Your son’s dragon egg hatches and your husband isn’t very happy about it.
Idea from: Ormund x targ!reader but their kids cradle egg hatches and he is loosing his shit, wanting it gone from under his roof but the toddler is already bonded to the dragon and throws a massive tantrum like papa every time it’s taken away. 😩 - @delightsrealm I also changed it up as bit as they are also writing it! So check their fic out when it’s posted 🩵🩵
Ooc Ormund he’s still crazy but not evil, not proofread
“Do we have to?” Your husband asks as you place a dragon egg in your newborn son’s crib. Him not wanting to follow your family traditions as he believes having two dragon already is two too many. Daerons dragon Tessarion and your dragon stormfrye making themselves at home in the pastures.
“Yes.” You say rolling your eyes at the man. “You married me and I made it very clear that when we had children they would be given an egg, if it doesn’t hatch fine, but we’re doing it.”
“Fine.” He relents, knowing he’s going to pray that the egg doesn’t hatch. The man not wanting anymore dragons.
-
“Oh thank the gods the seven has answered my prayers.” He whispers the next morning when he sees the egg unhatched in the boys crib. You a bit sad but not minding, just happy your son was born happy and healthy.
-
Two years later…
“M’lord! Come at once it’s your son!” A servant shouts rushing into your shared chambers, the nursemaid having just come across a shocking sight. “A dragon.”
“What?” Ormund asks in confusion, too confused to shout at the boy for barging in and not knocking.
“What’s wrong?” You ask jumping out of bed a throwing on a robe, only hearing ‘your son’ and ‘dragon.’
“Dragon, in the nursery.” The servant stumbles, clearly in shock at the find. You barging past, Ormund close behind.
“Oh!” You say in shock, hand going over your mouth. When you see the hatchling sat with your son on his bed. “Oh my baby boy your egg has hatched.” You coo walking over to the giggling toddler, never having been more proud. “This is wonderful news.”
“No.” Ormund says in disbelief and denial. “No!” He shouts, this being his worst nightmare. “Not happening!” He shouts again, looking up at the sky. “I thought we agreed he wouldn’t have a dragon!”
“Well clearly my gods ended up winning, the seven put up a valiant fight but the dragon landed on top.” You tell him with a smirk, thinking the blue and silver dragon looks adorable.
“Stop finding this so amusing.” He says frantically pointing his finger at you. Praying this is just a bad dream.
“No.” You smile, holding your son in your arms with his dragon perched on your shoulder. “This is a marvellous day my love.”
“For you maybe.” He mumbles bitterly, a pout very obvious on his lip. “Bloody dragons.”
-
“Lorcas give me the dragon.” Ormund tells the boy, a servant carrying a travel cage to put the dragon in so it could be transported to the other dragons.
“No.” The stubborn two year old says, going to bite his father anytime he tries to reach for the dragon.
“Lorcas, now.” Ormund demands, getting into a glaring match with a two year old and losing. “Now!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Mama!” Lorcas shouts, putting an end to the argument.
-
“No, shhh.” Ormund whispers to his son, the boy having woken to his father attempting to steal his dragon. “Don’t cry, go back to sleep.” He tries, not wanting the crying to wake you. The little dragon hissing at him, smoke coming out of its mouth. “Don’t try and breathe fire at me you little beast.”
“Ormund, what are you doing?” You ask with a sigh, finding your husband with cloth wrapped around his face that clearly contains his perfumes and the gloves from his armer on his hands. The man clearly attempting to remove your son’s dragon from the nursery.
“Nothing darling, go back to bed.” He responds tightly, hoping you don’t stick around. Him trying to get the dragon to sleep with the others in the enclosures not near his chambers. “I’ve got him.”
“Yeah, no.” You say giving your husband a look of pure judgment. “You’re acting crazy and it’s not attractive crazy either.”
“Pardon?”
