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neptuneiris · 8 months

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for the crown (02/03)

and then suddenly i cared even less, too broken to stay.

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you gave yourself to him, you love him, he said that despite your low status at court, he will still marry you, because you are his, the woman who was his friend since childhood, until the war comes.

word count: 8.6k

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and here I am again, realizing that I can't anticipate that it will be two parts only, because if I leave it at two, the chapter will be extremely long, so there will be part 3 haha. thank you for reading, enjoy!🥰

warnings: sex content, angst, denigration, abusive behavior, possessiveness, infidelity, betrayal.

If Aemond thought he would have a perfect escape with you after he decided to take you with him to Harrenhal as well, he was wrong.

With only a few dresses, a few pairs of shoes and your night gown, you emerge from your chamber holding Aemond's hand, both of you having a firm grip on each other, ready to march to DragonPit and eventually fly to Harrenhal.

With the entire Prince Regent's army ready to listen to Sr. Criston Cole's command upon seeing Aemond's signal in the skies, your prince is interrupted in the middle of his action as he is basically stealing you away by his mother, his grandsire and also your father right at the gates to leave the Keep.

Your father watches you completely surprised, ready and willing to leave with the prince, while the Queen Dowager and Otto Hightower watch Aemond completely confused and alert.

Also both watching you basically not understanding anything.

"Aemond, what is the meaning of this?"

"What are you doing?"

His mother and grandsire instantly inquire, clearly disapproving of this madness, but Aemond couldn't care less, watching the three of them indifferently.

While you start to worry and basically hide behind him, not letting go of his hand.

"Y/N?"

Your father calls you softly, confused and uncomprehending, looking for your gaze.

But when you look back at him, he knows you've already made your choice, so he begins to get more alert and seriously worried.

"What are you doing?"

But you don't answer him, you can't.

Sorrowful, you seek more reassurance and support from Aemond, basically leaning closer to him, holding his hand a little tighter, revealing your nerves and your fear at having been discovered.

This Aemond notices instantly and stands in front of you with a determined and firm stance without letting go of your hand, facing this alone knowing that none of the three of them stand a chance against him.

"Y/N, come, please," your father pleads as he sees worried the prince's behavior, raising one of his hands in your direction.

"She will do no such thing, my Lord."

Aemond finally speaks, drawing the attention of the three of them as well as yours, watching him over his shoulder,

"Lady Y/N will come with me to Harrenhal. In fact we must leave now and this is not up for discussion," he makes it clear almost threateningly.

Your father immediately exchanges glances with the Queen, more than concerned and demanding that something be done about it, but the Queen Dowager also continues to stare at her son completely confused and as if she does not recognize him.

"Aemond, you can't do this," she tells him gently wanting to talk some sense into him.

"Have you forgotten about your betrothed? Lady Baratheon?" his grandsire inquires him seriously, "Her father is fully supporting you in this because of that betrothal. And when Lord Borros finds out you are enjoying the company of another woman he will not be very pleased and will call off his men."

"And that won't be very wise of him," he says completely disinterested, "It would be unwise for Lord Borros to no longer give me his support if he doesn't want all of Storm's End to burn."

"That's not how things work, Aemond," his mother tells him worriedly, watching him intently.

"I think that's exactly how things work, mother," he tells her in a more serious tone, "After all, I'm not breaking off the betrothal and eventually I'll have to marry his daughter or not?"

This immediately gets your attention, but right after Aemond says those words, he lightly squeezes your hand with his, as a signal.

He has told you that when the war is over, he will marry you and that he promised you. He's not meaning all this now, it's just a way for the two of you to finally leave.

"Aemond, you still can't do this, you're betrothed," she insists.

"And what about Lady Y/N?" his grandsire points out to him, "According to the news, she is also betrothed."

"I don't care. She's coming with me whether you like it or not," he says as a final word.

"My prince…"

Hour father quickly steps forward to speak, worried and almost anguished.

"I beg you not to do this, you cannot take her away, please," he begs, "Lord Hand is right, she is also betrothed. If you take her now her betrothed will not be pleased and will put her maidenhead in question. Because of this my daughter will probably not be able to find a good husband in the future."

His words and behavior makes you feel sorry for your father, as he is right. Basically Aemond will ruin you for all men by taking you away, that action already speaking for itself, as the two of you share a more intimate relationship.

What your father and his family don't know is that he has basically already ruined you by claiming your maidenhead. But of course neither Aemond nor you will say it out loud.

"Don't worry, my Lord," he tells him still disinterested, "I'm sure by the end of all this, you and I will come to a generous agreement for my indiscretion."

Still, this does not reassure your father at all.

"B-but, please my prince, you c-can't…" he begins to speak nervously, looking at you pleadingly, "You can't take her away, please. I have already come to an agreement with her betrothed, they'll be waiting for her to discuss the wedding, please—

"I've told you not to worry, Lord Y/L/N," Aemond tells him again seriously and annoyed.

"But…

"You dare to question your prince's order?"

Aemond inquires him instantly, watching him serious, threatening and expectant, while your father purses his lips into a thin line as Aemond continues to threaten him with his gaze, then looks at his mother and grandsire in the same manner.

"You are also against my own word?"

"Aemond, please," his mother pleads with him as well.

"Don't be a fool, Aemond. Enough of this nonsense," his grandsire tells him seriously, "You are making a big mistake that will cost you the battle if you lose soldiers."

"That will be my problem, not yours," he tells her in the same manner as he does, ready to resume his journey again, "Besides we are not going to lose anything and I advise you not to question me anymore, any of the three of you," he warns them.

These are the final words of Prince Aemond, the Prince Regent, the one who currently holds the crown and carries the weight of the entire Realm on his shoulders, with his other hand he takes your waist and begins to lead the two of you on your way out of the Keep.

The only thing you can feel at that moment as you walk away is the worried and anguished look on your father's face, while you feel sorry for him.

However, you don't want to marry this Lord Beesbury, you don't even know him and you know that your father blindly gave your hand in marriage.

But what you didn't expect is that you would have to walk away from your father, leaving him alone, when it has always been the two of you against the world, which is what really weighs on you and grieves you as you continue to walk away from him with no idea when you will see him again.

You also feel the stares of the Queen Dowager Alicent and Lord Otto on both of you, who probably don't even have any idea how to react to this, not even being in a position to do anything about it.

But Aemond doesn't even care about them and steadily and willingly continues his pace with you by his side, him leading you towards one of the horses that will take you both fast towards DragonPit.

Soon you both find yourselves flying towards Harrenhal, with Sr. Criston leading Aemond's entire army on the ground towards the cursed castle as well.

However… had you known what would await you later in that very place, a cursed castle where its curse never leaves and curses also the people who dare to set foot there, you would never have let Aemond take you with him.

Still, when your prince takes you with him to Harrenhal, you feel important.

You feel you are one of his complements to go on and win the war, like an incentive to gain motivation and strength.

At first, the black and dark castle scares you, knowing perfectly well its reputation and curse, but Aemond is the one who motivates you to stand by his side and help him in everything he needs.

He specifically asks you to settle in his chamber, where it will also be your room, while he once he takes over the castle, begins to plan strategies and move his entire army, alert to any threat and securing his position in Harrenhal.

You know very little about his planning because you know that his matters must be of no interest to you, so during the day, you can only find entertainment in books and learning a little more about the dark castle.

The only thing you attend to is your prince, waiting each night at the end of his exhausting days, as you can't really do much in these circumstances, only being available to him.

This fact does not bother you, but your boredom increases every day considering that you only see Aemond in the nights and very early the next day he is no longer by your side because he goes to attend to his duties.

In your loneliness, you often think about writing a letter to your father, just to let him know that you are well.

But you know that Aemond probably wouldn't be too pleased and you don't know if your father wants to hear from you after what happened.

You wouldn't be surprised if he was furious with you… after all, what you did was very unwise.

You could have stood firm with Aemond, you could have supported your father and attended to your duty properly, yet you did not.

And in the end the only thing that gives you comfort is that at least, by the end of these difficult times, you will finally marry Aemond. And by the time your father sees that, he will probably forgive you.

Today is another one of those days when Aemond has a lot on his mind, taking his position very seriously and getting frustrated when one thing doesn't turn out the way he expected.

It's a lot to handle even though he has Sr. Criston by his side, but that doesn't seem to be enough.

He constantly sends reports to Kings Landing with his position and what is currently happening, understanding that even though Aegon is injured, still his brother wants to be aware of everything, considering he is not at the Keep to protect them in case of anything.

There are countless times when Aemond does not rest properly as he has so much to think and do. And when he finally heads to his chamber almost at the Hour of the Wolf, you help him to get all that stress out of his system.

Aemond lets out a sigh as he lets his head fit all the way back, with his eye closed, as you begin to slowly move up and down his entire hard, heavy, swollen length, in need of release.

You moan and place your hands on his bare, firm chest for support, beginning to move your hips up and down in a more consistent pace, moving back and forth and even circling at times.

Aemond at all times lets you take control, which normally it is not usual for you to do as he prefers it to be him in charge, however this is another one of those nights where he is too tired not to let you ride him.

You groan and begin to move your hips faster and harder, as Aemond moans low and holds your waist firmly, watching as your bodies come together and as all of him repeatedly enters you.

You watch him in complete delight, his beautiful face contracted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips parted, sighing and leaving marks on your skin with his long fingers.

You smile and lean fully into him, still moving, as you bring one of your hands to his hair, stroking it gently, and then bring your lips to his ear.

"Do you like it, my King?"

This only fills Aemond more with pleasure, who grunts and makes you increase the speed of your movements, as you moan loudly and feel him deliciously also ground on his feet and penetrate you harder.

The sound of skin on skin, your juices with his sweat and now Aemond claiming one of your breasts as he takes the nipple into his mouth, only makes you moan more in pleasure.

"Oh yes, my King. Just like that, please."

You whine, moaning and leaning further into him.

"Oh fuck—yes," he murmurs into your breasts, kneading them completely to his liking, "Yes, my Lady. Oh Gods."

You sigh and moan louder when Aemond suddenly takes all your hair in one of his hands, making it into a fist, to forcefully pull you down as he raises his hips in a firm upward motion, penetrating you hard and hitting exactly your nerve core.

All the air escapes your lungs and that explosion inside you begins to grow as Aemond penetrates you in that steadier way, not letting go of your hair, holding you tight.

"Are you going to cum?" he asks you in a deep husky voice.

"Yes," you moan, "Oh—fuck," you whimper.

"Cum, cum all on my cock, my sweet girl."

Then you are no longer thinking straight and become completely absorbed in the moment as he brings one of his hands between your bodies and begins to stroke his thumb over your most sensitive spot, causing you to close your eyes tightly, arch your back and continue to move with more fervor.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you moan, "Please, don't stop."

"Look at you," he grins, "Making a mess."

"Please, my King."

He grunts and increases his speed more as he again begins to suck on one of your nipples and then everything about you explodes in a delicious and more than satisfied way as Aemond fucks you hard across your peak, seeking his own release.

And by the end of the night, with one hard, strong, final thrust, he spills all of his seed inside you, filling you completely.

You let yourself fall completely on top of him, just as exhausted and breathing fast, catching your breath, as Aemond continues all soft and warm inside you.

You relax your lips and lazily raise your gaze to him, while still remaining on top of his hard, strong body, to see him also catching his breath, calming his heart rate and looking so tired.

You leave a soft kiss on his lips and move off on top of him to lie down next to him.

As every night, Aemond pulls your body to him and hugs your back as the two of you begin to be carried away by sleep, both of you more than satisfied, especially him after so much pressure and stress.

This is the way you can help him and be there for him. Honestly you don't complain, because as each time Aemond takes you, everything becomes more and more intense, already being more of a necessity.

Even during the day, one of his guards seeks you out and lets you know that the prince has requested your presence immediately in the room where Aemond plans his strategies and has meetings with all his advisors.

Arriving there, you expected anything but Aemond needing to fuck you right there in his chair and where it is a public place, even though only he and you is here.

"Try not to make too much noise, my love."

That's all he says to you and then makes you start riding him again, while you hold on and lean on his shoulders, moaning into his neck, while he listens to the sounds you make only for him and continues to demand that you move faster, harder and deeper.

You let your whole head fall back, closing your eyes in pleasure and you part your lips, as Aemond attacks and leaves marks all over your neck, grunting and holding you as if his life depended on it.

You move deep from front to back and he moans into your neck.

"Oh fuck—just like that, don't stop," he tells you hoarsely.

You gasp and muffle your moans as he desperately makes your breasts spring free through the collar of your dress and attacks them like a hungry man, as he brings both hands to the soft skin of your ass, kneading both your cheeks.

You cry out from the pleasure and continue to move deep from front to back.

"Yes, Aemond, yes," you moan.

"Always so responsive," he murmurs with delight.

He gazes proudly at your hard nipples, slightly red and swollen from his caresses, as he brings his hand to your center and strokes you with his thumb firmly, feeling all your juices sliding down his fingers.

"You like it, don't you?" he watches you with a grin, "You like it when I fuck you hard."

"Yes," you say as best you can, in a whisper.

He grunts and stops your movements abruptly to suddenly charge you and rise from his chair, as he sits you on the edge of the big table in front of him where the maps perch and begins to penetrate you faster and harder.

That time you had to drink moon tea again, considering that the dragon seed is strong and Aemond insists that always after every act, you must drink it, not even being able to let yourself forget it.

So the days go by when the unexpected news arrives about the battle of Lakeshore, where Aemond loses numerous men, all from the Lannister army, where they were attacked by a Northern army, being a major loss for the Greens and a victorious battle for the Blacks.

Aemond, furious, orders the death of Simon Strong and his entire family, as well as nearly killing the soldier who told him the news, blinded by his own anger and madness.

While you confined to your room, you can only wait for him to return to you when he has taken care of the whole matter, but with that great loss, Aemond and everyone begins to realize that they are losing the war.

If before Aemond didn't sleep and rest properly, with this news he doesn't anymore, to which you can only continue to wait, worried about him but unable to truly do anything, spending days in which you don't see Aemond anymore.

Until one night, the unexpected news arrives, but this time only for you.

"Where is Prince Aemond, Ellya?" you ask the maid who has been at your disposal since you arrived here, "Have you seen him? Do you know what he is doing with his men?"

She gives you a somewhat wary and curious look at the same time.

"You haven't heard, my Lady?"

This immediately catches your attention and you watch her completely attentively.

"About what?"

She blinks a couple of times, watching you a little surprised, to which this draws your attention more and alerts you, watching her intrigued, while she looks hesitant for a few moments, not quite sure if she is the one to tell you the new news.

"Ellya, what's wrong?" you urge her, beginning to worry.

She swallows hard, lets out a long breath and looks at you with some pity.

"The prince has approached the witch, the witch of Harrenhal," she lets you know, "For days now it seems the two of them started having their meetings."

You watch her more than attentively and confused at the same time, having no idea who this witch is, but instantly getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. You ask Ellya to explain who she is and she tells you everything.

Alys Rivers.

That's her name and apparently she's a bastard of Lyonel Strong, the once lord of Harrenhal who burned to death along with his son right here in this castle.

When you then remember… she is that same woman that Aemond did not give the order to kill and apparently spared her life when he killed Simon Strong and all his kin.

Instantly your assumptions are correct when Ellya tells you that this woman possesses dark magic and those kinds of abilities through witchcraft. And again you don't get that good feeling if Aemond has searched for her and is apparently having meetings with her.

Certainly after knowing this, you can't ask Aemond anything about it since you don't see him and don't dare go looking for him with all the duties he has to attend to.

However, the uncertainty lingers and all the time you think about it, feeling worried just imagining Aemond having encounters with her and also scared about what she might do.

Until one night finally the opportunity presents itself when you see the night through the small windows in comparison to the Keep, unable to fall asleep, when the doors open and you turn to see Aemond enter the chamber after so many days.

"Aemond?"

You call out to him in your soft, sleepy voice from trying to fall asleep but you simply can't, thinking all the while of him and her, the witch, as he watches you without at all expecting to hear your voice.

