sleepover with the hotd kids ↪ lighthearted, Poor Luke not getting a break from the toilet.
the targaryens & velaryons at a filipino party ↪ lighthearted, Filipino culture.
Headcanons
as you were: tutoring ↪ lighthearted Aegon doing a study montage.
as you are ↪ fluff, angst !Jealous Aegon. Targcest. Mentions of alcohol withdrawal symptoms. Dehydrated Aegon trying hard to be a good boy.
Imagines
this side of paradise ↪ fluff, angst Hyperstimulation (not the good kind). Brief mentions of sex on the beach. Comfort. Mature Aegon pulling an Aladdin on you.
newfound happiness ↪ fluff, Mentions of alcohol withdrawal symptoms. Fluffy Aegon trying hard to be a good boy.
afterparty ↪ smut, Targcest. Drunk semi-smut(?). Aemond and Aegon surprisingly sharing reader without giving each other death threats.
Song Reccomendations
Aegon Targaryen is so Beer by Itchyworms
Aegon Targaryen is so Alapaap by Eraserheads
Aemond Targaryen
Group Headcanons
sleepover with the hotd kids ↪ lighthearted, Poor Luke not getting a break from the toilet.
the targaryens & velaryons at a filipino party ↪ lighthearted, Filipino culture.
Headcanons
Imagines
picture day ↪ fluff. Chaptick kisses with your boy
sincerely yours ↪ smut, Targcest. Medieval sexting. Aemond sounding like a bad Tumblr writer.
afterparty ↪ smut, Targcest. Drunk semi-smut(?). Aemond and Aegon surprisingly sharing reader without giving each other death threats.
Song Reccomendations
Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon
Group Headcanons
sleepover with the hotd kids ↪ lighthearted, Poor Luke not getting a break from the toilet.
the targaryens & velaryons at a filipino party ↪ lighthearted, Filipino culture.
Headcanons
Imagines
Song Reccomendations
Alicent Hightower
Group Headcanons
the targaryens & velaryons at a filipino party ↪ lighthearted, Filipino culture.
Headcanons
thicker than blood ↪ angst, our bisexual moms getting the ending they deserve.
Imagines
Song Reccomendations
Rhaenyra Targaryen
Group Headcanons
the targaryens & velaryons at a filipino party ↪ lighthearted, Filipino culture.
Headcanons
thicker than blood ↪ angst, our bisexual moms getting the ending they deserve.
Miles Quaritch x baby! Miles Socorro x deceased! Reader
— Life has lost its color to Quaritch since your recent passing. He continues to mourn over the loss while raising his infant son. But one night and a John Lennon song later, he feels a little more hopeful for the future.
A/N: Been simping for this man longer than I knew what love was. Guess I'm adding another fandom to my list!
Miles wakes up in the middle of the night. Flood lights of the base peek through the slightly open curtains. The starry night sky of Pandora remains visible during early hours like this. He looks over to the crib beside the bed, where he sees his baby boy fussing and crying.
"Shh," says Miles, still half-awake. "You're okay."
He sits up with a grunt. He walks over to the crib and reaches out to hold his son. The baby squirms and wails under his hold, reaching for comfort.
You were always a light sleeper, so you would usually wake up before him when the baby cried. You'd comfort him better than the colonel could. But now you're gone, leaving your husband half of what he once was. One of the few people keeping Miles together is your one-year-old son, who is also his namesake. Your little miracle and greatest joy.
The baby's diaper needs changing, so Miles puts him back down to get a new pair. His hands are shaking from exhaustion, but he manages to change the diaper without much struggle. Afterward, his son's cries diminish to whimpers and sniffling. Miles carries him and walks over to the couch. He sits down, sighing at no sight of tissues on the coffee table. He moves his hand under his shirt and uses the fabric to wipe the snot off his son's nose. If you were here, you'd be complaining about how he couldn't just look for one in the cabinets you painstakingly organized. What he'd give to hear you again.
It's been months since your death, and nothing has changed for the better to him. The world stops turning whenever the baby cries, and he can barely bring himself to eat. With his wife gone, it feels like he's not doing anything right anymore. It's simply harder to get through the day.
