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howtofightwrite · 2 years

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How physically active were actually "medieval" noble women? I know is a long period but I usually see people complaning about noble women in fantasy doing stuff such as hunting or riding horses. I have seen a couple of illustrations of fencing manuals with women in them too.

We, as a culture, especially in the US, have a very bad habit of using the British Regency/Victorian era as the gold standard for how women all over the world were treated throughout history. And the truth is, it ain’t that way. It never was, because women in this exact era used to duel each other in other parts of Europe and often did it topless.

Yes, this is real. We have records of it.

Was it all women, all the time? No. Was it often enough to mention? Yes.

There’s a really good article by Kameron Hurley, “Women Have Always Fought” that goes over the history of women warriors and the laziness of specular fiction in detail. This is a particularly great few paragraphs from the article that covers where our popular conception that women don’t fight comes from.

“Women have always fought,” he said. “Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”

I had no idea what to say to this. I had been nurtured in the U.S. school system on a steady diet of the Great Men theory of history. History was full of Great Men. I had to take separate Women’s History courses just to learn about what women were doing while all the men were killing each other. It turned out many of them were governing countries and figuring out rather effective methods of birth control that had sweeping ramifications on the makeup of particular states, especially Greece and Rome.

Half the world is full of women, but it’s rare to hear a narrative that doesn’t speak of women as the people who have things done to them instead of the people who do things. More often, women are talked about as a man’s daughter. A man’s wife.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Check out some of these real women below.

Empress Maude, the daughter of the English King, Henry I, was named her father’s heir after her brother died. While her cousin Stephen stole the throne after her father’s death, she raised an army and took the country into a civil war to take it back. They fought it out for the decade it took for her son to reach adulthood, and laid the groundwork for Henry II to become king. There’s a great novel by Sharon Kay Penman, When Christ and His Saints Slept which chronicles the civil war. If you’re interested in medieval history, I recommend reading it. Her daughter-in-law, Eleanor of Aquitaine, also led an interesting life. (It should be said, real history got to the denied female heir fights for her throne before George R.R. Martin.)

There’s great videos from Xiran Jay Zhao discussing the Chinese warrior queen Fu Hao of the Shang Dynasty and Wu Zetian, who became China’s first female emperor. (Yes, you read that right. Emperor.)

There is Khutulun, the Wrestler Princess and the great-great granddaughter of Gengis Khan, who is one source of our “defeat her in battle to marry her” tropes. She issued this challenge, “defeat her in wrestling, she’ll marry.” She scammed would be suitors out of 10,000 horses. Western male authors are so threatened by Khutulun, they’ve kept trying to rewrite her history by making her fall victim to the power of love. (No, seriously.)

There’s also Hojo Masako, the Buddhist nun who deposed her own son when he proved incompetent and ruled Japan as Shogun. Here’s her wiki entry too.

The Amazons of Greek Myth were real in that they were actual Scythian women who went to war. (As Scythian women did, just like their men.) They terrified and terrorized the Greeks so much, they became immortalized in their mythology. Don’t believe me? Here’s an article from National Geographic and this one from Live Science.

There’s stories like this all throughout history from big events to small ones. (You can find more over at Rejected Princesses if you’re interested.) There are female warriors, female generals, noblewomen who took command of their husbands’ forces, widows who took to the sea to get revenge on those who wronged them, women who rode with their husbands to battle, female assassins, female leaders of rebellions, etc. The women of the Japanese samurai class were trained to fight, and fight they did. Women warriors, queens, and politicians are all over mythology too. You’ll often see these women come out of the upper echelons of society because money creates options, but they are there. Many of those stories are lost to history, in some cases purposefully, and there was a long trend among archeologists that assumed because a person was buried with male grave goods, the body had to be male. We’re now finding out that isn’t true. There’s a significant portion of warrior corpses that have turned out to be female. Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla chose to post a notice about it in response to these exact criticisms you’re questioning.

Those people you see complaining online? They’re clinging to a version of history that doesn’t exist. More, we know it doesn’t, because popular culture is hungry to the point of desperate for aggressive, confident, and competent female characters. If they were truly a lie, they wouldn’t ring true for so many people.

The history we’re taught today largely downplays women’s achievements, contributions, and successes while uplifting those of men. It’s a fact. Go look at famous female figures anywhere, you’ll find the same story at play over and over. Historically, fantasy as a genre largely portrays a world that is, in fact, fantasy, but that fantasy has nothing to do with women doing things they’re not “supposed” to. There’s no clubhouse. There’s nothing unrealistic in imagining your female character is a kickass queen who defeats overconfident men in wrestling competitions and robs them of all their horses. It’s not unrealistic to come up with an ending that doesn’t conclude in tragedy, violent deaths, them “learning their place,” or even locked within the bonds of an unhappy marriage. (Shocker!) Some did, but the truth isn’t universal. It’s not even unrealistic to imagine they might have supportive male family members, love interests, and followers who happily (gasp) assist them in these endeavors. Maude, for reference, had bastard half-brothers who helped her instead of trying to take the throne for themselves.

History got here before fantasy authors. There’s nothing unrealistic about reality. Popular conceptions and common knowledge fed to us by the majority male dominated culture isn’t always the truth. Reality is, it’s the stories we see normalized across the media spectrum that are wrong. The ones that insist women are objects, who commodify their pain, and reframe their stories to ensure the focus remains on men. While this is changing, women are still often treated as the NPCs of male driven stories.

The people you hear complaining? They want storytelling traditions to stay that way, for the Great Man values countless narratives have reinforced to remain unchallenged. Funny as it sounds, they’re threatened by the very existence of narratives that countermand that centralized focus on men being superior, that there is a stratified gender hierarchy, and men taking their place as the sole, worshipful focus of a woman’s existence, much less these female characters being important in their own narratives. If these people weren’t threatened by female characters being people, they wouldn’t say anything. They’d just move on in apathy.

Reality is people are complicated. There’s room for all stripes in all colors and contexts. It’s no secret that history has suppressed and erased countless stories that don’t support the ruling narrative of the dominant culture. These same people forget there’s plenty of storytelling traditions that include women taking their place as warriors in cultures outside America. For all the sexism and misogyny, women fighting is not an alien concept, it’s not even foreign to other Western European traditions.

Believe what your own research is showing you, not what a bunch of idiots who can’t tell their ass from their elbow are whining about. They can’t handle someone who isn’t straight, male, and (most often) white being the central focus. Really, they can’t handle these characters as even a side focus. That’s their loss, it doesn’t have to be yours.

-Michi

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#Michi answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #history

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daenerysies · 27 days

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rhaenyra is as much of a girl’s girl as the society she lives in allows her to be.

book wise she has multiple ladies in waiting (not just alicent, which is a grave oversight in the show), one of which is said to have gouged out her own eyes at the sight of rhaenyra’s murder. that doesn’t sound like someone who isn’t capable of inspiring loyalty from the women around them. rhaenys fully and wholeheartedly supported rhaenyra and her cause, even dying in her attempts to make her the first queen regnant of the seven kingdoms. laena betrothed her daughters to rhaenyra’s sons, ensuring that her blood sat both the iron throne and the driftwood throne, all while being a pretty difficult backing to break due to the wealth and naval power of the velaryons (all of this in spite of the bastardy rumors surrounding jace and luke). the agreement also puts forward how politically astute rhaenyra is, and how she didn’t just rely on her father’s word to put her on the throne. she made alliances using her sons hand in marriage; borros baratheon might not have declared for aegon had a proposal taken place the night luke brought rhaenyra’s terms. baela was only held back from partaking in the many battles because of her dragon’s size, otherwise she would have been right beside her betrothed fighting for rhaenyra. there’s even a chance that rhaena would have joined had she had a rideable dragon of her own. she had mysaria, a former sex worker, as her mistress of whisperers, a very esteemed position on her small council. the cases of rosby and stokeworth have no bearing on this, because they were never named as heirs (along with being literal children during a war time) which is what rhaenyra was using as the basis for her rulership. jeyne arryn knew her own position as lady of the eyrie would be challenged (again) if aegon stepped over rhaenyra and subsequently supported her cause. important women like alysanne blackwood and sabitha frey were key players in cregan’s army.

show wise she is shown in the season two trailer to be taking advice from rhaenys and allowing her to be a part of the war efforts. baela and rhaena are explicitly included on her war council, with rhaena as her cupbearer. moondancer is no longer a hardly rideable dragon and baela seems to be taking direct part in the war. rhaenyra is already shown in a set picture to be communicating with mysaria (whether that’s discussing blood and cheese, the aftermath of it, or something entirely different remains to be seen). these are not the acts of someone who hated other women, and using her falling out with alicent and the resulting enmity between them (that is almost completely one-sided due to the difference in power dynamics) as an excuse to otherwise is worse than strange, considering alicent’s canonical goal was to seat her son, a known violent misogynist, on the throne over a woman who was the named heir to the king.

the green’s entire ideological standpoint is that women cannot rule, ever, for it would make the main members of the green’s powerless, and any other lord or heir’s claim would be up for debate if they have an elder sister. if the iron throne had truly been aegon’s by right alicent, otto, and criston would not have left viserys’ body to rot for days AND they would have had the backing of most of the houses. if alicent had cared more for her children’s wellbeing she would have convened a great council before the war began or considered any other effort that would not lead to her children fighting on dragonback. rhaenyra’s (peaceful) ascension would have at least started the necessary changes needed to grant women more authority and (!) autonomy in the seven kingdoms. queen consorts had significantly less influence after her murder, along with the targaryen’s losing their ability to hatch dragons. rhaenyra does not need to be a feminist for her cause to be inherently feminist by proxy.

rhaenyra was not a feminist, but she did have great love for other women. it’s disingenuous at best and downright insulting at worst to try to paint her as anything else. she inspired loyalty even after her murder. if the black’s cause had truly relied on putting rhaenyra on the throne, her armies would have disbanded once she was dead. instead corlys and larys poisoned aegon, with rhaenyra’s son being placed on the throne afterwards. it was ultimately about bloodlines in the end. jaehaera suffered the unfortunate consequences of an ambitious hand because of her status as aegon’s daughter. it plays directly into how alicent outlived her entire family, besides jaehaera, and went mad with grief, learning to hate the color green. how greed and the allure of power can and will corrupt those who choose to make that a priority in their lives, and how the innocent will usually pay the price for those sins.

#house of the dragon #fire and blood #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #anti alicent hightower #anti aegon ii targaryen #hate rhaenyra all you want #but stop conflating your hatred of her with factually incorrect takes #the only team constantly harping about feminism #is the team who’s been babied by a show that wants to change the core meaning behind #the dance of the dragons #aegon only having a daughter by the end of it all #and NOT naming her heir #is the most telling result that the war happened #because of rhaenyra’s womanhood #btw i don’t care how ‘interesting’ and ‘full of nuance’ your fav characters are so keep it to yourself :)

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xoxotria · 20 days

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inferno | y. jh

pairing: targaryen!jeonghan x targaryen!reader

themes: house of dragon!au, incest, arranged marriage, typical house of dragon themes

warnings: incest, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex, switch reader, mentions of reader having breasts and a vagina

summary: unable to make his two troublesome children settle down the king takes matters into his own hands and decides to wed them.

“you and i are made of fire. we have always been meant to burn together.”

another daughter of the lord baratheon storms out of the prince’s chambers a scowl on her face as she passes by the targaryen princess. curious she walks towards her brother’s room to see what all that was about.

“chased off another one dear brother?” she teases as she peaks into her older brother’s chambers.

jeonghan sits at the edge of his bed a cup of wine in hand as he rolls his eyes at her.

“it’s not my fault she’s too tame for my taste.” he smirks.

jeonghan targaryen, the second heir to the throne after their other brother seungcheol, was a menace always getting into trouble with his dragon. he was an untamable soul—one that even the king, his father, cannot control.

“emā se ānogar hen zaldrīzes flowing rȳ ao. they’re sepār zūgagon naejot zālagon.” you have the blood of the dragon flowing through you. they’re just scared to burn. she smiles taking a seat on the set of chairs in the middle of his chambers.

“hae gaomagon ao jorrāelagon mandia, skore dīnagon īlva isse keskydoso situation.” as do you dearest sister, which puts us in the same situation.

he was right, she wasn’t very different from him. despite the god-like appearances they carry, she was a targaryen. according to her grandfather king jaehaerys ii, every time a targaryen is born the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. as much as targaryens are prone to greatness, they are also prone to madness.

the targaryen princess was vastly known to be like her ancestor queen visenya targaryen. a passionate, stern and unforgiving woman who feared nothing and no one but she was also loving to her two brothers. she trusted no one other than them—she was their little flame. she was immensely stubborn and headstrong, challenging her bethroned to keep up with her which always ends up with them break off their engagement unable to diminish her inferno.

she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of what she wanted—what she deserved.

“father will have our heads for breaking off another engagement he worked so hard to arrange for us.” she watches as jeonghan stands up to refill his cup downing it as he shrugs.

“his anger has always been temporary, ñuha perzys. it will only be a matter of time before he finds us another engagement to break.” he winks. my flame, the term of endearment he gave her as soon as she was born into this world.

“let us hope that is the case, there are only a few noble houses to choose from left—for me anyways, baratheon, tully, stark and hightower to name the few. are we as the rumors say we are?” she whispers softly as she peers up at him.

he puts his cup down as he encircles his arms around her, engulfing her into a tight hug. he knew of her worries—he’s heard the whispers in the king’s landing regarding both of their tendencies to be unreasonable and extremely picky when it comes to their betrothed or the rumors about them being together alone in each others chambers in the middle of the night.

“we know fully well who we are, who cares what they say? you and i ride the biggest dragons to ever live, we do not need the approval or the validation ñuha perzys.”

“i suppose your right.”

“please, ñuha perzys. i am always right.” he boasts as she shoves him off of her with a smile on her face.

to many of the people in the palace, the bond they shared seemed to dance the lines between siblings and something more. with personalities that matched each other’s, the similarities in their ways of thinking, and the way they presented themselves to the court and to the people of the kingdom. they mirrored each other so well.

jeonghan would hear the rumors as he loitered the streets of the city on days sleep would not find him, he thought about it. targaryen’s often marry siblings, it was a normal occurence in their family. their ancestor king aegon i even took both of his sisters to marry. it plagued his thoughts whenever he found himself staring across the hall at the sight of his little flame listening to her betrothed talk endlessly about something that did not intrigue her one bit as she toyed with the necklace he gifted her on her nineteenth name day.

unknowingly to the male, the female targaryen also harbored similar thoughts about her brother as she watched him and his betrothed acquaint themselves with each other in the gardens she often read. she would feel a pinch of jealousy as his betrothed made advances on him causing her to storm off to the dragonpit to go ride on vermithor.

“except when it comes to the women you choose.” she laughs as his face morphs to a shocked one.

“you did not! i don’t even pick them!”

“yes, i did! you always had a choice on the matter brother.”

lunging at her, jeonghan pushes her unto his bed as he tickled her sides causing her to erupt in laughter.

“take it back, ñuha perzys.” he smirked as he pinned both her arms above her head as he continued to tickle her sides.

“never.” she whispered realising how close their faces were to each other.

“i’ll give you one last chance. take it back.”

lilac colored eyes stared into light blue eyes, faces centimeters apart as the tension between them rises. his eyes glancing down to her lips briefly as he watched her bite her bottom lip.

kiss me. her eyes begged, breath hitching as he leaned down closer their noses touching.

“say it.” he whispered. say you want me to kiss you ñuha perzys and i will.

they stared at each other, hearts pounding against their chests, their bodies flushed against one another. they knew they had no right to touch each other, crave them like air—but they did. somehow they knew that the fire that burned in them was only meant to burn together.

“i—”

“jeonghan! father is summoning you.” seungcheol’s voice booms behind the wooden doors as he slams his fists against it.

snapping out of their thoughts jeonghan pulled away and offered his hand to help her up from the bed as she muttered a small ‘thank you’. she had made her way back to the seat she was in just in time before the doors slammed open with her other brother walking in.

“i never said you could enter, brother.” jeonghan muttered as seungcheol sat down on the other seat across from the princess.

“ñuha perzys, i didn’t know you were in here.” seungcheol greeted as she smiled at him.

“i had the honor of seeing another lady storm out of his chambers.” she replied as seungcheol laughs looking over at his younger brother.

“again? for fucks sake, jeonghan! what’s wrong with her now?”

she isn’t her. he thought bitterly as his eyes met hers quickly before looking back at seungcheol and shrugging at their brother.

“too ‘tame’ is what he told me.” she pipes up as seungcheol’s brow raises at him.

“at this point, i do not even know who father would set you up with anymore.” he snatched the cup of wine from the table before turning to the princess. “you as well.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“please, ñuha perzys. i know everything that goes on in the keep. i heard about the lord crying and storming off after you took him out on a ride with vermithor.”

she once took the young lord on a afternoon ride with vermithor not knowing how the boy was terrified of both heights and the strong personality she had. the lord was a pussy anyways hurling at the stories the princess told about various poisons and tricks to kill someone without the evidence pointing back at you. it didn’t shock her he’d already fled back home with his tail between his legs.

“not my fault the boy hasn’t grown a dick yet.” she shrugged earning a chuckle from jeonghan.

“well father is not going to be please with both of you either way so i suggest running along and heading to meet with him and at the small council meeting room immediately.” seungcheol stands as he makes his way out jeonghan’s chambers.

the two shared a look before heading out as well, a look they shared a lot recently, a look that meant they were fucked.

ii.

“i am at my wits end with the both of you! you scared off the last lord in close vicinity interested in you and you—” the king points slams his hand on the table as the princess and prince look on bored as ever. “—you have yet to marry a lady i set up for you! time is running out for both of you troublesome children of mine.”

“father i will not be tied down to a boy who can not handle a woman such as myself. i know what i want and what i deserve. jeonghan feels the same way. do not expect me to marry a boy who only wants me for my cunt and dragon.” she reasons her voice stern as jeonghan nods in agreement beside her.

the king was livid. he could not understand why his children was being this difficult with finding spouses! he did not know what to do with them anymore. he hadn’t cause his father this type of problems when it came to his marriage.

“i may be your father but i am also your king! my word is absolutely final. what am i to do with you?” he glares at his children, a headache starting.

does he try one more time with the lords of houses valaryeon or stark? or the ladies of house lannister or strong? the king was stuck on what to do until an idea popped up inside his head.

“seeing as your engagements to other houses have yet to be successful you have left me no choice but to wed you both to each other seeing as only the both of you tolerate and understand one another. i should have done this from the start and saved myself time.”

the two royals glanced at each other as they silently cheered in their heads. this was it. their chance to finally be themselves unapologetically without thinking about how their betrothed would act or what the people would say but doubts of how she would react still plagued jeonghan’s thoughts.

would she like that? he thought as he glanced over at the princess beside him.

“father…” he glanced over at the king as the princess stayed silent beside him. “i will only do so if she accepts to as well.”

she stared at the marble table in front of her as she takes jeonghan’s words in. he was giving her a choice in their marriage. was he not interested in the idea at all? was he hesitating to marry her because he loved someone else? she had to play her cards right, if she declined she would probably shipped off to dragonstone and wait to be married to some lord she’d have no choice but to marry for political reasons or does she take the chance with the one person who she truly feels something for? she briefly glances at her brother who sat quietly staring at her before glancing over to her father.

