Tw: mentions of the ceremony, Serena being a little creepy, reader is a handmaid.
Short Headcanons.
Serena would show most of her affection for you through grabbing ahold of your hand, gripping it like her life depends on it. Most of the time it is when you two are alone without anyone being able to see her thumb caress over your knuckles or her holding your hand onto her lap.
When you fall pregnant with Serena’s (really her driver’s/or Fred’s) child she is a lot more free with her affection being able to place her hands on your stomach, cupping your face and caressing her thumbs over your cheekbones, everything under the guise of being excited for her upcoming child, which she was as well as finding herself caring for you.
There would be some nights she would climb into bed with you, her arms wrapped around your middle, her face buried into your hair and her hands resting against your stomach, feeling each breath you let out.
Other nights, you would hear your door squeak open and floorboards creak just to see her standing over you, just watching you breathe. The room would be too dark for you to see her expression, the only thing you could make out would be her silhouette stiff and unmoving for what would feel like hours.
During the ‘ceremony’ Serena caresses your wrists with her thumbs while she’s holding onto them, subtle enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable.
where she keeps having nightmares and dreams screaming Luke's name in her sleep but waking up with no memory of the nightmare while Aemond is panicking.
And blood and cheese are sent to kidnapped her back but Aemond got to them first killing them in unhinged rage with bare hands desperate to keep his reader
a servant talls about Rhaenyra and reader overhead and innocently went to Aemond asking who Rhaenyra is it felt familiar and Aemond lied his ass off then hunted down and kill the servant
Aemond likes having reader be so loud in bed the whole keep could hear how much she loves him, if he wasnt completely obsessed and possseive would fuck her where could be seen but since he is doesn't want anyone to see the body only meant at for him only
she gets a memory from her and Aemond as kids and he is happy as it was a precious memory of her comforting him, until she asks who the brown haired boys that she saw where
Aegon makes a comment that makes her very suspicious not letting Aemond near or touch her to his anger until Aemond tricks and lies his way out of it, and that being the closest call Aemond in a calculated rage gets Aegon to go flying and follows him and when alone no villages above the sea attacked and killed Aegon then blamed the Black's when he got home maybe even Eveyone knows deep down but to afraid to do or say anything
I am so glad you enjoyed reading it. I had a lot of fun writing it! 🖤🖤
Yeah, it would make sense for her to have nightmares considering she had them about Vhagar and falling.
I have something planned for Blood and Cheese already later on 👀. Nothing to do with Jaehaerys though, since that wouldn't make since with what happened in the story.
I could see her overhearing a servant while Aemond's off on patrols and while reader is wandering through the Red Keep, her easdropping would be pretty in character considering Alicent's behavior has made her feel a slight bit curious.
The idea of having a flashback to a happy memory is adorable!
I've decided to continue posting parts to the Amnesiac reader series to a03 since it's more chapters than I thought I'd originally write and so they're all in order somewhere.
In a world where soulmates share a matching brand and feel each other's pain, you find yourself discovering a dragon symbol marking your skin, knowing that your soulmate could only belong to one house in particular.
Aemond Targaryen:
While it may have been kinder to see a dove marked against your flesh or even a simple, everyday mark that could have led you to anyone, the fates had chosen otherwise.
A green winged beast had chosen to mark your flesh on the night of your tenth nameday. Marked against your wrist, the tail curving around the bone of your wrist, easily enough to cover if you so chose.
You barely had the time to contemplate before a sharp pain shot through your right eye, a scream tore from your throat as you tumbled to the cold floor of your chambers. Your hand fumbled uselessly around your face, searching for any reason that your eye throbbed, feeling as though it was being sliced in half.
You remained on the cold floor for what felt like centuries, the throbbing behind your eye growing more and more severe until all you could do was gasp for air, the sensation of a hot needle weaving in and out of your flesh despite seeing no needle nor person who could be causing such pain.
It took until morning for the pain to subside to allow you to regain enough strength to peel yourself from the floor, stumbling with uneven feet to the nearest mirror in your chambers.
You were met with your reflection and your two unharmed eyes. It was curious how you could feel such pain with no physical injury to speak for it.
The first thought that came to mind was that perhaps your soulmate had been injured, everyone knew that people that shared a soul could feel the other's pain, but you had not thought it possible to feel excruciating pain such as that.
Each day that passed after that night you would occasionally feel a dull throb in the back of your right eye. You grew to live with it, tending not to mention it to those around you, fearing to look like a fool for complaining about phantom pains when you had no injuries to be seen.
Aegon II Targaryen:
You had thought yourself unmarked and unwanted by the fates themselves, far behind other ladies your age who have already found a symbol appearing on them or even found the man who matched theirs.
You had no such luck. Each day and night you found your skin as plain as it was the day you were born.
One night, amongst the warm light of the candles scattered around your bathing chambers, you undressed, each fabric of clothing pooling around your ankles before there was no silk nor cotton against your skin.
The steam lingered over the hot bath water beckoning you in to which you would happily succumb to if only you did not catch a glimpse of a golden mark against the curve of your arse. You turned your head, craning over your shoulder to see what the symbol was.
In truth, the moment you saw it was a golden hued dragon nearly taking up the entirety of one of your buttocks, you were horrified. Not only had it appeared in a very.. inconvenient place but it was obvious that the one who happened to share your soul was a Targaryen.
You could only imagine how difficult it would be to find who had the matching mark. It was not as though you could politely suggest every member of the Targaryen branch to show their arse to you.
That could very well have you beheaded or worse!
Rhaenyra Targaryen:
It was quite difficult to hide the fact your soulmate was a Targaryen, not with the elegant beast curved along your collarbone, not too large to look gaudy but the right size to be clear to what it was.
You could not remember when the mark first made itself known, it seemed to have been there your entire life and yet your family made no effort to send word to King’s Landing much to your frustration.
In your eyes you saw no reason to be kept away from your soulmate, whom you were destined to be with. It felt unkind at best and at worst, cruel.
It would have been easy enough to see who shared your soul if your father had been bold or ambitious enough to travel to King’s Landing, but he had not been. Too small of a house to feel entitled to the royal family even if one of them was your soulmate, was what your father claimed the reason was.
You suspected it was because the heir to the throne, another girl, was the one suspected to also have a yellow-hued dragon curved around her collarbone as well. It was rather unheard of for two women to share one soul, but even so the gods themselves must have forged you both from one soul. If the gods created you both then it could not have been a sin, could it?
Tw: Parentification implications if you squint very hard. Aemond shading Rhaenyra's parenting also.
Reader's hand described as small and chubby. Feminine reader, described as having curls.
This chapter has memories of when Aemond and reader were children, more of Aemond's perspective and none of the reader's. Pretty short and sweet.
Part one here
Part 1.5
Part two here
Part three here
The doors slowly creaked open, quiet little footsteps padded against the stone floor towards the bed where a certain prince was tucked underneath the fur material of his blankets. The mattress dipped slightly before Aemond’s head rose, his eyes squinting through the darkness of his chambers, it took a few brief moments for him to recognize the unruly curls of his dear niece, of you.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered, his voice raspy from sleep, his hand raised to rub his violet eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dark, not at all like his nephews who had dark, plain eyes, as his mother would put it.
“I could not find sleep.” Your whispered voice sounded faint even with the near silence of the night, crickets chirping outside of the open pillars of his chambers.
Aemond sat up with a small groan, tossing a pillow towards the middle of the bed, shifting off to the side and pulling his fur blankets back, a wordless invite for her to crawl underneath the comforting warmth of the soft fur, before lying back onto his side.
It was not an odd occurrence for you to manage to sneak from your chambers all the way to his, though it did occasionally make him wonder how you kept managing to do so without getting yourself caught.
He was glad for it, he did enjoy your company even if it was only the sound of your breathing and the hogging of his blankets.
Though, he knew his mother would be furious if she ever knew that you had slept in his bed. He could already imagine the scowl that would form on the woman's stern features and yet despite knowing that, he did not demand you leave. Though, he did place a pillow between the two of you to act as a barrier, surely that was a testament to his ability to make decisions.
Aemond could feel you crawl underneath the blankets, rustling the sheets and pillows behind him before you settled underneath the comfortable furs.
A moment of silence passed before he felt you shift behind him once more,
“What if I never claim a dragon?” The fear, much like his own, was clear and plain in your quivering tone.
His head immediately lifted, shooting you a pointed look before he responded, his voice still groggy from the late hour,
“You will.” He responded with the firmest tone he could muster, “we both will.”