“Go to bed, I will put our son back to bed after you upset him.” You command, not happy the man has upset Lorcas. The little boy finally not needing you to hold him as he goes to sleep. Glaring at the man as you get into bed with your crying son, his dragon still hissing at your husband. “Come here sweetheart, dada is just being silly he’s not going to steal Shrykos.”
-
“I’m not dining with a dragon.” Ormund says stubbornly, having entered the dining hall to find you and the children sat at the table with lorcas’s dragon sat next to him.
“Then eat alone.” You snap, fed up with your husband’s attitude. “As you married a dragon and our two sons are dragons so watch what you say.”
“My love.” He tries, just wanting you to see reason that a dragon cannot be in the castle. Him only allowing Tessarion to stay with Daeron for so long as you’d just wed and he was trying to win you over.
“Fuck off, I don’t want to see you.” You say glaring at him until he leaves, then noticing Lorcas trying to feed Shrykos his green beans. “No feeding Skrykos at the table sweetheart.”
“Is everything alright between you and father?” Daeron asks, worried as you don’t normally argue to this extent. You both normally just bickering, very rarely is it a full on argument.
“We’ll be fine, he just needs to see sense.” You say, trying to reassure the boy but to upset at your husband. You having been arguing all day about his actions in the night.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s just throwing a tantrum because he wanted Lorcas to be like him and not have a dragon.” You explain, knowing that Daeron gets anxious when he doesn’t know what’s going on.
“Oh.”
-
“Father?” Daeron asks hesitantly stood in the doorway to Ormund’s private solar.
“Yes.” Ormund responds cloth over his head as he leans back in his chair. You clearly having told the staff to give him a very potent smelling meal.
“Would you like to share Tessarion?” The darling boy offers, wanting to fix your argument. The boy not liking when you and Ormund argue.
“Pardon?” Ormand asks, removing the cloth from his face as he thinks he may be hallucinating.
“Mother said you’re upset because Lorcas has a dragon and you don’t so I was wondering if you’d like to share mine.” Daeron explains, taking Ormund’s temper tantrum the wrong way. “I know Tessie doesn’t exactly like, well anyone but me and mother but-.”
“Thank you for the offer Daeron but I’m quite alright not having a dragon.” He says not understanding where this is coming from.
“Then why are you so upset? You let me sleep with Tessie until I was five, why can’t Lorcas?” Daeron asks, not understanding the difference.
“I hate when you speak sense.”
-
“Lorcas? Can I speak with you?” Ormund asks, the little boy sat on the floor playing with his toys while his dragon watches. Lorcas just nodding in response to his father’s request. “I’m sorry, I was being selfish, you love your dragon and I shouldn’t have tried to take him from you. That was wrong of me and I hope you can forgive me.”
“Really?” The toddler asks looking at his father with those sweet innocent eyes.
“Really, I love you.” He says softly pulling the boy into his lap and kissing the side of his head. “I’m sorry I haven’t been showing it correctly lately.”
-
“Go away.” You say when you hear the chamber doors open slowly, you know it’s not one of your sons as Lorcas just runs through and Daeron knocks. You cuddled up in bed, not feeling very well.
“Not until you tell me what dragon egg the babe will have.” Your husband tells you, also having your dragons favourite meats sent to her. Knowing he will also have to try and get your dragon to forgive him.
“What?” You ask him in shock, not thinking he knew. You only finding out a few days ago, your cycle never having been that consistent. So it wasn’t unusual when you missed a few moons of bleeding.
“I may be a selfish arsehole but I’m not an idiot, how many moons are you?” He asks sitting on the bed, wanting to hold you but knowing you wouldn’t allow that right now.
“Four.” You admit, having seen the maester the day of lorcas’ egg hatching.