“i’ll do it. i’ll marry jeonghan father.”

“then it is settled! you will marry in two moons time.” the king announces clapping his hands as he stands to congratulate his children. “i can die happy knowing my children are settled well into this world. it is the only thing a father wants for his children.”

“thank you father.” she replied a small smile on her lips as jeonghan intertwines their hands together.

“i will fulfill my duty towards you and the crown, father. you have my word.” he declares as he plants a kiss on the back of her hand.

duty. she was only his duty. she thought bitterly as she exchanged a tight-lipped smile with him, her father cheering and talking with the hand gleefully in the background.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

the princess grew distant with jeonghan, something everyone in the palace took notice of. preparations for the royal wedding were well underway as they only had a limited amount of time and everything needed to be perfect.

“you look absolutely stunning ñuha perzys.” seungcheol complimented as she stood on a pedestal being fitted into her wedding gown.

“do you not think it is too much?” she asked gesturing to the silks that clung to her body.

“nonsense, ñuha perzys. it’s perfect.” he cooed at his baby sister. “is something wrong?” he asked he noticed the change in her posture.

“nothing is wrong.”

“something is bothering you. everyone leave us.” he commanded as the seamstress and the ladies exited the room.

“tell me what is wrong and i will do something about it.” he demanded softly as he took her hands in his.

“you and i both know i can do far worse than you brother.” she chuckled.

“do not change the subject ñuha perzys. i’ve noticed the distance of you and jeonghan as of late and i’m not the only one. what’s on your mind?”

seungcheol had noticed the subtle changes between the two. he did not want to pry into the changes in the ‘relationship’ his siblings had but as their older brother it felt like he needed to especially when the pair had been ignoring each other for the past few days after the announcement of their engagement. he noticed how jeonghan was distracted during lessons and small council meetings, spacing out more than usual. he planned on cornering him but it was harder to see him alone with all the planning he had been doing for the wedding so when he found out about his sister’s dress fitting he took the chance to talk to her and get to the bottom of things.

“i know marriage is more often than not only for political reasons and that targaryen marriages are often something the crown does to strengthen claims to the throne and blood purity. that’s all it us right? a duty—to the people, to the king, to the crown. i get that marriage is mostly a duty! a stupid fucking duty.” she chuckled darkly. “i don’t want to be someone’s duty, seungcheol. i deserve more than that. i’m a targaryen princess. i ride vermithor, one of the biggest dragons from old valaria. i am more than just a fucking duty! so why am i just a duty to the crown for him when he’s so much more to me? am i not worthy to be wed just because he loves me?”

jeonghan’s words had affected her more than she let herself too. she hated knowing she was just a duty to him—a fucking duty. she was going to be his wife for the rest of his life and he viewed her as a duty? she was livid. after the meeting with their father she had made her way to the dragon pit and took vermithor out on a ride returning in early hours of the day before the sun came out completely avoiding the blonde prince who waited for her to return but eventually fell asleep doing so.

she had avoided being in the same room as jeonghan since that day which confused him. had he done something to upset her? did she not want to get married to him? he had been hurt when he knocked on her chambers to spend time together like they always did before bed but she shooed him away as soon as he had knocked on her door. he tried several times to corner her alone after that waiting by the library to see the end of her lessons with the septa or at the dragon pit waiting for her to come down from her flight with vermithor but with their wedding fast approaching it was impossible to do so. he gave up after the fifth day deciding to sulk about it instead or make it everyone’s problem that he wasn’t in the best mood because she had been avoiding it.

“he said that? for fucks sake! don’t you see that he is absolutely obssessed with you?” he asks taking her by surprise.

“he does not, seungcheol. you should’ve heard it come out from his own stupid mouth that i was just a duty to the crown for him!”

“ñuha perzys you are stupid to think he does not love you.”

“prove it then.” she interjected stubbornly.

“gods are you blind? have you really not noticed anything?” he asked as she shook her head ‘no’.

“do you ever wonder why father never reprimands you for things you do out of line? well, it’s because jeonghan always takes the blame for you even if father knows it was you who did it. all those fucking lords that would dare talk ill about you or sexualize you with him in the same room—the one’s who’d disappear all of a sudden? they’ve all been murdered by jeonghan. gods i would know—i was there as he tortured them before feeding them to vhagar once. he fears no consequences that will come to him if it meant you would be safe and taken cared for. that man has done things that would traumatise any other normal human being but he did it for you. if that doesn’t show his love and dedication to you i do not know who will ñuha perzys.”

“then why did he just not ask father from the start to marry me if he felt that way?”

“do you honestly think he will risk his relationship with you not knowing how you felt for him in return? he endured seeing you with lords not even worthy of you.”

she felt confused. had he really viewed her the way she did secretly? had she really missed all of that?

“fuck.” she cursed as realization of his actions, his words— him had set in her mind. “what do i do seungcheol? he most probably thinks i hate him for having to marry him.”

a smirk makes it way across seungcheol as he looked at her.

“leave that part to me, ñuha perzys.”

iii.

after days of trying to get him alone, the prince jeonghan was finally away from the chaos of preparing for their wedding. he had been practicing on a wooden dummy in the training yard, swiftly jabbing his sword as it delivered calculated and fluid movements that would make any enemy falter and die in a span of minutes. he was always skilled with a sword as he never wanted to not be prepared in case the threat of battle was present. he did not like his life being in the hands of his guards. she had approached him silently as he delivered one last swing at the dummy chopping it’s head off clean.

“ñuha dārilaros skoros ēza se dummy gaomagon naejot jiōragon such wrath hen ao?” my prince what has the dummy done to receive such wrath from you?

his head snapped at the sound of her voice as he sheathes his sword by his hip. he was mildly surprised to see and hear her infront of him after he had been unsuccessful at being granted a private audience with his betrothed for days.

“ñuha perzys, skoros grants nyke se rigle hen emare ñuha betrothed isse ñuha presence tolī tubissa hen issare denied hen such?” my flame, what grants me the honor of having my betrothed in my presence after days of being denied of such? his eyebrow raised teasing her but there was a hint of bitterness in his tone that wasn’t looked past by the princess.

“may i invite you to take a walk with me, my prince?” she asked politely as he nodded falling into step beside her as they walked through the gardens.

a tense silence blanketed the two royals as they walked in step with each other, hands so close to brushing each other with how close they were. months ago, they would watch each other walk the same paths in the garden with each other’s betrothed with spite as they watched their betrothed try to swoon them over with flattery that would take them nowhere—nothing would swoon them over. no amount of riches, fame and flattery could. they just weren’t who plagued their thoughts.

“will you ever tell me why you’ve been actively avoiding me or shall i tickle it out of you?” jeonghan piped up as he stared down at her.

“i have not been avoiding you. i’m just busy with wedding preparations—”

“bullshit! i have been busy with my own share of wedding preparations but will always have time to spend with you. what have i done ñuha perzys?” he demanded standing infront of her as she peered up at him.

“for someone as smart as you are, you are quite dense.”

“ivestragon nyke kostilus, nyke daor gūrogon se lyka treatment hen ao mirre longer ñuha perzys.” tell me please, i cannot take the silent treatment from you any longer my flame. he begged as he grasps her hand in his own.

“a duty.” she whispered watching his face morph into a confused expression.

“you called me and our betrothal a fucking duty to the crown.” she glared at him as realization passes him.

“ñuha perzys, you are a duty i would gladly fulfill until my last breath but you are not only that to me. however, i would rather tell you that in a more private setting rather than the gardens where someone could easily eavesdrop into our conversation.” he explained as he kissed the back of her hand.

“sepār ȳdragon isse Valyrīha, mērī īlon drējī shifang se udrir isse īlva lentor se se people kesīr.” just speak in valyrian, only we truly understand the language in our family and the people here. she uttered pulling her hand away creating some distance from him.

he sighed pressing his lips together but nodded. he gathered his thoughts as she stared at him, jaw clenching as she absentmindedly bit on her lip.

“fuck—don’t do that.” he whispered.

“speak or i’ll leave.”

“i will—just. fuck.”

jeonghan was never this bothered by any woman. he was used to women fawning and lusting over him usually throwing the bodies against his hoping to receive a reaction from him (they don’t) before he pushes them away in disgust. so how was it that by simply biting with her lips, he could feel his self restraint thinning fast.

“i’m serious. i will leave.”

“don’t.” he pleaded.

she narrowed her eyes at her betrothed as she stared at his tense form. she could faintly make out the built of his body from the way his sweat made his clothes stick to his body. she gulped trying to rid of the unholy thoughts running through her head.

“nyke gōntan daor mazōregon emare naejot dīnagon ao sepār kesrio syt nyke viewed ao hae such. iksan daor mēre qilōni kessa dīnagon syt political reasons iā mirros tolie than se fact se ābra nyke dīnagon iksis se ābra nyke jorrāelagon. nyke gōntan daor chase qrīdrughagon mirre lī ābrar, ossēnagon mirre lī lords, gūrogon multiple blames syt anyone. ao gīmigon se type hen issaros iksan ñuha perzys.” i did not accept having to marry you just because i viewed you as such. i am not one who will marry for political reasons or anything other than the fact the woman i marry is the woman i love. i did not chase away all those women, murder all those lords, take multiple blames for anyone. you know the type of person i am my flame.

he thought about the lords he’d torture and feed vhagar after hearing such disgusting and crude marks about her—people who viewed and lusted her as just some royal whore made his blood boil. he swore that as long as he lived, he would kill such disgusting animals without any mercy.

“eman dedicated ñuha ābrar naejot ao. nyke promised nykēla bona hae bōsa hae ao sagon biare kesan gaomagon everything isse ñuha power bona ziry stays bona ñuhoso. bona daor ōdrikagon kessa mirre māzigon naejot ao. kostan daor sagon se sȳrje rȳ expressing ñuha emotions rȳ udra yn nyke hope bona hēnkirī kesan sagon able naejot. jaelan īlva naejot sagon isse iā biare dīnilūks ñuha perzys. mērī ao se eman keskydoso inferno bona burns deep iemnȳ īlva. īlon we’re va moriot meant naejot zālagon brighter hēnkirī. lo nyke could urnēptre ao skorkydoso olvie nyke jorrāelatan ao nyke would” i have dedicated my life to you. i promised myself that as long as you're happy i will do everything in my power that it stays that way. that no harm will ever come to you. i may not be the best at expressing my emotions through words but i hope that together i will be able to. i want us to be in a happy marriage my flame. only you and i have the same inferno that burns deep within us. we we’re always meant to burn brighter together. if i could show you how much i loved you i would.

he watched her for any reactions from him basically professing his love and dedication to her. he was practically calling her his already.

“pār urnēptre me—prove naejot nyke bona ao aren’t verdagon bisa bē sepār naejot mazverdagon nyke rȳbagon skoros jaelan naejot rȳbagon.” then show me—prove to me that you aren’t making this up just to make me hear what i want to hear.

her eyes burned into his own, a look of need behind them. she needed him to prove whatever he said to be true. it was a harsh environment they lived in, they needed each other to get through it alive besides, two dragons are better than one right? his head was foggy as he made his decision but he knew this was the way he could prove his feelings towards her.

he kissed her. he heard her breath hitch as his lips crashed against hers.

“i’d do anything for you, ñuha perzys.” his hands gripping her waist as he whispered between kisses. “you just have to say it.”

his touch sent tingles through her entire body. he had touched her before but never this way, it felt addicting to touch her that way—in ways only he could.

“tell me what you want. i promise you i’ll give it to you, anything you want.”

“you.” she whispered as their lips brushed against each other.

“i want you jeonghan. i’ve waited long enough to have you this way ñuha jorrāelagon. i will not wait any longer.”

never had jeonghan imagined the day he would hear her speak such words towards him—all those years of pining and protecting her had taken him to this position. she was a magnificent sight to him. he had always seen her in such way despite knowing of the many personalities that she displays to certain people. she held herself in power and bravery without doubt with a fire behind her actions. she was always his flame.

“eman waited tolī bōsa naejot rȳbagon lī udra issare uttered hen aōha lips ñuha jorrāelagon.” i have waited too long to hear those words being uttered from your lips my love.

“i’m sorry for making you wait,” she had pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as he gripped her closer to him.

“i would wait a thousand years to be with you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

“you do not need to wait any longer. i am here now.” she smiled as she pressed her lips against his.

they kissed each other as if they were starved, jeonghan’s tongue sliding into her mouth as she moaned at the feeling of his hands grabbing unto her ass. she moved forward slightly pressing herself harder against him as he groaned at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest.

he pulled away foreheads touching as they caught their breaths. he smiled kissing her softly before cupping her face in his hands.

“let me take you somewhere more private.” he whispered as she nodded.

letting herself laugh as he took her hand into his and dragged her into his chambers. what they would be doing was immoral but neither had cared at that point. they were getting married soon anyways what difference would it make?

jeonghan takes the sight of her in his chambers in. she had been in there before but it was different now. her visits once used to be of innocent banter and chatter but it succeeded that now.

a smile ghosts across his lips as he slowly brushes a stray lock of her hair away from her face as she leaned in towards his touch. he kissed along her neck smiling as he heard her breath hitch tangling her fingers in his long locks.

he hummed as he nipped at her neck leaving bruises in his wake. his hands were running along the curve of her breasts to the curve of her back leaving her breathless.

“you have no idea how long i have been imagining seeing you in this light dearest sister. do you touch yourself at the thought of me?” he asked, pulling the fabric of her dress down to swirl his tongue on her nipple.

“always.” she breathed biting back a moan. “gods just touch me already.” the way his tongue swirled around her nipple and his featherlight touches had her arousal pooling between her legs.

“mmm…patience, little one.” he whispered against her skin, goosebumps rising.

her chest rose and fell, eyebrows furrowing at the pleasure she was getting from just his tongue. he’d tease her another time—he wanted her now.

jeonghan pulled his tunic off in a swift move, his trousers coming off just as quick. her eyes followed his movements, widening at the sight of him. was he going to fit in her? the thought sending shivers down her spine as he kissed her.

she had wrapped her legs on his hips, their cores brushing against each other earning moans from both of them. he was intoxicated with the way she coated his dick with her slick. he wanted more. he needed more.

he had kissed her with a ferocity he had held back all those years. he walked them towards the edge of his bed. gently he lowered her to his bed his lips peppering kisses on her chest down to her waist until he reacher her inner thighs.

“jeonghan.” she moaned out as his nose brushed her clit.

“relax, ñuha perzys.”

he licked her cunt, eyes watching as she wriggled in pleasure as he drank every drop of arousal he could get out of you. pleasure pooled in your lower regions as he stuck his tongue into you whilst his fingers played with your clit.

“seven fucking hells! yes just like that.” she cursed as she pushed his head deeper into her.

he chuckled as he continued his pace of pushing two fingers into her inserting another one to stretch her out futher, he could feel her getting close as her walls clenched around his fingers. the knot in her stomach painfully tight as her legs squished his head his tongue sending her over the edge.

he licked her arousal as she rode out her high. eyes fluttering shut as jeonghan pulled away to kiss her on the lips wanting to taste herself on his tongue.

he kissed her deeper as he aligned himself to her cunt, brushing his tip against her sensitive clit causing her to moan out once more.

“i need you inside me, please…” she pulled away from their kiss.

“it’s going to hurt for a bit ñuha perzys.” his eyes met hers as she nodded.

he rubbed circles into her hip as he coated his entire length with her arousal before sliding into her all the way to the hilt. she moaned feeling so full of him, falling back against the pillow. he kissed her as he allowed her to adjust to his size.

she could feel the pain subside before the immense pressure she felt. he moaned as he felt her clench around him.

“gods that feels so good.” she moaned out as she tapped his shoulder to make him start moving.

jeonghan peppered kisses along her neck and chest as he pulled out until the tip of his dick before bottoming out.

“seven fucking hells you fit me perfectly.” he growled into her ear as he rammed into her at a fast pace.

he reached around her to roll her nipple between his finger with her crying out in pleasure.

“you are my flame, princess. i crave your fire as i crave you.”

she had felt a sense of cockiness go through her as she heard those words fall from his lips. she had ripped herself away from him and pushed him to lay on the bed with a growl. she ran her fingers over the skin on his abdomen, lightly dragging her nails across his skin, making goosebumps appear. she had straddled his hips, aligning his dick against her core. with eyes locked on his, she slowly sank herself all the way down to his balls, mouth falling open as he stretched her.

“you’re fucking gorgeous, ñuha perzys,” jeonghan breathed as he gripped her hips, “fuck me. be my good girl and ride my dick.”

she did as he requested using his chest as leverage rolling her hips as she bounced on top of him. each time she came down his dick hit deep inside her hitting that one spot that made her see stars and clench around him.

she was losing herself with every new sensation she felt, every minute of her riding him pushing her closer to the edge of madness. jeonghan’s hands was busy pinching and tugging her nipple as the other reached between them to stroke the bundle of nerves.

“you’re doing so well,” he cooed. “just like that love…”

gods, he would be the cause of her undoing.

“jeonghan…i’m close…” she cried out as her head fell back.

and in one smooth motion, the prince had rolled them over, pinning her hands over her head. pounding into her at a brutal pace, jeonghan had latched his mouth to her breast, catching her nipple between his teeth and pushing her over the edge.

“jeonghan!” she screamed his name as her orgasm exploded through her, tearing through her and leaving her a panting mess beneath him.

“fuck…” he cursed out, pumping in and out of her chasing his own high before he finally came spilling himself inside her.

she had looked up at him, finding affection gracing his features. she had cupped his face bringing his face to her own to kiss him.

“does that prove how much i longed for you?” he asked as he pulled away from her breathless.

“it has, ñuha jorrāelagon.” she had smiled as he settled down beside her drapping the furs on their naked bodies.

“remember this,” he had run his fingers through her locks as she settled on the crook of his neck. “i would give the world to you if you asked me to. i will let the world burn if it meant you’d be mine for eternity. that is how much i love you.”

“i am yours as the sea belongs to the moon, the way dragons belong to the skies, and the way the embers in my heart only burn for you. you are the fire that i would conquer kingdoms for. my soul will forever be entangled into yours, as long as i shall live.”

jeonghan knew then that no matter what he would be the cause of the world’s demise if ever the god’s that reigned over them decide to play their ruthless games on her because she was what kept him away from the madness that always seemed to grab a hold of them.

they were from the same fire—always destined to burn together.

#choi seungcheol #jeonghan smut #svt scenarios #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeenfanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #seventeen au

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spider-stark · 1 month

Text

THE CONQUEROR'S CROWN

Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary - After being captured by a member of the Kingsguard on your way to Winterfell, Aegon calls for you in the throne room.

Warnings - light smut, oral, kidnapping, blades/blood, possible hematolagnia, eludes disappointed mom!rhaenyra (absolutely no bashing tho), and obvious incest

Word Count - 3.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

His tongue traces the subtle curve of his bottom lip, his lilac eyes watching carefully as you waltz into the throne room, escorted by Ser Willis to the base of the Iron Throne. With a slight nod of his head, he dismisses Ser Willis, leaving you to stand alone as the Kingsguard takes his leave.

You have stood in this very room more times than you could possibly count. Your childhood was spent chasing your brothers around the large stone pillars, studying the intricate weaving of the tapestries adorning the wall, and sitting upon your grandsire’s lap atop the Iron Throne.