A small sigh left him when you did not instantly respond, opting to drop your gaze to the pillow your head was resting on, your fingers fidgeting with the feathered material of the pillow.
Aemond rolled over to face you, leaning his weight over the pillow barrier so your foreheads were nearly touching, meeting eye to eye with you while he reiterated, “We both will one day, we will fly through the skies together, be the best dragon riders together.”
“But, what if I fail -”
“Then you will try again.” Aemond firmly interrupted, his fingers lacing with yours, tugging it from the pillow you were fidgeting with,
“You will try until you find the dragon that is meant to be yours.” He wanted to say that if your bastard, cruel brothers deserved dragons then you did too, you in fact deserved a dragon more than them, but he held his tongue, too tired to argue this point.
“But, what if you claim a dragon before me and then you forget about me?” You questioned, your bottom lip wobbling from the possibility.
It caused his chest to tighten, a sympathetic pang shooting straight through him. He hated feeling that anytime he saw you suffer any amount of turmoil.
“I will not forget about you.” He scoffed out, his nose scrunching in offense that you would even think that he would do such a thing. As if that was even possible.
“And if I claim a dragon before you then I can fly you to Dragonstone.”
You instantly perked up at that, Aemond had to bite back a satisfied smile at seeing you brighten up at the mere mention of the island that held the formidable dragon, Vermithor.
Your hand grasped onto his, your small fingers lacing with his, a smile spread across your lips, any trace of your former anxiety seemed to vanish.
Aemond found himself wondering what had even brought that question from you. He knew your own brothers did not tease you, not like they teased him. Perhaps Aegon had? He knew his elder brother could be cruel, not caring who he wagged his inconsiderate tongue at.
The young prince was tempted to ask, but he did not want to be the cause of your smile fading from your lips, so he stayed silent, allowing himself to bask in the glee of his dear friend.
“You should try to rest before morning arrives. I would hate for you to have to endure embroidery lessons with no sleep.” Aemond's lips rose for a moment, predicting the groan that immediately left your mouth, but nonetheless you took his advice.
He watched you press your head against the pillow, jerking the fur lined blankets towards you, until your entire being was hidden, even going so far as to leave Aemond’s legs exposed to the night air and yet he did not complain, only biding his time to take it back.
His hand gripped onto the edge of the blanket, waiting a moment until he tugged it back over towards him, tucking his arm over the material to keep it locked around him.
A huff left your lips, the top of your head now visible to the air around you. You peeked out from underneath the furs, a scowl, albeit a playful one, tugging on your lips.
It took less than a moment for you to manage to invade his personal space and wedge your entire head back underneath the blankets.
Aemond swore you were like a hatchling attempting to crawl back into the confines of the shell, but he supposed it could have been worse.
You could have decided to play tug of war with the blankets until either you or him hit the floor.. that would have annoyed him this late at night.
He let out a small humored huff before dropping his head against his pillow, drifting off to sleep, though he made sure to keep a tight grip onto his blanket.
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“Read to me.” Your voice piped up from behind the many bookcases in the study which would have caught Aemond off guard, if you were not constantly in the library, either that or following him around the keep.
Aemond drummed his fingers against the hard leather cover of the book that he had in his grasp. One of the many books that spoke of their families lineage. A smile graced his lips before he turned the corner of one of the bookcases, only to find the space empty.
“I would, if only you were not hiding I would be more than happy to.” He spoke, peeking over the corners of each and every thick wooden case in the room. The smile on his lips only widening when he heard your footsteps softly thump over to the other side of the room, he could hear you stifle a laugh.
“Then come here,” You spoke up again from the opposite side of the room, “I need help to reach it.”
“I already have a book I could read you.” Aemond’s arm lifted up to wave the book in the air, though he doubted it could be seen around all the tall book shelves. He paused when he heard shuffling, slowly lifting his weight onto the tip of his toes to follow the noise without you noticing.
He whirled around the corner of a specific bookcase, his smile widening on his face when his eyes landed on you, on the tips of your toes, hand in the air as you reached for a book just out of your reach, the tips of your fingers brushing against the bindings.
When your eyes met, you only smiled and pointed towards the book you desired.
“I know, but you have read that book more than a billion times.” You had spoken, putting emphasis on your words as you leaned forward against the bookshelf, letting out a heavy dramatic sigh, to which Aemond rolled his eyes at.
“There is nothing wrong with being proud of one's lineage, niece.” Aemond drummed his fingers against the leather binding once again, rhythmic taps thumping against the title.
“I am proud.” You insisted, balancing yourself on your toes still, “Proud and bored, so bored I may die.”
“You will not die.” Aemond responded, his tone edging on monotone, a way to sound more mature, more grown-up, if he sounded like that then you would have no choice than to allow him to educate you. If you had it your way he would be reading the delusions of love-sick poets.
Your hand dropped back down to your side, letting out a particularly loud groan before you agreed.
“Fine, but if I am to die from boredom you would be named a Kinslayer.” You grumbled before plopping down onto the floor, resting your back against the sturdy bookshelf behind you.
The boy’s nose scrunched, nearly flinching from that title before he ever so slightly thumped the book against the top of your head, ignoring the immediate sound of displeasure that erupted. He plopped down next to you, shooting you a sidelong look before he shook his head.
“Do not jest about such things.” The words grumbled from his lips before he nudged your arm with his own, flashing another look that he hoped conveyed how not enjoyable that jest was.
“Sorry..” You mumbled, your brows tilting upward, your lips tugging into a small frown, “It is not even true.. I was just joking -”
“Being a Kinslayer is the most cursed thing to be, Y/N. It is not a thing to be joked about.” Aemond cut you off, attempting to make his voice stern, much like his mother’s and by the expression of guilt and your bottom lip quivering with every word, he could tell he succeeded.
The boy felt a wave of relief at how you responded, hoping that it meant he sounded mature enough to be listened to. Aemond knew his half-sister would rarely correct foul behaviors, his own mother always told him so, that Rhaenyra was lax and never corrected any incorrect behavior of her children.
It caused pride to settle within him that he could take on the role to teach you wrong and right. He knew he could, his own mother praised him on how mature he was, she even confided in him, like he was an equal. Like the father of the family, Aemond mused, the proud thought lingered in the back of his head.
Though, he knew you were not on the same maturity level as him, but he also knew he could help you mature. His mother was more mature than his father, and unlike his father, you were not a fool, just a little immature and he could help with that.
He flicked the book open, clearing his throat to begin, but not before giving you a small smile to show he was not angry, “The Targaryen Dynasty started on -”
“Wait,” You nudged your head against his shoulder, gaze dropping down to the page, “Would you please skip Maegor’s chapters, he frightens me.”
The fear in your tone humored Aemond a small bit, it felt foolish and nonsensical to fear a dead man and yet every time he read this book you would request the same, which he always obliged.
“Is it because of the cat, because that may or may not even be true.” Aemond spoke, though he made a mental note of which pages to skip, not that he needed to, he read this book enough to know which pages contained mentions of that figure.
“No, it is because Rhaena, the one who had been captured and forced to wed him.. and the fate of his second wife, also why would anyone force their niece to marry them?” You questioned, your brows furrowing together as you pondered on that, “my mother says marriage is supposed to be out of love and she clearly did not love him.”
“He is called Maegor the cruel for a reason, none of his marriages were out of love, and uncles marry their nieces for many reasons -”
“Yes, love.” You interjected insistently.
“That is one reason, yes.” Aemond murmured, debating on whether he should argue further about the marriage of a dead man or how most marriages in Westeros were not out of love.
He doubted his parents loved each other and he doubted your mother loved her husband either. That was possibly why Rhaenyra decided to break the vow of marriage and produce children with that Ser Strong.
His marriage would be different, Aemond decided, He would love his wife and her him and she would not be so weak to step out of their marriage.
A sudden rush of heat spread across his cheeks when his eyes drifted down to your head resting against his shoulder, as if he was realizing that you could very well be his wife one day.
TW: Amnesia, mentions of being a hostage, manipulation, Targcest
Reader still has amnesia, I feel like I may write some flashback chapters after this.
Part one
Part 1.5
Part two
Part four
Roars.
Every time you slept you could hear thundering roars ring through your ears. At first it started as distant roars that could be easily mistaken for a brewing storm but now they were undeniable, unmistakably a dragon's roar, and yet you could see nothing through the vast darkness.
The smell of brimstone burned your nostrils and you thought you could hear faint yelling beneath the loud thundering roars,
“Vhagar, no!” Was the last desperate yell you could hear before you were jolted from your slumber, your chest heaving with quickened breaths, the smell of smoke so strong in your nose you could have sworn you had just faced off with a dragon if not for the unmistakable knowledge of being tangled within the sheets of your husband's bed.