Miles looks down at the little one. "What's wrong, Junior? Had a nightmare?"
He looks back at his son's wide, glassy eyes. His lip quivers like he can read his father's mind. The infant nuzzles his chest with a tiny fist gripping his shirt. The sight tears his heart to shreds, knowing things can't go back to the way it was. No form of revenge against who or what killed you can bring you back. It's a lesson he learned the hard way.
"I miss her too, kid." Miles holds Junior tighter, placing kisses on his forehead.
He whispers, eyes brimming with tears, "Mommy's gone now, but I'll never let anything happen to you. Stay strong, alright?"
The child calms down and snuggles into his shoulder. Miles strokes his soft curls, closing his eyes as the two sit in silence. His calloused hands envelops his son like a blanket. Later, soft snores put his mind to rest. As his body relaxes, the tears finally stop threatening to fall.
The silence haunts him. It reminds him of how you'd fill it by playing your favorite song before bed. It is old, but it is a classic, as you would say. Miles hums the tune to himself, trying to keep the memories alive even though you're not here to show him the right notes.
"Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monster's gone,
He's on the run, and your daddy's here."
As he rubs the infant's back, he wonders if his son will remember that song. Will he grow up to carry the same love for music as you? Maybe one day, when he's older, he'll tell his father that you were the reason why he fell asleep every night. That the melody made him feel safe and brought him comfort. A reminder of the love that he had, and one that would always be there.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy."
He's not sure how long he's been humming the song, but he realizes he's singing out loud. He hears the familiar lyrics coming from his throat.
The baby stirs in his arms, smiling as he snuggles closer. Miles smiles too, looking down at his son and crooning,
"Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way, it's getting better and better."
The world around him disappears. All that remains is the happiness he feels at being loved by someone he created with you. Something tells him that things are going to be okay, even if it's not now. Someday, both of them will be alright. For now and always, they have each other.
A/N: Part of my prequel series for my as you are fic. Thought it’d be cute seeing how these two grew to love each other.
— lighthearted, Aegon doing a study montage
Aegon could not give two dungs about history. Why does one need to study petty, dead men with too much time and power on their hands? Apparently you find it interesting.
Learning from past mistakes is fine. He just doesn't see the value of learning about the houses of Westeros for the fifth time this year. That is why the maesters gave up waking Aegon in every lecture. It's not his fault it's always the last lesson of the day.
You sit between Aegon and Aemond while Helaena sits beside her younger brother, already dozing off. You would eye the elder prince occasionally, a little concerned. There will be an upcoming test in a few weeks, and he is infamous for failing almost all of them.
After lessons are done, you stay behind to wake the sleeping Aegon. He is still hunched over the table, using his arms as pillows. No one cares to wake him up, so he's usually always left asleep in an empty study. Eventually, the guilt built up within you over time.
Aegon looks up at you, confused about what you just said after shaking him awake. You? Tutor him? Honestly, you could say he's as unsalvageable as a flaming trash heap, and he wouldn't say otherwise.
He laughs off your proposal to tutor him the whole week. He's familiar with tutors paid by his mother to "help" him. The demeaning, yelling, swatting at the knuckles, and squeezing your face until they resemble a fish are all too familiar. It's partially why he abhors the mandatory lessons.
Unfortunately, you're persistent as always. It felt like déjà vu when you started following him around until he relented to accept your offer. He almost forgot to act annoyed like he used to around you. Instead, he's embarrassed; it's not a secret that he couldn't care less about the subject, and his marks prove that. He would rather have others think he is a lazy student than an incompetent one.
You seemed almost too eager to teach him. You created a schedule for the next few weeks. Two hours of studying before dinner a few times a week. When that didn't work, you relived the old days and started following him like a fly buzzing around his ear.
Holding a book wherever you went, you would try to find the prince just to get him to study. It quickly became a game of cat and mouse, much to Aemond's amusement. Aegon curses his brother for telling you all of his hiding spots.
After the third day, you came to a compromise. He'll let you tutor him for two hours, but not in any library, study, or bedroom if you want him awake. You were quick to favor the gardens and the godswood, of course.