You were born to stand within this room, born to sit the throne standing before you now. If you focused, you almost swore that you could hear your grandsire’s voice whispering in your ear, bouncing you on his leg as he vowed—someday, my sweet little dragon, all of this will be yours.

But, before it could become yours, it would first belong to your mother—the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

And before it could be hers, you would have to kill the cunt that had stolen it out from under her.

You make a show of leaning into a melodramatic curtsy, playing up the role of his complaisant prisoner, “Your grace,” you practically snarl up at him, a silent challenge gleaming in your narrowed gaze.

Aegon sucks in a breath before hesitantly lifting his arms, gesturing to himself, “What do you think?” It was not the voice of a king that pierced your ears, but the voice of the same scared little boy you have always known—the one you have always loved.

A thousand jagged, twisted blades glimmer in the dim candlelight, all of them forged together to create the infamous throne that had started this godsforsaken war. Your throne, your mother’s throne—a throne that he now sat upon.

While there was no doubt that Aegon lacked the proper cadence, it was undeniable that he looked every bit like the king he pretended to be. Dressed in his finest clothing, woven from a deep-green material so dark that it nearly appeared as black at first glance. A circlet of Valyrian steel rests at his brow, embellished with glittering rubies; the Conqueror’s crown.

“I think,” you begin, holding your chin high, “that you are sitting in my mother’s chair.”

The blow wasn’t unexpected, yet Aegon’s jaw still tenses at the venom that laced each and every syllable.

He knew you would be upset with him—infuriated, actually. But expecting that anger and experiencing it were two very different things.

He wasn’t used to you being mad at him, and he didn’t like it.

Forcing himself to swallow back against the sea of emotions rising in his chest, Aegon pushes himself to his feet, careful not to nick himself on one of the jutting blades. He descends the steps with the same impressive swagger he’s always possessed, walking towards where you stood motionless at the base of the throne.

Your body stiffens at his approach, your muscles tightening, shoulders pulling back, fingers curling into fists. He notices, and you briefly remind him of a cornered animal—captured and awaiting a rescue that may never come, armed with nothing but brazen defiance.

Stopping less than a few inches from you, he realizes that this must make him the predator of your story. The big bad king, whose first act of war had been to steal away his precious little niece, unwilling to go even one more day without her by his side.

When he stretches a hand towards you, you’re smart enough not to recoil from his touch as he glides a finger along the fine silk of your skirts. “You wore it,” he mutters softly, admiring the rich green color of your dress.

“I wasn’t aware that I had a choice in the matter,” you retort swiftly, suddenly aware of the incessant pounding of your heart.

You hate yourself for wearing this—a gown that wasn’t entirely unlike the ones that the dowager Queen Alicent had worn from your entire life, the ones that had been marred by a color you learned to loathe.

But when a few handmaidens came pouring into the room in Maegor’s Holdfast where Aegon had kept you imprisoned for the last several days, you felt as though you had no say as they plunged you into a tub of steaming water, scrubbing your dirt-stained skin until it was raw, only to pull you back out and then wrap you in varying shades of emerald.

He pulls away from the fabric, giving you his usual pouty frown when he asks, “Why would you believe that you have no choice?”

The sheer innocence of his tone had you grinding your teeth. “Must I remind you, uncle?” He winces slightly, unused to the cruel formality with which you now speak. “Remind you of how you have stolen my mother’s birthright? Or of how you ordered your guard to steal me away, and throw me into the Holdfast? Of how you’re holding me prisoner in some desperate attempt to wound my mother-”

“I am not holding you to wound Rhaenyra,” her name sounds like poison on his lips, the taste of it vile on his tongue as he interjects, “nor are you here to be my prisoner, niece.”

Your brows rise alongside your voice as you shout, “Am I not? Then please, Aegon, enlighten me as to why you insist on keeping me here! Tell me why you have torn me away from my family and humiliated me!” You gesture down at your body, to the gown clinging to your curves.

Aegon’s answer came in the form of a growl, “Because you are mine to keep.”

His hands shoot to your wrists, tightly gripping your delicate flesh. A flicker of desire burns in his lilac gaze, a look that you are all too familiar with. It pierces through you, and you can do nothing but curse yourself as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. “And I refused to sit idly by as your family sold my girl to whichever Lord had the biggest fucking army, auctioning you off like livestock so that they might acquire more men to fight in your mother’s war!”

Disdain laced the word—family.

He spoke it as if it were a plague, a curse, a weakness. But you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, hidden emotion catching in his throat. You were his family; he had said so himself, repeating it often during your years spent together, sneaking through halls and hiding in shrouded alcoves.

You were his plague. You were his curse. And you were his only weakness, the only thing that could be held over him. The only thing that could make him yield.

It suddenly dawned on you how much it must have bothered him to learn that you were being escorted to Winterfell under the protection of two of your mother’s Queensguard, how infuriated he must have been to find out that your hand had been promised to Lord Cregan Stark in return for his aid. That was why he had sent Ser Willis after you—why he had him kill your mother’s men and bring you here.

Your mouth went dry as you dug your nails into your palms, unable to will yourself to pull your wrists from his touch. “This is your war, too,” you remind him, your voice softer than you wish it to be, your stare wide but never wavering from his.

Aegon shakes his head softly, wavy silver locks spilling over his delicate features. “No,” he tells you, releasing one wrist so that he can reach up and brush a finger along your cheekbone, “I have only ever been a pawn in this game, little love.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as his hand moves lower, his thumb trailing along your bottom lip, tracing the delicate curve.

“But you,” he drawls, his mouth curving into a lopsided smirk that had your pulse sputtering, “you were always meant to be a queen.”

His declaration only stirs confusion in your mind. Your brow creases and you blink at him once, then twice. “What is it that you want, Aeg?”

A sweet sound escapes his throat, a low hum of satisfaction at the simple pet name rolling from your tongue. Your voice was still sharp, still guarded—but all he had needed was that one subtle show of affection to know that you were listening, that you were willing to hear him out.

His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it ever-so-slightly and revealing a gleam of white teeth. Sensible enough to recognize that Aegon was supposed to be your enemy now, and not your secret lover, you gnash your teeth at him. The display only makes his grin grow wider, a foolish sense of hunger turning his usually pale complexion to a light shade of crimson.

“I want to make you queen,” he purrs, letting his touch fall from your face as he lets go off your other wrist, stepping to the side. He sweeps an arm out to one side, gesturing grandly towards the throne before you. “My queen.”

You feel disoriented, like the room around you is suddenly spinning in circles. A fuzzy feeling settles in your stomach as your gaze flickers from the throne, to Aegon, then back to the throne again.

The look on your face must be one of pure disbelief, as Aegon appears to be laughing at the shock morphing your features.

“But…” You take a series of shallow breaths, shaking your head as you force yourself to ignore the throne, turning back to focus only on Aegon. “But my mother is the rightful queen, not me—not yet!” You object, stuttering over your words as they spill out.

This doesn’t make sense…

The Greens would never allow this!

“Queen Alicent,” you sputter out, realization dawning on you, “and your grandsire, they… They don’t know that I am here, do they? They don’t know that you captured me?”

The pieces began to fall into place in your mind, filling in the gaps of a very long and complicated story. The reason why Aegon had only sent one of the Kingsguard after you, why you had been thrown in the Holdfast rather than the dungeons, why he had waited until the hour of the wolf to finally call for you, having you brought to throne room only once he was certain that it was abandoned for the night.

Aegon hadn’t just captured you. He had kept you hidden—hidden from Alicent and Ott0.

He gives a single, gentle nod as he says, “You, my sweet girl, have become my best kept secret,” there’s a certain eagerness in the way he is looking at you, greedy and expectant, as if he were awaiting praise for his scheme.

“I cannot give your mother my throne, not without risking my own head,” Aegon reaches for your hand once more, and you allow him to lace his fingers through yours, even as you scowl at the possessive language he used—his throne. “But I can give it to you.”

You feel unsteady as you glance down at your joined hands; his grip was tight, while yours was limp—allowing the show of affection, but not returning it.

You draw a breath, “And you plan to do this by… By making me your wife?” Nerves had your voice jumping an octave, and you curse the Warrior for not granting you enough strength to maintain an even tone.

The shift in Aegon’s expression was tenuous, but you knew him well enough to catch even the most subtle changes. You noticed the way his lilac eyes shifted to his feet, the way his bottom lip trembled as his fear of rejection pierced through his chest like a knife.

It was second nature to want to comfort him, to want to reach out as you used to, brushing the messy waves of silver from his face, reminding him that you wanted him in ways that you could never want another.

You resist the urge as best you can, but you cannot stop your fingers from finally curling around his hand, squeezing before you can stop yourself. When he looked back up at you, it was with a look of foolish hope.

“It might be an ignorant plan,” he admits, “but the realm doesn’t need a puppet for a king. It needs you—an iron-willed girl, born for an iron throne.”

It’s not the right choice.

And you know that if your mother were here, she would be disappointed in you for considering such a proposal. If Daemon were here, he would cut you down himself, spouting out allegations of treason over your still-cooling corpse. Jace and Luke would hardly be able to look you in the eye, you reckon, if they found out of your feelings for the uncle they both loathed so desperately.

This wasn’t the right choice, because before the throne should belong to you, it must first belong to your mother, the rightful heir.

And yet…

To take the throne now, to take advantage of the opportunity Aegon has offered, would be seizing a chance to deliver the throne to the Blacks. Taking the throne did not mean that you must keep it—only that you might hold onto it until it could be passed over to your mother; only that you might offer her a clear path to it.

And marrying Aegon…

Marrying Aegon was the culmination of all your wildest dreams, of all of your secret wishes and most desperate desires.

“If you wish to say no,” his voice wobbles, his eyes squeezing shut as he prepares himself for your answer; for your refusal. “Then I will allow you to leave. I refuse to deliver you to Winterfell, but I will arrange for a guard to escort you to Harrenhal. I’ve heard word that Daemon has-”

You refuse.

Refuse to let him finish speaking, having decided that you had heard more than enough to make your decision, unable to care if it is the right one.

In a brief moment of reckless abandon, you tug on his hand hard enough to send him stumbling towards you, his bright eyes shooting open just in time to watch as you rise on your toes, bringing your lips to crash against his.

His muscles went rigid, eyes remaining wide-open as he felt your other hand slip into his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy locks, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Slowly, he relaxes. Slowly, he melts into the touch that he had missed so much, the one that he had dreamt about every night for the past several months that he had been forced to spend without you.

Muscle memory kicks in, his body abruptly remembering all of your secret encounters over the years, reminding him of all the little ways that you liked being touched, of all the ways that he could drive you wild.

He pulls his hand loose from yours, his palm instantly collided with the outside of your thigh. His fingers knot in the silky fabric of your dress, pulling it higher and higher, until he’s finally able to press his palm flat against the warmth of your skin, sinking his nails into the plump flesh.

“I’ve missed you,” he utters against your mouth, his voice so guttural and delicious that you nearly moan. His other hand slips beneath the fabric as well, ghosting past your abdomen to greedily paw at your chest, “And these,”

A ragged gasp slips from your lips as he kneads your breast. You pull away from his kiss, your head tilting back and exposing your throat as you indulge yourself in the feeling of his hands roaming against your bare skin. His sweet, pouty lips instantly find their way to your neck, suckling and kissing at the sensitive skin.

“Greedy,” you chide, the euphoria flooding your veins leaving you breathless.

“Should I take this as a yes, then?” He croons against your flesh.

You wish to be bold in your response, derisive, even; but as his tongue glides along the smooth column of your throat, you can’t bring yourself to sound anything other than desperate.

“Fuck—yes,” you practically moan the affirmation, yanking his hair and making him hiss.

“In that case,” Aegon’s lips curve into a playful arc, placing another kiss against your throat before saying, “allow me to show you to your throne, my queen.”

The whine that escapes you when he pulls his touch from your skin is something vulgar, and you don’t miss the smug expression that settles on his face. He’s pleased with himself, and you’re not surprised. After all, he had just barely touched you and you were already writhing against him, your months apart having left you so needy that you were mere seconds from begging him to take you right here on the floor of the throne room.

Before you can complain, his hand is swiftly slipping back into yours, tugging you up the stairs leading to the throne. When you reach the top, he motions you to sit.

There is something different about sitting on the throne now compared to when you were a girl—a certain power that warms your veins, sending your blood rushing to your cheeks. There is no time to ponder on the feeling, however; not when Aegon is sinking down to his knees the very moment you settle against the cool steel.

“What are you doing?” You’re practically panting when you ask the question, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you watch him, intrigued.

He’s still wearing a smirk when he lifts a hand, plucking the steel circlet from his brow before stretching out his arm and urging you to lean down just enough for him to place it on your head.

The Conqueror’s crown is nearly too big for you and sits askew, but neither of you seem to care about that as he immediately gets back to work, shoving the delicate fabric of your dress back up your legs.

“Swearing fealty to my queen,” Aegon finally answers, his lips ghosting against the side of your knee. “Taking care of you,” he continues, peppering light kisses along the inside of your leg, moving at a tantalizingly slow rate until he finally reaches the top of your thigh. “And eating as though I were a starved man.”

With no warning, he places his lips against your core, his greedy tongue already swiping against your folds. You fight the urge to throw your head back at the sensation of his warm mouth, trying to remain conscious of the jagged blades that surround you.

You can hardly breathe.

You can hardly think.

You can hardly do anything other than gasp as his palms squeeze against your legs, his nails digging into your skin as he forces them apart, keeping you from squeezing them shut as he devours you.

Shoving one of your legs over his shoulder, his right hand slips from your thigh to begin toying with your entrance, and the way you squirm against his touch only encourages him to shove two fingers inside of you. A lewd sound pours from your mouth, echoing so loudly amidst the throne room that you worry someone might hear and come find the two of you.

As his thick fingers plunge in-and-out of you, his tongue circling your clit, you grip the arms of the Iron Throne without thinking—a yelp tears from your throat as one of the blades slice into your palm.

“Shit!” You hiss, the pain in your voice urging Aegon to pause, his mouth shimmering with slickness as he looks up at you, watching as the blood trickles down your wrist.

His pupils flare, darkness overtaking the lilac in his eyes.

Reaching up, Aegon mimics your accidental movement, allowing one of the jagged blades to tear into his palm, too. “Hen lantoti ānogar,” he mutters the familiar Valyrian vows as he reaches for your hand, his pronunciation sloppy, but his voice tinged with undeniable admiration, “va sȳndroti vāedroma,”

(translation: blood of two, joined as one)

He presses your hands together, and his fingers intertwine with yours as the still-flowing blood begins to mix, binding the two of you together in a bond that transcends all else, uniting the two of you in an oath that could never be broken—not by your family, not by war, not even by death.

Getting lost in his eyes, feeling his blood drip down your arm, you find yourself praying to any God that might listen.

Not for absolution, disinterested in the thought of receiving forgiveness for the betrayal you commit against your mother by even sitting in Aegon’s presence.

But for strength.

Enough of it so that you might be able to play the role of the Green Queen, a gift bestowed upon you by Aegon. Enough of it so that you might grant your mother the victory she desires, the one she deserves. Enough of it so that you might be able to paint the walls red with the vile blood of the Greens.

Enough of it so that you might become their demise.

a/n - considering that I wrote this while sleep-deprived at one am, it actually turned out pretty alright lmao. still can't write smut but o well.

aegon looks pretty in the new trailer <3

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queenvhagar · 26 days

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"Actually Jace and Luc aren't bastards and are in fact legitimate heirs because Rhaenyra/Laenor/Viserys/Corlys etc are playing along that they're legitimate and still consider them in line for succession, therefore anyone calling them bastards or trying to stop them from inheriting are just bastardphobic and problematic"

Okay, once and for all... let's look at the reality of Westerosi society and its laws, traditions, and customs. It's true that bastards in fact can be legitimized by the king and/or lords of houses. That's indisputable.

But crucially, they first have to be acknowledged as bastards and officially be made legitimate by a legal decree.

A famous example of this occurring is the case of King Aegon IV Targaryen. He had several bastards that he then claimed as legitimate on his deathbed. However, Aegon IV never tried to hide that they were of illegitimate birth and acknowledged them as bastards first. Then he officially decreed that his bastards were now legitimate and had claims to the Iron Throne after his death. Crucially, he didn't just pretend they were legitimate all along and try to convince anyone otherwise - Aegon IV made a decree to legitimize them because he and everyone knew they were bastards, and only an official act could change an illegitimate heir into a legitimate heir. Because he did this, all of his illegitimate children became legitimate in the eyes of Westerosi law.

In an example of how failing to do this could create problems, Cersei Lannister had bastards that she tried to pass off as legitimate Baratheons. Ned Stark deciphered the truth based on hair color and obviously took issue with the fact that Cersei's children were not Robert's children and were not legitimate heirs to Robert's throne. Because Ned knew that Joffrey was illegitimate and Cersei was trying to usurp lawful, rightful succession with her bastard, he tried to prevent Joffrey from taking Robert Baratheon's seat of power after his death. Of course, Cersei never could have feasibly acknowledged their illegitimate birth and then had them be made legitimate by decree - doing so would have exposed her incest with her twin brother, and the king would never support her or the children in legitimization. Cersei did not have the support of the king. So, because people knew that Joffrey was not Robert's child, they did not consider him to be the rightful inheritor of Robert's throne. This is basic feudalism. Whether it's just or unjust, according to our modern perspective, that is just how feudalism works, and it works like this based on centuries of precedent and law that was created to maintain societal order. It is based on these laws that the entire feudalist society operates. Had the king officially legitimized Joffrey, though, there would be less ability to dispute his succession. He would be seen in the eyes of the law as Robert's lawful heir.

In a very similar yet uniquely different situation, Rhaenyra Targaryen had bastards that she tried to pass off as legitimate Velaryons. Everyone (literally, at least in the show - even Daemon and Laena knew from an entire continent away) deciphered the truth based on hair color (and skin color, in the show) and many took issue with the fact that Rhaenyra's children were not Laenor's children and were not legitimate heirs to seats of power, especially Laenor's (or his father's) seat of power. Because people, like Vaemond Velaryon, knew that Lucerys was illegitimate and that Rhaenyra was trying to usurp lawful, rightful succession with her bastard, they tried to prevent Lucerys from taking Corlys Velaryon's seat of power after his death (and based on illegitimacy, they would likely challenge Jacaerys' inheritance of the Iron Throne after his mother). Having illegitimate children created a huge problem for Rhaenyra.

However, unlike Cersei, Rhaenyra was a woman who had a considerable amount of political power given the context. Rhaenyra was the heir to the Iron Throne, and she also had the full support of her father the king. At any point, it was extremely possible that the king and Corlys could and would officially legitimize the Strong boys and let them take their place in the line of succession. They could even justify it as "Targaryen exceptionalism" if they want, as many Targaryen rulers had done with the law in the past (see: incestual marriage and Jahaerys I Targaryen). This would especially make sense in the case of Jacaerys, who many argue naturally gains his legitimacy to sit the Iron Throne from being Rhaenyra's son. Others at the same time argue that Laenor and Corlys' adoption and acceptance of Lucerys as a "true Velaryon" gives him legitimacy to sit the Velaryon seat of power, and Corlys and the king could have officially decreed this by legitimizing Lucerys as a legitimate heir to the Velaryon seat of power. The act of legitimizing Rhaenyra's sons was possible and always an option.