Your eyes darted around your surroundings taking in the familiar pillars of Aemond's chambers and the comforting scent of jasmine that seemed to cling to the one-eyed prince along with the faint smell of smoke but it was nothing compared to the scent that assaulted you in your dreams.
“Husband,” You kept your voice just above a whisper not wanting to jolt him from his sleep in a sudden manner. It was barely in the early morning, dew had just started collecting outside on the blades of grass.
Your hand grasped onto his shoulder before giving it a gentle shake to rouse him from his slumber, which was easy enough the man stirring almost instantly upon contact.
His head lifted up, his remaining eye opening to meet yours, half-lidded with sleep. You could see the soft early morning rays catch against the sapphire placed in the socket of his missing eye. A sight that always caught your breath.
You did not know why, or perhaps you used to, and it slipped your mind like much did after your accident on horseback. A horse you could not even remember, but in all fairness you had not left your husband's chambers much.
In truth, your legs ached just thinking of those never ending stairs outside of the man's chambers.
“What is wrong, ābrazȳrys (wife)?” His voice was a low rasp, thick with sleep. His fingers reached out, ghosting over your cheek before your cheek pressed against his palm, nuzzling against the comforting warmth of his hand.
You did not know why you were being haunted by dreams nor why you would dream of someone who sounded like your husband would be ordering Vhagar not to do something.. it all made your head spin too much to think clearly.
You did not answer his question, feeling foolish for desiring to wake him at all, instead you had asked;
“Will you hold me?” The question came out a faint whisper, your cheeks flushing at how delicate the words that fell from your lips were.
“Of course.” The sound of his voice, calm and steady eased your tension, furthermore so when his arm wrapped around your waist tugging you against his bare chest, as warm as a summer day.
The comforting heat enveloped you, your head tucked away against your husband's bare chest that only seemed to grow warmer by the second, as if he could shield you from your scrambled mind.
Aemond had not imagined he would ever have you, his niece, so willingly burying yourself into his arms, but perhaps that split lack of control he had on that fateful night had been a blessing from the gods his mother was so fond of.
A girl who was so headstrong that you refused to attempt to claim any other dragon that was not the formidable Vermithor, the second largest.
How he wished he was there to see it, but alas you were living on Dragonstone and him, in Kingslanding during that time.
He ran his long slender digits through your unruly curls, careful to not get them tangled within your locks.
It was difficult not to think of the times where the two of you would sneak across the castle, tiptoeing as quietly as you could until you reached the library where he would mull over the hundreds of books of history and philosophy and you would indulge yourself in your little fairytale stories that he found lacking substance.
Despite your dull taste in books back then, he still held the memory fond in his mind, one full of carefree childhood wonder that was few and far between in Aemond's life even more so when your mother moved you off to Dragonstone where Aemond was not allowed to follow.
A pang of something akin to guilt hit the one-eyed prince when he thought of Vermithor. He once dreamed of flying side by side with you, especially once he learned of you claiming a dragon, but now.. that was an impossibility.
He shifted up in the bed, resting his back against the bed board while he carefully rearranged you in his arms taking great care not to accidentally bump your head, to which you easily tucked it against his collarbone.
“Husband, how long have we been married?” You had suddenly asked, lifting your head up enough to make eye contact with the man.
Your gaze was so soft and loving it caused a warm sensation bloom inside of the man's chest, but the question hardened his resolve, not willing to allow any cracks in this marriage facade he loved - no needed, he needed this ‘marriage’ to last just like he needed you to remain by his side.
He had already slaughtered, accidental or not, a dragon for this, may or may not have started a war for this, for you. It had gone too far to back out now, the facade must continue.
“Three years or so.” He responded, keeping his tone cool and unsuspecting, his fingers gently curling into your messy tresses,
“Why do you ask?”
“I was merely wondering.” A pause before you continued on, your lips pursing in thought, “considering three years is plenty of time to prepare and we clearly are intimate with each other,”
Your cheeks flushed at your own admission but you continued on regardless,
“Why are there -”
Aemond soon interrupted you, his arm tensing around you for reasons that you were oblivious to,
“Why do we have no children?” He finished for you, taking care to keep his voice steady, covering any uncertainty with one of his signature hums, low and steady like they always were.
You nodded, lifting your head to meet his gaze, finding a cold calculating look flash through his expression, leaving as quickly as it had come.
The corner of Aemond’s lips twitched upward a few times. The idea of burying his seed so deep within you it produced a child was pleasing to him and the fact that you seemed to be wanting children only made the idea much more appealing. His hand slid down to your stomach, his thumb massaging the delicate fabric beneath it, imagining how ethereal you would look with a swollen belly, full of his child.
Though, despite his desires he knew he had to be legally bound to you before he could do that, to not bear the responsibility of bringing another bastard into the realm. No, despite all his lies and manipulations he wanted your child to be legitimate, wanted to truly be wed to you.
That way even if his elder brother crumbled underneath the pressures of the realm, even if your mother managed to conquer Kingslanding underneath his nose, you could not be taken away from him. Not that Aemond would ever allow anyone to try, but it was better to have the law on his side just in case and if the day ever came that Aegon fell.. well then you would need to be legally wed to him to be his queen.
To be King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, succeeding where others have fallen.
He inhaled slowly before starting to speak, the lie smoothly rolling off his tongue, perhaps too well, “There had been some.. difficulty in the past.”
It was believable enough.
“And you would not want to try again?” You asked, your head lifting to place a kiss upon his cheek. Your eyes danced across his prominent features.
In truth, the soft words that poured from your lips like honey made him want to throw caution to the wind and put a child inside of you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait until he found a way to make their union legally binding without you realizing he lied about your marriage.
The prince's hand rose to capture your chin, his hold gentle as he brought your lips up to his in a chaste peck.
“Of course, I would, but your health is more dear to me.” He whispered against your soft lips, his breath warm against you.
A brief smile graced your lips, though they did tug into the tiniest pout at his answer, one that mirrored that of when you were just a child and he also, unburdened, back when he would have never imagined to be the cause of any harm that would befall you, even if that harm brought you to his side.
Over the course of days, Aemond would accompany you to the garden and halls, carefully helping you down the many stairs in the Keep with ease. Your legs had regained their strength but you still grew tired from use.
When Aemond was not by your side you could be found in the library gleefully reading stories of old. During those times Aemond was either patrolling the skies on Vhagar or in conversation with the maesters on your health and whether or not you showed any signs of your old self and memories.
One day Aemond had sought out his brother, each step full of determination.
“It would be in our best interest if Y/N were to be wed to me.” He spoke his voice steady but determined, his keen eye studying the newly appointed king, even if Aemond did not think Aegon deserved it.
Aegon, in all his drunken wisdom, let out a laugh, his face scrunching in confusion and amusement, “and why is that?”
The King did not share in their mother's worry of having the princess in Aemond's eager grasp or in his bed. In fact, he found it amusing that his brother was still lovesick over you.
“We already have her. We may have already won the war.” Aegon pointed out, a grin still present on his face.
“To have her legally bound to me would make bending the knee more appealing to our half-sister.” Aemond spoke, keeping his arms bent behind his back, his posture as straight as any knight in the realm maybe even more so.
“Would it though?” Aegon squinted his eyes at his younger brother, his head tilting to the side as he saw no need for legal formalities like Aemond did, “I rather think having her as a hostage would make that cunt eager to surrender.”
Aemond pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, holding his tongue from revealing any of his true desires even if those were well-known or not. He refused to be weak in front of his drunken fool of a brother, even if he needed permission from the ‘king’.
“Hostages die all the time, political ones even more so, I am sure Rhaenyra is planning on bending the knee any day now, worried for her little girl.” The elder brother waved his hand through the air with leisure, “then I am sure there will be no issues with marrying the girl.”
Aemond's jaw clenched, despite knowing you were perfectly safe within the walls of the castle. He would rather slaughter the entire capital than to allow you to be harmed within it.
“It would look better politically, show that we are willing to have peace while she remains stubborn on Dragonstone.” Aemond clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sharp nearly irritated sound lingering while he spoke.
Aegon's brows furrowed for a moment before snorting, his violet eyes darting around the room before returning to his younger brother.
“But why?” He snorted, “we win either way, Rhaenyra won't risk Y/N's life.”
“Then what is the harm in allowing it?” Aemond tilted his head further to the side, his lips twisted into a smirk, thin and impatient.