“I’ve apologised to Lorcas, let me try and apologise to you.” He says softly, taking your hand so he can kiss the back of it.
more on ormund and targ/velaryon reader (IWNBE au)- ☾
full works:
closer, a series (modern au) crossposted on ao3
your boyfriend has a complicated relationship with sex and religion, you help him work through it, little by little
part 1: all i wanna get is (a little bit closer) wc: 3.7k - ☾
part 2: hot wet delirious wc: 3k - ☾, ♡ new!
moderation... regulation [coming soon] - ☾
it will never be enough, a series (canon/hotd au) crossposted on ao3
ormund hightower is forced to take a velaryon bride he despises on principle, they come to an agreement but she is stuck with him as much as he is with her
part 1: the secret meeting wc: 2.5k - ✦
part 2: the decision wc: 2.1k
part 3: the treachery wc: 1.2k - ✦ new!
part: ?? the defeat wc: 1.5k - ☾
coment below if you'd like to be tagged in any general ormund works, a '💚' will do :)
lace divider by @/strangergraphics, star line divider by @/strangergraphics-archive, green heart/pearly divider by me
summary: in which a divorced couple reunite on set to play a married couple
an: yea this has another targaryen x ormund pairing but this focuses more on james and the reader as actors, not the characters though their characters will be mentioned. targ!reader is rhaenyra’s cousin (so not her sister!) targ!reader’s father was visery’s and daemon’s younger brother that died, her mother is unnamed and has no specific house so let your imagination run wild babes!! any pictures used are just placeholders, reader has no faceclaim! also pls ignore the dates on the tweets, i forgot to change the date :/ i might make this a series not sure yet but I’ll let y’all know if I do. also i don’t really do taglists because i always end up forgetting someone or the tags don’t always work, the three accounts tagged below are just tagged because they wanted to know when this was posted :)
masterlist
—
March 2025
You were seated next to Benjamin, Daeron Targaryen’s actor, on one of the chairs on set on House Of The Dragon. You were filming a couple scenes with him and James since your character, Vaenora Targaryen, was in Tumbleton with her lord husband and his squire. You never thought you would do scenes with your ex husband especially as a married couple.
“Your rings look really cool.” The teen boy admired the rings that adorned your fingers. You showed them off so he could take a proper look.
“Right? I really like this one. I hope they let me keep it after filming is done.” You pointed to the green emerald ring. In the show, Ormund gave Vaenora the ring.
“I hope i get to keep something. Maybe the wig?” He joked.
“I’m sure they’ll let you keep a prop or two. I got to keep a necklace from season one. Well not the original, I got one of the replicas. Still cool though.” You replied.
Before Benjamin could speak, James walked on to the set in full Ormund costume. He walked over to you and Benjamin. “I just took one of the best naps ever.”
“Mate, I don’t know how you do it. You’re napping in the most random places while there’s loud noises.” Benjamin said.
You knew James could take a nap pretty much anytime anywhere. You even saw him take a nap in his armor when you visited the set. Technically you weren’t supposed to be filming anything yet, but you decided to go just to see James act as Ormund.
“He’s a deep sleeper. At least he doesn’t snore.” You added.
Benjamin was about to ask how you knew, but he quickly remembered that you and James were once married. He stayed silent.
“You’re looking lovely. Oh, look at that,” James pointed at your rings that Benjamin was just admiring. “That’s a beauty.” The older man complimented.
“I would hope so. The costume department modeled it after my engagement ring. I was telling Benjamin I want to keep it. Looks nice, right?” You held out your hand so James could get a closer look at the ring that was almost identical to your engagement ring that James had given you years ago.
James couldn’t help but smile. You still had both your engagement and wedding ring. James wasn’t the type of person to ask for them back. He stayed multiple times that he had given them to you so they were yours.
Benjamin was then pulled away by some producer so now it was just you and your ex-husband sitting next to each other. It was never awkward between you two. The relationship had ended mutually though you hardly saw each other after it. Schedules were all over the place and both of you filmed in different locations. That didn’t stop you from sending a text message once in a while. You still remember the day James texted you about being offered the role of Ormund Hightower, the husband that your character, Vaenora, has been mentioning since season one.