Of course, this would mean that Rhaenyra would have to declare them first illegitimate and admit to an extramarital affair with the heir to Harrenhal. However, the king could protect her from the fallout, much like he protected her from other consequences she created by her actions. He could claim "Targaryen exceptionalism" and provide justification for her actions (like that argument that she had to, as Laenor was infertile or otherwise unable to produce heirs, for example) and then not only would you have the king's word as law but you would also have the king's decree as law. There would be no room to argue that. Her claim to the throne would be cemented again by the king and her sons would be officially and legally made legitimate heirs. Everyone already knew they were bastards. Officially legitimizing them would have been the solution to any problems that created.

There is no doubt that having her sons officially legitimized would strengthen her claim more than trying to continue to (unsuccessfully) gaslight everyone that they were always legitimate, instead demonstrating that she believes herself to be above the law or somehow smarter than everyone else. However, that's truly the crux of this issue here. Rhaenyra sees no need to legitimize her sons officially, because she believes that the wants of those she is destined to rule are "of no concern" to her. She views herself as above others due to her blood and birthright, so she would never take the politically aware and advantageous step of actually trying to solve the problem she created when she birthed not one but three obviously illegitimate children. She would instead prefer to continue to rely on her father to defend her, even in his dying days. The problem comes, then, when her father is gone. With the king dead, who else could she rely on to solve her problems for her?

In summary, Jace and Luc could have been officially legitimized at any point. This was uniquely a situation where they could have been officially legitimized and this would have solved a lot of problems. But they weren't.

#feudalism existed....read a history book or something idk #properly tagged. if you don't like it make your own post thx #pro team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 2 months

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Do you think Rhaenyra would have killed her siblings or it was mere paranoia on Alicent's side? The book doesn't provide a solid answer for this, and in the show it's clear that Rhaenyra would never harm her siblings.

Hi anon, I kind of went into it in this post, and although that ask was about Jace vs. Aegon III, I think the principle remains the same. In short, no, I don't think it was paranoia, but to understand why, we have to understand why Rhaenyra's brothers pose a particular threat to the stability of Rhaenyra (of Jace's) rule. Keep in mind, this isn't a moral failing specific to Rhaenyra, but simply a byproduct of the conditions of her inheritance.

I don't think Rhaenyra would have wanted to kill her siblings (or their kids), or even have planned to kill her siblings, but I also think that ultimately what she wanted wouldn't matter very much. All it would take would be someone wishing to rise in her esteem claiming that Aegon was fermenting rebellion, perhaps producing a forged letter as evidence, or an eyewitness who would swear that he had been secretly meeting with former greens. Could she risk it? Her brothers are weapons that can always be used against her. And at some point, it would be out of her control. Rhaenyra won't live forever, nor will Daemon, and when Jace attempts to take the throne, with no less than 7 legitimate male claimants alive who would have a claim ahead of him, there are bound to be challengers. The Blackfyre rebellion began with much flimsier pretexts.

We have real life examples of this. Henry VII intended to keep the remaining Plantagenets alive when he took the throne, as long as they stayed loyal. After all, they were his wife's family members, and killing them off would not be a good look. But the remaining Plantagenets would always be a threat to the Tudors. Ten year old Edward Plantagenet, the son of George of Clarence, was imprisoned in the Tower of London for 14 years before he was executed in 1499 for a supposed connection to Perkin Warbeck's scheme. Henry VII finally took action at least in part because he was negotiating a betrothal between his heir and the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. The Spanish monarchs did not want their daughter marrying a man whose succession could be challenged, and so Edward, the strongest claimant at that point, had to go. Henry VII's son, Henry VIII, increasingly worried about the stability of his own succession, became vulnerable to the whisperings of opportunists looking to rise in the king's esteem and eliminate their own political enemies. At this point, the remaining Plantagenet claimants became a source of paranoia, justified or not. The arrest and execution of Margaret Pole, the niece of Edward IV and Richard III, was based upon a tunic found in her home that supposedly represented her support for her son's claim to the throne and the restoration of the Catholic church in England. The tunic was almost certainly planted by Henry VIII's chief minister, the protestant Thomas Cromwell, the same man who orchestrated Henry's divorce from Catherine of Aragon (yes, the same princess whose hand Edward Plantagenet had died to secure). And Henry VIII liked Margaret, she'd been the governess to his daughter, and though they had their ups and downs, he certainly didn't hate her. Still, when her son was put forward as a rival claimant and she was accused of supporting him, she had to go too. And of course, going backwards a bit, there are famously the princes in the tower, Edward and Richard, sons of King Edward IV, who despite having been officially declared bastards (a law, you see, was not enough), were still enough of a threat to the throne that they were (most likely) murdered, whether by Richard III or one of his associates. Mere rumors that those boys still lived sparked rebellions during the reign of Henry VII.

And you can say well, there's a difference, surely, in that Rhaenyra is the rightful queen, and these other people were not? But "rightful" is not some inherent state of being, it's dependent upon who is in power. Every person who sits the throne believes themself to be the rightful king or queen. But Rhaenyra in particular gained her position because her father exercised his power and declared her heir in defiance of the expected order of inheritance, contradicting the very decision that made him king in the first place. After Viserys dies though, for all intents and purposes his wishes cease to matter. He is no longer king, and lacks any mechanism by which to enforce his wishes from beyond the grave. At that point, people will choose to support one claimant or another, based upon their own concerns (dragon math, precedent, oaths, promises made by one or the other, existing family bond) and to consider Rhaenyra or Aegon (or any other claimant down the road) the rightful king/queen. Rhaenyra's security upon the throne, like the position of Henry VII or Richard III, is inherently weaker because she comes to the throne through unconventional means. All it takes is a plague year, a famine, or a foreign invasion for any random group of lords to decide that the true king Aegon/Aemond/Jaehaerys/Maelor should be on the throne and that they should start a rebellion in his name. If Rhaenyra feels insecure in her rule, or in Jace's ability to peacefully inherit after her, it only makes sense to eliminate any potential rivals, and her brothers and their children will always be a threat, no matter her original intentions. Even if Rhaenyra keeps her word and does not harm her family, her brothers and their line pose a threat to Jace and his line as long as both lines exist.

So Alicent is not being paranoid at all, she's being realistic. If Viserys were to disinherit Rhaenyra, or were Rhaenyra to accept the peace terms and give up her claim, she would become simply another sister, but Aegon can never be just another brother to Queen Rhaenyra because in the eyes of some, he will always be a potential rallying point for dissenters, and if not him then his brothers, or his children, whether they want to be or not. That's the point Alicent is making. It's not a reflection on Rhaenyra's character, it's just that if it came down to a choice between securing her reign/Jace's succession, and the lives of her potential political rivals, it's not difficult to guess what Rhaenyra would choose.

#asks #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #f&b #history

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haydenigmatic · 11 months

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You are the King’s third child, a Princess/Prince third in line to the throne of the eight kingdoms,Third in line to the throne, you have nothing to worry about , well of course you have your lessons but not as extensive as your brothers because your older brother is the heir and even if something happened to him, there is your other big brother.

Maybe you will be a pawn for your father in a marriage alliance, However, who knows what the future holds, something or someone could ensure that your dynasty will be nothing more than dust and you will have to fight for the throne as the heir apparent, or maybe you won’t have to fight at all…

DEMO ✸ MOODBOARDS ✸ ASK ME ANYTHING YOU WANT ✸ FORUM ✸ PLAYLISTS ✸

RO's intro post: ✸ Aurelia/n✸Damon✸Doria/n✸Hanniel✸

✸ Jasira✸ Nesrin ✸ Odette ✸ Sorin ✸ Verena ✸

Play as a Princess/Prince of a powerful dynasty.

Variety of dialogue depending on your gender

Find love among nine characters of whom two are gender selectable

Manipulate, or genuinely care for your people

Bond with creatures that used to be extinct

Blurry the line between good and bad

Form alliances to win the crown

Do anything to survive at court

♢ Lady/Lord Aurelia/Aurelian Mezzei (She/her - He/him) 2 years older than MC

Aurelia/n is a proud and skilled adventurer with a free-spirited nature, always yearning for new experiences and the freedom of the open road. Beneath their composed exterior, they possess a kind heart and a rational mind, but can become a formidable force when provoked.

"The world is a tapestry, woven with threads of wonder and complexity. With each step, I strive to unravel its mysteries and add my own vibrant colors."

♢ Lady/Lord Doria/Dorian Muriel (She/her - He/him) 3 years older than MC

Doria/n is a complex and enigmatic individual, shrouded in a veil of cynicism and guardedness. Their ruthless actions and lack of remorse paint them as a hardened figure, while their hidden heart of gold and capacity for loyalty reveal a deeper layer beneath the surface. They navigate life with a cautious scepticism, harbouring deep-seated wounds and a relentless desire for self-preservation.

"There's no room for sentimentality or second chances in my life. Once you cross me, there's no going back."

♢ Hanniel (Connell) Almlinger (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Hanniel is a chivalrous and principled knight, driven by a strong sense of justice and an unwavering dedication to doing what is right. Despite the shame he feels as a bastard, he possesses a warm and compassionate heart, and his experiences have shaped him into a resilient and empathetic individual.

"The measure of a person's worth is not determined by their birthright, but by the content of their character."

♢ Lord Damon Lavone (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Damon is a charismatic and ambitious knight, driven by a relentless pursuit of glory and recognition. His privileged background as the heir to the second wealthiest man in The Eight Kingdoms, combined with his natural talent and captivating presence, has made him a captivating legend and a force to be reckoned with. Beneath his confident exterior lies a fiercely loyal and protective nature, willing to go to great lengths for the ones he loves.

"To be ordinary is a fate worse than death. I was destined for greatness, and I will leave my mark on this world. Remember my name, for it will be whispered in awe and reverence."

♢ Lady Jasira Oursbar (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Jasira is a fiercely independent and outspoken individual, unafraid to challenge societal expectations and fight for what she believes in. As the daughter of a northern duke, she defies the traditional role of a lady, embodying strength, determination, and a rebellious spirit. With a background rooted in nobility, Jasira carries a deep sense of loyalty and a strong connection to her heritage, guiding her actions and shaping her unwavering pursuit of justice.

"I'd rather live a life of freedom and danger than one of safety and confinement."

♢ Lady Nesrin Parovus (She/her) 1 year older than MC

Nesrin is a cunning and intelligent individual, skilled in the art of manipulation and strategic thinking. Born into nobility as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she exudes grace and elegance while harbouring a hidden depth of ambition and determination. With her background of privilege and a mind shaped by political intrigue, Nesrin is a formidable force, always three steps ahead in the game of power.

"There's nothing more satisfying than outmaneuvering someone who thought they had the upper hand."

♢ Lady Odette Lavone (She/her) 1 year younger than MC

Odette is a compassionate and idealistic individual, driven by a strong sense of empathy and a desire for justice. With her noble background as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she possesses elegance and grace, often regarded as the epitome of a court lady. Her genuine kindness and unwavering devotion make her a steadfast ally and a beacon of hope in a complex and sometimes treacherous world.

"Love is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a profound connection that binds us together. With each beat of my heart, I choose to love fiercely, fiercely enough to change the world."

♢ Sorin of Soirsa (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Sorin is a resilient and resourceful individual, shaped by a challenging past as an orphan and a former courtesan. With a guarded demeanour and an independent spirit, she navigates the world with a keen intellect and a knack for survival. Beneath her tough exterior lies a tender heart yearning for connection, a hidden vulnerability that only a select few are privileged to witness.

"Life may have dealt me a difficult hand, but I'll play it with audacious grace, turning adversity into art."

♢ Lady Verena Sarpe (She/her) Same age as MC

Verena is a captivating and ambitious noblewoman, known for her seductive allure and calculated strategies. Born into a distinguished family, she carries the weight of her tarnished reputation and navigates the intricate web of political power with cunning and determination. Behind her enchanting facade lies a complex soul yearning for genuine love, battling her own insecurities and the shadows of her past.

"Love is a delicate dance, and I have perfected the steps. But be warned, for the fire that burns within me is as treacherous as it is enchanting."

#interactive fiction #cog #if game #choice of games #interactive novel #if wip #interactive story #intro post #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games #interactive game #romance #fantasy #medieval fantasy #IF #tbotd #cyoa #The Blood of the Dragon

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blueskittlesart · 11 months

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can we talk about how rauru is literally like. just zelda’s dad. like in that one scene where zelda looks like she’s gravely contemplating turning into a dragon and then rauru goes “i believe the answer lies in more research and understanding your power!” and she looks at him with such shock and awe. zelda’s adventures in the past are literally like her life but with a better dad. the queen promises her to help her figure out her power but dies before they can figure out a way how to use that power to safely save everyone. zelda desperately wants to help everyone and is clearly feeling the pressure of it all and the king is the one to tell her “hey i understand how hard you’re trying and how much you want to save everyone and we’re thankful for what you’re doing”. rauru actually acknowledges zelda’s dedication and the importance of research and technology, he is kind to her and never blames her for any of the bad things happening. he also never pushes zelda to make sacrifices and is the one sacrificing himself in the end - in botw, all the champions and zelda have to choose to make sacrifices to save the kingdom, but in totk rauru doesn’t ask that of any of the sages, instead recognizing his own responsibility as king and basically dying to save his kingdom. he’s literally zelda’s better dad.

same anon as the one raving about rauru also the differences between how the two kings treat link. they’re both tutorial figures but the way they guide is SO different. pretty much the first thing rhoam does is lie and pretend to be a random old man, being quite annoying as he sends link to do a bunch of challenges for a paraglider. the framing is so fundamentally different, rauru freely offers the information he has to link upfront, he apologises for the body modification, acknowledging link’s potential distress. rhoam basically keeps link on the plateau arbitrarily, presenting giving items and teaching link about things as challenges for link to overcome. rauru on the other hand aids link as best he can, tells him what he needs to do from the beginning (tells him to open the door which is pretty much the last thing he’ll need to do in the tutorial, telling him about the ultimate goal from the beginning), proposes solutions when it doesn’t work out (directs him to the shrines as a way to help him gain the strength he needs, as opposed to making him complete challenges to get a paraglider that in the moment seems like literally arbitrary conditions). rhoam telling link how much responsibility and pressure he has on him all of a sudden and how much he needs to do vs rauru telling link that it was wonderful to meet him and zelda’s accounts of him were all true. like. the framing. the difference in character. the deterioration of knowledge within hyrule falls parallel to the deterioration of its king’s kindness and virtue.

the differences between rauru and roham are crazy to me because one of them was so fundamentally good and one was so fundamentally flawed and yet. neither of them were able to save their kingdom. no matter how good a king of hyrule is, no matter what he gets right or wrong, he is still doomed to die. rhoam tried to sacrifice his daughter to keep hyrule alive. rauru did everything in his power to make sure she DIDNT have to be sacrificed. and in the end the outcome was the same. but the KINGS were not the same, and that difference in framing you mentioned i think is fundamentally a difference in legacy. rhoams legacy is to forever be the king who sacrificed children to save himself and died anyway. rhoam died a loser through and through, a king atop a throne of nothing but failure. i think that’s partially why he appears as an old man at first, because he KNOWS what being the king of hyrule means and he’s EMBARRASSED that his legacy is what it is. but rauru. in complete contrast, rauru was so GOOD. rauru died with his sages and his DAUGHTER alive to see another day. rauru ENSURED they’d live no matter what. he wouldn’t LET them sacrifice themselves for him. rauru put everyone else before himself. he didn’t expect or even tolerate self-sacrifice and yet when the time came he sacrificed HIMSELF selflessly despite knowing that it wouldn’t even WORK. rauru’s legacy is something to be proud of. he’s open to link because he has nothing TO hide. no regrets or stupid decisions. and he is remembered so much more favorably because of it.

#all rhoam had to do was not sacrifice child soldiers but that is apparently too high a bar for him #even in death rauru is like. apologetic to link about having to do all this shit too #which is crazy different from rhoam ‘go save my kid who i abused for years. fuck you no paraglider’ hyrule #LIKE. rauru and sonia are transparently the father and mother zelda never had. and then they both DIE. AGHHHHHH #totk liveblog #totk spoilers

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blueberrypancakesworld · 21 days

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The Farewell before the war

Aegon x aunt!reader

warning : targaryen incest, no use of Y/n, mentioning/implied war and death, kiss, mentioned sex, minor hurt/comfort, some fluff, age gap (Aegon 20s and reader early 40s)

Summary : The war was about to begin and the dance of the dragons would begin as soon as both sides mounted their dragons and both sides raised their swords. The farewell they knew was one that would last forever...a farewell that broke the queer custom of family.

Info : So with season 2 coming up my own sanity and the trauma we all will be getting I have written this as a little something. Have fun reading ;)

ps : He looks so good in the gif

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screams were the last to echo through the castle as the mood was still as exuberant as it could be. Aegon, crowned king after the death of his father, was the man the young king could say he was glad the Targaryen king had died...finally died.

The only thing he got from his father besides looks was ungratefulness, disgust and hopelessness. His father had never believed in him, never liked him, maybe there was a moment in his life when Aegon was still a helpless little baby that his father was proud of, proud to finally have a son, but that was almost two decades ago and it didn't matter anymore.

Not only did he now have the crown of Maegor on his head. The light-coloured hair that he really hated, which he had kept short a few years ago and was slowly beginning to see as a weapon.

Slowly beginning to see himself as a weapon. His people adored him, his mother was happy, Heleana his beloved sister wife for the first time did not flee reality but enjoyed her role as king with their children.

A fact that took guilt from his heart...even if he never wanted to marry her, at least there was this sense of responsibility towards himself, her and their soon to be three children.

His younger brother Aemond no longer simply saw him as that, he recognised him as the rightful dragon he could command and it seemed the respect between them was slowly building as he sat on the throne.

Wearing the colour green of his mother, the green he learned to love the green of his family and the gold of his father, the gold of his other side the gold of his aunt the youngest and only sister of the former king Viserys. The black one created among the golden dragons a firewyrm a dragon born without wings.

Her actual twin, Prince Aegon, died less than a year later. Daemon and Viserys have always secretly blamed her for the death of their mother because she caused the complications. Of course, only a woman could do this. But it was his aunt that the new and young king had adored for years.

She never saw him for what he was. A mistake a challenge for anyone. No, he was ,,My perfect dragon" as she had always called him ever since he could remember. Whether it was accompanying him to his chamber and looking after him when he was drunk on wine or milk of the poppy.

She was always there for him with open arms, encouraging him when it came to important fishing adventures, taking care of his injuries at the hands of the king, the queen or his own grandfather. She was also the one who gave him something he had wanted from her for a long time.

Something he knew he would eventually have to share with his wife, but the mere thought of his own sister... no, it disgusted him, which is why the then prince came to his aunt in the chambers. Perhaps it was the wine, her evening dress that lay so light and airy on her body, the colour gold that caught his eye.

She never wore red or black, preferring gold instead. It was a few years ago that he could finally have her, he didn't care that she was older than his own mother. It didn't matter that they had the same blood, it didn't matter that they were princess and prince.

It didn't matter that when he kissed her, tasting the sweet fruit, he was almost trembling with rejection. Her gentle hands laid on his as she tried to push him away for a moment but he wouldn't let her. He deserved love and appreciation too, his teary peasant eyes looking up at her violet ones.

It was those eyes they both couldn't get away from as she let her own nephew touch her again. He remembered his insecurity but was always reassured by her voice.