“Just as I said she would be better as a -”
“She would be a hostage either way, with the marriage it would be seen as a gesture of peace.” Aemond swiftly cut in, to which Aegon's tongue ran along his bottom lip in thought before giving a nod in surrender.
“Fine, do as you will, but is mother..” The elder paused for a moment before continuing, his nose scrunching at the thought of the woman's wrath, “aware?”
“She is aware of it, yes.” A smooth response that revealed nothing to the other. Both knew their mother would not be fond of that idea, no need to linger on it.
Aegon nodded in response though he only hoped their mother's anger was aimed at Aemond and not him for this decision.
The ceremony was not grand, many too worried of dragons from Dragonstone descending on the city, but it was in earnest for Aemond at least, you were under the assumption this was a mere nostalgic ceremony, a renewal of your love for each other.
His lips descended onto yours, eager and passionate, his hands grasping onto each side of your face to bring you closer to him, his lips locked with yours.
His tongue pushed inside of your mouth, battling for dominance that you had the playful spirit of partaking in.
“Issa lovely ābrazȳrys (My lovely wife.)” He purred against your lips during the quick ceremony.
Aemond had been greedy in ways he hadn't allowed himself to be before, gone from the public eye and tangled in the sheets with you, melting and intertwining with your warmth for days on end
His tall form covered yours, his hips rocking forward in slow, gentle movements that elicited the softest gasps from your lips, unwilling to pull away, his face nestled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, memorizing it.
“I love you, Aemond.” You whispered, your warm touch reaching down to cup his scarred cheek, tilting his head over to meet your gaze, one so loving it nearly caused his breath to catch in his throat.
Those words were everything to him, all he wanted to hear from you for years, yet he wondered if you would still utter those words if you remembered what he had done.
Requests might take a while to be done, I'm sorry. I'm just not doing well mentally, I was trying to push through but I don't know.
I'll still be writing it might just take a longer time, less frequent or I might just start writing about depressed readers or something I don't know.
Trigger warning! Mental health below the more link
I'm just exhausted, not having my own space irl is killing me. Only one person is allowed to be upset here and it's not me. Shittiest thing is I can't even afford to get my own place, I'm trying to save but that's been slow. I wake up everyday more exhausted than the last.
It fucking sucks because writing has always been my coping mechanism, and now I'm scared that everything I write is going to be shit because I feel like shit.
I've always had depression, got diagnosed with BPD for like five years now and I'm used to the super low lows and the moods, but I haven't felt this low in a long time.
Sorry for the rant. Just wanted to give a reason on why I'm taking forever. I'm not done I love these characters and this fandom I just - I don't know
Edit: She got in my face and lunged to hit me wtf, I'm so done.
loved your Aegon conqueror fic. Would love for you to do a request where dark Aegon conquered Westeros all because he kept having dreams of reader the daughter of the Lannister king, only married his sister's for political and dragon power never touched them, when he defeated the Lannister army was dark and shameless in his want for her obvious it wasn't just political. Has her that night not wanting to wait any longer. Thnks
Yay, my second request for him! Hope you like it!
CW: Female reader, mentions of death, obsessive thoughts. Reader's afraid of him at first, consensual sex
A woman adorned in gold, yet outshone the jewel itself. A woman who he foresaw reading by an open window, the sun shining against the gold she wore on her person. The smile he saw upon her lips, that looked too soft, too supple to be true,.. blinding in beauty almost frighteningly so.
“Husband.” He heard so clearly it was hard to believe this was a mere dream. The woman leaned in, inches away from him until..
Aegon’s eyes snapped open and much to his displeasure awakened to an empty chamber, the spot by the window vacant and sorrowful, where it should have been full of light and beauty.
Drenched in sweat, he knew what had to be done. To be able to have the woman with the blinding smile by his side, he knew he needed to find out where this woman would be no matter the cost.
Each day he would search and listen to gossip for a woman meeting the description, the beauty of the woman in his dream and each night he would lay in his bed and allow himself to slip into the vivid dreams that captivated his whole being.
Valleys passed below his gaze, hills and plains, fields and forests alike as it felt as though he was truly there riding above them atop his dragon, soaring above the landscapes before it had faded before his very eyes.
Gold bracelets collected on a table in what appeared to be inside of royal chambers took the place of the fields in his vision. A woman’s fingertips trailed along the wooden material of the table before flicking her wrist through the gold, watching as it looped a few times around. Melodic sounds of the gold jingling echoed through the man’s ears until the sound shifted to a ferocious roar.
A trinket dropped to the floor, a symbol of a lion carved into it.
Once again, Aegon’s eyes snapped open now knowing exactly what house held that beautiful woman of his dreams; The same house that sat in the seat of Casterly Rock.
He learned that place was in Westeros, fractured into many independent kingdoms and while he could have decided to just conquer the one part that held that beautiful princess in its land. He knew it would be better to unite all those independent kingdoms into one, one he and that woman could rule together.
For that he would need dragons, more than the one he had, and what better way to tie his allies together than to bind them in marriage, so alas he wed not only Visenya but Rhaenys as well.
Though Aegon could not bring himself to perform the marital acts, his mind preoccupied with that beautiful woman from his dreams.
He spent many moons gathering allies to avoid bloodshed as much as he could, though he was not above it if that was what it took.
Soon, three dragons swept the skies of the lands, bringing down fire and brimstone as they burned many armies that refused to yield, kings that refused to bend the knee.
The smell of burning flesh heavy in his nostrils only furthering his desire to get through this bloodshed, passed the death and doom and into the shining light. The light with the woman with the blinding smile that caused his whole being to ache with need.
He took no joy in the chaos he caused, the blood he shed, but it was not needless and he was fair, if they bent the knee they would leave and he would not leave them with nothing. No, they would still be powerful lords in their own right, but not kings, not anymore.
The battle blurred through his mind until he saw white banners, only then did he relent and stop the attacks and fire.
Once the former Lannister King; Loren, bent the knee, Aegon spoke his demands,
“You have a daughter.” It wasn’t a question for he already knew of your existence, the woman that consumed his dreams was finally within his reach.
“I do.” The former king confirmed, his knee planted into the ground below him, still blackened and hot from the flames during the battle. He did not dare ask how the fearsome dragonic man knew of his daughter’s existence already fearing he was touched by dark magic.
“Give her to me, I shall take her as my wife.” The demand final, leaving no room for arguments nor complaints of him already having two wives. The broad man stayed put, letting his demand hang in the air, a fire in his eyes holding intent for more than a political alignment.
A single nod sealed your fate.
Your first official meeting with the man was also the day of your wedding. The preparations were rushed, servants made haste to dress their former princess in a wedding dress despite your very alarmed protests of not knowing the man who seemed to be touched by something dark, riding a beast that others described as dreadful and as fearsome as death itself.
The gold that adorned your wrists jingled with each step you took, shifting your wrists from side to side to conceal how fearful you truly were.
Once your gaze landed on the fearsome man, your future husband, your breath hitched seeing the glint in the man’s oddly colored eyes; purple.
What type of man had those colors in their irises? Surely this man had some type of dark magic laced within his blood running through those veins.
“Your beauty is even more extraordinary in person.” The new king had stated, gently grasping your hand and lowering his head to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your knuckles. His warm breath caressed your flesh, causing it to prick in anxiety in part but you also could not help but notice how handsome the man truly was with his striking eyes, broad shoulders and height that towered over most men.
“You have heard of me?” The question sounded much more light than you had expected. You had thought you would hold onto the fear you first had at hearing that giant, scaled beasts were raining hellfire down on your lands, but you found him oddly charismatic despite that.
Aegon’s lips lifted in a knowing smile but did not clarify. He knew enough that telling a maiden he just met, despite seeing you every time he closed his eyes, that he had first seen her in his dreams would just frighten her and he would rather not frighten you anymore than he surely had already.
Aegon briefly thought of performing the marital traditions of his house and slicing his lip and yours, but you were not of the blood and perhaps attempting to slice any part of you would only serve to frighten, so he decided against it. He settled on leaning forward to press his lip against yours, with no blood involved.
The rushed ceremony that consisted of very few was over in a few brief moments, before he would take you by your arm and be led to your own chambers.
The man’s touch was gentle, unlacing the back of the wedding dress before slipping it from your form, revealing the soft skin beneath it.
His lips trailed down your shoulder blades, his large hands continuing to gently tug the fabric down until it dropped, pooling against the floor below your feet.
His hands slid upward on your body until they reached the soft swell of your breasts, grasping onto them. The dragon rider kneaded the soft flesh in his hands, earning delightful gasps from your lips.