And even though you shouldn't, at that moment you feel sorry for him. You can tell he hasn't slept well in days, his whole face shows it to you, the extreme tiredness reflecting through his body as well, truly worrying you.

And that's why he actually watches you without having any expression on his face, leaving his sword on one of the tables and starting to take off his belts, preparing to sleep.

"Keep sleeping. I'll join you in a moment," he tells you just the same without much emotion in his voice.

"Where have you been?" you still ask him, carving your eyes, watching him closely, "I haven't seen you in days."

He lets out a long breath, turning his back on you and continuing to remove his clothes.

"Are you forgetting that we are at war?" he asks, "What do you mean, where have I been? Of course I have been leading all my men and attending to my duties as Protector of the Realm."

You press your lips together, instantly understanding that you must not upset and irritate him any more than he clearly already is. Still, like the stubborn one you are, you can't help yourself and again speak in his direction.

"I know, Aemond," you say softly, "But that's not what I meant. I meant that you didn't come here to sleep."

"I barely have time to sleep, Y/N," he tells you definitely more serious, alerting you, "And now that I finally have the chance, you're not letting me have my five minutes of peace," he tells you bitterly.

"No, Aemond, I swear that's not my intention," you instantly clarify, concerned.

"Then?" he looks over his shoulder at you, serious and clearly irritated, "You're going to let me be able to undress and sleep in peace?"

"Yes, of course," you tell him instantly, bewildered, "I-I just wanted…" you bite your lips, nervous, "…to know where you'd been," you mumble barely audibly.

And even though Aemond has heard you, he still doesn't say anything else, still taking off his clothes and with every movement feeling more tiredness all over his body, urgently needing to lie down on the bed and sleep as much as he can.

But you continue to watch him more attentively than before, Alys Rivers not leaving your thoughts and what he has talked or has been doing with her, that precisely not leaving you alone.

So in the middle of the silence, you dare to ask him in a soft murmur, watching him carefully.

"You were with Alys Rivers?"

Then suddenly Aemond stops his movements abruptly, slowly turning his head towards your direction, but only a part of it, barely managing to watch you over his shoulder, the tension in his whole body being more than visible.

When without further ado he resumes his movements, saying absolutely nothing to you and turning his back to you, while you continue to watch him attentively and expectantly for his response, whatever it may be.

And it is not until Aemond finishes processing your question that he finally answers you or rather answers you with another question in a serious and cold voice.

"Who told you that?"

You swallow hard, truly not wanting to give Ellya away.

"I heard it."

"From who? Where?"

He demands to know, more serious and annoyed, turning fully towards you. That's when you see his dark face, clearly annoyed, you stare at him bewildered, really not understanding his behavior.

"What's wrong? Why didn't you want me to know?"

At this he continues to stare at you annoyed, his lips pressed into a thin line and clearly irritated by your questioning, while you, starting to feel fearful, still continue to stare at him with your whole face soft but in confusion.

Aemond lets a few seconds pass, when he averts his gaze from yours for a moment as he licks his lips and finally lets out a long breath to turn his back on you again.

He reassures himself, having already taken into account from before that it would be impossible for you not to hear the name of the witch of Harrenhal and also how he would find himself in her company at times.

However, in a way I had hoped that you wouldn't find out and wouldn't question anything about it.

But with everything going on, him losing the war and resorting to desperate measures, there is basically no such thing as his patience and good humor.

"She's helping me with some war matters, nothing else."

He tells you coldly as you watch him and listen completely attentively, not understanding his answer.

"War matters?" you repeat.

"Yes, war matters," he repeats back to you as well, serious.

"And it's not something I can help you with?" you ask him without understanding.

He lets out a long sigh again this time, his patience again beginning to hang by a thread.

"No Y/N, you don't know all of Riverlands and the most convenient spots where I can send and command my men," he tells you serious, "Nor do you know the secret paths and where they might attack us by surprise, but she does."

At this you remain completely silent, watching him with your lips parted, thinking about his words.

This really continues to give you a very bad feeling, frustrating you because even though he has explained, you still don't feel convinced and can't do anything about it, not wanting to bother him anymore.

But it strikes you how he has been annoyed that you have asked him about her, that you have talked about her, so bringing up the matter again would not be smart on your part.

Still, you can't stay quiet.

"Nothing else?"

"Yes, nothing else," he tells you quickly and still in his serious tone.

You don't say anything else, watching him attentively, while he remains completely naked in front of you, as he usually likes to sleep. And still not feeling convinced, you decide not to bother him anymore and return to your same position as before to be lucky enough to sleep this time.

But you can't.

You continue watching the void, when you feel Aemond's weight sinking on the bed next to you, while you turn your back to him and think about his words, also about the witch and the two of them.

You press your lips together and finally close your eyes, needing to sleep to stop thinking.

However, this one night Aemond doesn't even come close towards you. Normally he always wraps one of his arms around your body and pulls you close to his body to sleep close, but nothing, he doesn't do anything.

And the next morning you wake up, he is gone.

Your days again pass without seeing Aemond, always being in your chamber and barely getting any news about what is going on with your prince and his side of the war.

At least you find comfort in your maidservants, with whom you talk and give you some company.

You also wander around the castle only a little during the day, not lasting long for fear that Aemond might find out and get annoyed with you not having any guards with you. But considering you don't have much to do, this comforts you as well.

When one day, the whispers in the cursed castle become too loud and rumors reach your ears: your prince is sharing a bed with the witch of Harrenhal.

This shocking and devastating news you don't want to believe, thinking that it is simply impossible because Aemond is yours, just as you are his. Or so you thought.

But even though you try to convince yourself that Aemond wouldn't do such a thing to you, betray you with another woman, let alone a witch, sadly it all starts to make sense to you.

He hadn't gone to sleep in his chamber, you also chambered, basically you didn't see him at all. And even though he told you he barely has time to sleep, he still must have… but not in the room you both share.

You really don't want to believe it, especially since he told you himself that she's only been helping him with war matters, nothing else.

But you knew all along that he wasn't being honest with you, you had that intuition and these rumors just confirmed it.

It is not until you see Aemond again after severe days without him being in your presence that you can finally confront him about it.

"You lied to me, didn't you?"

You ask him with your soft tone but sad at the same time, disappointed, with tears wanting to start coming out of your eyes when he watches you and he doesn't even need to ask you what you mean, because he instantly knows.

But it hurts you more when he lets out a long breath, it being another one of those times where you both barely see each other and he's already upset and annoyed by your behavior.

"See? This is why I didn't tell you, because of how you react," he tells you serious and watching you badly, tired.

"So you were planning to never tell me?" you ask sadly.

"You don't understand Y/N. You don't understand anything."

You look at him hurt.

"And how am I supposed to understand if you don't talk to me?" you ask confused, "Is this why you decided to bring me here with you? For me to stand here waiting for you while you enjoy the company of another woman?"

He lets out a huff as he rolls his eye in annoyance.

"You're getting it all wrong," he tells you serious, "I'm not doing it for my own satisfaction, I'm doing it because it's necessary and in order to win the war."

You continue watching him confused, not understanding what he is referring to or rather not understanding what that has to do with lying with her, to which Aemond, frustrated, explains to you in order to end this matter once and for all.

"Alys… she can see things, she knows things" he tells you, "Her power helps me to know what will happen next and what exactly I must do against the threats, what strategies to plan in order not to lose more of my men and thus win the war."

"And for that you must sleep with her?" you ask in pain.

"Getting that kind of information is not easy, Y/N," he tells you absurdly, "Of course she must have asked me for something in return and that is her form of payment."

You deny with your head, still watching him confused.

"But you don't necessarily have to pay her that way. You are the prince, she must obey you and in return for that… you can offer her gold or something else."

Crees que eso no fue lo mismo que yo pensé en ofrecerle?

"Do you think that wasn't the same thing I thought of offering her?" he inquires you annoyed, "Of course I did but she give me nothing."

And yet he decided to give her exactly what she wanted.

Your mind tells you, as you continue to watch him intently and pained, as he turns his back to you and you see him starting to take off his belts at the same time you feel that sharp pain in your chest, thinking about all the weeks he had been keeping this from you.

And when you asked him, he still lied to you.

"But…" you try to say, watching him sadly, "I'm sure you don't need her, Aemond."

He lets out a derisive, dry snort, shaking his head slightly, this hurting you instantly as well, but you continue to insist on changing his mind so that he doesn't have to do this… win the war through witchcraft.

"There are other ways that I know are more complicated and time consuming, but you can win and fairly, I know that," you observe him hopefully.

He laughs unfunnily, low and bitterly, as he turns to you again and looks at you as if you were a fool.

"How easy it is to talk when you're not the one serving the Realm and losing a war, isn't it?"

You watch him completely speechless, while he takes a couple of steps towards you watching you even in that way and completely upset and annoyed because you don't understand him.

You don't understand anything of what is happening and what he must be doing.

"What are you doing here besides warming my bed, hmm?"

He inquires you with a cruel tone, his words instantly being a dagger to your heart.

"Yes, it's true, I was the one who decided to bring you here with me and I made you a promise for the end of all this, didn't I?"

He asks you seriously and expectantly.

"But now the least you can do is to understand me and give me peace, whether you like what I have to do or not," he makes it clear in a threatening tone, "And what I must do now Y/N, for the good of the Realm and to secure my brother's Throne, is to keep Alys on my side because I need her and I need her very much."

This last is completely etched in your mind, watching it attentively, your lips half open and the first tear falling down your cheek, under the attentive and annoying gaze of Aemond, who in spite of this does not care and turns away to continue undressing.

Then the other tears run down both of your cheeks, feeling more intense that sharp pain in your chest, hurting you completely by his insensitivity and how even though you know he is sleeping with another woman, he still doesn't care about you.

When has Aemond ever needed you the way he has told you he needs her?

Never.

You thought that bringing you here with him was his way of telling you that he needs you, but now that you have to share him with another woman and he apparently doesn't care about your feelings, you think it was all a bad idea.

You swallow the tight lump in your throat and clear your tears as you avoid completely breaking down by being in the same place as him.

"Perhaps I should go back to King's Landing," you say amidst the silence and tense atmosphere, avoiding hearing yourself as broken as you really are, "Perhaps I should talk to my father, apologize and do my duty by getting married."

Again Aemond lets out an unfunny and completely incredulous laugh, again turning to watch you but with the difference that he is actually watching you slightly amused and expectantly at the same time.

"Don't tell me, Y/N."

He watches you intently.

"And who are you going to marry, hmm? Or rather who or who will want to marry you?"

He asks you still amused.

"Haven't you thought that I've already ruined you for any other man by the simple fact of having brought you here with me? Haven't you thought that with that alone people can assume an intimate relationship between the two of us? Although it's not really an assumption, it's a fact, isn't it? For a long time now."

Tears again steadily stream down your cheeks, watching him with all the pain in your gaze, as he again averts his gaze from yours and again shakes his head in disbelief.

And you know he's right.

But you don't think it's fair that he can get annoyed with you when you call the attention of other men, but you are in a much worse position, he doesn't care how you feel because he is the man, he is the prince and you must understand him.

So it doesn't matter that he can have as many women as he wants at his disposal, in any way, while you should be reserved only for him.

"Stop crying," he tells you cold and serious, without looking at you, "If you feel so bad for Alys, understand that this is just for the moment, it will all be over when I win the war, so stop this foolishness."

And there it is again… his insensitivity.

And after that… everything changes.

That night Aemond again doesn't try to touch you or hug you during his sleep, nor is it as if you would want him to, considering that he had probably been in her company before.

That is why now knowing that Aemond warms her bed, you no longer desire his touch or even his presence.

And not only because of that, but also because of the way he had made you feel with his cruel behavior and with his cruel words, and that painful feeling just won't go away, not even him realizing how much he did and does hurt you.

Fortunately you continue not seeing him very often, in all that time just locked in your chamber, not even having the courage to talk and enjoy the company of the maids as usual, wanting to be alone all the time, going back to your days of having no appetite and no mood for anything.

If Aemond notices, he doesn't say anything to you or do anything about it, just watches you intently every time he appears in the chamber, where you just greet him and nothing else, not really giving him attention like before, your whole gaze dull, empty, disinterested and sad.

You can smell a strong scent, like citrus and a bit sweet at the same time on his clothes sometimes when he comes to the chamber very late at night, certainly belonging to her and of course he must not even notice it.

And not only that, cautiously you can see some marks on his neck and chest as he begins to undress, to which you lie on the bed with your back to him and completely covering yourself with the sheets, letting a few tears fall without him seeing you and without making a sound until you fall asleep.

Now all you think of when you see him is him in the company of his witch, receiving everything she offers him, her visions and letting him know everything he wants to know, in exchange for sleeping with her.

It is not until days later that he slowly begins to approach you again to caress and touch you.

At first you didn't let him turn your back to him and he started to caress you by putting his arm across your stomach, trying to pull you closer to him.

But when you stayed completely still and with your eyes full of tears, he felt the tension all over your body and at the end he let out a long sigh and stopped touching you, resigning himself.

You didn't understand why he needed that from you when he certainly always gets that from her.

That went on for a few more weeks, until Aemond was beginning to lose patience with not being able to have you that he finally lost it completely.

And you had to give in to pleasing him, letting him make you his after a considerable time. However, he was no longer making you feel anything.

Just the thought that he had previously been inside her and now he's inside you looking like he can't get enough… it was too much.

Aemond doesn't notice your lack of disinterest as he begins to fuck you, nor does he notice how your heart breaks into pieces. And it's not until you stop being responsive to his touch that he's finally disconcerted.

Without feeling your juices that made penetration easier, he gasps and lifts his gaze to you, peeling his face from your neck, watching you intently and curiously, still entering you continuously.

"What is it, my lady? Doesn't it feel good?"

You don't answer.

You don't even look him in the eye.

At this, Aemond kisses you with need, moving in and out of you faster, needing your response, for you to feel the same as he does, as before.

But it doesn't feel good, not good at all.

After that night, unable to stand being cooped up in your chamber any longer for the whole day, you decide to go out into the hallways and eventually end up in the kitchens to offer your hands to the maids for whatever it is they need.

You can't even stand your loneliness anymore, so you finally enjoy the company of the maids and help out as needed, even taking your meals with them and even returning at night to the chamber, almost at the same time as Aemond.

Surprisingly, he notices this and questions you about doing maid duties as well, telling you that you have no need, to which you without much emotion tell him that it's all right, that you like to help, not to say anything else to him and clearly not to give more importance to the matter.

In those moments is when he starts to get tired of your behavior, when the truth is that even he doesn't understand himself.

Before it bothered him that you cared too much about him and that you questioned absolutely everything, but now that you have stopped doing it, it also bothers him your lack of interest in him when before you were always there at his disposal, also bothering him your cold behavior.

But it bothers him more that you don't even respond to him anymore when he makes you his.

However, he knows he can't blame you for her, for Alys, because you know what he is doing with her in the darkness of her chamber in exchange for what.

But it still bothers him.

Fortunately for you, he decides to give you time and not force you into anything again if you don't want him to, to which you could only feel relieved, although you still have to endure how he hugs you during his sleep but nothing more.

It is not until one night that you return to your chamber later than usual, since you lost track of time and were all the time in the company of the maids, that you think that Aemond must probably still be attending to his duties or that he must already be asleep… or that he must be in the company of his witch.

The latter is what you believe the most, not surprisingly. In the end, however, it does surprise you.

About to open the door to your room, you don't have to, as it opens on the other side and you find yourself face to face with a woman with pale skin, huge green eyes, long black hair and wearing a robe around her body, holding it with one of her hands.

Your eyes widen and you freeze completely, as she stares back at you with such intensity that it almost brings you to tears, but in the end it is not that, but the realization of what has happened here, in your chamber, which is in fact more yours than Aemond's.

You then watch behind her, where Aemond instantly watches you with an expression you can't really read, as he finishes buttoning his belt, with his entire torso naked and the clear marks on his neck.

Again… you feel that sharp pain in your chest, the sadness and humiliation hitting you hard, with your tears starting to want to spill out of your eyes and run down your cheeks, watching him with the most hurt look of all.

How could he dare?

You don't even expect anything else, you just run away from there, tears streaming down your cheeks instantly, as you hear Aemond say your name, quickly coming after you.