“Have you eaten yet? I have some snacks laying around the place in case you need it.” You told James.
“No, I’m fine. I just ate after my nap. Thank you though.” James replied. His heart melted at the fact that you kept snacks around the set just for him.
You hummed in response. You relaxed into your chair and closed your eyes for a second. You assumed James was scrolling on his phone, but you could feel his eyes on you. Still, your eyes remained closed. “Do I have something on my face? Please don’t tell me I have some sort of bug crawling on me.” You joked.
“No, you’re fine. Even if there was a bug, I wouldn’t let it harm you,” James assured you. “You just look really ethereal in this lighting.”
He could’ve said pretty. Gorgeous. Beautiful. But no, he said ethereal and it made you remember why you fell in love with him in the first place.
—
liked by gameofthrones, phiasaban and others
yourusername The Hightowers 💚 (before hair and makeup) jginorton
houseofthedragonhbo The Lord and Lady of Oldtown!
jginorton my lady!
darksister_ sir you can’t just comment that and expect me to move on
dragonscales i’m going to be thinking about this for days
starkoaths sometimes i forget they’re divorced because he does shit like this
Thinking about a modern au where Ormund is running the Hightower Group (corporate family run business) and is married to Reader who he gifts the most expensive clothes and jewelry. They live with Gwayne in the family estate and are raising Daeron. They have a cat Tessarion who Ormund is constantly beefing with.
— ormund hightower x targaryen!wife
being of the blood of the dragon comes with expectations, and for one night ormund's wife decided to lie in his arms and share the weight of watching the women of her family pay the price of motherhood.
or
for ormund hightower is perharps the most devoted husband in westeros, absolutely worships his loved pregnant wife.
genre/content warnings: marriage of convenience, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, age gap, political marriage, hurt/comfort, fluff, pregnancy, childbirth anxiety, motherhood themes, family trauma, grief, mentions of maternal death, canon-typical misogyny, targaryen!reader, wife worship, protective husband ormund, whipped ormund hightower, rhaenyra's second mother figure, aemma's cousin!reader, found family, oldtown setting, pre-dance of the dragons, spoilers from fire & blood/house of the dragon
based on this
notes:
gifs by @ormundshightower. can be read as a standalone. inspired by the tragedy of the Dance of the Dragons. character is viserys and daemon's sister. she doesn't have a name, read as you like 😉. Aemma Arryn deserves better. Ormund Hightower is not an absolute dick.
~~
"I'm afraid," she murmured, sorrow threading softly through the words.
The fire crackled low within the hearth, its steady warmth broken only by the faint whistle of the wind slipping through the narrow windows. He remained with his back to her, his gaze lingering upon the broken seal of Lord Tyrell's letter. He could scarcely remember what it contained.
At length, he turned.
She reclined amidst a nest of cushions upon the daybed before the fire. The flames bathed her pale hair in molten gold, their light dancing across her lilac eyes. The laces of her gown had been loosened, her bodice opened in a manner no lady of her station would ever have dared before her lord husband. One of her hands cradled a warmed cushion against her aching breasts, while the other lay protectively over the gentle swell of her belly.
Heavy with his child
She looked every inch a goddess —the fairest creature the gods had ever fashioned— yet there lingered upon her features a melancholy that called to mind the beauty of a pentoshi painting, admired from afar yet forever touched by sorrow.
"Afraid of what?" he asked quietly, unable to tear his eyes from her. The most beautiful woman in all the known world, his wife, returned his gaze, grief clouding the violet eyes he had fallen asleep beside every night since they had spoken their vows before the Seven in the Starry Sept.
"My mother died in childbirth. Did you know that?" her fingers drifted almost absently across the curve of her stomach, as though she sought reassurance from the life growing beneath her palm.
"So did her sister, Daella. And her niece, Aemma... my beloved cousin. Queen Alyssa before them as well. It seems to be a burden laid upon the women of my blood".