The sounds that he could feel himself grow addicted to. His hands released your soft curves from his grasp only to grab hold of your waist, spinning you around to face him, his lips capturing yours immediately.
His tongue tangled with yours, his thumbs pressing into the soft curve of your hips.
“I hope that our union will be as joyous and prosperous as the gods see it.” He murmured against your lips, a promise from him to you. His arms linked around your waist, sweeping you off of your feet before plopping you down onto the soft mattress of the bed.
He swiftly and impatiently tugged off his clothing and armor, the sound of it clinking against the hard floor echoing heavily through the air. You then found him on top of you, placing his lips wherever he could reach.
His head nestled between your thighs, his hands grasping onto your thighs placing them upon his shoulders while his tongue delved inside of your warmth, circling the little bud hidden within your folds, lapping up the sweetness that gushed against his tongue.
Head arched back against the softness of the bed you could not help but allow low breathy sounds to escape you, feeling pleasure coil deep inside of you.
Just as you felt your toes curl against the sheets below, his tongue slipped away from you leaving you aching in need, a need for him to continue, to relieve the ache he had set aflame in you.
To which he willfully complied, sheathing his hardened muscle inside of you, leaving a slight burn from the stretch of your virgin walls in its wake.
The sound of heavy breathing and the occasional grunt and gasp filled the air, reaching the halls of the chambers and reaching the ears of the servants that traveled through the halls.
First Period - Rhaenyra/Alicent (Separate) scenario
When Reader gets their first period, it leads to shock and confusion, so they do something every child would; Seek comfort from their mother.
(Note: I found the photos from Pinterest, I don't own them)
TW: Descriptions of blood, the reader being completely uneducated about puberty until it happens. Reader being ashamed of her body, Reader described as female
Rhaenyra Targaryen:
A radiating pain spread throughout your lower body, spreading over your hips and lower back, the pain started off light but overtime grew into an unbearable hot stabbing pain.
You tossed and turned against your sheets, the cool temperature only worsening the pain throughout your very bones.
Several, excruciating moments passed and you could not take it anymore.
A grunt escaped you when you, carefully, rolled to your side, fumbling your hand throughout the dark surroundings until you reached the bedside table, striking a match and lighting the candle you kept close.
The fire sizzled, while the wick caught the flame, illuminating the surroundings around you.
To your disgust you felt something stick to your upper thighs, too thick to be some water that you could have spilled, it felt dirty, but you were sure you had not brought any drink that could produce such a sickening stick that currently clung to your skin.
Another grunt followed when your hands grasped onto the fur blankets, pushing them off of you to check what you had spilled and to your horror you caught sight of crimson, staining your thighs and nightgown, dark pooling blood that seemed to seep out of your body.
A sharp exhale would leave your lips at the sight. You would freeze, a chill traveling through your very bones.
Were you dying?
You did not want to die. You still had so many things you wanted to experience, like love, adventure and mayhaps even marriage one day.
Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision even as you desperately blinked to clear it, your shoulders heaving with each loud sob that escaped you, bouncing off the stone walls around you.
This continued for several hours, you mourning your life until your breaths shortened into shallow pants and the bones in your chest ached with each heaving sob you let out.
Hearing your haunting sobs, servants rushed in to check on you which only served to cause you to sob louder, until your voice grew raw, cracking with each breathy word you spewed,
“I want my mother.” You managed to breath out, your breath hitching and wavering even now before pulling your knees to your chest. Your head slowly lowered against your knees, linking your arms around yourself as you slowly rocked back and forth as sounds of footsteps led out of your chambers.
For a brief moment, you considered that mayhaps this was an overexaggeration, considering how the steps of the servants sounded calm enough, but then you felt more thick crimson roll down your thighs and the sobbing continued.
The sound of the door gently creaking open reached your ears and you peeked up from your knees to see your mother, Rhaenyra, stand there. Her expression was soft when she opened her arms out for you to which you scrambled off your bed and into her arms, melting into her comfortable hold, you still trembling from your continuous sobs.
One glance at you and she understood what had happened instantly.
“Shh, sweet girl.” Rhaenyra cooed softly, a hand running through your soft tresses.
“You’re alright,” She comforted while guiding you to your bathing chambers for the servants to clean you up.
“So, I am not dying?” Your quivering voice asked, sniffling as you took deep slow inhales and exhales.
Inhale
Pause
Exhale
This would continue for a few moments before you could breath without shaking and quivering.
“No, Y/N, you are not.” She informed you, reaching over to run her fingers through your tangled tresses.
“It is only natural for women, when they hit a certain age to,” Rhaenyra paused, pursing her lips together as she tried to find the best way to have this talk, “to go through changes like the one you’re going through now.”
Your eyes flicked down to your nightgown, parts of it stained crimson. You could still feel the pain radiate through your stomach, through your back, settling into your hips. It made you nauseous and you wished it would just cease and leave you be.
You allowed the servants to clean you up, wiping the blood from your skin and helping you change into a fresh nightgown.
“So, am I done then?” You cleared your throat, your voice hoarse from hours of sobbing, “with the bl - bleeding.”
You gulped the lump in your throat, even the word caused your stomach to flip.
Your mother shook her head, an empathetic smile offered up before leaning over to press a kiss against your brow,
“No, it is a recurring symptom of womanhood I’m afraid.” She said, earning a groan from you, before gently leading you back to your chambers, guiding you to a chair by the fireplace, sitting you down.
You glanced off to the side, seeing your sheets peeled off the mattress and set to the side while the servants finished cleaning. A flash of disgust settled on your shoulders at the thought of anyone seeing the evidence of your condition.
Your attention was pulled back to the woman when she handed you what looked to be rocks wrapped in some cloth.
“Grab the top.” She told you which you complied grasping onto the top, where it would not burn you.
“What - what do I do with this?” You stumbled out, flicking your eyes down to the tied up cloth back to your mother’s understanding face.
“You set it on your stomach.” Rhaenyra responded, guiding your hand down to set it against your stomach, a surprised squeak leaving your lips in response to the warmth against your flesh through the fabric of your nightgown. It was a comfortable warmth from the rocks that apparently were heated.
“So it is recurring?”
“Afraid so, every few moons.” The response caused another groan to leave your lips to which your mother reached out to stroke your cheek in comforting movements with her thumb.
Over time, you would be able to track when the blood would be starting and you would be well prepared for it
Alicent Hightower:
In and out.
In then out.
You did not much like sewing or embroidering, but you did like when you completed a project, whether that be a sigil or just some flowers stitched into a fine cloth. You loved feeling accomplished when you’ve completed it, to show it off to your mother, Alicent or your sister, Helaena.
Mayhaps, that was why you ignored the initial spike of pain through your lower stomach, your muscles clamping tightly. You assumed it was just the pheasant disagreeing with you, that is until you doubled over in pain.
A strangled out groan growled from your lips, your fingers tightening around the needle.
“Princess, are you feeling well?” A servant had asked, which you had waved off with a polite nod.
You rose on your feet before rushing to the privacy of your bathing chambers. You inhaled slowly before your gaze happened to glance down at your dress. You felt something seep out of you, but it felt too.. thick to be an accident.
You quickly balled up your dress skirts, hiking them up your legs before your eyes widened at the sight of blood rolling down your flesh.
You didn’t scream, not even with hot tears collecting in your lashes.
You had heard of this, of when women bleed. They did so on the night of their wedding or when they committed the sin of the flesh.You were aware of this, but you had not committed the sin. You had not even placed your lips upon another, so why?
Why was this happening to you?
In your panic you stripped off your dress, all of the layers, crumbling together in a ball before peeking out of the door, to your bed chambers to make sure the servants had left.
Only then did you slip into them, tossing the stained fabrics out of your open window to hopefully blame it on another. You did not think much of it, your mind and heart alike racing.
You thought you had gotten away with it, though the bleeding did not stop and you had to continue to either hide the cloths or scrub them yourself to hide your condition from everyone, especially your mother.
Yet, one night Alicent had summoned you to her chambers. You arrived, hands laced together trembling as you feared the worst.
“Would you like to explain why you threw your dress out of the window?” She questioned, her words laced with confusion and annoyance at your actions.
Your breath caught in your throat, staring down at the floor, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting.
A heavy sigh left her lips, her slow steps echoing between the two of you before her hand had grasped onto your chin, tilting it upward to meet her gaze.
“Y/N.” The single name uttered was stern, causing you to grimace before confessing in barely a whispered tone.
“I bl - bled on them.” You managed through the quivering of your lips, the shaky tone that sounded as if you might burst into tears at any moment.