As you review Aegon, he would lay his head on your lap. He denies you the pleasure of knowing how soothing your voice was. It probably wasn't the best, but it was familiar and pleasant as they reverberate down to his ears.
"Did you understand?" You close your textbook to see Aegon surprisingly still awake. "You did listen, didn't you?"
He cranes his head back from where it rests on your lap. "How could I not? Your voice was the only thing keeping me from dozing off." He doesn't know when he could ever hear you speak to him like this again, so he forced himself to listen. It sounds softer, like a warm blanket.
"By that I mean the ravens must have mistaken you for a dead cat—ack!"
You give a sinister smile, choking him with your one hand as you lean over his struggling face. "And soon there will be another corpse to be fed to the ravens."
Jokes and threats aside, Aegon truly never expected you to be so encouraging and patient. Not once did you show signs of contempt when he made a mistake. Only when he wasn't taking you seriously. And when he did get it right, you praised him with a genuine expression. He wanted more of it.
"Should I give you a clue?"
"No! I got this. Give me a minute."
You smile in amusement and watch Aegon scrunch his face in concentration. You sit again by the weirwood tree, and you can tell your pupil is improving, maybe even enjoying the tutoring.
Unbeknownst to you both, shocked but thankful observers watched you occasionally, reminding them of what once was.
Alicent takes in the sight in front of her. The way you smile down at her son with a look that takes her back in time. A look one would give to someone who is beyond friendship, but a soul intertwined with theirs, even when they're not aware of it yet.
The way her eldest looks so relaxed. She knows he can't be drunk, as you've been talking in the same place for the past two hours. No, not when he looks present in the moment and laughing without the need of vice.
She almost forgot there was another by her side, just as in awe.
"They seem to be getting along well," Rhaenyra says, not looking away from the two. "It would be a shame to disrupt them."
The queen nods. "Rarely do we have peace within these walls. Let's give them a few more minutes." She turns to her old friend. "Come, supper can wait a little longer."
Rhaenyra agrees and follows her.
When the exam was a few days away, Aegon started to feel the pressure. The weight of all your efforts was too heavy for him to ignore. He had to do well in this test, and thus he studied past your schedule. He would read long texts to bed, with hidden books scattered in his chambers so the maids wouldn't see them. While you thought he was sleeping as usual, he would mentally answer every question during History. Because he was too embarrassed to ask you, he went to the library to search for a particular book himself.
"Aegon?"
Aegon jumps at the sound of your voice, almost dropping the book in his hands. He scrambles for an answer, but you're more curious what he's searching for. He's never been in the library willingly.
"Why didn't you tell me you needed something?"
"Well, uh, I thought you were too busy."
You try to peek at the book he's holding, but he hides it behind his back. "Busy? I have more free time than the castle's gargoyles. Why do you think I wanted to teach you so badly?"
So that's why you started wanting to spend time with him; was he just a pass time to you?
He scoffs, ignoring the pang in his chest. "So you were just bored. Like you actually cared if I failed this test or not."
You shake your head and step closer to him. He backs up slightly but stands his ground.
"When did I say I didn't care about you?" You ask.
"You didn't have to. Who you choose to spend your time with says enough."
He eyes you accusingly, but the lump in his throat bobs as you lean closer to him.
"And the hours I willingly spent with you aren't enough of a statement?"
He is at a loss for words, holding his breath and stilling his rampant heartbeat.
His reaction lets you reach around and grab the book. It's one you have already.
"Sheesh, you really should have asked me first if you needed something."
You bet your ass he took a few glasses before the test. His nerves have never been this bad for, well, anything. Of course, you can smell the alcohol on him like a bloodhound. You can't say you didn't expect it.
"How much?" You ask
Aegon shifts his eyes from the scrolls to you. "Huh?"
"How much did you drink?"
He shrugs, looking down. "Just two?"
"Bottles?"
"No, no, cups."
His leg continues to bounce anxiously, as he knows it will be his turn in the oral examination after Aemond.
'Seven hells. Maybe I should've drank more,' he thinks.
You place a hand over his knee, pausing his overthinking.