But you don't look back, not even wanting to look him in the eye, having no idea where you're really heading, but not in your greatest madness are you ever going to lie in that bed again, not even he having any respect for you in that regard.

Still Aemond is quicker and manages to catch up to you, grabbing you hard by your arm, demanding you to stop and watch him, pulling you closer to his body, to which you put up resistance and crying you try with all your might to get him to let go of you to get away from him, but he won't let you.

"Y/N! Look at me!"

You can't.

You don't want to.

He irritated, grabs you firmly with both hands, reluctantly stopping you, while you continue to cry and feel completely weak, everything about him, his grip on you when he had touched her on your bed before and that scent of hers also impregnated in him… it's too much.

"Let go of me."

You say pleadingly, sobbing, trying to pull away from him.

"Stop fucking acting like this!" he exclaims to you in annoyance.

You deny with your head.

"H-how could you?"

"Look at me," he demands.

"No! Let go of me!" you resist again, very hurt and very humiliated.

"I said look at me!"

He exclaims to you angrily, grabbing your face with both of his hands and making you look at him in a firm and demanding manner, his grip strong.

At this you stand completely still, but still crying and sobbing, trying to control yourself, but you cannot.

Thinking about it, about her and him already hurt you enough, but now having seen it… you can't stand it, as well as his touch now on you, finding it unpleasant.

And when you finally open your eyes and dare to look at him again, he is worried about noticing all that pain, rejection and displeasure.

However, he doesn't allow it and continues to hold you in that firm manner.

"Listen to me," he says seriously and firmly, "This was the last time, the last one."

You put up a resistance again, not believing his words at all, looking absurd in the midst of all your pain.

"Y/N!" he exclaims stopping you again, looking at you as honestly as possible, " It has been the last time, truly," he insists, "I promise."

You say nothing to him, just continue to cry almost silently, as he promises and assures you over and over again, wanting to reassure you, when the truth is you don't even believe him, so you make him believe that you do, to which he finally lets go of you.

"Go back to the chamber and wait there for me, she's gone," he tells you softly, but still firm and demanding.

And you are surprised how he dares in ordering you such a thing, while you just nod so you can finally get away from him and feeling relieved you do so, definitely not going back to that room, at all.

You find another empty chamber where you lie down on the bed right there and continue to let the tears flow freely from your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, feeling so lonely, so silly and as if you mean nothing.

It is not until after Aemond finishes talking to Alys and returns to the chamber expecting to find you there, but nothing.

He lets out a long breath, frustrated, only to later ask his guards where you've gone to find you in another chamber, completely balled up, asleep and with dried tears on your cheeks, your whole face suffering.

He lets out another long breath, running a hand through his face and hair, shuffling it in frustration, that he decides not to do anything else, just leave you alone to sleep, that being the least he can do for you after witnessing such a thing taking advantage of your absence.

Severe days has passed since that breaking point between you and Aemond, where neither of you have spoken about it.

He tried, of course, to explain to you so that he could properly ask for your forgiveness, but you never let him, not wanting or needing to hear anything from him, still too hurt and too humiliated to bear such thing.

Since then, you now sleep in that new chamber, this not being to Aemond's liking at first.

But acting so cold to him, not even being able to look him in the eye when he spoke to you and making you so tense in his presence, he understood that he could not force you to sleep with him if you did not wish to do so.

Aemond hated every moment when he did not wake up with you by his side, also when he could not touch you and make you his, or have the maids assist him in absolutely everything, when before it was only you.

If he kept his promise not to have any more meetings with Alys, you were no longer interested in knowing, only focusing on you and sometimes on him when he asked you for something, but always with that cold and indifferent behavior.

When the time of battle comes again.

He and his entire army prepares to march to a point where Alys had told him before that it would be where an army fighting for his half-sister would be and that is approaching Harrenhal.

Aemond awaits the return of Sr. Criston with a small but efficient army that he prepared for him by sending him and those men to the nearest house settlements of Harrenhal to demand that they bend the knee for his brother Aegon.

Once he returns with those men, they can finish preparing and stop that army of Rhaenyra's, having him more opportunity to protect his entire army from the skies and burn as much as he can.

You along with some maids provide food to the men who will go to battle, you also help with their supplies, walking back and forth under the watchful eye of Aemond being so helpful to his men, this not pleasing him but not being able to do anything about it either.

When an ambush happens.

Everything happens too fast, as suddenly a not very big army surrounds all of Aemond's surprisingly with black flags, symbol of Rhaenyra.

And then a man grabs you by force, takes you to the center of the whole ambush and then puts a dagger in your neck.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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periprose · 6 months

Note

Ps5 Peter Parker x reader inspired by this?

It's one of my favorite MerDer moments on Grey's anatomy 🙈😭

Peter explains something about physics or an idea for a gagdet...

🤣 this image really cracked me up lol thanks for the ask!! I've set the fic to take place in the first game, Peter and Reader are Otto's assistants at Octavius Industries. Please ignore the science mumbo jumbo in this fic.

Otto's lab was really cold this time of year. He barely had the funds to make rent in Manhattan, let alone provide optimal heating and other luxuries.

Still, you shiver, searching through your locker for your comfy, oversized jumper. You're just pulling it on when Peter pops up from behind you.

"Hey."

"Jesus!" You flinch and then rub your eyes. "Hey, Peter. How do you get behind me so fast? That's the third time this month I didn't even see you come in."

"Uh... I just have good reflexes, I think." Peter's mouth twists a little, as he tries not to laugh at your jumper. "Are you sure that's up to lab standards? Where's your lab coat?"

"Ah, Otto doesn't mind. He knows I'm cold." You explain, and Peter sighs.

"Well, he never gives me special treatment."

"Probably because you're not as cute as I am." You joke, but Peter nods and you feel a callous level of attraction towards him for being so nonchalant in terms of flirting.

You never really know where you stand with the guy. He's a naturally witty person and you refuse to read into anything any deeper, just for self preservation.

"Hey, I can't disagree with that." Peter laughs that quiet, soft laugh that makes you smile on your own. "Here, I got you a cup of coffee. That should help warm you up."

You look down and see, sure enough, Peter's holding a coffee cup tray, loaded with three cups, surely your usual orders- for you, extra black espresso to stay awake, for Peter, usually some kind of healthy tea hybrid, and for Otto, a large, creamy Italian coffee blend that's particularly expensive (Peter always jokes that Otto wastes funding on things like this).

"Oh, I'll pay you back." You reach back into your locker for your wallet, but Peter stops you with a raise of his hand.

"It's free of charge. No worries." He hands you the cup gently, and your hand skirts across his. You think for a moment.

"Nothing is ever really 'free of charge', Peter." You give him a side glance. In the last couple of months you've known this guy, you've figured out when he has an ulterior motive.

"... Alright, alright. You got me." Peter starts pulling you along by the hand, towards one of Otto's offices filled with white-boards and desks and equipment. You take a sip of your coffee and notice that it's still quite hot- Peter must've been really fast to make it so.

Not that you're complaining, and now that you're warmer you do feel more inclined to listen to him.

"Okay. You know how Otto's neural interface for the experimental arms have been glitching out?" Peter's got a firm look on his face, as you sit and listen.

"Yeah. It's a poor prototype, I think he asked us to leave it alone? He said he'd deal with it." You shrug. "I've moved on to his requests for a tighter, stronger arm. You know I deal with hardware."

"Yes, but even so, the neural interface problem still persists. Otto's lying." Peter looks at the whiteboard, and sees that half of it is covered all over with erratically drawn diagrams and equations. It's fine, he knows he can write what he needs in that space.

"Okay, look." Peter begins drawing a diagram of the neural interface's circuitry. "See how the voltage is really high?"

"Yeah- but isn't that what Doc wanted?" You grimace. "Last time I brought up the voltage issue, he told me to mind my business and continue with soldering. He wants so much power for some reason."

"Right, that's what I'm talking about. Notice how Otto keeps having those outbursts?" Peter sighs, a deeply upsetting look overtaking him. "He's getting a bit aggressive as of late, and I think it's because he can't figure this out."

"You're telling me. Just yesterday he chewed me out for clocking in a bit late." You sniff. "Okay, I was fifteen minutes late, but still."

"I've been there, you don't even have to justify it." Peter laughs, and begins drawing squiggly lines. You can't help but notice how his strangely muscular arms are tense and visible through his lab coat as he scrawls, and you take a sip of your coffee, savoring the view. Looking isn't illegal, you try to rationalize, but you quickly banish these thoughts as Peter looks back with a sly glance, to make sure you're paying attention.

"This is the electricity flow... and it should be heading this way, but the neural interface is made incorrectly and the flow of energy is heading back this way... towards the-"

"The battery of the arms, not the interface." You suddenly realize, and take a scrap piece of paper off the desk, scribbling down notes. "Hmm... maybe the wiring used for the arms is absorbing too much energy? Or the batteries are too big?"

"Maybe, but neural interfaces are tricky business." Peter winces as Otto yells at something in the background of the lab. "I told Otto not to get too involved with it- it's far too easy to accidentally mess with your brain, and then suddenly you've got anger issues or worse-"

"Dementia." You finish his sentence with an equally grim expression. "Okay. I hear you, but how are we supposed to fix it, exactly? I can only think of using different, smaller wires, or a less cost heavy battery- but then it won't move at the speed Otto wants it to."

"Yeah." Peter's shoulders slump a little, and you feel bad. He's always just one dude trying to take on the entire world's problems.

"Peter, it's not your problem, really. You can only do so much- the man has made up his mind, he's going to have to take the brunt of the problem." You try to console him, but Peter has that determined Parker Pride you've seen far too often, and you know he's not going to let it go.

"Wait, wait. Okay..." Peter starts frantically drawing on the board, and seeing that he's running out of space, without missing a beat, begins to draw on the wall.

"Peter! You're drawing on the wall!" You admonish him, and to your shock and utter horror, but not to your surprise, he keeps going. "Now you've completely lost it- it'll take two seconds to erase the board-"

But Peter isn't listening, in that overly stubborn, inventor way that you know you've done before. He's too lost in his own thoughts, and you know that spark will disappear if he takes a moment to stop drawing.

"I'll clean it. It's fine. We got to get a move on." Peter points to the new diagram on the wall. "Look at this."

Peter's drawn a rudimentary depiction of the robotic arm prototypes you've built for Otto, but the battery pack has been split up into several, smaller batteries that extend over the course of the arms. Something about the way the arms move in Peter's drawings look a lot more... smooth, silky, like a cephalopod.

An octopus.

But you are amazed at Peter's capabilities, either way. "Using multiple different batteries, so the energy isn't drawn away from the neural interface in a great capacity?" You blink, a bit amused at Peter's eager expression. "It would work, I think, but only if Otto is willing for a slight decrease in power."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. We don't need to sacrifice power at all." Peter draws a set of gears, interlocking through the squiddy looking arm, and you clap your hands, clambering up out of your seat, finally enthused by his idea.

"Peter Parker, you genius!" You shake his arm excitedly, and he turns a bit pinker as he watches you, grinning. "Otto wanted the arm to be almost entirely synthetic material- but if it has rotating gears, the less it will jerk around. It'll be faster, smoother-"

"Thus requiring less power anyways, and less power will be redirected into his neural interface. And, hypothetically, no more angry Otto." Peter grins, and you smile up at him. "I mean, it'll still take some tinkering to figure out, but incremental improvements are still improvements, right?"

"Definitely. Plus we can always try to convince him about solar power again." You joke as Peter snickers.

Peter opens his mouth, about to say something to you, but he stares for a moment too long and hesitates, especially because in the nerdy excitement, he had gotten so close to you, and he was a liar if he said he had never checked out his cute co-worker. Any second now, you should be teasing as you usually do- but your eyes are wide and Peter gets the sense you've been swept up in this too.

He's never been so... close. He can make out individual eyelashes, tiny scars, imperceptible to normal people, but not to him.

And his phone buzzes with some kind of alert. He looks it over with bright, concerned eyes, while you take a moment to step back, much to Peter's mild irritation.

"Ah... must be MJ?" You ask, trying so very hard not to sound like a jealous girlfriend, just a curious colleague. You have nothing against MJ- you just feel that she and Peter are so meant for each other, and this is exactly why you've been trying to protect yourself.

Who are you kidding? You and Peter are both so busy- you'd never have time to be his doting, adoring girlfriend. You just have to remember him as a friend.

Already you feel the walls coming into place, your expression turning neutral, your heart becoming steely, when Peter looks at you again, surprised.

He can tell you're holding yourself back- and he doesn't like that. He wants you to come back to him, to be close with him again, and it drives him nuts that it has to be your choice, but he respects that.

"Not MJ. We broke up a while ago." Peter swallows, hoping he's saying the right things. "Uh... I don't think we're going to get back together. She's dating someone else now."

"Oh." You squeeze Peter's shoulder as comfortingly as you can. "Peter, I'm sorry. I would've been less of an ass if I'd known."

"No, don't be." Peter fixes a firm, kindhearted glance at you, taking your hands, the warmth of his own making you feel especially treasured. "You're great."

There's a teeny bit of hope working it's way into you, into your silly, girly heart despite all the steel around it, and Peter has a soft smile reserved just for you- you know that smile, you've seen it before when he comforts you when an experiment goes poorly, or when you've had a Eureka moment.

He rubs your hands. "Jeez, you're cold! I know women are usually freezing in the workplace- different body temperatures on average and all that- but I'm going to have to talk to Otto about making it warmer in here."

"Lest I die of hypothermia, right." You snort, and Peter snickers, but he still stays close, as if he's using this as an excuse. "Well, at least I have your hands."

Peter's phone buzzes again, another alert, which he apologetically takes a moment to read after letting go of you. Something about Fisk's thugs making their way through Grand Central Station- he shouldn't leave right now, but he can see your curiosity is piqued.

"Just a news alert. Nothing big." Peter lies, and you don't quite buy it, but you don't want to pry at this moment after he's complimented you and been so nice to warm up your hands.

Otto bursts through the entrance of the room, sighing.

"Will you two lovebirds stop canoodling with each other and test out the circuitry? You know, like I'm paying you to do so with very limited funds?" He barks, and then inhales. "Sorry. Just... try to stay on task. And I know you're young and all... but stop drawing on the walls!"

He leaves, grumbling about youth being too romantic and wishing they would understand sensibility.

You're about to refute whatever Otto said, so Peter doesn't feel uncomfortable, when he speaks first.

"I take it he isn't a romantic." Peter jokes as he grabs some paper towels, and you laugh, feeling that Peter's flirting was more genuine than you thought.

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darkestspring · 1 year

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Hi. I’m new to this and just read the rules and hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable

Can I ask for a Aemond x aunt Hightower reader? Like Alicent, she would harm herself but she would either dig her nails into her arms or would just gaze out of space and sometimes accidentally slice her hands or fingers. Otto never married her off because she was like Heleana in a way. She would learn high valyrian with Aemond and would always feel appreciated and happy whenever he praises his aunt for getting a wording right since Otto was never there for her

Aemond is obsessed with his aunt and whispers in his fathers ear (sickly Viserys) of his wish to marry his aunt so he can keep her happy

Cut to the dinner scene, Aemond makes a second toast: “I would like to make one more toast… I am to marry my dearest aunt. She is to be my wife”

Aunt Hightower was once again zoning out, all she heard was her nephew marrying and taking a wife, so she just begins clapping

You had always been an absentminded child, always daydreaming and zoning out, consumed by your own mind. Your father had loved you in a different way than your sister and your sister had loved you like you were her own child.

With your father forcing his ambition of making his daughter queen onto your older sister, he did not have a reason to marry you off, content to listen to alicent's demand that you stay with her in king's landing.

You were still a child, content to pick flowers and live inside your own world. He was content to let you remain like that. For now.

Alicent was a different matter, there was a decade age gap between the two of you, she had always found it cute when you toddled after her, holding flowers for her.

it went without saying that growing up as the queen's younger sister in king's landing meant that you also grew up with your nephews and niece. Your time was mostly spent with Helaena, being that you both were mostly cut from the same cloth.

you both spoke in riddles that no one really understood.