A line formed between your mother's brows before her brown eyes searched you for any injuries for a few silent moments, save for your sorrowful sniffles.
“Oh.” The woman breathed out once the realization dawned on her.
“That is hardly a reason to throw clothing out of your window.” She added, before spinning on her heels and riffling through some shelves.
You could see her pull out some stones before grabbing a piece of fabric holding it out to you, “Have the servants heat these up and then place it onto your stomach. You’ll be excused from visiting the sept until your condition passes, of course.”
You nodded in response.
“This.. condition is it recurring?” You couldn’t help but ask, now that you knew you weren’t going to be scolded for it.
Your mother stared at you for a moment or two before giving a nod, “Yes.”
You turned to leave, stepping outside of your mother’s chambers and you thought, if only for a brief moment, you heard a muffled weep from your mother, but that did not quite make sense to you.
It was not as if your life would change from a simple development.. right?
Yandere Daemon Targaryen and Alicent Hightower (not separated) with a Stark!male reader who thinks literally? Like he has trouble grasping metaphors, idioms, sarcasm, & humor.
reminds me of that one I was confused about the Stark’s motto and I thought: “Didn’t winter already just happened?” when members of the house of Starks say “winter is coming.” while I was watching the show.
TW: Possessive thoughts, not much else.
Also, I had the same thought when I was watching the show as well! I get it lol.
Having both of them obsessed over you would be stressful, Alicent may not be physically stronger than you, but she is cunning and she has those big sad, doe eyes that make it hard for you to say no to anything she wants and Daemon, gods, Daemon is terrifying.
There was no telling what he could do, what he was capable of. Rumors circulated about his past misdeeds and it made you grateful you were not on his bad side.
They both aren’t fond of each other. Daemon thinks of her as a whore who seduced his brother for her own ambitions and Alicent finds Daemon cruel, vulgar and ruthless.
The man loves to tease you and watch you struggle to understand what he means by it.
His favorite nicknames for you are always wolf related and your reaction never fails to amuse him.
“Where were you headed, with your tail between your legs, wolf cub?” He would question you, even if you weren’t little in size the nickname wouldn’t change, you were inexperienced compared to him.
“I do not possess a tail?” You would respond, glancing over your shoulder as if to check if you had actually developed one, even though you knew that was impossible. It was an instinctual reaction whenever someone mentioned things you found strange, you always had to check.
“Daemon loves the hunt, but the same can not be said about the prey he sets his sights on.” Alicent had spoken to you on a different day, her words more puzzling than being lost in the North during a blizzard.
“Well, I am not sure that any prey likes to be hunted.” Your response would come easy without much thought put into it. It seemed like a clear answer. She was speaking of a hunt and you did hunt back in Winterfell, even if you did not, every hunter knew that no animal wanted to die.
Alicent would inhale sharply before leaning forward, her hand falling to yours before she clarified in that soft voice of hers, “Dearest, you are the hunt he seeks.”
“Oh.” You would nod along.
It would be difficult to pick up on all the vague insults and threats Daemon and Alicent would throw at each other right in front of you. A dance of the tongues while you stand there oblivious to the venom they hissed.
A silent battle of wits.
Rumors would spread of the affections between you and Daemon, since the man did not care to be as careful as Alicent had.
In fact, Daemon loved to goad Alicent by standing too close to you, grabbing ahold of your face when he’s speaking to you, inches away from your face, the way Alicent could never do so boldly in public.
The way Daemon did not fear doing publicly, the way Alicent did.
He did not care about the rumors, gods know he already had rumors following him, what was one more?
Alicent very much cared about rumors. She was, unfortunately, wed to Viserys and could not risk having rumors about her infidelity, not with you station and your life at risk.
If, even a whisper of rumors about you and Alicent's relationship sparked through the castle then you would need to retreat for your own well being and Daemon, Daemon would be more than happy to fly off with you to another far away land, just until the rumors died down of course or until Alicent was just a distant memory in your head.
TW: Mentions of a dragon dying
This isn't the requested part 3, but something that takes place between part 1 and 2. This one doesn't have reader or Aemond in it.
Part one here
Part two here
The wind whipped through his hair and clothing as Lucerys urged his dragon, Arrax, forward, flying as fast as the dragon’s wings could carry him, ignoring the way the cold wind bit into his drenched skin, his clothing sticking against him.
His shoulders heaved, his breath quickening with each moment that passed. Lucerys flicked his head over his shoulder constantly, praying that he would see Vermithor and you emerge from the clouds, but.. he hadn’t and that fact caused his heart to drop to his stomach.
You were alive, weren’t you?
He hoped so, he prayed so. You were his older sister, someone who always looked out for him. The thought of you being truly gone nearly shattered him, but he had to stay hopeful. Hope that Vermithor could withstand Vhagar until he could return with help.
As soon as Dragonstone was within landing distance, he did so and slid from his saddle, rushing inside as quickly as he could.
“Mother!” His voice screeched out, stumbling through the Dragonstone halls before he reached his mother, the woman’s face already twisting in worry that only grew in absolute terror when she laid eyes on him.
The woman crossed the distance swiftly, her hands grasping onto the boy’s face, her eyes darting across his expression, before she even had the chance to ask what happened Lucerys’ squeaked out,
“Y/N, she - and Aemond - and Vhagar -” His words came out a jumbled mess, words toppling over one another as he attempted to fill Rhaenyra in on everything that had happened.
“Luke, shh, slow down. Where’s Y/N?” Rhaenyra questioned, cradling her son’s face in her hands, her warmth seeping through his chilled skin.
“Storms End, she’s at Storms End and we need - need dragons,” Lucerys’ brown eyes fluttered shut, slowly inhaling as he tried to calm himself enough to tell her what happened,
“She’s holding off Aemond. He tried to attack me and she - she saved me. Mother, we need to go back.” Lucerys spoke, his words slower but just as shaky, his eyes welling up as he fought against tears. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed several times.
With that knowledge, the queen immediately went out to mount her dragon, accompanied by Daemon, flying off but not before telling Lucerys to remain there, to which he begrudgingly did if only to send a raven to the North to inform Jacaerys on what had happened.
“If we are to fight Vhagar we need more than just Syrax and Caraxes. Vermithor is large, but even an experienced dragon will grow tired after -” The strong wind cut through Daemon’s voice as Rhaenyra sped forward, her eyes glaring ahead as one thing and one thing alone was on her mind, you. Her precious daughter needed her and she couldn’t waste time speaking strategy.
Rhaenyra slid from her dragon, landing onto the ground as soon as she reached Storms End and to her horror, there laying on the ground was the giant, scaled body of Vermithor, a chunk missing from his scaled skin.
She immediately rushed over to the deceased dragon, pushing her hands against the massive weight, she was only able to roll him an inch to look underneath him to find.. Absolutely nothing, no sign of you anywhere.
Dread creeped inside of her heart at the thought of you having been swallowed whole by Vhagar.
Her eyes grew hot, blurring the surroundings around her.
While she was dreading the thought of your demise, Daemon had stormed the castle, returning with Lord Baratheon in tow.
His expression filled with righteous fury as he spoke, his tone slicing through the air like a steel dagger,
“She’s alive.”
Those words relieved Rhaenyra more than she ever had been.
Her baby girl was alive
“We have another issue according to him,” Daemon shot a frighteningly cold glare towards Lord Baratheon before continuing, “Aemond took her.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes burned with fury as well as worry for her daughter and what could possibly happen to her while being held hostage by the Green’s.
She knew one thing, she would have her daughter back, by any means necessary, but she knew she had to be careful. One wrong move and the Green’s could slaughter you in retaliation.
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
The air was colder than Jacaerys had ever experienced, crisp and new, the snow flurries decorated his dark curls. The environment was new yet not terrible, he found himself enjoying Lord Cregan Stark’s company.
“My Lord, a raven’s arrived, urgent news from Dragonstone.”
One look from the other man and Jacaerys feared the worst. His jaw clenched upon hearing the news.
How, the fuck did this happen?, was one of the many questions that played through his mind as he rushed home to Dragonstone, though every part of him wanted to fly off to KIng’s Landing and retrieve you from your capture, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not when he knew what the consequence could be if he did so and failed with you still in their grasp.
You weren’t even supposed to be near Storms End. What were you thinking? Why did you never listen?
His grip tightened against the reins once he had mounted on Vermax, soaring through the chilled sky, the dragon rumbling in irritation as snow collected against his scales.
A solemn thought crossed through his mind. What would become of you once you were rescued? From the letter that the raven had delivered, Vermithor had been slaughtered.