She lowered her gaze to the child she carried, and when she spoke again, her voice had become more a whisper.
"We bring forth heirs..." Her hand drifted gently across the curve of her belly, a sorrowful smile touching her lips. "... and too often, we pay for them with our lives, never living long enough to see the child we bore draw its first breath".
For a moment, Ormund said nothing. He chose to leave the letters and messages of lords behind, deciding instead to remain beside his wife. He crossed the room and settled upon the daybed beside her, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers over the swell of her belly.
She turned her gaze back to him, small tears gathering in her eyes, her voice trembling.
"I was there. I was there every time."
She swallowed, her fingers tightening around his.
"Aemma and I grew up together in the Red Keep. We ran through its halls, hid from the guards within the Kingswood… Ser Harrold Westerling was my shield long before he became Rhaenyra's. I believe he lost half the hair on his head searching for me throughout the castle."
A sad smile touched her lips.
"I was a dreadful child. It still surprises me that my grandfather did not send me away in marriage simply to be rid of me. But I suppose losing his daughters made him and my grandmother cling to their granddaughters all the more."
She finished with a quiet, sorrowful breath.
"I was older than her. It was expected that I would be given to Viserys. Grandmother refused. I think she wished to keep Daella's line closer to home. Viserys was a good prince—handsome, young, and close enough to our age. Only five years stood between them. There was time to wait."
Her voice grew softer.
"If she had known what would come… I do not think she would have made the same choice."
Her voice broke, and Ormund took her hand in his. He brought it closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her skin before placing a single kiss upon her knuckles. She smiled at him with quiet gratitude.
"She was young. Too young."
She looked down at their joined hands.
"They consummated the marriage after only two years. My brother is a greedy creature. He speaks of me and Daemon as though we alone carry that flaw, yet he shares it as well."
Ormund felt her fingers tighten around his.
"He desired her. He could have waited. He could have listened to the maesters… but his hunger was greater."
A small discomfort crossed her features, and she shifted deeper among the cushions.
"She was so small. So young."
Her hand guided his toward the curve of her belly.
"I was there every time her womb carried a child, only for that child to be taken from her soon after."
Her breath trembled.
"Six children she lost. Two she carried to term, only to watch them return to the gods shortly after birth… and four who were born sleeping."
She let out a quiet, pained sound and rested further against the cushions, guiding both their hands to the place where their child moved beneath her skin.
As though listening to the sorrow of his mother.
As though reminding them both that this child was still here.
Ormund moved his hand, his thumb brushing gently against his wife's bare skin. He let out a soft, soothing murmur, lowering his face toward her belly before placing a tender kiss upon it.
A quiet laugh escaped her as she removed the warmed cushion from her breast and rested it upon the table beside her, freeing her hand to run her fingers gently through her husband's hair.
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, never ceasing the gentle caress upon her exposed belly.
"Continue, my love. Our child is not done fussing yet."
He rested his chin against the side of her head and closed his eyes, savoring the familiar scent of her hair.
"I remained there. I watched my cousin in agony, watched the light slowly fade from her eyes. I watched her transform the little swaddling cloths we had sewn together into shrouds, so they might meet the dragon's flames."
Her voice trembled. Ormund moved his hand, gently stroking her hair as she continued.
"And I watched Rhaenyra come into this world. She had lost all hope by then, she would not even make the cloths herself. So I did. Even if they became shrouds, I could not bear the thought of my nephews and nieces return to the embrace of the gods without something to cover them."
A faint smile touched her lips through her tears.
"When Rhaenyra was born, I held her before Viserys. Before even Aemma."
Her voice softened.
"She was so small. So fragile. The maester kept saying he did not believe she would live to see the turning of the moon."
She swallowed.
"Rhaenyra is a young woman now. Soon to be wed. And that makes me wish I could return to that old maester and strike him myself."
A sad smile crossed her features.