You had never understood the point of fearing bugs so you let your niece place bugs in your hand as she explained about them to you and you did the same to her when it came to flowers, your interest in them almost obsessive.

But the times where you weren't with helaena or even alicent, you were more than often not found with aemond. aegon avoided you as much as he count apart from the rare times when he came to you jsut to hear your praise directed towards him, he wanted just one person to be proud of him and you were.

aemond always seemed to be around whenever you were walking, a basket in your hands with the intent to pick flowers and fruits from the garden that alicent had set up for you, to indulge in your hobby.

He would insist on hold the basket, on helping you as he tried so hard to decipher your muttered riddles.

"the dove can never escape the sapphire cage," you had muttered in your sleep one day as you rested with your head in aemond's lap, per his request and he took that as a prophecy that you were both meant to be married, to be husband and wife.

It didn't matter his mother's protectiveness, nor his grandfather's nor even his elder sisters protectiveness over you. You would be his.

Dragons did not ask permission, they simply took.

and that's what he did.

he remained close to you, patient even as his unrelenting obsession over you got worse as years went on, he had been moved by your tears over the wretched state his bastard nephew pushed onto him, stealing his eye.

Aemond never trailed far from your side, even as questions of why you remained unmarried arose.

'I will marry you.' He was convinced of it, holding your hand gently to keep your from drawing more blood to your slowly healing marks.

The dinner had been the perfect place to announce it. He had taken such care to convince his slowly dying father, whispering his wishes to marry his aunt.

"A toast to my beloved aunt... I will make you the happiest bride, my love."

You had been zoning out at that point and everyone knew by your out of focus eyes but you still clapped along with helaena absentmindedly, not seeing the horrified look on your older sister's face.

ah, but your fate was already sealed.... Targaryen's always get what they want.

#aemond targaryen x reader #yandere aemond targaryen x reader #yandere hotd

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sayafics · 7 months

Text

Dance of Shadows - Chapter II

Thank you to everyone who showed so much love to Chapter I and waited so patiently for this chapter! I do hope you enjoy it. Reading all your comments and seeing your likes and reblogs made me feel so appreciated, so thank you again!

This chapter will be very Daemon/Saenyra focused, but please presume everything else happens as normal <3

This is quite a long chapter, but I hope it's worth the read!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The crowd roared in unison, a crashing wave of victory and excitement rolled through the tourney grounds as the people of King's Landing yelled in celebration - the tourney has begun, and so has Queen Aemma's labours.

Saenyra's father held the tourney in honour of her maybe-brother that was itching and turning to leave her mother's womb.

She wanted to be by her mother's side, to hold her hand, and ground her during the pains of bearing a child.

But Viserys had promised the girl Aemma would be fine, that it was of more importance she was to attend the tourney. As that was where her duty required her to be - an ornament, a prize placed at the forefront of a bloodied battle for men to lust for, soldiers to grovel for, and Lords to prepare bounties in exchange for.

Of course he had not said so directly to her, even his words, so gentle and kind, were not her's to listen to. Yet they were a silent command to follow.

Viserys had spoken the words to Rhaenyra, Saenyra had simply been there and nodded like the obedient child she was and obeyed an order they did not feel the need to grace her with.

In the back of her mind, Saenyra knew if her absence did not draw up the suspicions and whispers of the people, then her father would have paid no mind. Rhaenyra is heir, if not to the throne, then to Dragonstone.

She was simply a princess, with no power tied to her name nor land for her to cherish. All that came to her - all that would be her own, would first belong to the man her father asked her to marry. And, some nights, Saenyra feared she would not be able to deny her father's wishes, because she had always seen her father's words to her as they truly were - commands of a King, not the gentle whispers of a loving father.

The tourney had begun, and Saenyra sat next to her sister as she gazed upon the grounds, suppressing a flinch as she watched the men collide into each other with a violent crack. The sound was enough to snap her out of her reverie, realising she had already missed the introductions and did not know who was competing. She sat straighter, spine stiffening as she rolled her shoulders - it would not be good if the Lords and Ladies were to catch her ill-attention, cursing it as a lack of manners and a mockery to the Court.

She paid no mind to Alicent's and Rhaenyra's incessant whispers, knowing their words were not for her and to include herself would only lead to them drawing back until she stopped. So she sat, quiet and proper, eyes flitting over the game in front of her in feigned interest.

The man who had fallen was Ser Gwayne Hightower of Old Town, Alicent's brother. Saenyra remembers him well, recalls the whispers that Otto Hightower had proposed a marriage between his eldest son and one of Viserys' daughters, but it was Aemma who denied the match. She did not think it a coincidence when she had ran into the man the following evening in the library, and she was bound in suspicion when he offered to walk her back to her chambers.

To this day, Saenyra finds herself grateful that Ser Harwin Strong had found her in those moments, and she was gladdened to hear him offer to escort her back in his stead. Ser Harwin was a dangerous man, but he was also loyal to the crown and would do her no harm.

Ser Gwayne Hightower was his father's child, and Saenyra, despite all her years sharing the castle with him, had never known Otto Hightower enough to trust him.

She watched how Alicent held her breath as the armoured man knocked Gawyne off his horse with brutal ease. Ser Hightower conceded, and the man dressed in an armour of dark grey and riddled with red as dark as rubies cheered in victory.

Saenyra's eyes traced over the armoured man, following every curve and line that decorated the fine metal-work. She noticed him draw closer, and at his proximity Rhaenyra leapt up from her seat.

Rhaenyra exuded a familiar scent of childish glee at the sight of the man, and it was only then that realisation sunk in as gentle lavendar hues met the molten colour of vicious violet.

This was Daemon, dressed in armour fit for a dragon, so unlike the one she had seen him only before. He stood now, clean and shining. His eyes were bright, glowing with the fire of a new battle, his expression seemed eased, and Saenyra knew the tourney was nothing like the bloodbaths Daemon loved to seek.

"Nicely done, Uncle."

Daemon's eyes flitted to Rhaenyra, squinting against the sun as a pleased smile crossed his face. Saenyra couldn't help the jealousy that festered under her skin, to see her sister once again preen under the attention of their uncle who seemed to care for one sister more than the other - just like her father, just like her mother, just like the Kingdom and probably, just like her brother too.

"Thank you, Princess."

Daemon's words were spoken with a lilt, and any passerby would have assumed the man was enamoured by the girl who stood in front of him - the Realm's Delight.

Instead, his eyes bounced from Rhaenyra to her friend standing loyally beside her, and his mouth parted, ready to ask a question.

It was at that moment a glint caught Daemon's eye, and his eyes darted back to the quiet girl who sat in the shadows of her sister's tall and domineering presence. It was at that moment he remembered a call for a promise and a whisper to wait until the time came to be.

Daemon could have used such a promise to bargain some leverage, to gain the upper hand, and receive power or triumph in turn. But, eyes roving over the girl who avidly avoided his boring stare, he found he did not want to wait and see if a different opportunity arises. Not when he could live in a whispered moment of his desires right now.

"Now I am fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent," Daemon watched how Rhaenyra's face fell as he addressed her friend instead of her, knowing what question lay on the tip of his tongue, and for a moment Daemon truly felt pity for the girl. "But having the favour of one so kind and gentle would all but assure it," he watched Alicent radiate a warmth of eagerness at his words, despite her attempts to stifle it in Rhaenyra's presence.

As a man who abhorred the existence of her father and his twisted words, Daemon could not help the thrill that wracked through him as he continued his words and watched the Hightower girl deflate.

"Would you send for my dearest niece? I have a question for her."

Alicent looked between Rhaenyra and her sister, pulling herself together as she deliberated her next course of action. Daemon raised a brow, and she nodded hesitantly in reply. She stepped backwards - once, twice. As though she was waiting for Rhaenyra to stop her - she never did. So Alicent turned on her heels and walked ever so slowly towards Saenyra who determinedly looked towards her fumbling fingers and avoided the eyes of her sister's friend, dread settling in the pit of her stomach at the sound of the approaching figure.

"Princess, your uncle calls to you."

Saenyra looked up with a frown, "what does my uncle want with me?"

Alicent looked over her shoulders for a moment, glacing at Rhaenyra's tense shoulders and Daemon's narrowed eyes - "I believe it is something you must ask him."

Saenyra regarded her with suspicion, eyes flitting over to see her uncle and sister locked in a bout of seething words. She found she did not want to approach, worried of what she may hear and what she may be asked.

Did Daemon want to ask for his favour now? Was it truly to do with Rhaenyra? Was that why she was so angry? Did Rhaenyra not want her to overhear what Daemon plans to ask of her?

Despite all the questions echoing in her mind like a deafening storm, she finds herself standing in a graceful manner and making her way to them with Alicent lurking a step or two behind.

When they approached the pair, Daemon and Rhaenyra were sharing a gaze heated by the fire of dragons - Rhaenyra glared at the man as though they had shared venomous words, despite them not being overheard by others.

Saenyra waited a few steps back, hesitance clouding her mind as she waited - hoping Daemon would call to her.

And he did.

"Saenyra," her name sounded so sweet, rolling off his tongue, his anger that flowed in steaming waves now seemed to lull in the air of her presence. "I have something to ask of you," a knowing look crossed his face, a sign that he was referring to their meeting by chance a few short days ago, and it was as though he knew she had not forgotten about it either.

Saenyra glanced towards her sister, but Rhaenyra simply avoided her gaze and stood with a passive expression painted along her face. Saenyra cleared her throat, her voice almost a whisper as she spoke, unsure of what to say, "of course, Uncle. What is it that you desire?"

She had stumbled over her words, cringing as she spoke faster than her mind had been able to think. But Daemon paid no mind, though his lip quirked with amusement as he thought of asking for her, then and there.

Alas, he knew he could do no such thing. So he commanded, an air of reverence in his words, "give me your favour."

His words were simple, so close to the words he truly wanted to say, but knew he could not with his brother's watchful eyes upon him.

Saenyra's cheeks heated at his words, but she did not miss how Rhaenyra's fingers tightened upon the railing, nor how her jaw twitched as she clenched it in irritation.

She almost said no, a part of her even wanted to - fearful of hurting her sister's feelings and possibly losing her in some way. But there was a selfish part of Saenyra, so young and wanting, that had craved for a moment such as this, where someone would ask for her in place of her sister. And she would truly be mad to deny this moment, regardless of how fleeting it came to be.

She bit her lip in feigned contemplation, and Daemon found himself growing warm in the confines of his armour at the sight. She glanced back at Daemon, unable to stop the teasing smile slipping onto her face as she leaned towards him over the railing - "only if you say please."

A flare of pure, unadulterated want radiated through Daemon at her words, and he found himself leaning towards her without a care for the watchful eyes of his audience - "please."

Despite all his savage glory, his plea was close to a whimper, and it seemed to ignite something in Saenyra he had never seen before. Her eyes glance to his lips before moving back, she pulled herself back with heated cheeks and laboured breaths as she clears her throat.

Saenyra turned to grab her wreath, only to find Rhaenyra stood infront of her with it in her grasp.

She stared at her sister for a few moments, unsure of what to do. It seemed even her father was not sure if he should intervene, and Otto simply watched with an interested gaze.

Rhaenyra held the wreath tight, her unrelenting grip causing the flowers beneath to crumble and give in. Saenyra glances back to Daemon's waiting figure, a shroud of determination settles in her as she regards Rhaenyra again, taking slow steps towards her before holding the wreath firmly and taking it from her grasp, she spares her sister a stiff nod - "thank you, Sister."

Rhaenyra doesn't move, nor acknowledge her. She simply waits to see if Saenyra would truly go ahead with this, and give Daemon what he seeks.

Saenyra walks towards Daemon, her steps much more sure and confident. She leans over the railing and gives him a shy smile. He returns it with his own - a broad and mischievous grin.

She reaches towards him to place the wreath, and just as the flowers brush the tip of his sword, he cants his horse to step back away from her as a glorious laugh escapes him. Saenyra can't help the way her heart flutters at the sound, but she rolls her eyes all the same - "Uncle."

Her words were drawn out in feigned annoyance, and he pulled himself back closer at the sound, waiting for her to reach out again before moving away.

"Ugh, Uncle. I swear to the Seven, I will simply take my seat again, and you can fight without my favour."

Daemon tuts, "we can not have that now, can we? Perhaps to make it easier, you can come onto the grounds?"

He raises his brow in challenge, so sure she would not heed. But a look over her shoulder, into the eyes of her raging sister, was all it took for her to move towards the stairs and duck under the arms of a cautious guard.

She ignored the calls of her father and his Hand, the indignant call of Rhaenyra and her friend. She stepped onto the grounds with a huffed breath, but her lips were stretched into a traiterous smile as she walked towards Daemon, who met her halfway.

Daemon unmounted his horse, leaving his joust on the ground as he moved towards her in slow, deliberate steps. He paid no mind to the baited silence of their audience nor the exasperated calls of the Court. He stood in front of her, his armoured boots brushing against the billowing skirt of her dress - a pale pink that stood brightly against the sun.

Saenyra held the wreath out towards him, a simple ring of flowers decorated in shades of blues and yellows - her favourite flowers, irises and begonias, formed into a colourful cluster.

Daemon reached out to accept it. His fingers, encased in his harsh and cold armoured gloves, brushed slowly over the petals to then skim the skin of her warm and delicate hands. Saenyra shivered, goose-flesh running up her arms as she repressed the tremble that silently wracked through her body. His touch paused as metal met metal, and his armoured fingers glided against a ring made of familiar steel.

A ring, so dark and grand, sat on the Princess' hand in place of where her future bethrothed's would. And it was made of Valyrian steel, a shared piece of ancestry.

Daemon admired how the ring looked upon her finger, how the blood-soaked jewel hammered into it radiated against her skin as though it was proud of its wearer and yearned to be showcased because of it.

A shared piece of him.

***

Daemon had avoided Saenyra after his trysts in Silk Street, unable to meet her eye or hear her voice without his mind flashing back to his escapade with Myseria, where all he could think about was Saenyra.

The lengths he would have gone to have her, or someone that simply looked like her.

His stomach would roll with nausea, and his mind was heavy with questions. He found himself needing to apologise with no true need except for the guilt that plagued his mind due to his traiterous fanatasies.

The night after his venture with Myseria, he found himself lazing away in his chambers as the sun fell into the arms of the night sky and the moon rose in its place.

Daemon found himself staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing over every animate shadow and ears on alert for every step and whisper that sounded at his doors.

His heart beat at a calm pace, but every thud brought a sinking feeling of unease to settle in the confines of his chest. His mind began to wander, his thoughts flitting between images of his night with Myseria, to his gift to Rhaenyra, to walking into his little niece.

Daemon remembers how he struggled to force his gaze away from her bare neck - a princess of a Kingdom so grand and powerful, and yet her father would rather have the girl dressed as a commoner than royalty.

Daemon scoffed at the thought - oh, how he wanted to adorn her in jewels and diamonds, to weigh her heavy in the best of refineries so others would see just how much her beauty was worth. How much she is worth.

But he had already given Rhaenyra a necklace, and he wasn't blind to Saenyra's stares of sadness and envy. He knew to give her the same gift he gave Rhaenyra would be nothing short of an insult.

He would do no such thing.

He closed his eyes in frustration, his racing thoughts barely allowing him to catch a breath long enough to lull himself to sleep. He sat up stiffly, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he held his head in his hands.

A deep sigh escaped him, thumbs digging into his eyes as though he was forcing away the images of Saenyra - trying to forget her moonlit hair, her pale eyes, her murmured words and her hesitant breaths.

Daemon glanced towards the fireplace that now burned low, the heat had dampened down, and a cold chill filled the air. It was a feeling akin to flying Caraxes in the winter sky, a scathing feeling that somehow brought a warmth to him all the same.

His eyes rested upon his sword, which stood defiantly against the hearth. Dark Sister looked almost black in the shadows of a dying fire, the rain-guard glinting a violent gold against the blade.

Rhaenyra's necklace had been a piece of shared ancestry.

But Saenyra deserved something more. For all she had done to be a dutiful daughter, she had not shared the grace of being a true dragon despite the blood of one burning through her veins.

