Hey, did you change your username? Just asking because I'm having a hard time tracking who is who, with several blogs changing their username recently... Sorry
Summary: As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.
Dance of the Empire inspired one shot.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister! reader, mentioned Aegon II Targaryen x Lannister! reader
Note: Hi my dearies, I’m so sorry I haven’t been active in the last month. Transitioning from Montreal to Toronto has been a lot to handle. But the good news is that I got elected as student council vp in my new school🤪. Here is a one shot inspired by my first fic Dance of the Empire (a bit spoiler). I will be back writing all the three fics and will try to update weekly. Thank you all for sticking with me❤️❤️❤️
Within the chilling walls of the seat of House Baratheon, the hearth held a flame that danced rebelliously, threatening to bite those misfortunate enough to find themselves in proximity. Torrential water poured mercilessly from the sky while the wind howled ruthlessly. Sealed by the solid bricks of the castle, the flames, fragile compared to the frightful storm yet unpredictable and dangerous in nature, continued to consume silently.
The silver haired prince sat calmly by the scorching heat, his long fingers brushing against each other. It had been two days since the Lord of Storm’s End pledged allegiance to the prince’s elder brother, called by some the Usurper, in return for a marriage pact between the prince and one of the lord’s daughters. Amidst the looming threat of a deadly civil war, every second counted, but his delay was calculated. Aemond had been waiting silently and patiently for his nephew's arrival, much like a flame waiting to devour its fuel.
A servant knocked by the door, bowed and announced the news. Without a word, he arose from the chair and paced through the solemn hall of the castle with stately ease. The effortless regality exuded from his presence was as if he was on his way of being coronated. A sharp curl appeared on the corner of his thin lips as he recalled his drunken and debauched brother , expecting the Conqueror’s Crown on his head like an infant. With each step Aemond took, he felt himself drawing nearer to his desires: power and her.
Aemond Targaryen wanted everything and was ready to steal, scheme and slaughter.
Unlike his half sister Rhaenyra, the named heir of the late King Viserys, or his brother Aegon, born with the title of the first born son, Aemond Targaryen's life was a battle, a relentless one against a seemingly inescapable destiny of becoming another insignificant Targaryen royal, riding an ordinary dragon, holding a hollow position in court, accompanied by a mediocre noble woman, doomed to be forgotten in history.
However, when his mother suggested betrothing him to the eldest daughter of Tyland Lannister, he was taken aback. Could he, the overlooked second son, really be promised the "Beauty of Casterly Rock" and an alliance with the house guarding mountains of gold? Promises were a strange to the One-Eyed Prince, as he had always been a taker, much like he had claimed the largest dragon in the world. The fleeting memories of the golden lady of emerald eyes all appeared to him a cruel jest. The tender moments of her smiles were overshadowed by her anguished cries upon learning that she had been bartered off to Aemond’s elder brother Aegon, who would rather bury himself between the legs of harlots of the Flea Bottom.
Contained fury blazed in his chest as Aemond watched the young Lucerys Velaryon, his bastard nephew, who had taken his eye eight years ago.
Lucerys conveyed with a trembling voice Rhaenyra’s message to the Lord of Storm’s End. Aemond paid no attention to the words coming out of his mouth. His one violet eye burnt a hole in the quivering messenger. His throat throbbed with thirst for retribution as the flashes of scarlet and black that had blinded his eye when Lucerys’ blade had cut through his flesh.
This rage was tainted with despair, for what he truly desired was taken by his own kin and given to his brother. He soon realized he had nothing left to lose.
With that, as the Lord of Storm’s End dismissed the Velaryon impatiently, the prince’s shadowy figure also disappeared in the hall as he watched Lucerys mounting his pathetic and minuscule dragon Arrax while the storm still raged on.
Soon, the monstrous Vhagar hovered over the young dragon. The lightning tearing through the black sky and roaring of thunder were music to Aemond Targaryen’s ears, as if the gods were in awe of this spectacle of terror. In the face of raw power commanded by the largest dragon of the world, neither Lucerys, Rhaenyra, Aegon, nor even the games of thrones stood a chance. Aemond was the second son who inherits nothing he doesn’t seize for himself. Addicted to the intoxicating scent of the lioness of Casterly Rock and the adrenaline rushing in his veins from being on top of the world, Aemond whispered to the green beast, “Ipradagon.”
Eat
Scarlet blurs flashed before him, followed by a haunting dragon squeal echoed before him with no one but him to bear witness to the gruesome bloodshed. While others might see flesh and dragon bones plummeting from the sky, Aemond saw a vision of the Conqueror’s Crown landing on his head. While his mother, the Dowager Queen, sought to suppress the war, Aemond stroked the anger bubbling in Rhaenyra. And what better way than slaying her favourite son?
War were precisely what he craved; for war breeds to fear, fear spawns to chaos, and chaos is a ladder.