"It was so beautiful, seeing my father hold her and weep. It was so beautiful. For a moment, I thought Aemma would finally have peace. I thought we would have peace."
She nestled closer to her husband, surrendering herself further to the comfort he offered.
"But Viserys was obsessed with having a son. He believed that from his seed would come another Aegon the Conqueror, reborn for him. The madness of dragon dreams. A gift my brother never possessed and refused to accept."
Her fingers tightened around his.
"I was forced to watch my cousin return to that same torment. More children. More cloths. More shrouds."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And I was there for Baelon. I was there when her belly grew too heavy for her to bear. When she could only sleep in a bath of warm water because my nephew would not let her rest."
Her voice broke.
"And I was there when the pains began."
She closed her eyes.
"I held her hand while my brother delighted himself at a tourney for a child who was killing the wife he claimed to love."
"My sweet Aemma."
The words barely left her lips.
"I saw him speak with the maester. I saw them whisper. And I saw him order me away."
Her breath caught.
"And when I refused… I felt him hold me back with his arms, so they could…"
The sob that followed tore through her.
"So they could cut her open. Like an animal. Tear his beloved heir from the womb of the woman he claimed to love while she screamed alone, held down by servants and guards."
Ormund pulled her closer, guiding her legs into his lap and resting her head against his chest. He never ceased the gentle caress upon their child, who still moved restlessly beneath his hand.
As though feeling the sorrow of his mother.
"My beloved Aemma was eleven years old when she married. Thirteen when she carried her first child. And fifteen years after that first birth, she died bringing forth a child who barely lived a day."
Another sob escaped her.
"A child who joined her upon the funeral pyre."
Her voice became almost inaudible.
"My cousin. The girl who grew beside me. Who played with me. Who slept beside me. Who climbed upon Moonfyre despite being terrified of dragons."
Another tear fell.
"Nineteen years of my life were spent loving her."
She closed her eyes.
"I shall never forgive my brother for that. Never."
"And I shall never forgive him for what came after."
Her voice trembled with grief.
"Rhaenyra was a girl. My little girl."
The tears continued to fall.
"I chose the gowns she would wear for her mother's funeral. I forced her from her bed to eat, to dress herself, to face each day. I cared for her as though she were my own, because her own father remained absent in his grief."
Her breath caught.
"Absent because he had killed her mother."
The sobs did not cease, but now they carried something sharper. Anger. As though the wound had not been opened years ago, but only moments before.
"And that fool of a brother of mine could not even wait a year before taking another woman to his bed."
She shook her head.
"I do not blame your cousin. Alicent bears no fault for Viserys being the greedy creature he is. The man who opened his wife's womb for an heir and, when she could not give him one, simply ensured he would have another child by another woman."
Her fingers tightened around Ormund's.
"I do not blame her. Though it pains me, it still reminds me of the sorrow in Rhaenyra's eyes when she watched her dearest friend take her mother's place before the court."
A soft sound escaped her when the child moved once more beneath her hand.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
A real laugh.
"I believe our child has inherited my spirit."
She looked at Ormund with a small smile.
"You complained so much about me after we married. Now you shall suffer for bringing a child like me into this world."
Ormund could not stop his smile at seeing her find laughter in the midst of such sorrow. He leaned forward and pressed another kiss upon her.
"Like you in what way?"
His eyes held amusement.
"Impulsive? Arrogant? With a particular inclination to disturb my peace?"
A look of offended disbelief crossed her features, and she lightly struck his chest.
His laughter filled the room as he caught her hand, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. When they parted, he kept their foreheads pressed together.
"Generally, my lord husband. Those are not the characteristics usually attributed to your wife."
The corner of her lips lifted.
"The common folk used to say I was merely Daemon with a little more common sense. Simply rebellious."
Ormund captured her lips once more in a brief kiss.
"Then you would be impulsive, arrogant, particularly inclined to disturb my peace, rebellious…"
A smile touched his face.