When she was younger, a hopeful child who was so sure her egg would hatch as she aged, Daemon had pitied the girl. Even now, his heart would clench in sympathy for her. But he could see how such a loss of an opportunity had strengthened her.

She was just as much of a dragon as he was, despite never having one to call her own. She was just not able to see it yet.

Daemon saw a fragment of his soul in hers. The part of him that yearned for his father's approval, his brother's love. The fraction of him who had ached and begged for a dragon before he made it his mission to tame his own.

Daemon had called for a blacksmith the next day before daylight had broken and offered a pouch of Gold Dragon coins with one hand and his Dark Sister with the other.

Daemon knew exactly what his sweet girl deserved - what she needed.

Saenyra was a dragon, through and through - she simply needed a reminder of such.

The blacksmith had returned before dark, standing nervously with trembling hands as he offered Daemon his sword with one hand and held forth a cotton bag in the other.

Daemon glanced over his sword, his eyes easily catching the part that did not belong. The pommel was the same gold as his rain-guard, but it seemed dainty in comparison. He longed to hold his sword and test it for deficiencies, but his eyes caught the ivory bag clenched tightly in the hands of the blacksmith.

Daemon laid out his hand, and the bag was placed upon it with hesitance. Daemon rolled his eyes at the man's slow movements and snatched the bag away, pulling the ties open and tipping its contents into the palm of his hand.

A bejewelled piece of metal fell with a light thump. The metal felt familiar, even though it had been melted and twisted into something he did not recognise.

The band was simple, engraved with vines and flowers that were so quaint yet so detailed. And fitted perfectly in its centre sat a timid, glowing jewel likened to a pool of congealed blood.

Daemon thought back to the necklace he gifted to Rhaenyra, how its jewels were a bright and lively red. A mockery of who Daemon pretended to be.

This jewel, this colour, this steel. It was a part of him - a reflection of who he was. It was admiration and bloodshed and protection all in one. It was a silent promise and a vicious outcry.

It was a gift, fit for a princess. Fit for Saenyra.

Daemon reached for his sword, turning it over to have a look at the pommel of his sword where Valyrian Steel had been replaced by something else - it was a worthwhile sacrifice, he thought. His hands fisted around the ring, relishing in the feel of it imprinting against his skin.

Daemon had walked through the Keep with the ring settled in the pocket of his chemise for days now, unable to bear the courage to face her in fear of what his desires may ask of him.

It was not until the day of the tourney that he found himself in front of the youngest Princess' chambers. He nodded in greeting to her guards, not waiting for them to announce his presence before he marched into her chambers - he could not risk allowing hesitance to cloud his decisions and walk away.

Daemon held his breath as he closed the doors behind him. Saenyra sat at her dresser, combing through her hair before the sound of Daemon's loud entry forced her eyes to meet his in the reflection.

She was still dressed in her sleeping gown, a sheer shade of pearl that hugged against her figure. Daemon roved his eyes over her by instinct, hungrily drinking in the sight of her whilst he could. Saenyra was not blind to his devouring stare, clearing her throat despite her skin flushing under his heated gaze - "Uncle, can I help you?"

Daemon's eyes met hers, and the desire that pooled in them began to wane as he pulled himself together into the semblance of a gentleman.

"Saenyra," there it was again, her name passing through his soft lips with a gentle caress, "I have something for you."

She raised a brow in question, turning to look over her shoulder at him instead, "and what would that be?"

Daemon did not speak further, he walked closer towards her before stopping at the foot of her bed. He sat cautiously, waiting to see if she would object and send him away, but the girl was much too curious to do such a thing.

He beckoned her forward, and she hesitated for a moment.

"Come."

His voice was firm, as though he knew she would obey without question, and as she stumbled to her feet, she had the fleeting realisation that she would do anything Daemon had asked. She would follow him to the ends of the world and more, if he so desired.

She stood in front of him, and still she felt so small despite the fact that he had to look up to her. Her hands fiddled with the ends of her gown, which brushed against her thighs lightly - the idea she was so exposed in front of her uncle sent a shiver down her spine.

Daemon forced himself to keep his eyes upon hers, to not disrespect his darling niece when she had so politely adhered to his wishes despite the burning temptation to drink in the sight of her bare legs only a hairs-breadth away.

If he leaned forward, he was sure he could run his lips against her bare skin, and his body heated at the thought of her trembling under his touch.

He shook himself from his thoughts, looking upon Saenyra with adoring eyes as one of his hands took hers. He tugged her gently, tempted to pull her onto his lap but knowing it was a move much too daring.

Instead, she fell neatly onto her knees between his parted legs, and Daemon had to hold back a groan. She eyed him with such trust, full of so much naivety and innocence he found himself intoxicated with the idea of corrupting her and taking her as his own.

But he couldn't.

Shouldn't.

"I have a gift for you."

His words were a gasped whisper, spoken only between their shared breath that she had almost missed it, becoming so distracted by his warmth - by his dragon fire.

She blinked slowly, as though she was confused, "for me?"

He smiled at her, kindly. Something so unlike Daemon that even he was struck with the oddity of their circumstances. Still, he nodded.

She frowned, "why?"

His head tilted in sympathy to see his niece so surprised by such an act - "why not? Anything for my favourite niece."

Her eyes widened in surprise, "I'm your favourite?"

He grinned, "who else could it possibly be?"

Her head became down-turned, "everyone knows you love Rhaenyra more."

Her words struck a cord in his heart, is that what she truly believed? "And yet it is you I brought a gift for."

She looked back up at him, her face dead-pan as she spoke, "that is because you already brought her one. This is probably something gifted out of guilt."

She was close to the truth, but not entirely. This was a gift out of guilt for his wreckless thoughts and violent desires, but it was also a token of his devotion. Not that his dear niece needed to know.

He shook his head in turn, "this is so much more."

His hand reached into the pocket of his chest, nimble fingers pulling out the jewel he held so close to his heart as he waited for this moment. Her lips parted at the sight of it, and Daemon was sure he saw unshed tears pool within her eyes.

"That's for me?"

"Just for you."

Her eyes flickered to meet his disbelief, painting her expression - "Daemon," she spoke his name as though it was natural to her, and it sang with melodic delight causing desire to curl in his chest and hum contentedly. "Daemon," she repeated, so sweetly and softly, "I can't accept this."

"Yes you can."

"It is too much. It would not be fair to accept such a prize with nothing given in return."

Mischief raided through his heart as though it was a second nature, it clashed with desire and became pronounced - "then take it in exchange for another promise. A bigger one," his voice dipped, lowering into a whisper, "a dangerous one."

Saenyra didn't let her gaze fall from his, she knew she should deny him and his gift. She should send him from her chambers and pretend nothing had happened, but to have him so close and to see him act so daring, to challenge her so openly - it sparked a burning fire within her, setting her dragon alight - "so, what is it that you want?"

Her words felt like an echo of the ones she had said to him only days ago.

"I guess you shall have to wait and see."

She couldn't help the shy smile that slipped across her face at his echoing words, nor the heated flush that painted her cheeks as she felt him take her hand and slip the ring onto her left hand. It sat snugly on the finger where her future bethrothed's ring would have sat. And a small part of Saenyra, the one so selfish and greedy, knew no other man would have been able to produce a perfect fit for her apart from Daemon.

Saenyra couldn't pull her eyes away from his, she watched as his eyes darkened under her curious gaze. His own glanced towards her lips that she bit anxiously, and a thumb came to brush across it softly as he pulled it out before she could abuse it further.

His thumb sat on the bed of her lip, and he kept her gaze with a new ferocity. She glanced to his now, watching how he wetted his lips under her watchful gaze as his head grew heady with desire.

A knock on the door, loud and harsh, startled her from his grasp. His hand was still outstretched towards her, and his eyes never left her, even as she stood and brushed the gown straight.

Ser Harwin entered the room, a curious gaze passed between the unusual pair, before he focused upon the simmering figure of Daemon Targaryen- "my Prince, the King calls for you. The tourney is to begin."

Daemon lets out a frustrated sigh as he pulls himself to his feet, he walks towards Saenyra and pulls her focus back onto him. He holds the hand bejewelled with a piece of him and presses a longing kiss upon her knuckles - "I hope to see you on the grounds, Saenyra."

She did not get a chance to reply. He turned on his feet and walked out her chambers - not without sharing a sharp glare with Ser Harwin Strong.

After he had left, Saenyra shared a nervous smile with Ser Harwin before he prompted her to get ready as he would send the handmaids to help her. She nodded in agreement, returning to her dresser to brush through her hair, but throughout it all, she was unable to tear away her gaze from the fine ring that adorned her hand.

A flutter sang within her chest, and a traiterous smile and bubbling laugh escaped her as she thought of Daemon's glimmering eyes and bright smile.

***

Daemon had been knocked onto the grounds by Ser Criston Cole, the man was skilled in tourneys but Daemon was better - more experienced.

He launched from the grounds, demanding his sword before slashing and swinging against Criston's flail. He sent a frenzied attack that was oragnised yet doused with the fire of unbridled rage.

He admired the man's strength and his stubbornness, but Daemon was not one to lose.

He had knocked Criston to the ground, Daemon's shield had been shattered to splinters, but he swung his sword with ease, his golden pommel a shining beacon for the girl who owned the original piece.

He turned towards the audience, towards her - cheering and celebrating. He searched for the missing part of his sword in the victorious cries of the Court, in their waving arms and broad smiles. His sword usually felt light in his hand, as though it was an extension of him, but the longer he struggled to seek her out, the heavier it felt.

She had left the tourney before he had even succeeded, she had not waited to celebrate his victory, she had not shared a parting goodbye or stayed for a boisterous celebration.

And with her, she had taken her favour.

Daemon had let his guard down, and Criston had taken advantage of his wavering heart and beat him to the ground whilst his back was turned - the act of a coward, but the rise of a victor.

Daemon yielded.

His eyes closed in frustration as his mind flooded with flashes of her once more - why had she left?

***

Within the walls of the Keep, Queen Aemma's cries sounded loudly. Saenyra had wanted to comfort her mother, but they tore her apart before she could reach her.

They let her mother cry and scream and beg until her last dying breath. And the babe followed shortly after.

Perhaps her mother did not care for her as much as she did Rhaenyra, but Aemma was her mother.

Perhaps the babe would have preferred his eldest sister, the dragon-rider, to his other sister, the timid. But Baelon was her brother.

She had gained the affection of her uncle, but lost her mother and her brother as consequence.

Saenyra felt as though her body revolted in the shadows of a dark and humourous curse, one that took and took and gave so little.

Saenyra stared at the ring Daemon placed upon her finger, her eyes were blank and her face was streaked with tears, her breaths were coming out short and panicked and she tried her best to avoid her mother's gasping breaths, her pleas for a daughter who was absent and not the one who was present, her last tear and her father's wails.

She stared at the ring, and a piece of her - the growing envious beast within - wished she had never accepted the token, believing if she did not, she would still have the half-love of a mother and the possible love of a brother, in place of a displaced infatuation of an uncle.

She wanted Daemon, but she was not sure how.

She wanted Daemon, but she wanted her mother more.

I honestly loved writing this chapter, it was like the words just flowed. I really do hope you guys like it! Please comment, like, and reblog! Every single one is so greatly appreciated <33

I have so many ideas for the next few chapters, I can't wait!!

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen angst #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon

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jaegonsmoon · 1 year

Note

Omega pregnant Aegon: *is married to Alpha Aemond and gives birth to a dark haired beautiful baby*

King Viserys: *is oblivious and just happy have more grandchildren*

Rhanyra: *freaking out over being an aunt and grandmother at the same time and also trying to spin this situation in way where this won’t end in war or death*

Aemond, Otto, Alicent and Baela: *absolutely furious and ready to draw blood*

Luke and Rhanea: *not looking and anyone and edging out of the room to avoid any fallout*

Daemon:* smirking and leaning against the doorway with popcorn*

Jace:*sweating bullets and debating on running to the free cities to keep his balls in tact*

Aegon: *ignoring everything and just holding /in love with his new Baby*

THIS IS GOLDEN!!!!!! I love it!

Aemond, who has fucked Aegon probably two to three times out of duty since they wedded. Aemond who has been fucking unbonded omega Lucerys since he presented as one not long after his and Aegon’s wedding. Aemond who, after his and his brother’s coupling, looks the other way and pretends he does not see when Aegon downs moon tea like a cup of the finest westerosi wine. Aemond who is in love with Lucerys and curses his and his own existence every day for the omega not presenting sooner so they could’ve been bonded against all odds instead. Aemond, who knows where Aegon’s heart lies since they were kids: *Fake offended gasp at the babes dark hair*

Lucerys, who forgot to take his moon tea last time and drank it a tad too late, way past the 24 hours cycle, physically sweating: *gulps*

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena, who have always known what’s stirring inside the pot and have all come to a silent agreement because they’re all young and craving a love of their own, not one forced upon them: *trying to contain their smirks and compostures*

Jacaerys, who has loved Aegon since he learned the meaning of it. Who’s first kiss, first time, first everything he shared with his uncle. Jace who was denied Aegon’s hand when his mother, who knew all along, tried to arrange their marriage. Jace who couldn’t steal Aegon away because Alicent, suspicious of it all, wed him to Aemond privately, before anyone could make a move. Jacaerys whose chest was swelling with pride at the sight of what they made together. Their babe. It was his seed the one to blossom in his womb, it was him the one that put it there, and now were all gonna possibly be beheaded for it, but in truth there was only one person in the room who gave a fuck about it, and no one would listen to her. Jacaerys who couldn’t be more obvious right now if he could help it: Gevie.

Aegon, who had only eyes for Jacaerys his entire life, ever since he had been born, till the moment present where he knew, the moment he became pregnant. He felt it. Aegon who spent his entire pregnancy sneaking out on rides where he and Jace would meet halfway in a small island they had found as an escaped in their early youth. Where they would curl up in between their dragons and talk, kiss, touch and fuck and hold each other for hours. Ageon, whose babe was restless when their sire was away. Aegon who wished this would happen, that his baby would inherit their true sires features for the world to see. For his mother to see. The inevitable, how they were meant to be from the start and no faith and costume of the Mother or The Seven could come between the ways of Old Valyria, of the dragons. Aegon who was in love with what he and his nephew had created out of love and passion, couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful creature in his arms: I would burn the seven kingdoms for you.

And much like with Rhaenyra’s first three children, King Viserys would have the tongues and eyes of whoever dared to speak ill against his grandchild.