"You'll be fine, Aegon," you say, eyes focused on his shifty, purple ones. "Just take a deep breath and focus on nothing but the question."
Aegon can hear the door open and his name being called. He squeezes the same place you put your hand, praying to the gods he won't fail you, before standing from his seat.
No one is allowed to watch an undergoing exam. Like in the one you took before Aegon, he will only have the strict teacher sit before him. The room was so quiet, your ears rang in every pause. Being a great friend with nothing better to do, you wanted to check up on him. The Red Keep is luckily full of windows.
You finally reached the outside of the castle. Ducking under the windowsill, you eavesdrop the two men inside. You could hear the shuffling of parchments and the nasally, pretentious voice of Maester Stephas.
"...Explain in 5 minutes or less. Begin."
You peek over the ledge, spotting Aegon looking like he's about to shit a brick. His wild eyes find your head poking out from the window behind the old man.
"I'm not getting any younger, my prince," the Maester drawls with his waspish tongue. He doesn't even look up from the paper.
Aegon swallows thickly. He glances at you again. You jut your chin out mockily copy the way the elder speaks.
He bites back a laugh and returns to answering the question.
"What are you doing?"
You almost land on your bottom. Looming above you is your dear friend, who looks unfazed by whatever shenanigans you're up to. You shush Aemond and pull him down to a crouch. You both peek at Aegon, who is still reciting.
"You know it is against the rules to help each other on a test, even someone as hopeless as him," Aemond whispers.
"I'm not helping," you say defensively. "I'm supporting."
"By breaking the rules."
"Oh, you must be in torture," You groan, not looking away from the scene.
His head turns to you. "What?"
"From having a stick up your arse."
He sighs as if he is in deep pain. Not physically, but the mental toll of your friendship is getting to him.
"I forget uncle also raised you."
The day Aegon got his exam results, he felt a pit in his stomach. Scribbled on the paper was a barely passing grade on something you both studied so long for. He worked hard for once, and it wasn't even enough to be satisfactory. Just the bare minimum. He felt like a failure, but you thought otherwise.
"This is great!" You beamed at him. "Good job, Aegon."
"Wha..?"
Did you have too much to drink this time? The last time he checked, you had the eyesight of an archer. But now, you see the clear evidence of his incompetence in History, and you're still congratulating him for it.
Aegon looks around even though he knows you're the only two people in the study hall. He didn't want anyone else to know his results if it went bad, but he has to make sure.
...
Aegon points to himself. "You know I'm not Aemond, right?"
"Uh, yeah? I'm just proud you did your best."
He ignores his heart skip a beat. "Did you start having a taste for strongwine because we're clearly not seeing the same thing. This," he shoves the paper in your face, "was a waste of our time, your time. I really tried, (y/n), truly. The best I could do, and it—it wasn't enough."
He promptly turns around, not letting you see how affected he is. He should be used to failing by now, he thought, but the way you were so supportive made him believe, for a moment, he could be capable of something. Something enough to be proud of.
"I'm sorry."
You stare at the usually carefree prince. You step closer, gently holding his forearm and turning his body to face you.
"Hey." You tilt your head, but he avoids your gaze. "Fail or not, you chose to work for something you know where your strengths do not lie. I thought it was courageous of you."
He scoffs. "Yeah, like I slayed a mighty beast with my bare hands. How courageous."
"If anyone is closest to a beast, it would be Maester Stephas."
Aegon lets out a snort. You and him call the grey-haired tyrant of a teacher that for a reason. Just once, he wishes to defend himself against his vicious words. One too many times the old troll insulted him in front of you and his siblings. If only he had the sharpness of tongue as does a sword.
"It's four marks past a failing grade."
"And it's four marks above the expectations of anyone who's doubted you." You give a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder with your other hand. "Plus, it was partially my fault. We talked about almost everything other than history these past few weeks, so I'm happy for your results."
"You are?" His skin feels warmer where you're holding him. Did you always have that crinkle in your eye when you smile?
"Of course. I'm proud of you, egg."
"Egg?"
You nod. "Short for Aegon. Egg. It's cute."