"…and entirely mine."
He stole another few kisses from her, each one earning a soft laugh.
"Do not concern yourself, my lady. My seed is strong. Our child shall be the pride of Hightower blood. My blood shall temper the wildness of yours."
She laughed then, a genuine sound that warmed the room.
Ormund could not help but smile as he watched her laugh amidst such sorrow. She was the woman he had loved all his life, though he had only met her when the gods decided to place her in his path. He simply had not known it until the day she became his.
"If you say so, my lord husband, then I shall believe you."
The laughter that followed held no sincerity in her words, and he knew it. He pulled her closer, joining their lips in a deeper kiss, one hand cradling her cheek with gentle affection.
When they parted, he brushed the silver strands of hair away from her face.
Her laughter softened into a small, melancholy smile as she turned her gaze back toward the fire.
"It hurts to remember it. This burden carried in my blood."
Her voice grew quieter.
"To watch my dearest friend die, leaving her little girl alone in this world. Only for my brother to father another child with another woman and barely remember the boy exists."
She looked into the flames.
"Poor Aegon. He suffered beneath the weight of his father's expectations, only to suffer further from the knowledge that he would never be the son Aemma had given him"
Ormund watched her carefully, feeling the unusual warmth of her skin beneath his hand as he caressed her belly. He rested his forehead against the side of her head, never ceasing the gentle touch upon their child.
"So I'm afraid, Ormund."
Her voice was quiet.
"I am so very afraid."
She did not cry anymore.
"But I fear bringing this child into the world and leaving him behind as so many women of my blood have done. I fear leaving this child without his mother's arms to hold him. I fear becoming another Aemma, my womb condemned by the will of the gods and my life taken by the hands of men."
Her fingers curled around his.
"I fear leaving you alone with our child."
For a moment, she only watched the fire.
"I want to live, Ormund."
The words were barely above a whisper.
"I am not afraid of the birth itself. Or even the pain or the own death. I am afraid of losing the battle."
Her hand rested over his.
"I want to hold my child in my arms. I want to see his face. To know whether he bears my features or yours."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I want to take him to Moonfyre, even though I know you will complain. I want to take him into the sky, as my mother once did with me."
She turned her face toward his, their foreheads meeting as she rubbed the tips of their noses together in a tender gesture of affection.
"I do not wish for him to be our only child. My only child. I want to give you more, as many as I am able. Sons and daughters. Perfect mixtures of us both that I may watch grow and fill the chambers of this fortress. To raise them, care for them, and cradle them even when they are no longer children. I want to see my children prove that your blood cannot temper the fire of my wild Targaryen blood."
She finished with a teasing smile, causing Ormund to let out a warm laugh.
"So I am afraid, my love. Not of death itself, nor of the pain. I fear losing the chance to live the life I was meant to have. I do not know if it sounds foolish… but it is the truest thing I know."
Ormund joined their lips once more, this kiss deeper and filled with all the love he could not put into words. He parted from her only to press another kiss upon her forehead.
One upon her neck.
One upon the gentle valley between her breasts.
And finally, one upon the curve of her belly.
He lingered there, his lips pressed tenderly against the skin that carried their child, before closing his eyes and breathing in her familiar scent once more. He rose only to find her lips again, pulling her gently into his lap until she rested upon him. When they parted, he brushed his fingers through her silver hair.
"It is not foolish. If it is foolish, then we are both fools, my love."
A soft smile touched her lips as she ran her fingers affectionately through his hair, leaving it slightly more disheveled than before.
"I am afraid as well, you know?"
Ormund listened as she continued.
"We were apart for so long that, every night when you fall asleep, I find myself thinking of what I would do if I held you in my arms only to lose you."
His voice softened.
"I look upon your sleeping face and wonder how I would face the world without you. I would march upon King's Landing itself, even if the stench of that city was enough to make me wish for death."