And when a couple of months later, unmated omega prince Lucerys gave birth to a beautiful silver haired baby, then what—

#They’re giving poor Alicent an aneurysm #I know Viserys is amused af #everybody knowzz #aemond x lucerys #lucemond #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #aegon ii targaryen #lucerys targaryen #jaegon #jacaerys velaryon #jacegon #aegond

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theobjectofyourire · 2 years

Text

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

~~~~~~~

A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02

#daemon fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #hotd #hotd 1x08 #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon fic #daemon fanfiction #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fluff #father/daughter #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon imagine

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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We know that in the books Viserys and Daemon had a little brother, who, unfortunately perished with his mother Alyssa shortly after his birth. But what if only Alyssa died and he survived by some miracle but had a weak immune system and had to stay inside of his room most of the day; his only company was his books and his trusted pen, who he always writing stories with it. Because of his creativity he was the family's story teller! Making his brothers feel safe with him and making them shielded from the harsh reality of their life. As you can imagine Viserys and Daemon became deeply attached to their little brother (which seen by others as "a little bit unhealthy"). And this brings us to the present day, the civil war and family drama. For their little brother it doesn't go so well and he's stuck between with his two older brother (+their families).

I really love this idea!

Even thought they’re family and both equally love and care for their little brother, Viserys and Daemon could never come to agree on what was best for their brother’s wants and needs. Each would want the brother to stay with them, Viserys wants him at King’s Landing meanwhile Daemon wants him with himself at Dragon Stone. But neither are going to let the other move their brother away from them. It’s too much of a risk for their brother’s well being. Also, whenever Daemon brings up wanting to take their brother out of King’s Landing, Viserys would always throw back at him how unpredictable and irresponsible he can be and how much consistency their brother needs because of his health issues.

Viserys would absolutely hang on every word the Maesters had to say about his brother’s condition and what would be best to treat it, to keep him healthy and happy. But Daemon doesn’t trust the Maesters, he thinks their full of shit and has no regard for them whatsoever. Not when it comes to his precious baby brother and them having control over his health. They basically hold his brother’s life in their hands and Daemon doesn’t take lightly to it.

I really love the thought of Rhaenyra being very close to her Uncle!Reader (not in the same way she is with Daemon). Like, ever since Rhaenyra could remember Uncle!Reader would always read to her and write stories just for her when she’d come to see him. If he drew then he’d draw things for her, even illustrations for the stories he’d made for her. Viserys would absolutely adore the kind of bond and connection that Rhaenyra and his youngest brother had. Two of his most treasured people spending time together just filled him with complete joy. And when Aemma passes both Rhaenyra and Viserys would go to Uncle/Brother!Reader for consoling and to just be with in their moments of grieving.

When it comes to Viserys needing to remarry he’d go to his baby brother and ask for their advice on the matter. Or to even just talk out his own thoughts and gripes about it. If there was any better listener in all the Seven Kingdoms it would be Viserys and Daemon’s little brother. Rhaenyra would probably do the same, seeking her Uncle to talk about her own thoughts and feelings about the situation to him.

I can’t help but imagine Alicent being attached to the brother too. Most likely romantically. It’s not a surprise that she’d probably be the one to really care for and tend to him, similar to how she tended to Jaehaerys before his death when she first came to King’s Landing after Otto became Hand. She’d spend the most time with him, talking, listening, just basking in his presence. Even though she’s just there to care for him and be his company throughout the day, she can’t help but feel some type of way with him. Especially if his chambers is like a makeshift safe place for not only his brother but Rhaenyra too. It would make sense that Alicent too would take comfort in the Reader, whether it’s just his presence or how calming and serene he is. Of course he’d be the first one Alicent would tell about marrying Viserys, confessing that it isn’t whant she wants, even possibly confessing her romantic interest in him right then and there.

Alicent would also totally bring her children with Viserys to the Reader. Of course when they’re all first born Viserys brings them to show to his brother but Alicent would go further than that. I could see her making Viserys’ brother a surrogate father figure for her children. And after Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon III and Viserys II come into the picture, Alicent would feel threatened. Her children’s time with the Reader would be taken up by Rhaenyra/Daemon’s children and that would really irk her.

Once Viserys’ health gets worse he wouldn’t be able to visit his brother as much if at all out of fear and worry of getting him sick. That would really hurt Viserys. Not being able to see his beloved brother especially before he dies. It would have to be through Deamon, Rhaenyra and Alicent that the two could communicate. Unless the brother were to sneak out of his room to see Viserys, even if it is one last time.

I’d say though that it’s after Viserys’ death that shit really hits the fan and it’s made apparent where the Brother!Reader’s position is in this whole debacle and it’s smack dab right in the middle. Rhaenyra and Daemon are hellbent on moving the Reader to Dragon Stone to be with all of them, his real family. Meanwhile Alicent is desperate to keep the Reader with her just because of her own feelings for him, she doesn’t want him to be taken from her cause she knows that’ll be the end of it. And if the children were just as attached to the Reader, even viewing him as more of a father than Viserys was to them they’d do everything they could to help keep him in King’s Landing. And Alicent has no problem using the Reader’s health as an excuse to keep him where he already is. Using it to guilt trip and garner a sympathetic response from Rhaenyra, but it’s really Daemon who she has to convince and it’s not going to work.

Also, you can bet Rhaenys would also have quite the attachment for her youngest cousin. Especially if he were to have been encouraging and supportive of her when she was in line for the crown. She would have come to him after Laenor and Laena’s deaths, and of course after Viserys’ death as well. I could even see while Viserys and Deamon were always fighting about where to have the Reader reside, Rhaenys had her own wants for the Reader to stay with her and her family at Driftmark. She just knew better than to say anything but now she’ll do whatever to get her cousin away from the Greens.

#anxious answers #yandere viserys i targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #yandere rhaenys targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Perhaps maybe a little something with Aemond inspired by the song Sucker by the Jonas Brothers?

Can be smut or not

👉👈😳 maybe possibly if that's okay

Side-eyeing you hard for your terrible taste in music lol I could not bring myself to listen to The Jonas Brothers, so Googled the lyrics and chose this:

"Don't complicate it 'Cause I know you and you know everything about me I can't remember All of the nights I don't remember When you're 'round me."

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining. Word count: ~900

“A toast!” Aegon shouts for what feels like the hundredth time that evening, draining the contents of his wine goblet in a single swallow.

She follows suit, wincing as the ruby liquid burns her throat. Her head is starting to swim from the effects of the alcohol, she is not used to drinking quite so much in such a short space of time.

Surprisingly, Aemond is keeping pace with the pair of them. He normally refrains from imbibing altogether. He is keeping his composure so well that she cannot tell if he feels as thoroughly soused as she does.

“To your final night of freedom!” Aegon jeers at Aemond, slopping wine across the dining table as he moves to refill both their goblets.

Her face falls as she remembers the exact reason why they’re sitting drinking together in the first place. Aemond is getting married tomorrow.

She had been a ward of House Targaryen since she was eight years old. Not possessing the interests that were typical of a highborn lady, she had gravitated towards Aegon and Aemond. She had enjoyed watching them spar. She even learned to wield a sword herself under their instruction, when Ser Criston Cole wasn’t around to fret that it was too dangerous an undertaking for a lady.

Aemond had shared his books with her, and she’d accompanied him on his many visits to the dragonpit as he’d admired the beasts that dwelled there, longing for one of his own. She had always taken Aemond’s side throughout Aegon, Jace and Luke’s relentless teasing. She’d shared in Aemond’s devastation when he’d lost his eye at Luke’s hand.

He was her best friend. She had never considered it anything more than that as the years had passed, until Alicent and Otto had broken the news that Aemond was to be betrothed to a Baratheon girl.

She had felt her heart shatter, all the air leaving her lungs. She was going to lose him when she was only just realising she was in love with him.

She had buried her feelings, gritted her teeth and learned to bear it as the pretty dark haired girl had visited the Red Keep over the course of the year-long courtship.

Things between her and Aemond had remained unchanged and for that she was grateful. She had assumed that now he was to be married he would pull away from her, but he continued to spend every spare moment with her. It was bittersweet torture.

Now it is the eve of the wedding and Aegon is determined to send his younger brother off in style, or at least ensure he exchanges his vows on the morrow with a sore head.

She places a hand over her wine goblet as Aegon attempts to refill it. “I have had enough, I think.” She says. “I need some air.”

She draws in a steadying breath as the cool night breeze hits her flushed skin as she steps out into the gardens. Leaning against a wall, she looks up at the stars, gathering her thoughts. I just need to get through tomorrow…and then what? Learn to live a lifetime without the person who has your heart and is completely unaware of it.

“Are you alright?”

Aemond’s voice startles her and her eyes flit down to look at him. There is a slight sway in how he is standing and a small smile tugs at her lips as she realises he is every bit as drunk as she is.

“Too much wine.” She half lies, ignoring the way her heart flutters as he draws near.

“Mmm.” He reaches up a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I wish it was you.”

The way his voice slurs slightly does nothing to dilute the shock of his words, or the gooseflesh that prickles her skin at the feel of his touch.

“W-what?” She stammers, eyes wide and pulse racing.

Aemond closes his eye, his nostrils flaring as he takes in a deep breath, before placing the flat of his palm on the wall beside her head and looking down at her.

“You.” He utters. “I should be marrying you.”

Her heart feels as though it has leapt into her throat. She cannot get enough air into her lungs as she stares up at him, wide eyed. “You are in your cups, Aemond, you do not mean that.”

He shakes his head, bringing the hand that is pressed against the wall behind her down to caress her cheek. “I do. The wine has simply given me the courage to say out loud what I have always felt. Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his warm palm against her cheek. “I can’t.�� She whispers, opening her eyes to gaze at him sadly. “But it does not matter. You are marrying someone else tomorrow.”

“We still have tonight.” Aemond offers, leaning close to her, his lips mere inches from her own. “I would rather have a single night with you than a lifetime of not knowing how it feels to be loved by you.”

She says nothing as Aemond closes the gap between them, kissing her hungrily. She melts into the embrace, returning his passion with equal fervour. This time when she tastes wine it is upon his mouth and she does not wince. Nothing has ever tasted so delicious.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #pro aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction

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piece-of-hweat · 6 months

Text

Little Nightmares Headcanons!!

(May change over time n stuff)

listed from youngest to eldest

RUNAWAY 9y/o

No clue, he/him

Really good at swimming (main reason why I draw him as a fish-person)

Loud, confident idiot (stares at Tommy-Innit)

Hates broccoli.

Lactose intolerant

Hates being wrong/failing

Very much a "act-before-think person"

Break dances epically

Competitive. Very competitive. (especially with Six)

Hates Six's guts

Has a collection of ships in bottles

Either Runaway or Mono are trans... I just want like... supportive brother arc please--

Plays with sticks

Knows one word in French. And it's piscine. He was the one who told Mono about the piscine joke.

Athletic

SIX - 9y/o

Aro/ace, she/it

loves ducks

Will bite (you and your belongings)

Won't scratch (she bites her nails)

Knows how to swim on the surface

Pupils are slightly slitted

Sharp canines

Growls and hisses when she’s really mad, or extremely not in the mood for anything

Had a duck and mouse plush at some point

Will tear Runaway into pieces if she could

There was a head-canon idea where Six has some form of DID, OSDD, UDD, etc. I don't really use this headcanon a lot because I myself don't have DID, so :/

Dark humor

NOONE - 10y/o

She/her

Animal lover <3

Clutches/fiddles with the ends of her clothing when nervous

Looks confused/concerned and scared 24/7

Likes drawing (probably has some animal doodles in her school books)

Listens to Mono's late night singing.

Allergic to nuts (once, at school, a group of students with pbj sandwiches "offered" Noone the sandwiches despite her declining. She was sent to the ER shortly after and was excused from school for the rest of the day and the day afterwards.)

Probably will get along with Six

Ticklish

Reads a lot

Laughs at Six's jokes.

Around the same height as Mono (taller than Raincoat)

Smartest (academically) in the group

LOW - 10-11 y/o

Bird nerd

Always liked reading comic books (especially the super-hero ones)

Percussion my beloved <3

Listens to your problems and gives you decent advice

Took up archery in school

Makes friendship bracelets

*insert epic secret handshake*

Ticklish

Probably makes music with Mono and Raincoat

Apple Juice lover

Plays with sticks

Very strategic

Probably plays chess or smth

Gamer /pos

Athletic

ALONE - 10-11 y/o

She/he

Listens to your problems and gives you… advice. Not good, not bad. Just advice.

Engineering <3 (probably would be really into those lego-machines)

Hits harder than a truck. Be careful, you might've shatter a bone.

Probably was a batter in baseball

Probably will win in a arm-wrestle against Mono.

Hits you lightly when laughing

Allergic to nuts

Apple juice lover

Doesn't talk much

G R E E N

Knows how to handle and discharge a gun properly. Do not ask her how or why she knows this. He simply does.

Person with the most amount of obscure knowledge (more people drown in freshwater than they do in saltwater. fear that creek in the forest behind your house. fear it. It will take your life one day)

Fascinated by wires and Mono's powers

Probably needs glasses

Reads a lot

MONO - 10-11y/o

Bi, He/him

Is British

Plays the violin (but it’s more like a guitar bc it’s big for him and he lost the bow)

Despite being taller than average, he walks around on his tippy toes

Barely knows how to swim (just fails around and barely stay afloat)

Dino-arms

Knows very limited amounts of Japanese and German (knows a couple of words in French, but only really remembers bonjour and piscine)

Punches hit like a truck, but it hurts Mono's hand a lot

Asthma

Very ticklish

stands awkwardly in the corner

Probably makes music with Raincoat and Low

Plays with sticks (uses them to direct magic)

Broken humor

Has negative associations with trains (doesn't like them)

RAINCOAT - 11-12 y/o

No Clue, She/her

Is Sisi

LOVES horses

Wanted to be an actress because MAKE UP, COSTUMES!! ACTING!! SINGING!! AAAAA!!

Good at cooking and baking (stares at my Bakes-Cookies-for-Otto headcanon)

Has some experience with piano and choir, but nothing else really

Bestest big sister ever

Will totally paint your nails while you ramble about something

Really likes playing with hair (another career dream she had was a hair stylist)

Will tease you (/lh)

Really pretty voice <3

Typically the one breaking conflict up

Probably makes music with Mono and Low

Reads bedtime stories to others

Around the same height as Mono (shorter than Noone)

Also, secret funky art post on youtube

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares 3 #tson #ln rcg #ln rk #ln six #ln low #ln alone #ln mono #tson noone #little nightmares mono #little nightmares headcanons #little nightmares six #little nightmares alone #little nightmares low #little nightmares raincoat girl #little nightmares runaway #hweat rambles

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gunthermunch · 1 year

Text

[Transcript under the cut]

Max: just so you know, you interrupted my journaling moment. do you have any idea how hard it is to get in the zone? i'm assuming no.

Elsa: holy…crap

Max: what

Elsa: it's clean.

Max: eh, i'm working on it

Elsa: and it seems you've been drawing a lot

Max: my brain has been going places.

[Max goes *plof* in bed]

Elsa: how's therapy? and your doctor?

Max: she's nice. when we first saw each other she asked about my nose. i gave her some quick context, and suddenly she brought up my dad up without me having to even mention him.

Max: then, like, i told her about him. and once we were done she gave me a popsicle.

Elsa: what did you even tell her

Max: only the basics. it took some months for me to reach the fucked up parts

Elsa: i'm sorry…

Max: it's okay. i don't feel like smashing my head against the wall right now so i guess i'm making progress

Elsa: enough to come back to school? like you told me you would? i could really use your help

Max: regarding what? don't say Munch

Elsa: Lucas

Max: no.

Elsa: come on, do you know how many friendships stay intact after an unrequited crush? Also, he's probably over it. He's got other stuff in mind

Max: like what?

Elsa: his grandpa died during winter break

Max: Otto?

Elsa: yeah

Max: shit.

Elsa: he's been acting off these days. he didn't even say a word to us during class and sat far from everyone. there's something fishy going on and i'm sure it's more than grief

Max: hm.

Elsa: listen. if you have a slight ounce of regret about everything that happened at the party, this is your chance to make amends. just saying.

Max: damn. are we plotting?

Elsa: yes and you love plotting. come on, we need to do something.

Max: mhm. what else do i get in my favor?

Elsa: you get to sit in front of my dad during dinner next time you come visit

Max: alright get out.

#not elsa bringing bjorn into this!!#ts4 #munch #max villareal #elsa bjergsen #lucas munch #he's right there

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mejcinta · 3 months

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This is how I imagine Helaena and Aegon being like.