The wine that influenced his senses was taken away by her. The pain from the last blow faded as she kissed his cheek. Her warm, soft body beneath his, his hands touching hers came together and they held each other.

He felt safe, he was worth loving and she could give her love to someone. His lips on her body, kissing every part of her, watching her move beneath him. Surprised by his own almost clumsy noises when she soothed him with kisses.

He wasn't used to being treated so…gently and lovingly. She really showed him what it meant to be loved and not just a fuck with a whore. It was the night that not only he learnt what it meant to be a dragon it was the night he promised her that one day she would no longer be a firewyrm.

,,You will become a dragon one day, Princess...I promise," he had said to her as he lay beside her, but there was a determination in his gaze that seemed to burn like fire between them then. When he took her hand in a tender, almost alien gesture, her fingers kissed his while she stroked his light-coloured, tousled hair.

His eyes met hers again, ,,You are so beautiful " he had murmured, almost amused at how easily he could make his aunt blush. ,,Aegon...you perfect naive dragon," she had replied and pulled him close, but he had sensed that she was trembling.

At the time he had thought it was from the act, but now he knew she had been crying silently. She had cried for him because she knew that the gods would punish him more severely than her. But now it had been years and had anything changed?

He had children with his own sisters, more princes and a princess, his three little dragons, his own flesh and blood that he guarded. His mother, the Queen Dowager, seemed to be suffering even more than usual after the aftermath that had taken over the entire court.

Aemond, his own brother, had killed their common nephew Lcerys Velaryon. ,,Our sister's second bastard is dead," he had muttered as he withdrew from the small council, a smile trying to steal onto his lips but unable to do so.

He couldn't not in the knowledge that the fire inside him was telling him it wasn't over yet. Oh how right he was to be as the banners were lowered to their respective sides and the weapons were forged. So it was his duty to go into battle, not on the throne but on his dragoness Sunfyre.

But it was during this time when he was training with his brother and sworn sword criston that her golden dress became less and less visible. A sadness emanated from her when he saw her, his own naive anticipation only seemed to fuel her fear.

But no matter what he tried, no smile would appear on her lips until the day he stood alone in the dragon pit and the golden sun had not yet fully risen. His eyes were fixed with fascination on his dragon, the most beautiful dragon that ever existed, a pride he was only too happy to show.

He heard someone come to him as Sunfyre gave an almost cheerful hiss and moved his head in the direction of the entrance. ,,A golden morning for two beautiful naive perfect dragons" he heard her voice after days if not weeks and stopped in front of his dragon as he just watched her.

She no longer wore the gold, on the contrary it was his own colour reflected in his eyes. A dress with armour elements in green and gold that Targaryen had turned green.

A warrior, a dragon rider without a dragon, a diplomat who would be dispatched with a sword if she had to. ,,Naive? The fire on the war we will win," he said faster than he thought and heard her cagey laugh, which was underlined by a roar from Sunfyre. Perhaps there was once a possibility of a connection between the two of them, but these were years away.

His princess aunt approached him and placed her hand on the dragon's muzzle, the warmth seeming to soothe them both before she placed her hand on her king's cheek. ,,You know the distribution of troops, the numbers...the dragons and yet Aegon you maintain the notion of victory...a future of fire" she began, looking back at the dragon who also watched her, the beast though as old as its rider seemed to know what it would mean once they flew away from Kingslanding.

It would mean a war in which the green were outnumbered, a war of force and violence, a war in which once again she could do nothing without a dragon of her own.

A thought that Aegon slowly seemed to understand as he placed his hand on hers, his armour rattling slightly but still maintaining his slight, almost cheeky grin. ,,A war yes, but I promised you a dragon...a dragon of iron you shall have" he said, seeing with pleasure her confusion as he took her hand and led her lightly to the entrance of the dragon pit.

Despite everything, he held her tightly, held her firmly, held her as a king should, held the woman he loved, held the thing that had given him what he had always needed. Love.

She could feel the gold of the morning sun shining on them both as his hand gently wrapped around her hip, a grin on his face as he pointed to the castle, directly to the site of the throne room. ,,A dragon of iron that you will rule in my absence... and my death if it comes," he said so lightly that she thought for a moment he had lost his mind, but no, when she turned to him she saw that he meant it.

That for a moment he didn't seem naive was not beside him. He truly seemed like a king who kept promises, like someone who also recognised and believed in her. ,,You promised," she whispered, feeling a weight lift from her, the tension, the fear, the lies that were in the face of her own brothers' hatred.

She was something, she was a dragon of iron...the true king had promised her and kept his promise. ,,Oh my dear Aegon," she said and only seconds later felt his lips on hers again, his hands holding her close then as now.

His scent of leather, metal and fire met her sweet smell of smoke. ,,A farewell to the true queen who will be now," he replied, pulling her a little tighter against him.

A kiss goodbye, a kiss with a promise of a goodbye as the sun rose over the city and Aegon with Sunfyre, Aemond set upon Vhagar and the troops.

A farewell they knew would be one of the last as she sat on the throne that was gold and green and the princess received her promise in the midst of a war of fire and blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #hotd 2 #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #male x female #character x reader

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aizawasbrattyprincess · 2 years

Text

w h a t’ s m i n e i s m i n e

f!reader x ryomen sukuna (jjk)

tw: nsfw + non-con + monsterfucking + double penetration + breeding + dead dove: do not eat 18+ MINORS DNI

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Kinktober story #2 is with the king, Ryomen Sukuna. I can’t believe I haven’t written a Sukuna smut yet! Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this, but this is really dark, so please read at your own risk!

⋆ Kinktober Masterlist

buy me a ko-fi?

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

“What did you say?” your father challenged, his voice low and dangerous.

Behind him, your mother was silently shaking her head, begging you not to speak your mind. You had obeyed all your parents’ wishes since you were young, never questioning or disagreeing because it was ‘best for you’ even though you hated it. This time, however, it was not an option. You knew your worth, despite being a daughter in a lower-class noble family, and you were not going to tolerate being married off to a family full of misogynists. As poor as you were, you would not stoop down to the current head of the family, Zenin Naoya, and beg your to-be husband to save you and your clan. You wanted to be selfish, just this once. Was it so wrong to search for your own happiness?

Mustering your courage, you firmly replied, “I said no, father. I will not marry him tomorrow.”

“How dare you, wretched bitch!”

Before you even realised it, he had slapped you hard across your face, leaving an angry, red imprint on your cheek. You were foolish to think that your mother would step in and help you. Instead, she had done the opposite, reprimanding you for being rude to your father. You couldn’t believe it. The look in their eyes was enough to tell you that they were both cowards, willing to give you up just so they could survive. They had never cared about you, and you only had yourself to blame for not noticing earlier. This life was cruel, and you have had enough.

So you left and never looked back, grasping at your only chance at freedom. Ignoring the frantic pleas for you to return, you kept running into the deep forest, knowing no one, not even your parents, would dare to set foot in. No one was that suicidal. After all, there were rumours of a cursed demonic beast living in the forest which mercilessly killed humans should they enter its domain. Unfortunately, no one came back alive to confirm it. But you didn’t care. Whatever monster it was out there couldn’t possibly be worse than Zenin Naoya himself.

You didn’t know how long you had been on the run; all the trees looked the same, and it felt like you had been going around in circles. You were starting to get out of breath when it suddenly poured, the rain drenching you in seconds. With no lamp to guide your way, you trudged forward carelessly, hoping to find shelter in the darkness of the night. Thankfully, you quickly came across what looked to be an abandoned temple that seemed safe enough, so you went in without thinking twice. You could barely step forward without tripping over the uneven stone floor. Then, as if sensing your presence, the torches on the walls lit up all at once, startling you. You could finally see a long, winding corridor ahead of you, beckoning you to keep walking. Taking a deep breath, you kept close to the left wall until you reached a room that was completely bare, save for the empty throne in the middle. You could probably rest until the rain stopped, but something felt terribly wrong. You got the notion that someone, or something, had been watching you ever since you entered the forest.

“Well, well… What do we have here? A lost little bunny, seeking refuge from the storm.”

The low voice came from the throne. An attractive man with tattoos all over his body was sitting on it, legs crossed over the other and his chin resting on his right hand. You started to panic when the room began to transform — the walls disappeared altogether, and skulls and bones were scattered all over the stone floor that was now filled with a thick liquid resembling blood. Maybe it really was blood; you didn’t really want to know. However, everywhere you looked, you couldn’t find a way out. You were trapped.

“Who are you?” you questioned, failing to mask your shaking voice.

“Curious one, aren’t you?” he mused. “The name’s Ryomen Sukuna. I used to rule these lands thousands of years ago, and people revered me like a God. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Ryomen Sukuna. His name was all too familiar. He wasn’t just a monster. He was the King of Curses, responsible for millions of deaths in search of power and glory. It seemed like the rumours of him being resurrected were true after all. If you had remembered correctly, he was dangerous, highly intelligent and manipulative. There was no way you could fight, much less exorcise him. You were no sorcerer; you knew nothing of spells and the like. You needed to figure out how to escape his innate domain before he could make his first move. But with his piercing red eyes staring right into your soul, you froze, too scared to think or even breathe.

“N- no, I don’t think I have. Actually, I’m really sorry. I should probably get going now. My husband will get worried if I’m not home soon.”

“You think I’d let you leave here alive after lying to me? Know your place, lowly human,” Sukuna growled, and you knew you had messed up. “Don’t worry, you’ll make a fine meal.”

He rose from his throne, reaching his full height of over three metres tall and revealing his true demonic form. You hurriedly stepped back as he took a step forward, but all you were doing was prolonging your inevitable death. You didn’t want to die, not like this. However, if you hadn’t left home, you would be living and suffering for days on end, and dying by Ryomen Sukuna’s hand sounded like the much better choice. Accepting your fate, you stood still and closed your eyes, waiting for death, but it never came.

You felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, “Hah, to think I would’ve forgotten the sweet smell of a virgin! I guess it’s our lucky day. I’ll have you as my mate instead.”

With brute strength, his four hands grabbed your clothes and ripped them to shreds, leaving you naked in front of him. Your pathetic cries as you tried to cover yourself up had Sukuna laughing. There was no use in yelling for help; no one would hear you, and even if they did, he would never let them get close to you. Sukuna would’ve loved to see you fight back or run away, taking great joy in the thrill of a chase, but he wasn’t complaining about how downright submissive you were. Poor little bunny, he had frightened you to the core. He picked you up with ease, the tongue of the mouth on his stomach eagerly licking your body to taste how delicious you were. It was cute to see you struggling in his hold as if you could get him to stop. You let out a little yelp as he roughly threw you onto the throne, caging you in his arms.

“You should be thanking me. I never let anyone else sit on my throne.”

Sukuna spread your legs wide open, taking in the sight of your pretty cunt, just waiting to be used. As impatient as he was, he couldn’t fuck you straight away without prepping you. He wouldn’t want you to break before he could have his fun. Getting down on his knees, Sukuna devoured your cunt while his hands busied themselves with playing with your breasts and rubbing your clit. You were ashamed at how wet you already were for a demon like him. No, you weren’t enjoying it. You couldn’t possibly be. Yet, your body felt unbearably hot, and you needed more.

“Fuuuck,” you moaned involuntarily, succumbing to his temptations.

“Bet that feels nice, huh, little bunny?” Sukuna chuckled, looking up to see your flushed face growing redder as he inserted three of his thick fingers inside your cunt.

The foreign sensation made your hips buck forward as another strangled moan escaped your lips. You tried to shove Sukuna away, but the increasing pleasure was starting to cloud your mind. Just before you could reach your high, Sukuna slipped his fingers soaked with your juices from you and removed his kimono, revealing his veiny cocks. It wasn’t just one, but two fat cocks of monstrous length with both heads flushed and dripping with precum. He placed them at your entrance, slowly rubbing against your folds.

“No, no, no! Please, don’t!” you pleaded, hastily shaking your head. There was absolutely no way those things could fit.

“Are all humans so dramatic? Relax, you’ll be fine.”

Sukuna flipped you over before you could protest again. There was a tight grip on your hips. Then, he split you open as his cocks thrust deep inside you, your belly bulging and walls stretched impossibly wide. It hurt so badly that you screamed, but Sukuna paid no attention to your pain, too obsessed with how small and tight you were. He couldn’t remember the last time he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Your cheeks were damp and streaked, and your legs nearly gave out, but Sukuna held you steady as he drove hard and fast. When you thought you could finally accommodate his size, it felt like he was growing thicker. You orgasmed unexpectedly, spurring Sukuna to bury all of himself inside you until his tips hit your cervix. Your head lolled back, and your body trembled, but he wasn’t planning to stop any time soon, his unrestrained pace making you see stars that you thought you were blacking out. Sukuna’s sharp teeth sunk into the skin on your neck, claiming you as his while one of his hands returned to your neglected clit, harshly rubbing it until you squirted everywhere. You thought you had heard him whispering praises in your ear, but your desperate whines were too loud to make out the words.

Waves after waves of pleasure washed away the pain, and it felt like hours until his hips began to stutter. With a final few thrusts and a satisfied grunt, Sukuna pumped his seed into your womb, stuffing you to the brim and not letting a single drop go of it to waste. He finally pulled out of your abused cunt and admired your exhausted body, littered with bite markings and dried blood, now slumped against the throne. Your eyes began to flutter close, and you were about to pass out when you felt Sukuna moving you. Draping his kimono over your body, he pulled you onto his lap as he sat on his throne. You leaned into his broad chest as he gently caressed your dishevelled hair, lulling you to sleep. Sukuna found it amusing that you were so quick to trust him, and all he needed to do was show you a bit of affection.

“When you’ve rested enough, I’ll fuck you again and again until the only thing you can think of is having my cocks in you all the time. But,” Sukuna warned, forcing you to look up at him. “If you're not pregnant in the next few months, I will enjoy torturing you to death for wasting my time. Understand?”

Heart sinking into despair, you were rudely reminded of the role you were made to accept. Perhaps this was your punishment for all your sins, and there was nothing else you could do but nod. Sukuna grinned at your compliance and rewarded you with a tender but possessive kiss.

“Now, sleep tight and sweet dreams, little bunny.”

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

#princess writes #kinktober 2022 #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #zenin naoya #requests are closed

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themotherofblood · 11 months

Text

mene payi taabahiyan | d.t x reader

part one | masterlist

synopsis; inspired by the song O bedardeya. The aftermath of Baelon being engaged to reader, you and Daemon battle through the fall out and the agony of it all

smut warning: unprotected, hate fuck (kinda? more like sad fuck) exhibitionism, against a tree.

There was no air left in the Throne Room, your hand clammy against Baelon’s hand clasped over yours. You were sure that if your hand had not rested against the larger palm of his - you would fall, face flat - a deer learning to walk again, your legs had begun to lose its function. How were you to bow with honour and nor could you look at your brother. Baelon pulled you down with him, as the static noise of applause finally filled your ears, the madness that was to follow lingered in your mind. Lords and Ladies took turns approaching both Targaryen princes, Daemon shuffled his way out of the Throne Room, leaving his new bride to be flushed and irked. Baelon received appraisals on your behalf as people simply put your blanked nervousness as you being overcome with emotions.

Your own lack of breath might have left you looking maniacal, your brother Quentel followed you out, his larger legs easily catching up to your hasty steps, his palm yanking you back. While his own heart ached seeing your distraught face, your broken pleas finally graced your lips. “wh- why wasn’t I told?” your bottom lip quivering “I won’t fight this, but why?”

“It was always the deal, my children would have but my sons cannot, sweet sister,” he tucked a piece of your hair behind, “You will be Queen-” his eyes coated with concern “it would end the wars, once and for all,”

“I wanted Daemon, it was Daemon,” you nibbled at your lip to stop your tears, “I love, Daemon,” you pulled yourself away from him, finding no strength within yourself as you ran for the stables. Whisking past all attendants and guests, fleeing from the turmoil that wasn’t just the Red Keep but within you. The gown you wore pushed against your chest as you looked for Nysa, the stable boy looked startled as he knew no better than whether to help you or stop you. You raced past the gates, Nysa galloping with all her might as you tore through the streets of King’s Landing to its exit.

Even with all the air whistling through your hair, your body found it lacking there of, all you knew was you couldn’t pretend to be shy nor accept congratulations for something that should have never happened to either of you. Baelon wanted no woman(very verbally), you knew of this; why would he? If your devotions for Daemon were any testament, how would you find one to bring your skin ablaze like he did yours. For once, perhaps in the goodness of your heart you thought of Rhae Royce, Daemon would chew her apart if he acknowledged her presence in his bloodline at all. Your heart aching for all four of you, tied to a bargain that neither of you benefited from. All for the Realm, all for the King. All for peace.

The moon’s milky light lit the damp leaves lining the woods, the darkness was no challenge nor fear to you than the turmoil you already were in. This time you wanted to run, truly run and yet you couldn’t ride Nysa all the way to Dorne, you couldn’t hide behind the viper’s nest if you wanted to. For all you know, it might ruin Dornish relations with the Realm for good, as each Prince or Princess made of hot Rhoynish blood would find something to squabble over. You could stop this once and for all, no more dragons blasting fire on your homeland, no more dead brothers on pyres.

You stopped right at the edge of the Kingswood, shuffling off your saddle as you twisted Nysa’s reins on your palm. Leading a much confused animal to the dark forest, she an animal yet found herself aware of your sorrow. Smaller fireflies along with the moon gave you a sense of direction as you walked deeper in the darkness, your gown catching onto twigs that you paid no mind to, you wanted away from here, you wanted to go far away…with Daemon. Oh, Daemon

He might have beaten his hands bloody against a sparring dummy, which in truth he did. After weaning himself away from his new betrothed, he stomped down to the courtyard, screaming and shuffling off weapons to the ground as in rage he punched a dummy. The pain tearing through his knuckles. Much of his attention was occupied by brutalising a sack of leather and cloth, nothing mattered to him. You stood there, shoulder against his father and refusing to look at him as if you knew, perhaps you knew. If you didn’t, he knew you, your rage and your heart. You would have pulled away but you never did.

You walked along him, you were no longer his, his lover, his princess. You were the princess royal now, you would be the Queen now. Sat below a man who swore to never touch another after Daemon's mother died, his mother. All the rules he broke yet he couldn’t understand what he did to deserve this, like air pulled from his own lungs - he knew not how to breathe, how he was without you.

The sound of hastened anklets echoed past the halls, very distinct anklets, the only anklets in all of King’s Landing. You hurried fast, a blur of yellow silk hurtling past the dim walkway towards the stables, it took a while for Daemon to realise who it was but when he did. His eyebrows pulled to a tight frown as he found himself mindlessly following behind, you long gone until he mounted a brown mare of his own. Galloping towards the Dragonpit, hoping to catch a glimpse of you from the skies, no horse could ever outmatch the affliction for speed Nysa had.

Caraxes swayed in the air like the Wyrm he was named, flying lower to find his rider’s lover. The shuffle of trees below, lining right under the green of the Kingswood, Caraxes landed himself right at the edge. Daemon lit a torch, you should have never ventured into these forests alone. Even in the pain, he couldn’t not worry, you were his responsibility until you said the words with his father at the Sept. You would always be his responsibility. Daemon waked into the dark, much aware that his dragon looked behind to prevent any harm coming to him, he knew where you would be. Where you’d always sit with your legs tucked together, only this time he wasn’t sure you were of yourself.