She laughed again, her fingers once more moving through his hair before resting upon his cheeks.
"I would face your brother, the king. I would face that silver beast you speak of with such affection, as though she were merely a cat and not a dragon."
Another laugh escaped her, followed by a gentle kiss upon his cheek.
"I would stand before the Stranger himself and challenge him for your return. I would defy the Seven. That is what frightens me—the heresy you would make me commit if I ever lost you."
He caressed her back and brought their lips together in a soft kiss.
"It frightens me even to imagine you entering that chamber to give birth and leaving me behind with our child."
His voice faltered.
"I would never allow them to cut you open as they did your cousin. I would not survive losing you, my love. It terrifies me because I cannot bear the thought of a world without you."
"If that makes us fools, then we are fools. But I am the greatest fool of all, because I could not survive the loss of the woman I love, even with a child of hers left in my arms."
He kissed her once more, gently, before rising with her in his arms.
He carried her to their bed, where he began to remove the lighter garments she wore within their chambers, leaving her wrapped only in the softness of the night. Soon, she stood before him, beautiful and bare beneath the candlelight of their room.
"Would you sleep in your nightclothes, or will you allow your husband to rest beside your skin and borrow your warmth on this cold night?"
She looked at him with the solemn dignity of a queen, sitting naked upon their bed as though a mere subject stood before her.
"Do not worry, my love. I shall sleep without them. Will you join me? Your dragon has enough warmth to keep you from the cold tonight."
Ormund could not hold back his smile.
He loved her.
He gave no answer. Instead, he slowly undressed beneath her watchful gaze until he stood bare before his wife.
His dragon.
Ormund joined her beneath the blankets, drawing her close against him. The fire in the hearth had dwindled after their long conversation, reduced now to little more than a gentle glow. He leaned over her to extinguish the nearest candles before settling beside her once more, returning his hand to the gentle caress upon her belly.
"Sleep, my love. I shall keep watch over your sleep while you protect me from the cold."
~~
I did this crazy thing because I needed to get this part of the plot out of my head. I’m much more of a reader than a writer, so if this ends up being terrible, please forgive me.
i get Nolan's vision of casting her as Athena in The Odyssey just to make Odysseus' life even more miserable 😭 but PLEASE save her for The Iliad and let her play Aphrodite. She's literally the goddess of love and beauty, sis.
I've been immersing myself in the Tumblr vibe about Ormund. Obsessively-tender with a scent fetish — my favorites.
Looking at the genres, I want to say: Ormund isn't actually that religious. Hear me out.
There's a lot of content about religious guilt and shame that he genuinely believes in.
Ormund Hightower is a man who showed his bare winkie and ass to a married lady. Is that how a religious man who truly believes in decency behaves? Never. Any guilt? None.
Ormund believes in Hightower supremacy. Especially over the Targaryens.
Belief in the Seven is probably just one of his tools. Not that it troubles him on any internal level.
Ormund uses it as leverage against Daeron and as a way to alienate him from his lineage - the Targaryens are godless, while you're a good boy, raised in the light of the Seven.
Maybe Ormund did genuinely believe in the Seven at some point, and maybe some of that remains, but his mission to elevate the Hightowers — and himself, of course — is his real, main goal.
Ormund's faith in the Seven, and what it means to him, doesn't come close to comparing with Alicent's.
Perhaps Ormund even sees excessive faith as a weakness, something meant for the led, so they can find comfort in it.
Ormund sees himself as a scholar, an enlightened man and leader who has to make decisions that will impact the success of his grand Ormund-plan.
That's what I think for now. Maybe we'll learn more. But I like the idea that Ormund doesn't actually care that much about religion and uses it for his own purposes.
TL;DR
give me a sinful Ormund whose religious mask is slipping off
Ormund "I am going to wed a Targaryen and my seed with purify the wickiness of their tainted blood," Hightower, ends up having a wife and kids that look like they just arrived straight from Valyria