As the Seven Kingdoms hesitated between the Blacks and the Greens, Aemond stood ready to flip the script.
All his life, he had been but a sword wielded at another’s will. At that moment, Aemond Targaryen became the master of his own terror, and the realm would watch a second son rise to rule the continent.
Any doubt that this is the type of evil man who will fuck you like you're a whore while looking at you like you're the purest angel that fell from heaven?
I don’t know why I Ihavent written anything about it yet… I feel like there is no space for it, to slip through the cracks, I haven’t read anything about it either…
The thing is… I always picture myself being the first (and only) born daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, pitch black hair, steel blue eyes, no denial….
Iwent with my father in hunts and he would have sat me on the Iron Throne
But I got usurped, by Joffrey, they placed him instead of me
I believe the claims against my mother and uncle Jamie, I had en ever have a very good relationship with my mother, sometimes I even think she hates me for some reason
I miss my father
I was betrothed to Robb Stark but my mother broke it off when my father died….
I will go to Daenerys Targaryen and serve her, I will be to her Like Orys Baratheon was to Aegon the Conqueror.
Warning; toxic fucked up Nate (his pov is fucked up)
"Yo are you at this Ferris wheel or that Ferris wheel?"
"I know I'm on my way. How the fuck am I supposed to know there are two Ferris wheels?"
Nate paced through the crowd, Maddy's complaints combined with the overwhelming carnival music raged the familiar storm of anger in his chest, threatening to explode at any moment. Finally, the sight of Maddy in that outfit drove him off the edge.
"Why are you dressed like a hooker?"
He demanded furiously.
"What?"
What my ass.
"Jesus Christ, Maddy, I'm here with my parents."
His ire grew with every word, a storm brewing beneath the surface.
"So? It's a carnival."
"No, it's the chilli cook-off, it's very important. I can't have you hanging around the booth dressed like that." Nate walked past her impatiently, attempting to keep his temper in check, not because he felt the need to, but because the thought of Maddy's endless complaints and provocations once she was triggered made him want to do things.
Risky things.
The ones that would feel good yet which his rational judgement dissuaded him from constantly.
Nate Jacobs was many things.
Driven, manipulative, angry, narcissistic, even dangerous maybe, but impulsiveness was not one of them, let alone stupidity. Every time the boy makes a move, he already anticipates the next three.
The cycle was not that complicated.
Anger, evaluation, calculation, action and scheme.
Each of those steps was essential, and he had gotten away every single time, but it didn't mean the process was not exhausting.
So there he was.
He succeeded in controlling his body, team, grades, and people around him. And now comes the most challenging task: controlling his rage.
"Maybe it will sell better."
His fists clenched Maddy's flirtatious and coquette comment. A part of him desired to rip off her revealing pieces, mock her and take her right there and then, "If you want to dress like a whore, I shall treat you like one." The other part burnt with frustration and rage.
"This isn't a fucking joke, ok?"
Does she ever have fucking common sense?
"Why are you being like this?"
No, she does not.
"Listen, my parents already don't like you."
Truth.
"What?"
"Go home, get changed, and come back looking like a person."
Nate hissed and left her standing in the middle of the crowd, toning down the aggression in his voice as much as possible with effort.
"Another breakup?" he queried, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"No," Nate replied tersely, every muscle in his body tensed.
Keep your damn nose out of my business.
"She's nothing but a distraction," Cal observed nonchalantly.
A muffled scoff escaped Nate's lips. Maybe Cal had a point.
Yet what had it ever not been a distraction for him? Some things slip away more quickly, some less so.
First, it was conquering his body, followed by conquering the field, next conquering his mind in the classroom, then Maddy, who was often undoubtedly a pain in his ass, like the night at Mckay's party. Still, it was exactly her unpredictability and her boldness, which some would call shamelessness, that made his quest of conquest interminable, more addicting.
In Cal's head, Maddy was the distraction from his goals.
He didn't like to think about it, but he knew the truth. It seemed that none of it, whether it was football, victories on the field or Maddy, could contain the flame of anger blazing in his chest forever, and it scared him.
"Yo—"
Aaron yawned. Nate frowned, sensing the revolting scent of alcohol in his brother's throat even if he wasn't facing him.
"Now that-" Aaron grinned foolishly at Cal, pointing drunkenly, "Is what you don't call a distraction. That's a girl you fuck for life."
Nate chuckled blatantly with disdain. The mere idea that a girl finding her cunt buried with Aaron's weak drunken cock was one the few things that could echo sympathy in Nate Jacobs' blackened heart.
Nate raised his head, the amusement and disdain written only in the depth of his pupils, which were met unexpectedly with another pair of dark eyes, which, as ridiculous and improbable as it sounds, were so beautifully similar to his.