He gives you a deadpan look. "Your brain must be as smooth as an egg to have thought of that."
His remark doesn't dissuade the wide smile on your face.
"Since you did so well, we must celebrate over a drink tonight. Right, egg? My treat." You head for the exit, knowing he'll be following suit.
Imagine student!Aemond who always hates his ID picture. There's nothing wrong with it, but to him, he can't even look at it without being reminded of all the imperfections. A face that frowns at the sight of itself. He would always have a sticker or a photo of you to cover it. It will always be sitting at the depths of his bag, never to be seen by anyone, not even you.
He dreads every picture day. He does the occasional hair check but knows he cannot do anything to alter what's permanently there. The results always end badly in his mind. And then there's you, his gorgeous love. You always look so beautiful no matter what. He can't help but admire you every day from his seat at the back. Still, you insist on fixing your hair and makeup to look presentable. You never needed to, really.
Imagine his surprise when you suggested doing his makeup and hair. He would turn it down at first, but your pleading look always makes him cave in. You two would stay inside an empty classroom, where he sits while you put on concealer and blush but make sure to not cover up his scar. You even give him some mascara and contour (not like he needs one). After combing his hair, you show him his reflection with a proud smile.
He doesn't really see a difference in his appearance. He thinks he looks the same—just a scarred, plain man. But the difference is you gave your time to do this, so maybe this year's picture is special from the rest.
Before you two leave the room, you stop him.
"Wait, I forgot something."
You take his face with both hands and give him a gentle kiss. You taste like strawberry chapstick and smell so sweet as you feel his heartbeat drum against your chest.
You pull away and grin, seeing a faint pink tint on his thin lips. Your arms slide around his shoulders.
"So handsome," you coo.
You said it so softly he couldn't even deny it. Maybe, just this once, he'll reconsider how bad his picture will turn out.
Weeks later, Aemond looks down at the rectangular piece of plastic. For once, he doesn't grimace. He doesn't hide his ID when you approach him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and hands it to you.
You gasp at how handsome he looks. His flawless hair, his little smirk, and his sapphire eye were all clear in that little box. You keep gushing about it, and heat rises to his face. His cheeks instinctively raise at your praises.
"Oh, please don't hide it Aemond. I bet your old pictures are just as good." You look up at him with starry eyes. "May I see them too, sometime?"
Aemond kisses your temple, amused. He replies, "Only for you, my heart."
A song that'd play while you're smoking at the back of his car, post-coitus.
"Stop hogging it, princess."
"Yeah, yeah."
You take a long draw from the shared cigarette. Smoke laced with burnt carbon fills your lungs. As you exhale, it leaves past your lips and nostrils in grey, silk ribbons. You hand the stick to your naked boyfriend, who has his eyes closed on top of you.
hcs of what it would be like having a slumber party with these little gremlins. Slight Aegon/Aemond bias, but what else do you expect from me?
Warning: None. Poor Luke not getting a break from the toilet.
Top Tier Games
Having the largest and tallest building in the city to call your home, it'd be a crime to not use the Red Keep to your advantage for games. Hide and seek? Hide in the crypts with Balerion. Tag? Can't tag someone while you're wheezing and climbing up the serpentine steps. Scavenger hunt? Gold and jewels are overrated. Trying to catch one of the stray cats of the castle is harder than finding priceless artifacts. One setback is that the place was not childproofed for eight kids at a party or any children for that matter.
"Hiss!"
A black, scruffy cat sprints from the shadows. It dodges you and the kids, who made it a game to catch the elusive feline.
Ducking under Luke's leg, it heads for the stairs. You waste no time running after it. Searching for a cat at night was a challenge in this maze of a castle, but it seemed almost impossible to catch one. After almost 20 minutes into the chase, your patience was running thin.
As you race down the stone steps, you lose your footing and slip. You hear your friends cry out your name as you fall. Your heart skips a beat, and you close your eyes. But two hands secure themselves around you, and you see yourself in the arms of a knight in shining armor, literally.
"Are you alright, my lady/lord?"