You had always loved Vermithor, loved flying through the skies, but now that he was gone?
Would you still be the same?
He had heard losing a dragon is one of the worst things a rider could go through but he had never thought it could actually happen to him or any of his siblings.
Jacaerys shook those thoughts from his head, telling himself you would alright. You would be, as soon as you were safe away from the Green’s, away from Aemond.
Jacaerys landed on Dragonstone rushing inside the castle, each step purposeful and determined, awaiting to hear the plan that his mother no doubt had to rescue you.
"You have no idea the things I've done while thinking of you." - Aegon Targaryen
TW: Mentions of alcohol usage, Targcest, slight slut shaming. Isn't as yandere-ish (Implied though) as I wanted, but I still quite liked it.
The night air had been perfect, not scorching and not freezing, a comfortable night with a cool breeze, the only light source being a tiny candle on your bedside table, a warm glow flickering over the stone walls covered with tapestries about your house histories.
You could hear a slight whistling from your cracked window next to where you lie resting atop silk sheets, smooth against your legs.
The quiet sound of your chamber doors creaking open had reached your ears, but it had not alarmed you enough to pull you from your comfortable position, assuming it was just a servant.
It wasn't until the mattress dipped and a weight settled beside you did you have the foresight to turn your head and check who it was, messy silver locks covered the person’s face and yet you knew who it was instantly, the smell of alcohol burning your nostrils.
“Aegon?” You called out your voice just above a whisper, nudging your elder brother with your arm which only served to cause him to groan with no other response.
A huff left your lips. You wondered how he even managed to stumble up to your chambers and not his own or even Helaena’s, considering how their chambers were closer together and yours was out of the way. It couldn’t have been a simple mistake and that knowledge irritated you.
Why did he feel the need to invade your space when he had his own?
The sheets rustled underneath you as you turned over to your side, now facing your elder brother, his eyes closed, chest rising in even breaths, seemingly fast asleep.
“Aegon.” You whispered insistently, reaching out and gently shaking his shoulder, watching as he did not budge, nor groan this time.
By the gods, You groaned internally before shaking him once again, more insistently than the last.
He stirred and for a moment you thought he was awakening, until his arm threw itself over you and the man nearly rolled on top of you, his head nudging into the crook of your neck, feeling each warm puff of his breath against your flesh.
Your hands latched onto his shoulders before pushing with all your might against his dead weight, only causing him to grunt in response when you couldn't manage to shove him off.
“Aegon, move your arse.” You turned your head to hiss into his ear, your voice low yet clearly laced with annoyance at having his weight crush against you.
He stirred once more and this time his eyes blinked open staring down at you for a few minutes before the palm of his hand pushed against your lips.
“Go back to sleep, will you?” Aegon responded finally, his voice low and groggy from sleep, his voice vibrating against your neck to which you scoffed, your cheeks flushing in indignation.
You shoved your hand against his, removing it from your lips before retorting, “I will, once you are out of my bed and chambers.”
Aegon rose his head, his lips lifting in a lazy smirk,
“Now why would I do that, sister?” He snorted before he shifted off of you, placing himself beside you, his forehead pushing against your cheek.
You nearly gagged at the strong scent of alcohol burning once again through your nostrils, feeling your stomach gargle and squeeze.
You weren't new to the smell of drink. You, yourself, had been known to indulge in wine during events and gatherings, but that was wine. Sweet smelling wine, nothing like the disgusting, overpowering stench of ale.
You could never understand why anyone, even Aegon, would punish themselves by drinking the bitter liquid. Even poison must taste better than that.
“Because this is my bed!” You retorted in a whisper yell once you were sure you weren't going to openly gag.
Aegon shushed you, his nose nudging your jawline before whispering in response,
“So?” He let out a breathy chuckle tickling and prickling your flesh with goosebumps at the warm gust of breath causing you to nudge his head away in one swift movement.
“You used to crawl into my bed when you were younger.” He claimed, your cheeks burning in response to that but quickly shook it off.
“And did I ever kick you out?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer already whispering his response, his face scrunching up before whispering a soft,
“No.”
Your eyes squinted slightly while you stared at him, wondering how you crawling into his bed when you were a child meant that you had to share a bed with him now, especially with the strong scent of booze wafting off of him and assaulting your senses.
“You smell.” You spoke slowly, overpronouncing each word like he was the younger sibling instead of you.
Your brother leaned forward, a slight scoff leaving his lips, mirroring your squint when he spoke, “And I smelled the same back then as well, but you didn’t mind.”
His lips curved upward for a few, brief seconds before it dropped from his lips, clear even in the dim lighting.
“I bet,” He paused lowering his voice so you had to lean forward to catch what he was saying, leaning to the side, his hand hovering over the warm flame of the candle, blocking the warm glow from dancing across the stone walls,
“If I was one of the stable hands you’d allow me to sleep beside you - or perhaps even on top of you, hm sister?” His question was low in volume so low that you nearly did not catch it and you wished you hadn’t.
Your mouth dropped open, shocked and appalled he could ever think so low of you.
It was by no means true, of course, and you weren’t even sure where he would have gotten that assumption. You barely rode horses, so you had no need to frequently visit the stables or communicate with any servant that worked in that department.
You were sure that no rumors were floating around about you or your virtue if there had been you knew that your mother would have questioned you by now.
“I never -”
A low chuckle interrupted you, vibrating in the back of his throat,
“No?”
“No.” You confirmed, your tone clipped. You could feel the heat spread across your cheeks, burning a humiliated red. Your jaw clenched, popping each time you ground your pearly whites together.
“How could you even think that I’d ever -”
Another low chuckle erupted from your elder brother’s curved lips. He ran his tongue across his teeth, his violet gaze peering into yours,
“Why could I think that you’d allow a servant to touch you or why would I think one would want to?” The question only served to grate on your nerves because obviously any servant could have those thoughts towards one of royal birth, but you would never allow yourself to stoop so low.
“I would never touch anyone who was not my husband.” You stated, refusing to look away from Aegon's gaze as if you were challenging him to accuse you again.
Aegon withdrew his hand from the candle, the warm glow shining in his violet eyes that seemingly darkened at hearing your response, his fingers twitching almost imperceptible to your gaze, almost.
What was wrong with him? Accusing you of being intimate with servants and now seemingly angry about you saving your purity for marriage?
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth cutting through the silence like a blade.
“And if you never marry?” He questioned his voice low, his head tilted as he raked over your expression, one of utter confusion as you had never thought that was even an option, “what then, sister?”
You blinked your eyes rapidly from the whiplash of this conversation.
I -” You paused, your mind flipping through the very few options you would have if you stayed unmarried; mayhaps you could become a septa.. But that required training, or just wander about the Red Keep? But that seemed like a dull existence,
“I’m sure our mother will find me a husband soon.” You decided on, letting out a puff of air leaving your lips as you waved off the other options.
A dry laugh erupted from Aegon’s lips, the sound bitter, lingering in the air between them.
“Mayhaps, but he’ll be dull and you will not have a thing in common with him. We know how mother is at picking suitors.” He stated, his violet eyes drifting over towards the small flickering flame of the candle, reflecting in his gaze.
“Helaena and you seem happy enough.” You responded and in your defense they did seem happier than most of the marriages you had read about in the many books about their histories you relentlessly studied.
Aegom jerked his head away from you in a sudden motion, to the point where he shifted his entire body to the side, his fingers drumming against the melted wax of the candle.
He didn't respond for a long while. The soft sizzle of the burning wax and quiet whistling of the wind being the only sound that entered your chambers.
You tapped your fingers against the soft fabric of your nightgown, staring over at Aegon as you tried to ponder why your words would cause such a reaction.
You ran your tongue across your top lip as you awaited his confirmation to your words or even a witty response but instead he seemed more focused on prodding your candle with his fingers.
“Is the wax not burning you?” You asked, your tone softer than it was previously.
No response.
No, instead he was more focused on pushing his knuckles against the candle holder inching it towards the edge of the -
“Wait!” You exclaimed a second too late, flinching when you heard it clank loudly against the hard flooring, the flame blowing out along with it with a final swish, plunging your chambers in complete darkness.
“You’re an idiot.” Aegon stated simply, before you heard the bed creak when he stood up - at least you think he did, you could not feel him next to you anymore.
“Pardon -”
“And naive.” He continued on, his voice sounding out from the end of the bed now, though you couldn’t be sure when the only source of light had been knocked to the floor.
“Foolish, really.” A dry laugh followed and you could imagine he was shaking his head while he spoke.