You sat at the edge of the hill, tears coating your face. The silence in you had engulfed yourself and began to cause you more pain, so far lost in the relentless hammering of your heart against your chest you couldn’t pay mind to rustling in the woods. Perhaps it was a boar, waiting to have you pummelled to death so your physical body would be just as mangled as your mind was. Instead out poured the silver of your lover’s hair, eyes weary as he looked around to find you, and found he did. You waited for his eyes to soften like they always did when he saw you but they never did, the tight frown his eyebrows curled to never ease. Even in the darkness, the glow of his anger that glimmered within the purple of orbs was apparent, violent and unforgiving.

The cries you wanted to form words now were long gone and the angered lecture Daemon was to present you with, too was long gone. With many stressors felt, not a word shared between the two of you. Such silence wasn’t comfortable, nor was it seductive. It was painful, like a white hot iron rod met human flesh, it stung and it stained. Daemon resorted to pacing as you turned back to the blackened scenery, rustles of his footsteps against the leaves and the night call of grasshoppers within the bushes only added to the comical misery of it all.

“We refuse it, we refuse it and we wed each other at Dragonstone,” Daemon rambled, groaning the harder he thought “grandsire cannot wed us if we are already wed to one another, he won’t compromise his deal with the Seven.” He scoffed at the thought of it, it sounded bitter, resentful.

“And have you, exiled? Much less my head on a spike,” you said, speaking only the truth of the matter for King Jaehereys had done much worse to his own blood for evading his orders. It was a fine thought yet a foolish one, to be wed and then be exiled away to Essos to live your lives as you see fit. Though you understood Daemon, if not his grandsire he would come to resent you for the pain of losing his family would eat at his wounds sooner than later.

“What do you propose we do then, huh!” He yells, full throated, it echoed through the woods. His eyes wide and breath hot, his frustration bubbling to a tipping point. “Do you want to be Queen, forsake us for this…this farce?”

“Do not yell at me Daemon!” You scolded him back, finger pointed hot at his face as you stood up to approach him. The Gods themselves would have found this argument rather entertaining, for their evil devices have now put you in this predicament: “this… marriage was a political arrangement, my brother gave his word!”

“Oh fuck his word, you cannot mean it,” he groaned approaching you with much haste, his fingertips digging into your forearms “he is my father, father!” Even in the glow of the moon, gloss over the lilac of his eyes remained apparent.

“Don’t you - I,” you rambled, yanking yourself away from his turmoil because to thicken the air around you “don’t you think I know that, I know that!” you shook your head, there wasn’t a way out of this. Not without hurting your family and by extension putting your House in jeopardy. “It would soften over many political troubles, Daemon truly.”

“Just keep your mouth- you are mine, you are mine and I am yours,” his eyes furious and glaring, his already bleeding heart being gaped open of its wounds by your words “say it, damn it.” he reached forward once more to yank your head back, he couldn’t handle you not looking at him. Yet he regretted seeing the torn frown spreading on your face, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. There was a vicious sense of destruction covering the anger his sorrow was turning to. The words that fell after weren’t him, but perhaps the fires within him “we could let them talk, couldn’t we princess? Let them know the sweet Martell flower sullied with dragon seed? Hmm,”

“Who would want a soiled Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” his nostrils flared, his words rarely sounded sharp in his own head until a sharp slap rang down his ear, the sting radiating through his cheek. You pushed him away, on the verge of losing any last shred of composure holding your body on your feet.

“Fuck you Daemon,” you scoffed, chest heaving as the two of stared each other down, the moments away filling both your souls with such harrowing empty, a punishment worse than the black cells of the Keep. You wouldn’t survive this, you couldn’t. This time you charged at him, fingers digging into his jaw as you stood on your feet. Pressing your agony onto him through your lips, his own weight directed you backwards to the bark of the tree behind you.

Your lips never once left one another, the tasted of salted tears mixed with the taste of spiced wines on both your lips. Palms wet, as you pulled one another closer, not close enough - it wasn’t enough. That if you were to end this love, let it destroy you both once more. Daemon’s hands shuffled lower, skilled and hasty he felt the silks of your small clothes. His fingers swiped over your clothed core, perhaps your conscience swatted your moral back into you as you protested. You couldn’t, not her and not with the apt protection of lemon heads.

“Please,” Daemon whimpered, whimpered. Something you had never heard, when you pulled away you realised it was not just your own tears you had tasted. His forehead rested against your own, his breath hot against your lips.

You rested your head back on the bark, stroking the back of Daemon’s head. “Take me, take me Daemon,” you said, what other consequences were left to suffer than the fate you now had to face. You pulled at your skirts, bunching them at your hips as Daemon returned to lay his salacious affections upon your neck, letting his fingers yank down your small clothes as your fingers did his trousers.

You upper back nearly rubbed raw as you indulged into the arms of your lover, his head buried in your shoulder with your legs wrapped around his hips. The sweet sensitive tingling between your legs only made you cry harder as you pressed your lips against his temple “I’ll never love again,” you weeped, choking on your words as another moan ripped through your body.

“I’ll never live for anyone but you again.” he groaned, rutting his hips harder against yours as he chased his completion. His fingers rubbing tight circles upon your pearl, hoping to perhaps feel your cunny clench him empty one last time. The small yelps of pleasure echoed through the woods, the rustling of the leaves in the wind shielding this moment, frozen and intimate. You were sure search parties would be sent out to find you in no time. Your teeth sunk into the velvet pad upon Daemon shoulder, muffling the pleasure moans mixed with your tears as he snapped his hips to completion.

For the days to come, you succumbed to the orders of courts. Picking flowers and fabrics, being told what you liked, in which Baelon visited once to agree upon the fabrics of his doublet for the wedding. His late wife’s signet ring still adorning his little finger, you weren’t sure how any of this might take place. Were you to kiss at the altar and never see each other again? Baelon spoke of having you sailed to Dragonstone, said you might find comfort there but not once did he speak to you.

You had been summoned to the Small Council chambers once, to discuss a sensitive matter, one that wouldn’t have come to pass had the Old King not been so incessant about the number of heirs he had, with merely four left on the roster, your duty had only just begun as the Council demanded of a bedding ceremony. Their words had been far more colourful, painting all the reason why a room full of men should witness the deflowering of a young princess. Your body was rigid, there was nothing to deflower, you were no maiden and they would know. Baelon protested, palms slamming into the Council table with his fingers pointed at his father. This ordeal, painful as it is, he defended you, spoke of your honour and yet refused to let his soon to be wife suffer such humiliation in the name of customs.

You supposed the temper Daemon inherited had been apparent in that moment, as the proper Prince Baelon, spewed tinted words of his abilities to couple and create a child. The discussion dwindled to this, they wouldn't watch but remain in the chambers to ensure the deed was done and inspect the sheets. There wasn’t going to be a fight about this. You monotone motions as you followed your routine of lacing your arm with his as if you were to entertain together. You stopped him and he still escorted you to your chambers, you couldn’t look at him. They would find nothing.

“Daemon and I,” you began with a stutter, pulling yourself closer to step away from any onlookers “we -“ you shook you head, willing the words onto your lips “they won’t find blood.”

“They will,” Baelon’s voice stern yet understanding, you opened your mouth and closed it yet again. His silence willing you to believe whatever he might have devised to save your shame. “I have yet to apologise to you,” he hung his head.

“And I you,” you said moving away from the doorway of your chambers, Baelon looked to you confused. “It is no easy thing, you are forsaking much for the Realm,”

“You are wise darling,” he patted your palm rested on your knee. “I’ve watched you grow in these halls, you will be my wife in name, yes. You needn’t be afraid of me,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a broken giggle tore through you and perhaps in weeks someone finally saw the pain you were in. After your night in the woods, Daemon drank himself silly in the tavern’s of Flea Bottom, with a fortnight he earned the title of the Prince of Flea Bottom.

Daemon’s wedding was to resume first, while his bride to be still seemed aloof to the tensions around her, Jaehereys had the City Watch contained to keep his grandson from running away, though hidden somewhere deep in the city. Daemon returned the night before his wedding, only to tear apart his chambers in a drunken rage, refusing to marry Rhea Royce still, how you often wished you were a Prince or Lord, then even you could exclaim you distaste in such a manner. Baelon tried to contain his son, rumours swirled that one could hear the proud Prince weep to his father, the reason unknown and many speculated that Rhea was too old for Daemon's tastes. How you wished it were true, that age is what kept Daemon so curt to his betrothed.

The night before the wedding, you couldn’t sleep as you paced or lounged staring at a wall the entire night, you were willing him to come to you. He never did, having fled to the brothels once again, you picked apart the embroidery on your shift the entire night. The sun peaked through when you realised sleep hadn’t visited you once. Your handmaidens took much care in dressing you, the hems of gowns dropped, more conservative. You looked at yourself and you couldn’t find yourself, merely the shell of the lady you were meant to be, the Queen.

The procession had gathered in the Iron Throne, parts of the court divided between the Throne Room and the Grand Sept where Daemon should have been an hour ago, the people of King’s Landing flocked to the streets to witness yet another royal wedding. Perhaps catch a glimpse of the bride to be or their notorious Prince. The halls called to you as you ventured towards Daemon's apartments, your own betrothed away from the feasts and sure to be barking sense into his son. The thrashes and sound of darkened protests could be heard from three floors below.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Daemon bellowed, jangles of armour followed after as he screamed and fought. Jaehaerys too had been in his rooms, the King ordering his grandson be hauled to Grand Sept. You hid behind a seated section, watching as the King slowly descended the steps. How could a man cause such strife within his family and continue on?

For much love that you adorned each other with, instead of earning each other’s names, destruction came knocking down your door. You regretted it, the second the image of Daemon’s face reddened with anger graced you, the urge of running away creeped up with bile around your throat. Jaehaerys already departed for his wheelhouse, leaving just you, Daemon and Baelon in the corridors. The small interruption of your figure popping from behind the curtains allowed Daemon to truly yank himself off the Kingsguard men.

It felt merciless, far too merciless as you stood in front of him. Bound to duty instead of him, yet you wanted him still. Daemon had wanted to hate you, for nights since your last encounter in the woods. You were deceitful, you were merciless in your decision. Fucking away any memory of you on painted whores and yet he couldnt, noting was soft enough, nothing was you. His lover, his cruel lover, you were subjecting him to this misery while you quietly lingered on your own. Heart of stone behind the yellow of your dress but your eyes still wet, he didn't need your pity as he shook his head, praying that seeing him in his maroon doublet would fill you with sense, mayhaps flee why you still had the chance. Even at six and ten, for you? He would cut through his grandsire’s Kingsgayrd like meat. You approached him, cautious and stiff, your arms engulfing him once more, just once more.

“Please go Daemon, without anymore quarrel,” you whispered in his ear, squeezing him harder. Even in the warmth of your embrace, his heart shattered, scattering to a million tiny pieces. Taking the final honour, he never expected you to, he expected you to fight for him, fight for your love and here you twist the knife harder in his green wounds. He went rigid, he lifted his head from your shoulder. Purple eyes, lifeless purple eyes looking over your face with one sorrowful smile. He pressed his lips to your forehead pulling away, the Kingsgaurd stood ready once more to drag Daemon to the Sept but this time he walked, his princely stride thudding down the steps without a second look to you, his tyrannical lover with your black heart. A decision of much political gravitas, your loyalty to your house, earned you nothing but the carnage of black burning bodies of what was you and Daemon.

Having witnessed the worst of it, the words Rhea and Daemon shared, their hands wrapped together, the gold and red woven cloak of House Targaryen upon her shoulders, the kiss that sealed their union in front of the eyes of the Seven, “cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder” the High Septon had said, could your future be anymore cursed then it already was? What was the next worst thing, your death? Mayhaps his? The feasting said and done, Daemon not once made any efforts to dance with his bride as he revelled in his cups, Rhea, the poor lady made an offer and attempts to perhaps ease the scowl settled on her husband’s face to no avail. His daggered eyes steadily remained on your figure, conversing and laughing, laughing with other ladies of the court. Many of whom flocked around you to perhaps make your roster of ladies in waiting.

The worst of it was Daemon resuming to his bedchambers to find Rhea, dressed in her corsage, dressed to stir his loins. A good bride awaiting to be bed by her noble husband, he didn’t mean to be curt but all he could do was scoff at her, a beautiful maiden and all he could think of was you. He couldn’t bed his new wife with the same indelicate manner he did with the whores of Silk Street. As he turned to leave, Rhea, annoyed by right, held onto his forearm “please, it is improper not consummate- we have to,” she urged him, feeling the brunt of what she had shrugged off for weeks. Her husband did not want her.

“I don’t have to do anything,’ Daemon yanked his hand free before leaving Rhea alone to sleep through her wedding night.

The days after followed the same, ships loaded in for the royal wedding for every inch of Known World. Your gown finished and resting in your receiving chambers, you too rested under the loopy haze of Nightshade prescribed by the Maesters, the misery apparently resulted in you forgetting to eat, or even having much water or wine. Your head pounded for days as you were thrusted up like a doll in front of the mirror, your gown being altered, the veiled being fitted and the gowns for formal receptions after. As ladies in your bedchambers giggled and gossiped, feasting on candied lemon cakes, your mind so heavily focused on the lace across your waist. You fell, gasps and attendants rushing to your aid as you laid unconscious on the stone floor.

Baelon was the first to be informed about his bride to be’s condition, your brother Quentel there after, when Daemon finally returned from the brothels, stinking of ale and far more salacious than when he left. As Daemon heard of your fall, his feet were quick towards your chambers. The curtains pulled to shield away the light of day, you laid rested against a mount of pillows. Aemma sat next to you, a book comically rested against the hard swell of her belly as her other hand caressed your head. Daemon curled his lips inot his mouth as he approached your sleeping frame.

When Aemma spotted him, she gave him a sympathetic smile as she kept stroking your head. Even in your sleep a frown framed your angelic face, Daemon wanted nothing more than to soothe it away but his heart still held its resentments. He looked up to his good sister, opening his mouth to speak but she knowing all too well of his queries, filled him in.

“I hadn’t realised she was hurting so,” Daemon whispered, your palm clutched in his hands as he stared up at your face, the frown, the darkening under your eyes. He should have seen the agony but in his own selfish ideations he didn’t. “We don’t have much liberty in these matters Daemon, she cannot whore or break things as you do,” Aemma lectured Daemon, tutting at him as he shuffled a little too hard.

“I was so consumed by her decision, I didn’t see why she made it,” he said sadly, still rubbing circles onto your palm. Aemma lightly chuckled.

“Us women never have a choice, it was already made for her she had to adhere to it with a stiff lip,” Aemma said, looking down at you with melancholy.

Daemon returned to his own bedchambers that night, still lingering in the thoughts of the conversation he had with his good sister, a woman learned and wise that lectured some sense into the prince. “Us women never have a choice,” any other prince of reason would respect the predicament their lover had put themselves in but Daemon was going to make a choice for you. A choice maligned by all the laws of Westeros, his name forbade him to do so, but he wouldn’t be his mother”s son if he didn’t. He dressed himself in armour and armed himself with Dark Sister. A boy, making the choice of a man as he pushed open the passage door from his bedchamber and made hasty steps towards yours.

Your sleeping form, just as warm and dazed as he left your moments before. This time he bent down down to kiss away the frown on your face before wrapping the black blanket over your body and scoping you up. A darkened bundle of bones and flesh in his hand, his love, his heart he smuggled through the walls of the Red Keep. His heart hammering against his chest, as skirted past the watchful eyes of the night guard. He walked with you in his arms, a hood pulled over his head to shield away the glaring blonde of his hair.

“Ñuha dãrilaros?” the dragonkeeper questioned as he looked at Daemon with you covered in black blanket, he would question some more until Daemon glared at him

“If you do not wish to be fed to Caraxes, get the fuck out of my way,” he sternly whispered, though the strong effects of nightshade kept you under, he didn’t want to test his luck any further to night. With much care, Daemon bundled you closer to him as he fasten you to his saddle, and tightened the blanket around his waist “sovetes,”

Come morning, the private council called was a rage,a missing prince and princess. Daemon, though finding comical responsibility, left a note. Jaehearys in his old age coughed orders of bounties, as Baelon read over the written note by Daemon, one written with haste and yet with perfected penmanship. “Forgive me father,” Baelon began to chuckle, putting away the parchment as he couldn’t process the hilarity of the situation. All he could think of was Alyssa, Daemon was her son, through and through, defiant, fiery. A dragon. Jaehaereys began to bark at Baelon over the fit he had been in, “come now, father,” he coughed to halt his laughter “what did you think would have happened?”

Jaehaerys near the end of his life might have passed right there, having felt the rage he did with Saerra he never understood why his kin must always go beyond his orders, always. “My son has become more a man than I am, there throw a feast,”

“He has a wife, he must return!”

“Unless you wish to outlive Viserys and I, this is one crime you must let go unpunished!” this time Baelon raised his voice, “for once, think about my boy and not about the Realm,”

Daemon had not planned where he would head, but Westeros wasn’t his home for now. You were, just as you always would be.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #baelon targaryen #baelon targaryen x reader #daemon au #daemon targeryan #daemon smut #daemon fanfic #daemon prince #daemon fic #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #hotd fic #daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #got x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

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ultralightpoe · 2 years

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Kin of Mine - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: This is a series following blood of my blood, following Aemond through parenthood

Warnings: smut, kid on kid violence, maiming

Word Count: 2603

Description: Aemond has his family, now he must keep them safe

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next part: Kin of Sorrow

The challenge to Aemonds heir came as no surprise to him, it was bound to happen eventually.

Standing to the right of the throne room, once again looking up to his father in a patient wait for him to choose a side. This time, instead of coming here by himself, you stood behind him. Heavily pregnant and holding the hand of your son Caspian.

Aemond tried not to be irritated at you having to be here, even when the doctor demanded you rest due to an injury regarding you slipping off vhagar whilst 8 months pregnant. You should be in your chambers, laying in your bed and not stressing the child any more than needed.

He could not survive another chance of losing you or your next babe.

To his left, also facing the throne, was the challenger. Your deceased husband's pudgy little brother, who had taken the role of lord of his land, came to King's Landing to challenge the fact that Aemond named Caspian his heir.

He came to take Caspian as a ward. He came to take Caspian away from Aemond and you. A threat Aemond would not let pass kindly.

“When my dearest brother was murdered in cold blood here at the castle-” The stout man argues. “We awaited Lady Y/n return with my brother's son. As is expectation and tradition. She would have been given a room to stay in as Caspian became my ward. It is his legacy. Instead I am told she married the young prince and he named Caspian as his heir.”

“May I remind you, Lord Fervor, that your brother attacked the prince in the training yard. Multiple witnesses saw it. It was an act of defense.” Alicent argues, voice calm as she looks to the man.

Aemond hadn’t spoken to his mother since he married you on Dragonstone. He had sworn his sword to Rhaenyra and he intended to keep you safe. His half sister stood beside you today with the rest of her family, including her bastard sons.

“It went to trial Lord Fervor.” Rhaenyra agrees, nodding her head softly and rubbing your arm as Aemond looks to her for a split second. He gives you a small smile which you turn your nose up to.

Shit, he was still in trouble with you. That he would have to fix. If Aemond had to sleep on the couch one more time he would go nuts.