Some nights when he's had it he confides in her about his issues with Otto and Alicent. I'm sure Helaena 100% vouches for Otto keeping him in line (she seems extra close with peepaw and he stands up for her), and this causes some friction between her and Aegon.

With Alicent, however, I think it's more sensitive. They've both had to grow up with the stranglehold of Alicent's anxiety and worry for their safety, and the taxing demand she has on them to play the game, at times against their will e.g their arranged marriage. They both love her, but they suffer mother scars on account of her as well. This draws Helaena and Aegon close, albeit briefly, before he is off to his vices again because he hates to display his vulnerability; even though Helaena is willing to bare out hers and to listen to him.

She is wise beyond her years and that repels Aegon because he's not truly looking for solutions. He's looking for a means to vent, to feed his disposition towards self-pity. He makes his marriage to his sister a reminder of his mother's chains, he makes Aemond a reflection of the potential he is sitting on (and he loathes this), he rightfully identifies Otto as the troublemaker that forced his mother to birth him into misery...and so Aegon can't love his family, he thinks, no matter how hard he tries. He can find temporary joy in the giddy, innocent laughter of his children; and Helaena's consolation, when he lets her close to him.

He hates that he suffers, but he'll hate it even more that his family will suffer on account of his existence. Will this make him step up for Helaena and his children? We can only wait and see.

#incoherent thoughts #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #helaegon #character dynamics

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Text

Roses in his Hands, Fire in her Veins

In collaboration with @lady-phasma

Tag list: @allihavenegativethoughts@sanniebabie@cullenswife@schniiipsel@ohsehunbabyy @dontforgetoctober3rd

Chapter One

A Maellory Tyrell x Aemond Targaryen AU

Maellory Tyrell is the ancestor of Margaery, a copy/paste of our Game of Thrones heroine, during the reign of Viserys I Targaryen. Maellory and her grandmother are summoned from their seat at Highgarden to the Capital. There in the throne room she is first introduced to the royal family, including the one-eyed prince Aemond. Little do they know, with one announcement their lives will be forever changed.

Word count: 4,024

Aemond strode into the throne room to find a retinue of House Tyrell in audience with the Queen Regent. His mother had taken up the mantle of regent quite well, even if it was unofficial. Her capacity to rule didn’t surprise him. His footsteps echoed in the hall and he excused himself to his mother with a bow and took his place at the far end of the throne’s dais. A young Tyrell woman stepped out from the cluster of lords and ladies at the front of the room.

The blue jewels on Maellory’s dress were almost an exact match to his sapphire though she could not have known it. They gathered the delicate fabric together between her breasts. Her flat stomach was exposed on the sides, tan skin contrasted with the pale fabric. Her ethereal nature, her light footsteps, and ability to command the room enchanted him. He tried not to stare but the shape of her body and the cut of her dress proved too enticing.

When she curtsied to the Queen Regent he looked away. He surveyed the courtiers in attendance. House Tyrell brightened the throne room like glittering gems. Even her grandmother, Lady Morwenna, wore the bright, near-tropical colors. Maellory stepped to the side of the throne nearest Aemond and she flashed her blue eyes up at him. He was momentarily taken aback by the crook of her lip and the mischievous glint in her eye. He recovered and nodded a small bow as she curtsied.

Her grandmother was speaking to the Queen Regent. He tried to listen, affairs of state were important to him mostly because they weren’t important to his brother, but his attention kept wandering to her. She was watching the exchange attentively, her hands clasped delicately behind her back. This posture only served to draw attention to her breasts, he thought she must know that. She had to. He swallowed and turned his gaze back to his mother.

Maellory was keenly aware of the Targaryen prince’s single-eyed gaze burning into her. Her lips curled into a small smirk as she ducked her head, feigning humble attention as her grandmother continued speaking amicably with the Queen Regent.

“It has been far too long since we hosted your family within the halls of the Red Keep, Lady Morwenna.” Alicent’s expression was warm as she turned her attention to Maellory, who straightened, returning her smile. “I met you when you were just a babe, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“You are too kind, your grace.” Maellory’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she dipped into a low curtsy. She arched her neck just so, her wavy chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulder, noticing from her periphery how Prince Aemond shifted on his feet in response. A thrill of satisfaction shot through her chest as she rose once more, running her ringed fingers along the satin skirts of her dress.“It is a privilege to be welcomed here at court by your family. Perhaps you will visit us at Highgarden when the Harvest Festival is celebrated.”

Alicent nodded. “I would like that.” She looked to her father, Otto, before continuing. “It has been too long since I visited the Reach. For now, let us retire to the dining hall and make merry for this long-awaited reunion!”

The nobles around the hall shifted and began to depart, a murmur of voices rose, sounding very akin to the sleepy buzz of bees in their hive. Maellory looked coyly over her shoulder, catching Aemond’s eye, noting what a lovely shade of purple it was and how his pupil dilated as she surveyed him, a pursed smile upon her lips.

In that moment she made her decision, turned with a swirl of silken skirts, tossed her long hair, and walked smoothly up to Aemond’s brother. She dipped a curtsy to the eldest prince, noting with studious interest how he drank in her appearance with obvious lust. As she beamed at him, her eyes betrayed nothing of how her skin crawled.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Aegon. I have heard so much about your magnificent conquests.”

Aemond made a noise that sounded as though he had just barely strangled a laugh before it could escape. Her cleverness surprised and humored him. Maellory tactfully ignored him, instead turning to the silver-haired woman standing beside her brother and husband. “And this must be Princess Helaena.” Maellory gave the girl a gentle smile. “I have heard tales of your beauty, though they have not done you justice.”

Aegon snorted, looking over at his wife. “She prefers the company of insects to that of actual people.”

“Indeed?” Maellory kept her soft gaze on Helaena who had looked at her feet at the barbed comment. “I would love to see them sometime. There are many insects at Highgarden, throughout our prolific gardens. They seem to do quite well in the warm climate. Perhaps I could show them to you when you visit.” At her kind words, Helaena looked back up into Maellory’s earnest face, gracing her with a genuine smile of gratitude and nodding. Aemond quickly glanced at his sister’s pleased face but kept his air of disinterest intact.

Maellory at last turned to Aemond, her spine tingling as their eyes met. It was so easy for her to read the people around her, but the expression on his face proved difficult to place. It wasn’t the open lechery she’d grown accustomed to manipulating from noble men, something more akin to admiration, maybe a hint of… apprehension.

“Prince Aemond, rider of the largest dragon in Westeros.” She formally greeted him, looking up into his face through her eyelashes. “Your renown proceeds you as well.”

“As does yours, Lady Tyrell, the ‘rose with silver thorns’,” Aemond’s curved mouth twitched slightly as he inclined his head to her. His demeanor had wavered when he spoke the appellation.

Maellory’s eyes widened in genuine surprise at that, she tilted her chin up, laughing breathily. “Is that what they named me here at King’s Landing, your highness?”

“A silver tongue is more like it. Can’t imagine that gets you far amongst the rabble,” Aegon grinned wickedly at her.

Maellory kept her blue eyes upon Aemond as she answered sweetly. “If you give the people your love, they will return it a thousandfold.”

Aemond’s jaw noticeably clenched at his brother’s antagonism. Still, he held Maellory’s gaze as she seemed intent upon doing. She was as deft with her words as he was with his sword. She didn’t back down, didn’t shield her parries, but feinted to conceal her true thoughts.

Before he could speak she had turned, delicate blue fabric flowing around her legs, and walked to catch up with her grandmother. He watched her hands clasp the old woman’s elbow and lean in toward her conspiratorially. Her exquisite laugh rang out above the other voices.

Aemond shot a spiteful look at his oblivious brother. Aegon had walked off with some vapid lady so Aemond offered his elbow to his sister and escorted her to the dining hall.

* * *

Aemond pulled Helaena’s chair out for her. She sat between Otto and Aegon, who had yet to appear. Aemond walked to his place at the table. He stopped as Maellory was seated at the opposite end of the table. With a small, discontented Mmmm he continued to his chair. He was unaccustomed to feeling disappointments on such an inconsequential scale. Large disappointments colored his entire worldview, but meaningless events like seating arrangements had never affected him.

A servant slid her chair forward as Maellory took her place at the far side of the table. Naturally she sat beside Lady Morwenna who had a surprisingly honored place next to the Queen Regent. That was auspicious, he thought, then dismissed it. He pulled out his own chair more aggressively than was appropriate. The Tyrells sat to his left, limiting his line of sight. Perhaps he had only meant to study the intriguing new arrival, try to understand her, but his disadvantage nagged at him. His inscrutable disposition kept most people at a distance and maintained his carefully balanced leverage.

Maellory chatted with her grandmother and he occasionally heard her airy laughter drift down the table as the meal was laid out for them. No one sat to Aemond’s right this evening so he took to surveying the hall. The dark green hues of the Hightowers’ attire combined with the blacks and reds of the Targaryens’ clothing made a pleasing backdrop for the bright colors of House Tyrell. Aemond sipped his wine as he thought about Maellory’s blue eyes, the blue of her dress, and his own blue gemstone eye. He felt some of his composure return as he glared at the people assembled at the dinner. Aemond’s armor took shape in his stoic, unreadable expression and, ironically, his remaining violet eye.

Thankfully Otto Hightower sat on his left and Aemond was far enough away to only occasionally have to listen to his brother’s drunken drivel. Attending to their sister was something Aemond had been doing since childhood because of Aegon’s disinterest but their grandfather seemed to delight in the task this evening. Aemond sat straight-backed but his shoulders did relax slightly at the sound of his sister chatting happily. The wine helped as well. The servants finished setting the tables and a hush fell over the hall. The attention in the room shifted to the head of the table as Queen Alicent rose from her seat, goblet of wine held in her hand.

“Friends, well met and be welcome. We have summoned you all here today to bear witness and celebrate the imminent union of House Targaryen with House Tyrell.” Her brown eyes sparkled down upon the smiling Morwenna Tyrell. Aemond shifted in his chair, glancing briefly at the back of Maellory’s coiffed hair, his brow furrowed slightly as his mother continued speaking.

Alicent raised her goblet, encouraging others to toast. “It brings me great happiness to announce that Maellory Tyrell will be betrothed to one of my sons, Aemond or Daeron.” The queen regent nodded to Maellory, Aemond noticed her posture stiffen momentarily, almost imperceptibly. His own shoulders were tense with surprise, he stared at Alicent trying to draw her gaze to his, but she didn’t seem to want to look at him. His eye narrowed, the only outward sign of his emotions.

“Since Lady Maellory is the eldest daughter of Lord Karlen Tyrell, she will have until the anticipated Harvest Moon Festival to decide who she would like to marry.” Alicent regarded the many faces looking back at her, soft murmurs spread around the table as Aemond lowered his eye to his plate. His face grew hot as the whispers grew louder.

A man’s voice rose above the rest as he addressed the queen.

“Forgive me, your grace, is this not a rather out of the ordinary way in which such matters are done?”

“Thank you, Lord Beesbury,” the Queen Regent acknowledged the slightly impertinent inquiry. Aemond looked up to watch his mother address the old lord. “For long House Tyrell has been faithful to the Crown, thus we extend this courtesy to honor that loyalty.”

“I am Hand of the King and represent his Grace’s wishes in this matter.” Otto spoke up next to Aemond, turning heads in his direction, allowing Aemond at last to look upon Maellory’s candlelit face. Her eyes flickered to him momentarily, long enough for her to raise a thin eyebrow and widen her eyes as if to commiserate in the surprise of their situation.

“The Hightowers are vassals to House Tyrell, and King Viserys has agreed to this plan for the sake of his queen, as well as myself, and our relationship with the lords of the Reach.” Otto drank from his own wine glass, relishing the reaction of those gathered over its glass rim. He trusted his daughter and she listened to his advice but this had been a stroke of cunning that even he could not have foreseen.

Lord Beesbury looked more satisfied, though still confused as his sunken eyes flitted from Maellory to Aemond. “Very well, however I still think it is not in keeping with our customs.” Some of the heat left Aemond’s face with his grandfather’s defense of the Crown’s position but his analytical mind searched for the reasoning, for something in Maellory’s character that would allow a first born daughter to have her choice of Targaryen prince. Lord Beesbury made an excellent point and Aemond was unsure if he disagreed. The realm was held together by tradition. He detested it but understood that tradition often meant security and peace. This deviation from it was perplexing, maybe even a bit intriguing.

The sounds of dining commenced, knives and forks against plates becoming a clamor that echoed around the large room. The noise served as a distraction from his instinctive strain to hear the lowered voices and individual conversations at the table. He looked at his plate and pushed it away.

Alicent lowered herself into her plush dining chair, turning her attention back to Maellory. “Daeron is on his way back from Oldtown where he has been squiring many years for my father’s nephew, Sir Ormund.” Maellory mirrored Alicent’s movements as the Queen leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Some would say Aemond has had an unfair advantage in meeting you first, however I think you will find Daeron to be very charming. He matches you in age, I believe, he just turned seven and ten years last winter.”

Maellory glanced surreptitiously down the table to where Aemond sat, his profile sharp as his long fingers tapped the wood beside his untouched drink. Despite her perplexity, she molded a careful smile upon her lips, turning back to Alicent and Morwenna. “You honor me beyond words, my queen.”

As Alicent’s attention was diverted by the arrival of more food, Maellory’s gaze sharpened upon her grandmother. “When were you going to tell me of this arrangement?” The polite, courtly smile remained on her face but her voice, though she tried to sweeten it, carried an icy undercurrent.

Morwenna looked at her granddaughter grimly, her voice low enough to avoid being heard by any listening ears. “It is not abnormal for sons and daughters of great houses to be unaware of their impending fates.” Her wrinkled mouth pressed into a fine line as she read Maellory’s displeased expression. “My petal, you have been given more freedom than most girls in your position ever have the opportunity to hold.”

As the plates were cleared for the next course Aemond stilled his hand on the table and fought the urge to storm out of the hall. Otto glanced at his grandson, opened his mouth, then closed it as he caught Aemond’s glaring eye. With great restraint Aemond stood and moved his chair silently back under the table. Unlike in the throne room he wouldn’t have to draw attention to his exit from the dining hall. He bounded down the steps of the dais and into the shadows of the side wall.

Maellory nodded at her grandmother’s words absently as she watched Aemond leave the table. He wasn’t entirely inconspicuous. His striking figure seemed to catch her eye whenever they were in the same room. She looked around the room quickly, noting her possible points of egress. For the moment she turned to Lady Morwenna and smiled warmly at her. Her grandmother was artful in her politics and Maellory admired her dearly. She felt the first twinges of anxiety that she might be left alone in King’s Landing without her grandmother. Maellory had learned so much from her in seventeen years but knew she would need her in the near future perhaps more than she ever had before.

* * *

Maellory wasn’t at all sure where Aemond had gone when he turned down the hallway. Her light, soft steps made nearly no sound but she wasn’t going to race to keep up with his long strides. She caught her breath and her brows knitted together with a mix of consternation and determination. She retraced her steps back to the last corner they had turned and stepped out of the Keep into a small, narrow garden balcony. It was enclosed on only two sides and opened up to a view of the city and Blackwater Bay glinting with the early moonlight in the distance.

The cool dusk air ruffled along Maellory’s gown, causing her bare arms to erupt in gooseflesh. Hugging herself for warmth, she swept her eyes along the large balcony, her curious gaze alighting upon Aemond’s form. His back was to her, and the way his silver hair shone in the dim moonlight only served to make him more intriguing.

She didn’t know at all what to expect from the youngest prince but through her observation of the eldest she mused that he would be nothing like this second son. Daeron was most likely as different from his older brothers as they were from each other. The way Aemond tried to be a looming figure in the background seemed to have the opposite effect on Maellory. She thought the contrast with his elder brother made him shine like a polished river rock, hard sides to be sure, but so much more refined than Aegon. She imagined that every thought Aegon ever had passed over his face if not also past his lips. Aemond, on the other hand, chose his words and his facade as deliberately as she did.

He was unaware of her presence, his emotions in turmoil as he clasped his hands tightly behind him. His silver hair stirred in the salty breeze coming off Blackwater Bay, the long strands tickling his cheeks. Aemond's nebulous thoughts pulled at the corners of his mind, unformed but beginning to coalesce as he stared across the city of King’s Landing. Normally he would be content in readily yielding a betrothal to his younger brother; now, however, Lord Beesbury’s words had stayed with him as much as the shape of her raised eyebrow had lingered in his mind’s eye. Why not let her choose?

He longed for the clarity of being astride Vhagar. Flying with her gave him the space he required to think. This part of the castle had, so far, proved to be secluded enough from the chatter of the court that he could indulge his racing mind. He had avoided his stuffy chambers, not wanting to pace in front of the fire as he was wont to do. The very last feeling he needed now was encumbrance. One completely solid feeling amongst all of the others, identifiable above his roiling thoughts, was coercion.