You are sure Ser Harwin Strong said something about being careful before corralling you all to your shared chamber. However, you were too busy experiencing your first crush and love at first sight simultaneously.
Food for Days
When a Targaryen parties, always expect a feast that can feed a village. Whether the food is exotic or not, the royals chefs will serve whatever it is you're craving with a wave of your hand. Just be mindful of your bowels once morning comes along. Lucaerys learned that the hard way when he locked himself in the bathroom after eating too many Dornish Cream Cakes.
"Don't tell mother!" Luke groans from the chamber pot before bracing for another purge of the creamy desserts.
Tea Over Tea
A slumber party is never one without sharing the latest gossip in the court. You, Helaena, Baela, and Rhaena were eager to exchange information while the boys hesitated to join in. Jace and Aemond, being the good kids they are, would remark that it is impolite to talk about somebody else's business.
"It's just wrong," Aemond says, crossing his arms stubbornly. Ever since you left the room to get some water, Baela has been prodding him to join in on the conversation.
Jace nods in agreement. "Why would we want to know what other people are getting into, anyway?" He knows his mother taught him better than sticking his nose in other people's affairs. However, he can't help but feel jealous of how much fun you are having without him.
"Not even to know who (Y/N) has a crush on?" The girls giggle. Someone soon joins the circle and sits between Helaena and Rhaena
Luke sits there, as poker-faced as his adorable self can allow. "Spill," he says before raising a teacup to his lips.
Who Brought the Booze?
Since you're still underage, only Aegon would be interested in sneaking in liquor. You and the others would wince as you watch the prince swig the wine in gulps. But being the impressionable kids you are, you all decide to mimic him by drinking "shots" of your favorite juice and "smoking" sticks of candy while pretending to be high.
"Bleh!"
You giggle as you pass over the bin for the next person to fake vomit in it.
Jace takes it and hunches over, holding his stomach as if it hurts. "Oh no, I think I'm going to—" he exclaims a retching sound, earning a laugh from your companions. His performance is cut short when a hand steals the bucket away from him. "Hey!"
Aegon hurls the alcoholic contents from his stomach without warning. The kids yell out in disgust while some of you look on in horror, mentally noting never to bring Aegon to parties if you don't desire a mess.
Makeover!
Whether or not you like the glitz and mess glam of a makeover, the girls would be excited to share their cosmetic talents. You wouldn't want to disappoint Helaena, would you? Plus, you'd look so gorgeous with your plum lipstick, blue eyeshadow, and bright pink blush! The boys have no say in it too if they want to keep the party lively. They could be bound in chairs, screaming with cream cakes stuffed in their mouths, while the twins happily braid their hair and you and Helaena paint their nails
"Oh, you'll look absolutely divine, good sir," you say with a posh accent.
Aegon hums as he opens his mouth for another grape. You feed him the fruit before returning to his facial mask. Surprisingly, the eldest prince is the most accepting of the treatment.
The other boys struggle to free themselves of their restraints but are pulled back by the girls to test their new perfumes (aka an abomination of different scents they could mix together)
"Quite," Aegon replies.
He sits back with a sigh as he lets you do his nails, just as long as you continue the hand massage that makes them feel like jelly.
Historically Accurate Dungeons and Dragons
It's the boys' time to shine on this one. Their parents' closets are a gold mine for role plays. Every bed is a mountain to climb, and what lies underneath is a cave of goblin fiends waiting to be defeated. Your pillow fort is the Red Keep, where inside is the towering pillow throne! Whoever gets tagged as the untamed dragon has worthy opponents armed with broomsticks and plush shields at the ready.
"Ugh, why does Aegon get to be king, again?"
"Because it's in my name, duh," Aegon says while readjusting his oversized crown that was totally not stolen from Viserys' room.
You answer from your pillow fort, "Because he'll cry and whine until sunrise if we make him the dragon," you look at him pointedly," even though it was his turn."
"Please, you wouldn't know how to rule a kingdo-AAAA!"
Helaena makes an excellent beastmaster. She has amassed an army of her insect friends, and one of her companions just so happened to land on the king's face.