“It is still wrong. Caspian is a-”

“Caspian is Lady Y/n's son. And we will not drag the boy away from his mother.” The hand of the king snipes, looking to his grandson with a dignified raise of brow. “In most cases the mother would go back but in this case Aemond married her to amend his mistake”

Bile rises in his throat at that. He had married you because he loved you, and here they were talking about you like you were a piece of meat.

“It does not make sense for him to name Caspian as his heir.” The man's voice was raising now, taking a step towards the throne. “A Targaryen heir without a dragon is-”

“He has a dragon.” Aemond snaps, fueled on by the soft whispers of his son behind him, just learning to talk. “Upon my marriage to Lady Y/n I gifted her son with a dragon egg. Targaryen tradition.”

“A dragon gifted to someone without any Targaryen blood. You really expect me to believe that?!”

“To what are you implying?” Aemond stepped towards him, standing a little straighter.

“Your involvement in that boys life is intriguing.” He seethes, hand flying to his sword laid at his waist. “One might say that-”

“LORD FERVOR I RECOMMEND YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE!” His father calls across the room, guards all moving in from all sides.

“Say it.” Aemond urges, jaw clenched as he takes another step forward. “Say. It.”

“SHE IS A WHORE AND THAT THING IS YOUR BASTARD-” Aemond didn’t aim for the neck, or the abdomen. No, this time he swung his sword right down the mans head.

Blood splattered over him as everyone gasped, Caspian screaming and crying in the background.

He doesn’t waste a second on the body, moving to turn to his wife and son. He finds them held together, your arms around him as you cradle his head.

Shame and dread fills his body as he moves towards you both, placing his hand on your upper back just as he always does when he wishes to lead you away. You follow his silent order, walking out of the throne room with Caspian in your arms sobbing.

You do your best as quieting the boy but Aemond softly grabs him from you before you stress yourself out. He quiets down as he reaches for his fathers eyepatch, once again desperate to see the gem underneath.

“I must go see Halaena after that.” You state, turning to stomp off.

“Nuh uh.” He’s quick to snatch your elbow and spin you back gently, giving you his best glare. “How much longer?”

“I have no clue how long I will be.” He hated when you played foolish, hated it because you were cunning enough to avoid his actual question.

Reaching a hand up to rub at your jaw comfortingly and bring your forehead to his. “I meant how much longer will you be mad with me, little bird?”

“Five more days.” You jest, leaning into his touch as Caspian touches his own forehead against your cheeks in an attempt to join the love.

“What may I do to reduce my punishment?”

“Maybe we shall figure it out tonight.” You tease, kissing his lips softly. When you pull away Aemond follows, desperately, but you place your finger on his lips to push him back softly. “Do not let that thing hurt our son.”

“Do not let Haleana eat you.” He smiles, watching you waddle away before taking Caspian to the dragonpit.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He keeps one hand on Caspians stomach, keeping the boy to his chest as he stays crouched down to hold both their hands out to the blue dragon babe in front of them.

He has done this every afternoon with Caspian and his dragon, Vhagar sitting not far behind them watching tiredly. He moves Caspian closer, inch by inch. “Closer now, closer…..closer.”

Caspian giggles as his small hand finally touches the dragon's snout, a low hum coming from the dragon at the movement. “There it is. Say hello to it now Cas-”

They work like this for hours, teaching the young boy words he needs to learn while bonding the dragon and the boy.

Aemonds attention drags to Vhagar who began stirring around. “Easy now Vhagar.”

He pulls Caspian up into his arms and goes to Vhagar, rubbing her snout. “What’s going in-”

“Prince Aemond!” A maid calls, running into the pit. “Your wife…..the labor has begun.”

Aemond is tearing through the halls in a second. He hears your screams down the hall, handing Cas off to the awaiting arms of a handmaiden before fixing himself up and moving to enter the room.

“My prince, you shouldn’t.” A young maid stops him at the door. “My lady isn’t in a decent manner-”

“Fuck off.” He sneers and pushes past her to enter. You were panting on the bed, his mothers hand gripped in your own as Rhaenyra rubs a warm washcloth on your forehead.

“Mother-” All their heads snap to his voice, his mother standing tall and letting go of your hand.

“Aemond, you should not be here. It is indecent.” She snaps but he once again shoves past the argument to grip your hand.

“How are you feeling, little bird?” He whispers, pushing the hair out of your face as your grip tightens, a painful moan coming out of your mouth in an answer. “Ah, I see. My princess is giving you a fight….”

You crack a smile at the jest, tugging his hand closer to your chest to hold onto like a pillow.

3 hours later Aemond is sitting with you on the bed, a small bundle in your arms as he looks down upon both of you in quiet contempt.

“Rhaenyra.” You whisper and Aemond turns to see where his half sister had gone. “No. Look Aemond. Rhaenyra.”

He understands when you rub the baby's nose very gently, tears filling his eyes as he kisses your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond hated his daughter.

Hated her in the fact that she absolutely enjoyed scaring the life out of him every single chance she could get.

Rhaenyra is five now, her white hair braided out of her face as she glares at him in the dragon pit. “Rhaenrya. BACK. DOWN.”

His voice echoes around the pit, watching as his daughter stomps her booted foot in the mud, shaking her head. “If I have to say it one more time then you are banned from the dragonpit for another week.”

He would never, even the thought of keeping one of his children from their dragon has his gut churning. He would never want them to feel that pain.

“Mom says-”

“Your mother is not here and she was discussing your history lessons when she said hands-on learning is important. I have told you time and time again not to rush the dragon.” He snaps, pulling her close to his side again. “Your brother's dragon is far too large for you to be pushing like that. Do that again and you will be in severe trouble. Do you understand baby bird?”

She doesn’t answer, instead swing her braid and storms off, leaving her father kneeling in the mud watching her disappear with a grunt of disapproval.

“Where is Rhany going?” Caspian calls, running forward to stand by his father.

“Home.” Aemond sighs, standing to bring his son back to where his dragon sat. “Now show me what you’ve been practicing.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vhagar flew straight up into the sky, dragging a scream from your lips as Aemond laughs, feeling free.

These were some of his favorite moments with you. His thighs pressed against yours, your back firmly pressed against his chest and your ass rubbing against him perfectly.

“Are you going to take back your mean words?” He asks into your ear, arms wrapped around you to keep hold of Vhagars reigns.

“Aemond Targaryen if you do not ease your dragon this instant-” He grabs your neck then, pulling your face back to look at him.

“Say the magic words then little bird.”

“FINE! YOU’RE THE BEST FUCK IN WESTOROS!” You scream as Vhagar keepings going, Aemond laughing as he calls for her to smooth out. “You utter child.”

“Easy now, wife.” He says lowly, slipping a hand from the reins to start dragging your dress further up your thigh and touch your center. “I’m just having some fun...”

A soft moan falls from you as your head falls back into his shoulder. “Aemond…..Aemond this is dangerous.”

“Just give in….. Give me what I want little bird.” He whispers, fingers sinking into you in a quick pace. “You can do that, you can give me what I want, can’t you?”

“No.” You moan, trying to stop his wrist. “You can barely tame the first Two. I am not giving you another.”

“Just one more. Another Targaryen, please.” He nips at your ear while his fingers thrust up. “Just give in. You know you’ll let me-”

“I will never fuck you again if it means we don’t risk another child. Do you hear me Aem-”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“-OND FUCK!” You scream, head hitting the wall of the dragon pit as your arms wrap tighter around him, his thrusts harsh and heavy. Your nails are digging into his tunic, clawing to get to his skin as the sound of skin slapping fills the air.

“This is all I fucking want-” He grunts out, the hand placed in your hair fisting and tugging back until your moaning from the pain. “All you have to do….fuck…. Is let me fuck you full until you’re carrying again.”

“People could walk in!” You gasp out, head hitting the wall of the small dragon stable currently empty, dragging him closer.

“Then I suggest you cum birdy.” He mutters slowly, speeding up with a vengeful look.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caspian Targaryen, first of the name, was a fearful creature.

He had a dragon, an intensely protective father, a younger sister with a crazed madman look, and a cunning mother. But he also had the bastard title.

It was never proven, and it would never be fully proven. But everyone knew, the eyes were the ones that gave it away. He had his sisters eyes, his fathers eyes……Targaryen eyes.

The boy often had vivid dreams of his fathers eyes, having been so interested in them growing up it was only fair he admire the way his father carried himself, knowing that he was insecure about it.

The only times Caspian saw his father without his patch were near his mother, you refused to kiss the man with that thing on, claiming it ruins the rugged effect. How dare he even try to snag a kiss before removing that ugly piece of leather.

His father would shake his head and pretend to be mad, but the way he stood a little taller and smiled a little larger told Caspian that this little family his father had made were the few people who didn’t target the eye or treat him as a monster.

So Caspian took after his father’s example and refused to back down as the bastard rumors spread. But that was easier said then done.

His cousin, Jaeherys, was a cruel individual. He seemed to have it out for the boy as long as Caspian could remember.

They were all forced to train together, just as his father had trained with his cousins growing up, a way to keep the family close. But Jaeherys was using the time to attack his cousins.

It had been a rough day in the training yard, and Caspian had not only thrown Jaeherys to the ground but had accidentally kneed him quite hard. Once Sir Criston dismissed everyone Caspian knew his cousin was going in for the kill.

“What’s the rush dear cousin?” Jaeherys calls, picking up a dagger from one of the tables. “Are you rushing off to your mommy and sweet little sister?”

Caspian doesn’t give him an answer, instead he speeds up, not liking the dark. But two of his cousin's goonies snatch both his arms and force him to his knees in a struggle.

“You know…. Our grandmother had a brilliant idea the other day.” His cousin starts, coming to stand in front of the boy. “Once they put my father on the throne they are going to marry me off to your baby sister. A way to keep the alliance with your fucking traitor of a father-”

“BACK OFF-” Caspian struggles, panicking in the hold of the two boys.

“You think your baby sister would like me fucking her?” His cousin laughs before showing the knife. “It’s disgusting that I have to train alongside you, nothing but an unwanted bastard you are.”

“Fuck. You.” There was bile rising in his throat, he was going to be sick. But what would that matter, in a moment he would be dead.

“I have an idea, lets make you look more like your father….. That way no one confuses you again.” He laughs and brings the knife high up into the air, bringing it back down as a large cry of pain fills the yard.

—------------------------------

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#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #House of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine

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crimsonbastard · 22 days

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That's it. I've had it with these brain-dead takes

Rightful Queen:

Firstly, what the fuck do you mean when you say Rightful? There's no "Rightful" monarch in ASOIAF. There are only the ones who are elected as per the laws in which the Realm Functions. So There's only Lawful Queen or Lawful King.

Daenerys: Wasn't the Rightful Queen by blood, but by conquest (mass murdering an entire city that surrendered), but even then, she had contenders to the Throne in the form of her nephew. Her family was deposed through rebellion and they were in exile.

The throne no longer belonged to her unless she forcefully claimed it back. After Robert's death, the crown goes to Stannis, the next in line, followed by Shireen, considering Robert's children aren't his. But since all the legitimate Baratheons died and Gendry wasn't legitimized yet, the Lannisters covertly took the crown by continuing to pose Cersei's children as true borns (the children atleast took after one of the parents, making the argument for their legitimacy somwhat strong, Unlike Rhaenyra).

Daenerys took Kingslanding by force, decimating the city and it's populace with Dragon Fire and seated herself on the Throne. So yes, she has become the Lawful Queen by right of Conquest, all that's left is to eliminate the equally Lawful Contender to the throne, it being Jon.

Rhaenyra: Despite Viserys i (who was the younger of the two candidates, but got elected over Rhaenys who was older than him) naming her as his heir after Aemma's and Baelon's death he never really prepares her to rule in the future. He doesn't teach her the ways of Politics, nor does he reinforce the line of succession. He instead puts his daughter's claim in jeaprody and remarries, and sires THREE LEGITIMATE SONS. As unfair as it sounds, Westeros follows Male Primogeniture, the very system that made Viserys i heir to the throne over Rhaenys. As long as Aegon ii, Aemond and Daeron lived, Rhaenyra would always have challengers to the Throne.

"Half-Blooded" Murderer named Aegon:

Funny how TB thinks just because someone's Half-Targ (half inbred), It automatically makes them less of a claimant to the throne. Paternity goes a long way in Westeros.

Aegon ii is the first born son of King Viserys ii Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. He's the result of a legitimate marriage between two ancient and powerful houses. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith, crowned with thousands as a witness. As shitty as his character is in the show, he's a more legitimate claimant to the throne compared to Rhaenyra and her illegitimate children.

Jon Snow (Aegon) being confirmed to be R+L=J in the show doesn't make him a "half-blood" by any chance. He's the Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The show states that Rhaengar annulled his marriage with Elia Martell, making Jon a "legitimate" (as per TB) contender to the throne.

There's also the implication of the term "half-blooded" used in the post. Just because Jon and Aegon ii are half Targaruen doesn't make them less of a claimant. It also sheds light on the Targaryen Exceptionalism that TB drinks like kool-aid. Anyone who's non-targ or is half-targ and isn't on the Targaryen side is automatically treated as lesser.

#anti team black #anti rhaenyra stans #pro alicent hightower #anti team black stans #pro team green #anti house targaryen #pro house hightower #aegon ii targaryen #pro jon snow #anti dany stans #anti daenerys stans

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luxtout · 6 months

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Flames Unveiled (Chapter 1- Leather and Letters- Aegon II Targaryen X (Bastard Velaryon) Reader X Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After six years living away from Kings Landing, you and your family are summoned back, for reasons unknown. Your mother, Rhaenyra, has different plans for you. You swore to always protect your family, but at what cost?

Warning: Cursing, angst, injuries

The air was sweet as you stepped out of your chambers, a gentle breeze brushing against your legs and sending a shiver down your spine. The place you've called home for the past six years was eerily quiet, not even your younger brothers were awake in these early morning hours. Normally, the songs of dragons would awaken you, but on this particular morning, the silence was unnerving.

The corridor echoed with each step you took, the faint sound of your dress grazing the floor causing your fingers to clench the fabric. You finally heard the soft murmur of your mother, Rhaenyra, speaking in Valyrian.

As if she sensed your approach, her voice hushed, waiting for you to open the large wooden door to the viewing room. A sense of curiosity overcame you as you wondered if someone else was in there with her. Your hand brushed the ridged doorknob, twisting it gently, as if you intended to surprise her. You could hear her mumbling in Valyrian.

You pushed open the heavy door, a rush of cold air meeting your face. Rhaenyra stood beside a massive wooden desk, engrossed in reading a parchment.

"Skoros iksos sīr secret ao līs whisper se ȳzaldrīzes isse nonnative ēngos?" What is so secret that you must whisper and speak in a nonnative tongue? Your lips curled upwards as you noticed her jump at the sound of your voice. She was dressed in a deep red gown with black accents around the skirts and collar, her hair elegantly braided on her head, creating a crown-like effect.

"Gōntan nyke wake ao, tala?" Did I wake you, daughter? Her voice was soft and genuinely concerned.

You quickly shook your head, your smile softening as your hair cascaded over your shoulders. "Daor. Nyke istan worried everyone ēdan geptot issa." No, I was worried that everyone had left me. It was a genuine fear that occasionally plagued you, which caused you wake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, fearing your family had disappeared. You kept your head down, lacing your fingers together, trying to ignore Rhaenyra's gaze.

"Your Valyrian has improved significantly. It is good for the future heir to the Iron Throne to know the ancient language." You were lost in your thoughts, not realizing that Rhaenyra had approached you, gently taking your hands in hers. Her smile was warm and comforting, knowing the challenges you faced as the eldest daughter, with high expectations from everyone in the court and beyond.

"Mother, you have not named an heir yet," your smile faltered. "The last I heard; Grandsire has been in good health. Why discuss such politics?"

Your mother's eyes softened, and her smile waned ever so slightly, a change so subtle that only you would notice. Her hands left yours suddenly, and she held your face in a surprising manner. "You're right, my love. Let's have breakfast."

She guided you out of the room, but you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the parchment left on the desk, a raven perched beside it. You were about to voice your concerns, but by then, you were already walking down the hall, entranced by the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.

Entering the dining room, a long wooden table stretched from wall to wall, a fireplace at the far end of the room warming your cold hands. The curtains were drawn, allowing natural light to filter through the windows, while candles on the table illuminated the carefully set place settings by the handmaidens.

The cook's assistants hurried around, bearing plates of various meats, such as bacon, pork, and sausage, alongside bowls of porridge and poached eggs. The meal was complemented with cheese and bread. The table's centerpiece featured a colorful array of fruits, and you couldn't resist plucking a grape from its vine.

Your stomach rumbled in anticipation as they finished and bowed to your mother, then to you. You wanted to sit down and devour everything in sight, leaving nothing behind, but you waited for your brothers to join you, wherever they might be.

"It's best that you allow your handmaidens to assist you with dressing," Rhaenyra began, "and perhaps let them brush your hair."

She did not glance in your direction, already seated and waiting for her sons. You looked down at your dress, a simple blue gown adorned with gold embroidery, resembling tree leaves, you thought. Your hand instinctively went to your hair next, where knots had formed at the nape, although your mother couldn't see it beneath the cascade of waves falling to your waist. Your hair was brown, but a streak of white at the front of your hairline framed your face like an artist's touch.

"I can manage on my own. I am not a child; I am seventeen years of age, soon to be eight-"

Your words were abruptly cut off as you saw disappointment in your mother's eyes. "Exactly. You are a woman grown, yet you dress and act like a child."

Biting your lip, you tried to hold back hurtful words. "If you didn't make me leave, I would be a properly educated woman like you want!" Rhaenyra remained silent, her expression reflecting her sadness.

Footsteps echoed as your brothers entered the room. Jacaerys and Lucerys walked in silently, their hair in disarray, and their clothes looking unkempt. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your mother, but she smiled slightly, conceding defeat. You were well aware of how you were treated differently; your brothers could do whatever they pleased, say anything they want, fuck whoever they want, while you, a lady, were constantly reminded of what not to do, what not to wear, and how not to speak. It was fucking annoying.

"Good morning, Y/N!" Luke greeted you with a smile as he took a seat next to Rhaenyra. He reached for the mead, but she swiftly pushed it out of his reach.

"Good morning, Luke, Jace. Finally, you've awakened." You tried to suppress your anger, but, in an instant, your previously hungry stomach felt completely satisfied. Nonetheless, you loaded your plate with bacon and eggs, deftly taking most of the fruit before Jace could protest.

"Where is Daemon?" Luke asked, looking around with a fork halfway to his mouth.

All eyes turned to your mother, who cleared her throat awkwardly. "He is... not here. He will be back before nightfall."

Luke nodded and continued with his meal, hummed appreciatively as he took another bite. Jace, on the other hand, nearly ignored his utensils entirely, and your mother had to intervene with a stern, "Jace."

The cries of your younger brothers could be heard as Joffrey ran into the room, with a wet nurse following close behind. "Ma, Aegon and Viserys won't drink their milk, they just cry."

A chuckle escaped your lips as Joffrey described the morning ordeal with the infants. Rhaenyra tried to explain that they didn't yet understand the timing of their meals, still being quite young.

"Come, Joffrey," You pulled out a chair with your foot, earning a disapproving look from your mother. "I'll make you a plate."

