" into an epic adventure. “Simon says... act like you're low-gravity moonwalking!” she’d call out, demonstrating with exaggerated, floaty steps.

Her commands got sillier and sillier, from “Simon says pretend you're a sleeping Brute” to “Simon says dance like a Grunt throwing a tantrum.” Her energy was infectious, and soon she had a conga line of giggling children (and a few adults) snaking through the ward, each mimicking her inventive and hilarious instructions.

Kai, meanwhile, had set up a storytelling corner, but these weren’t your average fairy tales.

Armed with a digital projector and her vivid imagination, she transformed the stories into interactive shadow puppet shows using the kids’ own hands. “And then, the brave little Spartan faced the giant space dragon. Let’s see your dragons, everyone!” Kai would narrate, her voice filled with excitement as the children's hands cast monstrous, wiggling shadows on the wall.

Every child became part of the tale, their shadows merging to defeat space pirates, rescue alien princesses, and explore mysterious planets.

Fred, often the tactical brain of operations, had now turned his strategizing skills to the decidedly non-military task of organizing a children’s scavenger hunt. With a twinkle in his eye, he handed out makeshift maps, each marked with cryptic riddles like, "Seek where tired Spartans rest," directing them to a pillow fort under a table in the playroom.

With the gravity of a general but the grin of a mischievous uncle, Fred supervised the mission. "Alright team, remember, silence is your ally—sneaky steps!" he whispered dramatically, causing a gaggle of tiny sneaker-clad feet to tip-toe comically around the room. The children giggled, whisper-shouting as they discovered each "hidden" part—a glove, a helmet visor, all cleverly placed out of service’s way.

Meanwhile, Kelly, the speedster of the group, had turned a hospital corridor into an impromptu race track. "Okay, racers, on your marks!" she declared, lining up a motley crew of wheelchairs and walkers at the starting line.

With the flair of a seasoned sportscaster, she provided running commentary, "And they're off! Look at Tommy go—zooming ahead like a rocket! And here comes Ellie, oh, what a comeback!" Her laughter mixed with theirs, echoing down the halls. Each race ended with high fives, and Kelly making a big show of checking her watch and declaring each time a new "world record.

"In a quieter corner, Linda had set up a photo booth, not with costumes and props, but with a challenge to capture "the unseen beauty" of the hospital. She handed out digital cameras, kneeling to be at eye level with her new apprentices. "See this? It’s just a shadow, right? But watch this..." She helped them adjust the angles until the shadow looked like a wild, dancing creature.

"You’re the artist—you get to tell the story." Her station became a mini art gallery, kids snapping everything from the superhero reflection in a spoon to a dramatic, noir-style portrait of a teddy bear.

In the midst of this, a small boy broke away from the crowd. His approach was slow but determined, his hospital gown billowing slightly as he marched straight toward the Master Chief.

The chatter seemed to quiet a bit as all eyes followed this tiny figure confronting the legend.

“Hey, Mister Chief!” the boy called out, his voice surprisingly strong. He stopped just a foot away, craning his neck to look up.

John bent down, the servos in his armor humming softly as he adjusted to eye level with the boy. "Hello there," he replied, his voice modulated to a gentle rumble by his helmet.

“You’re Master Chief, right? Like, the real Master Chief?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with a mix of skepticism and hope.

“That’s right. And what’s your name, soldier?” John’s tone held a warmth, prompted by the boy’s earnest gaze.

“I’m Danny. And you’re my hero, Mister Chief. You’re my favorite!” Danny declared, stepping forward as if presenting a medal.

John paused, the compliment catching him off guard. “Am I now?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah! You fight aliens and don’t afraid of anything!” Danny exclaimed, his grammar slipping in his excitement, which made a couple of nearby nurses chuckle.

“Well, I can assure you, I do indeed afraid sometimes,” John corrected gently, eliciting a laugh from Danny.“Can I... can I give you a hug, Mister Chief?” Danny asked, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

John hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his visor's reflection.

But then he nodded, and as Danny wrapped his small arms around John’s armored waist, John’s own arms came around to return the embrace, enveloping the boy in a gentle, protective circle. “Thank you, Danny,” John said, and it wasn’t just his voice modulator that shook slightly.

“Are you gonna be my friend now, too, Mister Chief? Not just my hero?” Danny looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“I think I’d like that very much,” John replied, his voice firm with a promise.

As Danny scampered off, probably to boast about his new ‘best friend’, John straightened up and scanned the room. The children were now looking at him with less caution and more curiosity. Kai nudged him lightly with her elbow, a small smirk playing on her lips beneath her helmet. “Looks like you’re not so scary after all, huh, Chief?”

“Seems so,” John conceded, allowing himself a rare, small smile. “Let’s make sure no one feels left out.”

#halo #halo fanfiction #halo fanfic #john 117 #master chief #master chief fanfic #master chief fanfiction #halo au #halo headcanon #helix studios117 #halo reloaded #ultimate halo