Maellory found the stairs at the end hallway. She smoothed her windswept hair before approaching the balcony’s railing. She kept a slight distance between herself and the prince. Aemond didn’t turn to her immediately. He listened to her footsteps as she walked up to him and saw her hand rest on the railing from the corner of his eye. He kept his hands behind his back but shifted his weight slightly toward her.

His eye lingered on the waves in the bay. The crests caught the evening moonlight making the bay appear to be filled with stars. The waves could just barely be heard above the noise of the city as it settled its affairs of the day. Leaves rustled on the vines overhanging the balcony. The breeze shifted and he could smell Maellory’s perfume. Everything about this woman was proving to be breathtaking. Aemond disliked being so disarmed.

“I often seek out the fresh breeze in a wide open space when I feel overwhelmed. Being surrounded by moonlight and flowers is calming.” He turned slowly on the heel of his boot. The moonlight caught on her eyelashes as she looked at the garden below. As she lifted her head to look at him he saw it glint off her bottom lip. He clenched his jaw. His hands gripped his forearms behind his back. “I imagine it reminds you of home, my lady.”

“The scent of all these lovely flowers is intoxicating, to be certain.”

The moonbeams falling across Maellory’s face turned her eyes to silver, lighting them from within. Aemond was entranced. “Yes, the flowers as well.” He murmured, pleased to see a slight blush rise to her cheeks.

“I want to apologize on behalf of my brother for his earlier behavior.” Aemond let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “He despises being at court, manners have never come easy to him.”

“I was not offended.” Maellory looked out toward the shimmering ocean, the curves of her neck accentuated by shadows and soft argent light. He noticed she wore no jewels at her neck. Her neck and collarbones needed no adornment. The low cut of her dress began to draw his eye back to the gems of her bodice. He rubbed the inside of his knuckles with his thumb.

“My brother, Loras, would prefer if he weren’t the eldest son, he shirks duty in favor of the empty glory of tourneys and a quick tumble with a lover.” She looked back to Aemond, noting how his eye flicked quickly up to her face. “It often falls upon my shoulders to represent our house with the honor it deserves.”

“A feeling I know well.” Aemond nodded, his arms relaxing, unwinding behind his back to rest at his sides. He placed his hand upon the stone wall of the balcony, his fingertips inches from hers. “Now you have been burdened still more with the decision of who you are to wed.”

“I wouldn’t name it a burden.” Maellory felt a twinge of mischievous delight at the way Aemond’s curved lips parted slightly at her words. “A surprise for both of us it seems, but not an unwelcome one.” She searched his face, trying to read what he was feeling, pursing her lips slightly when Aemond gave nothing away.

He nodded at her slightly, his eye never leaving hers. “No, not unwelcome. I have grown accustomed to proving myself, this is no different.” He wasn’t sure if the story of how he claimed Vhagar had traveled to Highgarden intact. Perhaps Maellory knew precisely what he had sacrificed in addition to his eye to prove himself. The court may have even embellished the tale beyond recognition. A second son having to prove himself was not unusual but his mutilation was something most outsiders felt he must overcome.

“I would rather you show me who you are, than feel you have something to prove.” Maellory’s gaze was still intent upon Aemond, watching with interest as a flicker of surprise softened his expression.

He smiled gently down at her. “I will keep that in mind, Lady Maellory.” Her name felt like silk on his tongue.

Maellory shivered again, unused to the chilly nights at King's Landing. She stepped closer to him. He swallowed dryly as she did so. He followed her gaze out to the bay, not turning his body away from her. The silence was peaceful, punctuated intermittently by the first birdsong of the evening. The constant prattle of the court and its ladies made his silence a respite for her. Within that lacuna she saw through Aemond’s imposing presence, saw her own facade mirrored in his posture, in his impeccably curated attire, in the intangible armor he wore everyday.

“I will leave you to your thoughts, my prince.” Maellory’s eyes lingered on the contours of Aemond’s face. “I hope we can speak together more soon.”

“That is my desire, as well.”

Maellory dipped her head and offered him a tender smile before she walked to the stairs. As she turned the side of her hand coquettishly grazed Aemond’s, their skin barely touching at all.

Aemond watched her leave, a gust of wind caught the thin fabric of her azure dress while her long auburn curls bounced with each step she took.

His eye remained upon the doorway long after she passed through it. The way her eyes had moved over him, exposed him, it was a unique ability, a challenge he had never had to meet before. With a sharp exhalation through his nose, Aemond replaced his hands behind his back and turned to survey the moonlit landscape, a smile of satisfaction tugging up his lips.

#aemond x tyrell oc #aemond x original character #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond x oc #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x margaery #aemory #hotd fanfic

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lemonhemlock · 1 year

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Honestly I would have loved to see alicent draw strength threw religion instead of using it as a coping mechanism. I wish the writers did that instead

I think she kind of does. "Reluctance to murder is not weakness" - she truly believes that. She believes in being merciful and compassionate and a decent person.

She shows mercy to Criston and even stops him from committing suicide. She commiserates with Viserys' pain and is charitable with his misguided attempts to "set things right". She is willing to forgive Rhaenyra. She knows Viserys would never have sanctioned Rhaenyra's death and she forces the Small Council to acknowledge that.

Criston and Aemond go after Aegon because they trust her judgment. Otto would have found him eventually anyway and crowned him even without Alicent's involvement, but they considered it fitting that Alicent should have that power instead.

She sends Rhaenyra "true terms that she can accept without shame", refusing to humiliate her or her family. She convinces Aegon to listen to her, instead of Otto, and Aegon acquiesces.

People say she is robbed of her agency in episode 9 because she doesn't demonstrate personal ambition or is not more flippant at Viserys' death. But Alicent's agency manifests as her trying to be a good person even though the entire system is stacked against her. She acts for her family, yes, but tries her hardest to figure out that one perfect, possible scenario in which she doesn't have to turn into a monster to save her children's lives.

Alicent's faith is the one thing that validates these beliefs and assures her she's not insane or stupid or childish for clinging onto these moral stances, when everyone around her is yelling Machiavellian shit @ her. "Reluctance to murder is not weakness" - it takes strength to stand up to men like her father and the other small councilors, men who are accustomed to rule and get their way and disregard anyone less privileged than them.

#alicent hightower #faith of the seven #house of the dragon #asoiaf #hotd meta

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a-m-pyra · 5 days

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First Burn: Ch3 Indian Summer (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Everyone was acting strange, even Gemini. They gave him strange smiles, Otto humming quietly to himself, coming up to him every hour and telling him how many hours remained until the meeting.

P didn't understand what all the fuss was about at all, instead he finished redrawing Alice's portrait onto a sheet of paper so he could give it to her.

“Why is everyone acting so strange? Is it because I invited Alice for a walk? What's so strange about that?”

“You know, pal,” Gemini began, “as a rule, when a young man invites a lady out, it's not for, well, platonic purposes.”

P's eyes widened. If he could, he would definitely blush.

“That's not the point at all!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of…”

"I am not ashamed!"

He put down his pencil and put his hands on his knees, wondering for a moment what he really wanted to say. He slid further into the chair and tucked his legs under him.

“She's nice to me. Seems interesting; her person and her work. She works in the theater, sews costumes and likes it. Is there anything more interesting than a person who comes true?” He grabbed his pencil again, perfecting the sketch.

He heard the door open. He didn't even have to turn around to know it was Otto; and his suspicions were only confirmed when slender fingers grabbed his arms and a glimpse of red strands of hair appeared in the corner of his eye.

“Thirty minutes, P. I think you should start getting ready.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head to look at Otto.

“Why do you all think I like Alice in that way?”

“Because if it were otherwise, it wouldn't be bothering you so much,” Otto replied in the most assertive tone of voice he had ever heard. “Up to a certain point I thought it was a joke, but now…” He looked at the portrait, “You see.”

P sighed and reached for the frame to frame the drawing — it was one of the ones Mrs. Seymour used to frame her cards, and it was perfect for framing the drawing.

“You won't answer?” Otto asked as P stood up to reach for his bag where he had put his sketchbook, pencils and drawing.

“I will not answer.”

“Are you taking Gemini with you?”

“Of course he's taking me. I have to be a chaperone.”

“Stupid rules,” P muttered under his breath, still hoping that he would be able to spend time alone with Alice. Only then did Gemini make him realize that a single woman and a bachelor walking alone were considered extremely indecent.

“I can go,” Otto suggested, and P rolled his eyes this time.

That sounded like an even worse scenario. Otto listening to their conversations, seeing every uncertainty, with full permission to act like Otto. At least Gemini had promised not to comment on their conversations or actions in any way unless the above were inappropriate — something he couldn't be sure of with Otto.

Gemini chirped.

“I think you would be a bit liberal chaperon.”

Otto laughed.

“Right.”

P slung his coat over his bent arm and his bag over his shoulder. He had Gemini's lamp attached to his belt.

“We'd better go to the ground floor.”

Otto sat at the table with P; and they waited. Alice showed up on time with basket in hand. There was a blanket and small snacks there; nothing that would burden her additionally, but P, following Gemini's advice, decided to take the basket from her.

She smiled at him, and then he helped her get into the cart that would take them to Hyde Park, and once they arrived, they began looking for a good place to set up the picnic blanket; somewhere with a little less people.

“Where did the idea of inviting me come from?” she continued, and P thought for a moment.

“Otto suggested this idea, and I… I thought it would be nice to talk in a place where children wouldn't crowd under our feet.”

She laughed. He managed to make her laugh.

“If Alex gave you her blessing, then it looks like I have nothing to worry about.” She looked at Gemini. “And Gemini is not needed.”

There was a faint chirping sound.

“I'm here for decoration, don't worry about me.”

P looked at Alice, who smiled softly.

“Alex?”

Alice looked at him questioningly, then realized he didn't need to know that. Alex didn't tell him, and she didn't have the opportunity to do so either.

“Oh well. It's a bit strange for me to talk about Alex in the context of my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her like a mother, and she is a mother to me, but addressing her this way is still something for me to process.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alex got married so she could list me as her daughter. We're not related, and neither is Clara.”

“What about your adoptive father?”

“He died a few months ago.”

She said it so lightly, as if his death had no effect on her, not now, not then, not ever.

“Both Alex and I knew he was doing us such a favor, even if he was her friend. I just feel sorry for Clara.”

“Mrs. Seymour does not seem affected by the loss.”

“Because she isn't. It wasn't a good marriage. They reached out as friends, but it eventually had to fall apart. Difference of views and characters. When Alex reopened the orphanage, she actually moved in there immediately, and she found out about Reginald's death from the housekeeper.”

“How did she react?”

Alice was silent for a moment.

“Relief. She was happy. Free.”

“And you?”

She shrugged.

“I didn't care. I cried at the funeral out of courtesy and for Clara. I never built a bond with Reginald; in fact, Alex’s friend is more like a father to me than he was.” She passed him and turned to look at him, walking backwards. “But let's stop talking about me. What brought you to London, puppet hunter?” She smiled at him with a challenge on her face.

“You'll fall over.”

“Not at all. At most, I'll bump into someone.”

He sighed and glanced behind her, just in case she ran into someone innocent as a lamb.

“After all this, Venigni said I looked different. More sick. Then Eugénie told me this, next Sophia. Even Gemini noticed that something was wrong.”

“Explain, please.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her aside and keeping her from bumping into the older couple.

Her hand was soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot what she had asked him, focusing on the feeling her touch evoked.

“You better grab my arm and let's walk side by side. This will make you less likely to hurt yourself.”

She rolled her eyes in amusement and did as he said.

“And so? Will you explain?”

P tightened the legion arm, then stretched his fingers.

“You don't have to if you don't want to.”

“If you tell me how you and Mrs. Seymour met.”

“Deal.”

P told her everything; how Sophia brought him to life; about puppet hunting; about the father, Ergo, Carlo and Romeo; about the death of Lady Antonia, Geppetto's plan and the rescue of Sophia.

He took so long to talk about it that they managed to find a good place to spread a blanket and rest.

Under a tree where practically no one was hanging around.

Alice listened and didn't interrupt him. She was quiet, looking at him as he spoke.

“I think I understand how you feel. I know what it's like... not knowing who you really are.”

“Mrs. Seymour says that even if I have Carlo’s Ergo in me, I don't have to identify with him. That I have reevaluated his ego and values because of me.”

“And? What do you think about it?”

“I think I like this version. I think Carlo would be happy that I am the way I am now and not the way my father wanted me to be.” He looked at her and smiled gently. “Now it's your turn.”

“It’s easy, actually. Alex and I met when I was maybe five years old. She attended lectures and appeared at meetings with students. She befriended my sister and charmed my parents. She, Jacob and Elizabeth were The Incredible Three. My father always got crazy because if something happened, it was always their fault. A big pub dance? The Incredible Three. Kidnapping a bride who was sold to a count? The Incredible Three. Throwing the party of the decade in a room that was maybe seventeen feet by seventeen feet for a boring banquet? Alex, Jacob and Lizzie. Everyone was covering for everyone, including my and Lizzie’s parents, they were covering all three of them.”

He saw the nostalgic smile on her face and he laughed quietly.

“I never thought Mrs. Seymour could be so rebellious… ever.”

“Wait until Jacob comes to the sabbath, then you will see what it means to be rebellious.”

They both laughed.

“Nevertheless, Alex was in my life from an early age. And she was also there at the most important moment, my recovery after the fire in which everyone died. My entire biological family. She didn't leave me even for a moment, she was always there when I needed her. And then... the nurse separated us. I came under the care of Angus Bumby when the orphanage at Houndsditch was still called the Home for Wayward Youth. Alex fought for us to be able to see each other and... we finally succeeded. She married Reginald, adopted me, and here we are. A family of three women.”

“What happened to the previous director?”

He saw Alice's face tense.

“I'll tell you when I'm ready. All right?”

He nodded, he had no intention of forcing her to do anything.

“God, I would forget. I have something for you.”

“For me?”

P reached into his bag and pulled out Alice's portrait. He looked at it for a moment and handed it to her with his heart in his mouth. All the tension in his body disappeared only when she covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

“Is that me?”

“I drew it yesterday, after you left for work. I just...couldn't resist, sorry.” He lowered his head.

“No! Don’t apologize. It's beautiful, thank you.”

He saw that she was looking at the drawing.

“It's just that no one has ever drawn me. And definitely… not like that.”

The atmosphere between them thinned. They felt much more at ease. P and Alice lay down on the blanket, looking at the cloudless sky and the leaves above them.

“Did you think what would have happened if it hadn't been for the fire?”

She frowned, thinking for a moment.

“I would definitely still live with my parents in Oxford, Alex and Lizzie would still be together. I certainly wouldn't have to work in the theater. Who knows, maybe it would be the case that I wouldn't be able to fulfill my dream.”

“At first, together?”

“I lied. They weren't friends.”

Alice reached out her hand, catching the gossamer that fluttered between her fingers.

“I don't remember the last time I saw gossamer.”

“I've never seen it.”

“When I was younger and went picking herbs with Alex in the early fall, it was full of it. Alex’s grandma and later Alex even had a superstition about these spider webs.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! If a young, unmarried lady catches a gossamer during a flight, she can expect to find her future husband. Less often, a lover. The gossamer was supposed to symbolize the wedding veil.”

“Do you believe in this superstition?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She was silent, unable to utter a single word.

“I… I take it with a grain of salt. If it weren't for society, I wouldn't mind living without a husband, children and all of that.”

“I see. But I haven't asked about the second thing yet.”

“Ask me, then.”

“What dream?”

Alice sat up, drawing her legs up to her chest.

“I'm planning to make a musical.”

P was listening with incredible interest about the Alice’s musical, first listening to the story she had read, and only then listening to the plan for adaptation.

“I'm planning a show in the style of a 1866 extravaganza. Only… maybe with less dancing, at least that done by the main actors, I can't imagine the actress playing Victoria dancing burlesque… Oh!”

He could see her eyes sparkle with joy, and her whole body was overcome with excitement.

“And with even more music, I wanted it to be almost all sung and only the important parts spoken. Besides, I have some ideas on how to make some of the songs — Élise would, for example, sing throughout the entire show, but Victoria, Victor, Lucien and a few other characters would have lines sung, although not many of them, and rhythmically recited! I imagine that Sir Interdit would be a kind of narrator of the entire play, although, of course, as a member of the Priory of Sion, in which Victoria was a member, he would also be the narrator in the plot. Alex and Jacob are helping me compose the music, and I'm finishing the script and costume concepts. And then I will give it all to the director of the theater with the hope that he will agree.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Cruel. Vicious. Vengeful.”

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