Joffrey eagerly hopped around the table and climbed into the chair. You filled his plate with fruits, porridge, and bacon, although he protested about the eggs, which he didn't like.

Seeing the heartwarming sight, your mother offered a gentle comment, "You would be a beautiful mother."

It was barely a whisper, but it caught your attention. "May I be excused? I would like to fly Lyrax; he has been quite stubborn of late."

Silence filled the room as Rhaenyra nodded, and you quickly left, heading towards the door.

Dressed in your riding leathers, you hadn't taken more than a few steps before someone called your name.

"Y/N!" Turning around, your brother raced after you. "Wait!"

You slowed your pace as you continued weaving your hair into a braid, "What is it, Jace?"

His steps quickened, and he finally caught up to you. "Mother wants me to recite the Targaryen lineage... in Valyrian."

"What does that have to do with me?" You laughed as you finished your braid, noticing his softening expression. "When I get back, I will help."

Jace spun you around, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for this, sister!"

You nodded and made your way to the "Dragon Pit." It wasn't as grand as the one in King's Landing, but it served its purpose in keeping your dragon safe. "Lyrax! Māzigon naejot issa, Lyrax," you called. His cooing and heavy steps greeted you as he approached. His scales were white and light gray, resembling the moon, with eyes a shade darker than black.

"Sȳz, Lyrax. Ivestragī īlva sōvegon." Good, let's fly. He lowered himself so you could mount, and you grabbed the reins. "Sōvegon."

Lyrax took a running start, leaping into the air and spreading his wings. The wind whipped through your hair as you gripped the reins with leathered gloves. He soared beyond the clouds, gliding with outstretched wings.

There was one word in Valyrian that you had always wanted to command Lyrax with, something your mother would kill you for and feed your remains to Syrax.

"Dracarys!"

Your voice echoed as you felt the vibrations from your dragon's throat, spitting a ball of fire. Unknowingly in awe, you found yourself heading too close to the flames, the heat burning your leather, but you didn't mind. You held your hand in the fire until Lyrax descended.

Taking a breath, you looked back at the puff of smoke. "Good boy, Lyrax." You were surprised to find that your leather had melted off, and your skin was singed but not blistered. It felt similar to sitting too close to a fire in the winter, leaving your skin hot but not scalded.

When you landed, you gave Lyrax one last hug before he went to feed, and you tended to your hand. To your amazement, it was as if nothing had happened, despite your expectations of blistered skin.

As you walked up the dirt and stone pathway, you noticed Daemon waiting. "Mother said you would be back by nightfall."

He smirked. "Nyke istan, yn nyke kesīr sir." I was, but I'm here now.

You bowed your head and said, "Indeed, lead the way."

Daemon's smirk made your skin crawl, and your hatred for him boiled within you. You missed your father, Laenor, who used to take you on walks around King's Landing, singing songs and teaching you dances. He was full of life, whereas Daemon was devoid of joy.

Entering the drawing room, you heard Valyrian as you noticed Jace and your mother. He looked up from the table, his hands propped up against the edge, giving you a dirty look.

"Tell me, who was Aegon Targaryen?" She inquired, a smirk forming in the corners of her mouth as she watched her son struggle.

"Aegon nyke..." He began, but the pronunciation proved challenging. "Aegon nyke istan..."

"Aegon nyke istan se ēlī targārien naejot conquer se unite se sīkuda dārȳti hen vesteros. Ziry rode se zaldrīzes balerion se zōbrie dread. Zȳhon reign marked se beginning hen targārien dynasty isse vesteros," you offered, unable to witness your brother's struggle any longer. Aegon I was the first Targaryen to conquer and unite the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. He rode the dragon Balerion the Black Dread, and his reign marked the beginning of the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros.

Your words caused Daemon to chuckle, and you earned a sympathetic sigh from Rhaenyra. "How else is Jace going to learn if you do it for him?"

You removed the other leather glove with a sigh. "My apologies, dear brother. Please continue." Jace cracked a smile at you as you took a seat nearby. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but your mother interrupted.

"Actually, I have to inform you both of something important..."

You sat up attentively. "Would you like me to fetch Luke?"

She raised her hand to stop you. "No, it will be quick. I have received a letter. It's from... the Queen."

You sprang from your seat, and Jace moved closer to you. "Is Grandsire all right?"

Rhaenyra put an end to your questions, saying, "He is fine." You scanned the room, trying to grasp the issue. "Then what, mother?"

She gritted her teeth. "She wants you to be in court. She wants us all home." You noticed her voice quiver with emotion. Daemon had an amused smirk as he observed your perplexed expressions.

"Back to King's Landing? After all these years?" Jace's voice held bewilderment, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"The Queen is a woman that no one can understand, her reasoning for many things is questionable. Mother, when do we leave?" You couldn't hide your excitement, finally escaping this dreaded isle and returning to what you considered home - your true home.

"Tomorrow at daybreak." Your mother's decision to leave made sense, which explained Daemon's presence now, and why he remained silent, akin to a snake.

You were ready to rush out the door to start packing, but Jace's voice shook. "Are they going to be civil?" It didn't take long for you to connect the dots; the question was about your uncles. The last time you were all in King's Landing, there was an incident, and someone lost an eye...

"Jace... I..." Your mother was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence, but Jace had no intention of listening to whatever she might have said as he rushed past everyone and into the hall. You wanted to say something, but first, you needed to console your brother.

"Jace! Brother!" You raced after him, the sound of your boots clicking with each step. He paused for a moment, turned around, his fists clenched, and his lips pressed tightly together.

"Dear brother, do not let the past weigh you down. Perhaps they have matured? Maybe they are now men grown..." Your statement turned from a question to a plea. The last time you saw your uncles, they were calling you all... bastards.

"You have too much faith in them, sister. You always try to see the better in people," Jace said with a smile, lifting his hand to your face.

Yes, your optimism might well be your downfall.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #game of throne #daemon targaryen #slow burn #aegon x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #enemies to lovers #house targaryen #house velaryon

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

Text

A Risk Taker (Daemon x Reader)

This is my first time writing something like this which was challenging but very entertaining, also I left a little detail that I really hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think by commenting. Enjoy!

“And right over here we have the iron throne, historians reported that it was created by hot steel and its rightful place was in what we now know as London, over here we have-“

(Y/n) stood dumbfounded at the sight of the throne in a result she tuned out what the woman was saying or explaining. She was in amazement at it, it was entirely made of swords, she came to wonder who came up with the idea of such a thing, who was the first to sit upon it, and who was the last. So many questions raced through her brain as she instinctively took a few steps to approach it.

(Y/n) was always interested in what historians call “the time of dragons” Some say it is just silly little stories or just tales of the church that wished to demonize the time before Christ.

“Miss you can’t touch that”

Before the security guard could stop her (y/n)s fingers grazed over the arm of the chair, goosebumps went over her entire body before she gripped it firmly and then everything went black.

“A witch! Protect the king! Disarm her”

“What?”

Before she could react or comprehend what was going on around her someone forced her hands behind her back earning a grunt from her.

“Ouch you asshole let me go”

“How dare you command anything you Bitch let go! I swear to god if I fucking bruise”

“Ser Criston, the lady is clearly in distress and pain, I believe it is best if you release her”

“Yeah that, manners much?”

Daemon had to refrain from laughing at her odd way of phrasing her thoughts. Everyone was on edge at someone that just simply appeared in front of the king and the iron throne just from thin air, her clothing was something no one had ever seen and her face was painted, Daemon carefully walked up the stairs who was rubbing her wrists to relieve herself from the discomfort.

“It is alright my lady, I am Prince Daemon of house Targaryen and you are?”

(Y/n) looked around the room, everyone was dressed in posh clothing that was decorating the museum hours ago and the man that was standing in front of her was the same person that she saw from the portrait when she walked in, also he resembled a lot the actor that played prince Philip at “the crown”.

“I… am (y/n) of house…. (Y/l/n) I guess”

“There is no such thing as house (y/l/n) she is lying, we must throw her in the dungeons”

“I fucking dare you”

“You will do no such thing Ser Criston, the lady isn’t dangerous, she is just as puzzled as we are, do you remember anything before this my lady?”

“I was visiting the Museum of Old England, I believe you guys call it Westeros”

“What was the year?”

“2023”

“So you mean to tell us all this just turns to…”

“History, books and movies”

“What are movies?”

“How do I explain, there is a machine that captures a scene like this for example and then it plays for an audience, like theatre but not really”

“The girl is in hysteria and probably lying, we cannot believe her words and prophecies stand true”

(Y/n) turned her head to eye the man that was talking, a man in his mid-40s she guessed that was dressed in all green and had a little pin with a golden hand, her eyes lit up at the realization of who this man was, and her mind could not comprehend what was going on yet she desperately wanted to prove herself she was being honest, probably because her life was at risk.

“Otto Hightower”

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh I know a lot about you, you served the king, and has the king already married your daughter Alicent? Or is Aemma still alive?”

Silence fell over everyone, and looks of concern were being exchanged amongst the people, the lady that spoke knew everything about everyone, there was no way she could create the clothing she was wearing or whatever was on her face, could it be that she was actually from the future?

Frantically (y/n) started to search in her pockets for anything until she thankfully found her phone, she held it up in triumph before she pressed the button to open her screen

“There, see! I have pictures of the stuff that you use! Here is a portrait of one of my favorites from your family, Rhaenyra”

“Me?”

(Y/n)s eyes laid upon the young Targaryen, god the casting of her movie did such a great job the actress looked like the girl that was standing in front of her. (Y/n) smiled brightly at the princess before she took an awkward bow to the princess making her stumble on her way up.

“Princess Rhaenyra, an Oh my gosh pleasure to meet you, huge fan by the way, have you married Laenor yet?”

“We are betrothed”

“Well that is surely something ummm, excuse my weird stance but I feel like I will piss on myself from anxiety”

“Mayhaps it would be best if the princess escorted the young lady to one of the chambers, and found something more appropriate for her to wear”

Daemon chimed in, to save the poor lady from embarrassing herself or worst passing out in front of them. (Y/n) who grew self-conscious of her looks rubbed the material of her jeans as she looked down at her outfit, it was pretty stylish for a museum who would have known to dress appropriately for teleporting?

“These are my nice jeans”

“Ladies wear this?”

“Yes Otto they do, ladies also have rights which is a concept you would surely hate”

(Y/n) could feel her heart beat fast at the realization that all eyes are on her, she was someone that no one could vouch for, a girl that just stood there with no background, no title, they could behead her before the sun goes down and then what? Is death the way to go back? Or would she just die and leave everything behind?

She turned to the king to approach him once again, she swallowed the lump in her throat whilst she kneeled in a sign of respect, the instinct of survival had started to make her entire body shake at the fear of the unknown, she must come out of this unharmed.

“King Viserys, I am as shocked as you are still I ask for just some time, I can show you that I speak in all transparency, I can help you, use my knowledge to your advantage until I find a way to go home”

(Y/n) had become King Visery's closest advisor they were a good handful of times that Viserys specifically summoned her, he was always infatuated with dreamers so to have a woman with such power was his biggest asset.

Otto was naturally displeased and somewhat furious at her demeanor, her entire personality was just baffling to him, (y/n) interrupted him whenever he tried to offer his piece of mind to the king, (y/n) had taken away the power he had worked tirelessly to create.

(Y/n) was now lady (y/n), alongside Rhaenyra had to earn a seat at the small council which of course Queen Alicent had as well, (y/n) would of course try to stir Viserys in the right direction however a dilemma stuck in her consciousness like a thorn, she was well aware of how this would go, the dance of dragons, the war that will kick off in a few years, the hatred that was brewing between the greens and blacks, the burden fell on her chest like a pile of bricks, if she were to twist the future would the entire world become something different? Or would she save a thousand lives?

They were times that (y/n) could not have foreseen an event, Rhaenyras tragic wedding feast for example did not quite describe the death of a man, even if it did (y/n) could not have prevented it from occurring mind the fact that she was rather busy, Daemon had asked to have a minute… alone with Lady (y/n).

Daemon was always intrigued by her presence, her sharp tongue, and her reluctance to step back when it comes to an argument, she had the fire of a dragon in her, to Daemon it was evidently clear specifically when she was bare, she had confidence, experience, shameless passion, her touch did not tremble nor did she question herself, she took the reigns from him and showed him how they do it in her time.

“Lady (y/n) can I ask you a question?”

“Of course my prince”

“Father says you know the future, will I get a dragon?”

(Y/n) froze, on the morrow of Laenas funeral what would be the odds for meek Aemond to ask such a question? Today is the grim day that Aemond would lose his eye in a squabble between him and his nephews.

All color drained from (y/n)s face although she desperately attempted to keep her composure in front of an impatient Aemond who was looking up at her with eyes full of hope, all he ever wanted was to fit in, to have what everyone else had, though the cost he must pay was a rather painful one. (Y/n) reached to caress the young prince’s soft cheek and create a circle with her thumb on his soft skin.

“You will, my prince, speaking of such how would you like for us to go for a walk later? I would love to speak to you about it”

“Thank you, lady (y/n), I will be waiting for you”

“Promise me you will wait before you go anywhere”

“I promise”

“Pinky swear?”

“What?”

“It’s a tradition from my childhood, just hook your pinky to mine, like so”

Aemonds pinky intertwined with (y/n)s who was smiling brightly at him, she could not let the poor boy lose his eye over a dumb argument between children, all of the families fought but when you add dragons into the mix it can get messy extremely quick.

“May I ask what is this odd choice of a handshake about?”

“Well Otto it is something from my home, know there is where women can show cleavage and their legs and fathers do not marry their daughters to men that are twice their age”

“Yes you have been rather descriptive of the shameful customs your people hold”

“I know, a woman having an orgasm must be such a baffling concept to you or is it the fact that some of us do not wish to have children and there are actually safe ways of protecting us from conceiving that disgusts you?”

“Hold your tongue in front of the prince”

“You do not command me and you do not scare me, Otto, so I suggest you back off and let me be”

“Lady (y/n), may I have a moment alone with you?”

Daemon interrupted the conversation that was getting quite heated, to be discussing with such temper in public was something that was out of character for Otto but there was just something about her that pushed him beyond himself, to vocally express the urge of sexual desires and taunt it so freely, Parading her flesh like a succubus, no Otto refused to give in.

“Of course, my prince, remember our promise sweetling”

She whispered to Aemond before she raffled his head and winked at him playfully, all of the playfulness was gone when she diverted her eyes to Otto, a frown swiftly appeared as she eyed him from head to toe with utter disgust.

“Asshole”

She hissed making Prince Daemon choke on his laugh from being taken by surprise by her choice of words. (Y/n) walked with Daemon side by side but in utter silence, she just silently followed him waiting for Daemon to let her know what he wished to say in private.

She did as such until they reached the shore, her patience had run thin and her shoes were filled with sand, she just plopped down and took off the shoes to properly feel the sand and enjoyed the sensation of direct contact with nature.

“What is it Daemon, spit it out”

“I thought you would be gone by now”

“So did I but I have yet to figure out the way to go home”

“Perhaps you are not supposed to go home”

“Daemon we have discussed this”

“I left because you send me away, even then I send for you, asked for you and you denied me”

“I had a reason and you were married”

“You send me away”

“Are we going to reminisce about what I did the night we fucked at Laenas funeral?”

Daemon came to a halt at her question. Nobody was more embarrassed by his neediness than him, Daemon was a good-looking man and a prince, he never had any trouble with a lady he yearned for, except (y/n).

After the exceptional time they had together he could still vividly describe how she patted him on the shoulder and told him that she should walk into the feast first so they don’t look suspicious, the coldness in her voice after such a steamy affair left him with countless questions.

Daemon sat next to her and just stared at the horizon, he wanted to hug her, tell her how much he missed her, confess to her exactly the amount of letters he had to send asking about her, (y/n) made him feel weak.

“I wanted to come, I often yearned to relive our moment but I cannot offer what you are craving. I could leave at any time just like a came”

“I have always been a risk taker”

“Your end goal is marriage Daemon, I understand that my age here means I am an old maid but where I grew up I am young, I do not wish to be wed nor have children and you do”

“I have children”

“And I am sure you love them and you love being a father because that is who you are, I am simply not”

“Isn’t this lovely, you have me all figured out”

Daemon spitted with sadness dripping at every word, he could not say that she did not have a point, still, at the end of the day he wanted her, he wanted to burn himself alive in her fire just to feel her warmth.

Daemon got up to leave when he was forced to stop by someone holding him by the wrist, once he looked back to find (y/n) on her feet and had latched her fingers on his wrist.

“Daemon don’t be like this”

“Well, what do you suggest then?”

(Y/n) did not know what to say for the first time in forever, she acted on instinct when she hugged him, her head went on his chest and his heartbeat was picking up at the beat that caused a smile to decorate her lips. Daemon hesitated though he gave in and pulled her tightly.

“This is not fair, you are playing dirty”

“I never had you for a man that is afraid to get in the mud”

They both giggled and (y/n) lifted her head to take a proper look at the prince who was smiling down at her. His index finger and thumb found their way to her chin, after all these years she had frozen in time, still as breathtaking and agitating as he left her.

Daemon was taking too long for her liking so she took initiative and collided her lips to his while being on her toes which did not last long since Daemon was always quick on his feet and pulled her up for her to wrap her legs around his torso, both of them moaned in each other's mouths from the anticipation, Daemon could feel the harsh licks of her fire surrounding him an experience that was so sweet yet deadly.

Daemon made the mistake of laying her on her back which only resorted in (y/n) putting her entire weight on her legs to flip him over in an instant, she never really liked allowing someone to lay on top of her.

Their movements were messy and rushed, and both of them could not contain themselves, they wanted to see one another naked, feel their skin bare as they caressed one another, her moans were animalistic, and the way she moved was like a conqueror that raced into a battle, Daemon was left defenseless and became a mere puppet to her game of sex, he did not complain of course this was what he loved about her, this was (y/n)s favorite part of sex, the feeling of it, the urge of it, the realization that you want someone’s body, that it’s yours for the taking.

Daemon gripped her hips so harshly that he left marks behind, secretly he thought that he was being greedy by being the only one to experience such a show, (y/n) at her natural habitat, what a foolish fantasy, to have an audience in their beddings, he shoved that idea at the very back of his head when it dawned on him that other men would see her naked, would listen to her moans, they would know her magic.

Daemon was utterly unaware that his fantasy was becoming reality at this very moment, both of them blinded by passion to the point that none of them looked around, they focused on each other's eyes, the eyes that whispered everything that was left unsaid between them.

Once their connection came to its very peak (y/n) left her body to lay on top of his as she desperately worked to catch her breath, it was then that a man dressed in green decided to leave the scenery, a man that had spied on them and had frozen to his spot at the sight that had unfolded in front of him had come out of his trance to scatter away before he gets discovered.

“Was it worth waiting all these years?”

“Definitely”

(Y/n) placed another kiss on Daemon's lips at his answer, his strong body was the best bed after such an intense workout, her legs had already started to shake and she imagined this is what it felt like riding a dragon for hours on end.

The world is funny because when (y/n) went to vocalize her thought she heard a dragon approaching, once she fixed her focus on the sky she could see the humungous dragon that was heading back to land, its size was frightening, she could not remember which one was it, it wasn’t syrax and not Vermax, who could be riding at the such hour?

“Someone claimed Vhagar”

“Oh no, oh shit, fuck no”

Requests are open!

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