You could hear quiet footsteps pace back and forth, you slowly crawling your way over to the end of the bed, across your silk sheets. You squinted your eyes as if that would suddenly give you the gift of sight in the pitch black environment.
“All I said was -” Your teeth gritted together, your nose wrinkling up in pure frustration at being, yet again, interrupted by the man. Your hand fumbling through the dark to grasp onto the bed post at the end of the bed, her fingers pressing against the smooth fine wood.
“And being ‘happy enough’ isn’t enough.” Aegon shot out, his tone snippy before you felt his hand place over yours, his grip tightening by the second until you felt bone press against bone.
A wince crossed your face and to your credit you were planning on apologizing for the upset you caused him, despite the harsh grip on your hand, but then he started to speak again, his voice barely a whisper, laced with vulnerability,
“You have no idea..” He inhaled before continuing, his thumb pressing between your knuckles like he was trying to imprint his mark into your skin, “no idea just how many nights I thought of you.”
You froze, your cheeks flushing as you stammered.
What were you supposed to say to that?
You weren’t given long to ponder before he continued, your mind reeling in utter confusion on what he was even confessing to.
“The things I’ve done for you, because of you.” A dry laugh followed his shaky explanation, his voice wavering before regaining strength, all of it was very.. alarming to your ears.
You gave a gentle tug, trying to free your hand to which the other obliged and released it.
The sheets rustled underneath you, climbing over to the edge, sliding off and onto the floor with a soft thump, your feet landing against the cold floor. You dug underneath your nails as you debated on pressing him for more information about what he could have done, but some part of you did not wish to know.
“You have no idea... the things I've done while thinking of you.” Aegon whispered out, staggering around the bed to you, his hand first placing against the top of your head before trailing down your face, settling against your flushed cheek, his thumb massaging the flesh in slow, gentle movements.
“None could ever compare.” He whispered out, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath ghost over you. So close that you could almost make out his expression overshadowed by darkness.
You could see his pouty lips downturned yet, from what you could see at least, his expression had softened into something vulnerable.
You felt a pang of guilt strike through your chest at his confession, but you hoped you were misunderstanding what he was trying to say.
“What things have you done?” You questioned, gently prodding. You leaned your cheek away from his palm as if to encourage him to back out for his own good, yours, and most importantly Helaena’s. Your sweet and peculiar older sister that didn’t deserve to have her husband desire anyone else much less their own sister.
Aegon tutted softly, his hand capturing your cheek once more, grasping onto it in a tighter hold, his thumb pressing and smushing the soft flesh of your cheek.
“Oh just my experience with many women trying to push you out of my mind, sweet sister,” He let out a low chuckle before confessing in a deadly serious tone, so unlike the usual tone he kept up,
“Oh, and murder.”
Your eyes nearly bulged from your head at the serious yet nonchalant tone, like he hadn’t just confessed to ending someone’s life. Your mouth dropped open as you stared, dead silent as you squinted through the thick darkness, hoping to see some sort of proof he was just jesting.
“That - That isn’t a funny jest.”
A beat of silence before,
“Lighten up, sister.” Aegon spoke and another laugh followed, yet this one sounded oddly forced before his hand withdrew from your face but not before tapping the tip of his finger against your nose.
“I have better things to do than to kill some stable boy.” He added with a whisper, before his footsteps withdrew and the chamber door thumped shut behind him.
But, you never accused him of killing a stable boy and that fact filled you with dread.
TW: Implied Targcest
Wrote for day one of Fluffuary
The night air was chilly unlike the usual heat that Aegon was used to in King's Landing. A shiver traveled through his body, goosebumps pricking against his flesh through his loose and thin tunic.
Usually Aegon would have thought; ‘the hells with it’ and head back inside instead of trembling with each step he took in the now frosted gardens around him, but Helaena had been gloomy as of late.
Mayhaps it was the chilly and cloudy weather that scared off the quite frankly disgusting insects that Helaena so loved. In fact, Aegon was sure that was it.
Which was what led to him shivering in the gardens, his violet gaze scanning over the withered plants and over the frosted grass, searching for any sign of life within the blades.
None.
Aegon ran his hands up and down on his goosed flesh, using the friction to produce just a little warmth before heading over to a tree.
He cursed underneath his breath before he knelt down, hissing at the cold sensation against his knees once they pressed against the frosty ground.
It would have been much easier if Helaena loved easier things like gowns or jewels then all Aegon would have to do is buy something instead of kneeling on the cold, wet, ground, attempting to search for any sign of insects.
Oh, he must have looked mad to the servants.
He placed his hands onto the bark before tugging, once, twice, three times, before it finally gave away, though he had jerked back hitting against the wet ground.
A chill went up his spine, the thin fabric of his tunic doing little to stop the cold from seizing his flesh over his back.
“Fucking hell..” Aegon cursed, scrambling back up to his kneeling position, squinting as he stared at the removed bark, turning it over in his hands, studying the material for several moments.
Nothing.
All year this garden was swarming with all sorts of little insects, but the one time he wished to find them there was none?
Curse his luck.
He ran his thumb across the rough bark watching it flake to the ground before he spotted something move. Something small and grey, that curls up into a ball when he nudged it with the tip of his finger.
It felt gross to Aegon, spiny and yet at the same time squishy but he knew Helaena was fond of these tiny creatures, so with great hesitation he dropped the small rolly creature into his tunic pocket.
He then rose to his feet, brushing off his damp knees before heading back inside.
Aegon made his way up the many stairs to Helaena's chambers, his steps careful and slow. His hand hovering over his pocket to keep the bug from creeping out and escaping.
Aegon used his free hand to rap against the chamber doors of his sister-wife, though he supposed he could just walk in if he truly wanted to.
“Hm?” Once the muffled sound of Helaena's hum reached Aegon's ears, he pushed the chamber doors open to step inside. His gaze immediately landed on the woman, sat on the floor staring at the wooden enclosure she kept her bugs in.
“Close your eyes.” Aegon's lips twitched up in a smirk, dipping his fingers in his pocket to retrieve the little insect.
Helaena's brows furrowed, her lips twisting into a brief frown.
“Aegon, I don't like it when -”
“No, no, uh -” Aegon's response was jumbled as he vigorously shook his head, his free hand reaching up to push his messy silver locks from his face.
His face scrunched up for a few moments as he shook the memory from his head. His.. regrettable youthful attempts at making things exciting between them was not something he wanted to think of.
“It's not anything like that. I have a surprise for you,” He clarified, clearing his throat
“You'll like it.” He assured her to which Helaena begrudgingly closed her eyes, her hands resting atop her lap.
“That's what you said last time.” She murmured and if her eyes were open she would see Aegon's face burn a bright red that would challenge the color of even Meleys.
“Just - keep them closed.” Aegon huffed before pulling his fingers from his pocket, kneeling down next to the girl.
Though he wanted to immediately drop it at the sight of the bug screaming underneath his fingertips he stayed strong.
“Hold out your hand.”
Helaena's brows twitched in curiosity before her hand hesitantly lifted, her fingers uncurling, her hand palm up.
Aegon carefully lowered his fingers before, finally, dropping the squirming little insect into his sister's hand.
A genuine smile grew on his lips at the sight of Helaena's lilac eyes snapping open, widening in excitement as she stared down at the little creature in the palm of her hand.
“Where did you find him?” Helaena asked, her head tilting as she watched with great fascination how the rolly bug crawled across her palm before rolling into a ball, returning to the middle of her hand.
“A tree, well, the bark of a tree.” Aegon responded, his brow raised in interest at how she knew it was a he.
Or mayhaps she was just assuming. Though, Aegon would not put it past her to have some sort of sense when it came to insects. She spent half her days seemingly studying and whispering to him for gods sake.
“They do like to hide in warmer places.” Helaena nodded her head before leaning over to the low table nearby.
“I have something for you as well. It is your turn to close your eyes now, Aegon.” She spoke in that hauntingly soft and soothing tone of hers and so Aegon shut his eyes.
He listened to the soft sounds of shuffling before he felt a soft fabric be pressed inside of his hand, feeling a strike of electricity from the way her fingertips brushed against his.
“Open.”
Aegon's eyes peered open, flicking down to the green fabric placed in his hand, an intricate golden dragon embroidered in the fabric.
His smile spread across his face, beaming like the sun itself.
“Sunfyre?”
“Mhm,” Helaena nodded with a hum.
His heart skipped a beat. The thought of Helaena spending hours on this, on embroidering Sunfyre into a handkerchief he could keep in his pocket was endearing and sweet.
Truly Aegon could not think of anyone else who would take care to do so.