Ghost Stories
Being in a family built on bloodshed, warfare, and dragons comes with its perks when telling ghost stories. The Targaryens have passed on stories to their kids for generations. King Viserys could spend hours retelling the stories of Old Valyria and its doom. Corlys could detail with great pride of his nine voyages to Essos and the unusual creatures he encountered. But it's Daemon that gives the true horrors of previous Targaryen kings. The man does not have a filter even in front of children, so it isn't a surprise if you stay up all night thinking about the underground tunnels of the Red Keep. The dead men that built those very walls might still be lurking somewhere.
" Wagonloads of strongwine and sweetmeats," Daemon says, "and the finest whores of the city were sent by king Maegor. Three days, those builders and workmen dined and reveled in the celebration."
The prince sits by the hearth with his legs crossed, relaxed like a wise man narrating a children's book. In front of him are all of you in your designated beds. Some have their blankets tucked under their chins as he continues.
"The king then ordered his soldiers that all of the workmen be killed." He scoffed at the idea. "Never wanted anyone to reveal the Red Keep's secrets. All those laborers worked to the bone, given three days of unsullied pleasure, just to be slaughtered like pigs afterward. So," he clasps his hands together," what have we learned tonight, hm?"
"That Maegor the Cruel should be nicknamed the Fool instead," Aegon answers. "What kind of king slaughters his men but not the whores they fucked drunk for three days straight?"
"Good question." Daemon points to him. He rises from his seat and walks across the room. "But how would you know he didn't kill the whores as well? Perhaps their spirits still linger about. Sometimes you'll hear their disembodied voices when no one's there. Some claimed they've seen their headless figures wandering the halls, beaten and bloody."
The kids shiver at his creepy voice as he says it. The tense air becomes worse once the last of the candles are blown.
Daemon chuckles. "Well, goodnight. Hopefully you won't wake with a lost limb." He opens the door and takes his leave with a smirk on his face.
A Sleepless Night
You all would try to keep holding conversations in the dark as long as you can. Honestly, everyone was creeped out by Daemon's story, but eventually sleep gets the best of them. The room starts to become colder the dimmer the fireplace becomes. Every sound is amplified and keeps you awake. Unfortunately for you, a storm just so happened to form. The howling winds and heavy rain can be heard from outside. It's a horrible time to be afraid of lightning.
You hate the storm. It seems to mock you every time you hide from the flashes of light. Its thunderous laugh travels through the walls and into your bed. Even with the others sleeping near you on separate mattresses, you feel alone.
Minutes of silence passed. But just as you were about to close your eyes, a loud crack jolts you awake.
In a moment of vulnerability, you get in the nearest bed to yours. You bury yourself under the blanket.
"(Y/N)?" Aemond whispers. He pulls back the covers to see you hiding under them. "What are you doing? Are you scared?"
Another lightning strike. You gasp and curl over like a fetus. You don't know if you want to hide from the storm or your friend more. You nod your head.
Aemond looks at your empty bed and then at the window. The storm has only gotten worse. Waves of rainfall pound at the covered glass. He puts the blanket back over you and lies down, facing you.
"...It's okay. The storm can't get you here." He feels you slightly shaking and gulps. "And, um, I'm here to protect you. I won't let anything hurt you."
You open your eyes. You see him shift slightly. He looks red in the face and awkward from having to share a bed.
"Promise?"
"Uh, well, I can promise I'd get struck first before you do b-because I'm taller."
You snicker. "Right."
Suddenly, you hear a pained moan echo from a distance. It was loud enough to wake you and Aemond but not the rest. You and him sit up and look at the door leading to the hallway. It is slightly ajar, with candlelight seeping through the crack. You hear another noise and then hide under the covers once again.
"What the hells was that?"
"I don't know. Just don't move until it's gone."
You close your eyes tightly and silently pray whoever or whatever was making that sound won't come inside and slaughter you like in the ghost stories.
You shriek when you feel the bed dip behind you. A hand covers your mouth, and you turn your hand to see someone join you under the covers.
"Aegon?"
"Aegon, you have your own bloody bed. Get your own hiding spot," Aemond whispers angrily.