She was standing in front of the booth, her mouth slightly opened, clearly shocked, disturbed, offended yet holding back her irritation at Aaron's comment for the sake of politeness.
Nate was momentarily taken by her presence, a reaction he would've usually blamed himself for, but this time, he couldn't.
The stranger girl appeared out of place in ways he couldn't even count. Among the teenagers like him, whose hormones for sex and high misted everywhere, her perfectly toned figure balanced between slenderness and fullness, molded into simple yet stylish black dress just above her knees that revealed just the right amount of her flesh straddled the fine between seduction and elegance. It was also the way she held her head high, showcasing her collarbones and snow-like slender neck, despite the ostensible discomfort and startle. It was an inborn pride.
"Excuse my brother," Nate apologized tactfully, putting on the mask of the charming gentleman, "He's a loser."
"Apologize, Aaron."
"Are you fucking serious right now?" The older brother's widened in annoyance.
Before Aaron could retort by unveiling Nate's label-whoring routine.
"Apologize."
Nate repeated, his voice unyielding, it was a command.
"Fuck this," Aaron threw the beer can in the garbage, "Sorry."
Nate watched the irritated and conflicting tension among her features dissipating naturally, replaced by a sweet smile on her doll-like face, "I appreciate it."
He chuckled when pouring the hot chilli into the cup, "I don't recognize you from here," he raised his eyes calculatedly, observing her face, "Are you new in town?"
She nodded with that harmless and innocent smile, "Just arrived last weekend. My mother and I are still adjusting."
Her cheeks seemed so soft, delicate, untouched. And her voice.
If only a girl in East Highland had that voice chord...
"Going to East Highland High soon?" He hands her the chili cup, his fingers brushed against hers, "It's on the house, as an apology on my brother's behalf. It's Nate, by the way."
"I'm Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn Arundel," her lips curled naturally, "Yeah, I'll be attending East Highland High."
He raised his brows, "Junior?"
"Senior," she swallowed.
Nate noticed that faint hesitance, shame, and something else... anger behind radiating through her carefully crafted innocence.
"It's nice to meet you, Kaitlyn," he simply nodded in acknowledgment without further pursuing questions, knowing that he would crack them, one by one, eventually.
"You may want to be careful around here. My brother just has a loud mouth, but he bears no ill intentions."
Kaitlyn tilted her head, her dark doe eyes seemingly confused and surprised.
"A beautiful girl like you," Nate approached her quietly, his large figure hovering over hers, "A lot of men would try to get their hands on a beautiful girl like you. You don't want to get yourself in that kind of situation."
"I'm not trying to," she whispers softly.
"Good girl," He brushes his finger tips on her cheek.
If only Maddy saw this.
It amused him how she would have reacted.
Call him a cunt? Slap her on the face?
He could get used to imagine how he would shield this innocent, sweet, beautiful, decent girl, her face red from the slap, sobbing in shock in his chest, from Maddy.
"It was nice meeting you," Kaitlyn retreated slowly but firmly from their proximity, yet her voice still gentle, her smile defenceless, "Nate Jacobs."
With that, she disappeared into the crowd, the last glint in her eyes screamed an innocence and purity that made his cock twitch, yet something behind those dark eyes had left him unsettled.
I should be working on an important presentation that could define my entire career, but reading about the new fictional scenarios in which Aemond can get laid is more important.
Imagine Aegon being in love with you. But, really, really in love with you. For real.
Does he inappropiately touch some maidens when they fetch his wine? Well, yes. Does he ignore his sister–wife Helaena? That... as well. But with you? Aegon is a completely different person, and I think he would spoil you very much, the same way you pamper him with your attention.
Perhaps, it’s the way you can truly see behind his miscreant façade. You know how much pressure his mother, his father, and his grandsire put into him for his duties as a future King; how he constantly tries to make all of them proud. But with you, he can be himself, and express his insecurities — the one that truly comprehends him.
I have the feeling that he would be very overprotective of you. Like, overprotective to the point he wouldn’t be afraid of getting physical with someone that tries to do anything to you, or hurts you in any possible way you could ever imagine. Sweet boy would also be the clingy type that, if you sneak to his chambers, he would never want your warmth to leave his side and would do anything to keep you with him.
(Expect him to shamelessly leave some lovebites on your neck, or probably some visible zones while he has his entire body on top of your own just so you don’t leave him alone, only to then shower you in kisses.)
Perhaps, he can only have you as his secret mistress/lover; but for him, you will always be his one and true Queen once he inherits the Iron Throne.
If you dislike people writing fics about whatever character TUMBLR ISNT FOR YOU!
I’m so tired to see people who think it’s right to send hate towards writers that do not fucking harm, for many of us this stories are fun and we enjoy them as writers and also as readers.
It’s insane to think you guys came to a place known for fanfics and yet you be mad??? get the fuck outta here.