"And get killed? Mine's the closest to the damn door. If one of those ghosts gets in, It'd get to me first. Now move!"
Now, you're squeezed between Aemond and Aegon, both of which are horrible at keeping their voices down.
"Ouch, stop kicking me!"
"Then stop putting your damn cold feet on mine."
"What feet?"
"Sorry, that was me," you mutter. You push away Aegon's unruly hair from your face. "But can both of you just shush? I think it's getting closer."
A moment passes, and all you hear is silence.
"Why don't you just hide with Helaena?"
Aegon stutters, "Because... Well, why don't you do it then?"
"Because this is my damn bed—"
"Shut up!" you scream quietly. "Both of you. If we're supposed to survive the night, then let's at least pretend we're asleep."
You glare at them like a seething mother. Neither dared to speak after you, so you try to make yourself comfortable before closing your eyes.
You whisper goodnight to the princes. With their backs turned, Aemond mumbles a goodnight back while Aegon lets out a grunt.
Soon enough, all of you are deep asleep, the fear of the ghost and the storm long forgotten. No one notices a small figure entering the dark room.
Lucaerys shuts the door with his hand over his upset stomach. He groans when he feels the need to visit the chamber pot again. Why did he have to get a midnight snack, and why did they have to be those damn addictive cream cakes?
A/N: Inspired by a song with the same title, as well as personal experience. This can be read as a standalone story or a sequel to my previous Aegon post.
Warning: Hyperstimulation (not the good kind). Brief mentions of sex on the beach. Comfort. Fluff. Mature Aegon pulling an Aladdin on you.
Blurry faces and colors flash by you. The aroma of rich food and heavy perfumes, the glint of flashy jewelry and flickering of candlelight, the bellowing of laughter, and the incoherent chattering among guests and family members. All at once, they attack your senses, giving you a headache. You do not feel like you're supposed to be here.
Today, your family hosts a grand party to celebrate your nameday. Many lords and ladies all across Westeros have come for the occasion, showering you with endless gifts and praises. Of course, you are expected to be present for the occasion. You tried your best to appear happy for the day that is seemingly centered around you. You just cannot find the willpower to be happy at the moment. The guilt gnaws at you. Malicious voices whisper in each ear how ungrateful you are acting. Anyone would kill to be in your shoes, but no amount of lavish offerings or music can rid of the pit in your stomach.
You watch from across the table, your family talk and laugh with different noble families. Others dance to a merry tune, spinning and linking arms. Your parents sit close to the king and queen during the feast, smiling and laughing, ignorant of the brewing storm within you. Your heart clenches at how you must look, like a dog dragged by the scruff from your room. Maybe it's not far from the truth. Five separate times were you found hiding in your room, and five times were you reminded of your position. It is your responsibility, as future queen, to keep your guests happy.
Guests that you did not invite to a party you did not want, you thought.
You down the cup of wine in a few gulps, catching your husband's attention.
“The night is still young, princess. Why the rush?” Aegon asks, holding a cup of his own. He follows your gaze and turns to see the scene that upset you. Standing on the other side of the room are your parents. Their backs are facing you, but you can tell they are flushed from the beverages.
He hears the scrape of a chair and sees you walking away from the table. This time, no one notices your absence but Aegon, who is right behind you. You turn the corner to a secluded hallway where the servants pass through. You regret standing and leaving as fast as you did. Your vision blurs, and your ears ring. Still, your legs seem to move by themselves in search of an exit.
Aegon stops you by your shoulders, asking, "(Y/N), where are you going?"
You turn to him, glassy-eyed. “Anywhere but here.” You glance behind him to check if anyone saw you leaving, but it's only you two.
“What do you mean?” He searches your face for an answer and notices you looking lightheaded.
The ringing in your ears gets louder. Tears prick your eyes, and you withhold the urge to yawn. You start breathing heavily like you're about to cry.
He asks, alarmed, “Are you alright, love? What's wrong?"
"I don't want to be here."
You reach out to him, and he frowns, holding you close. He looks around before swiping one of the bottles and bread a servant passing by was carrying. He holds your hand and heads towards the door. “Let's get out of here.”
He stops outside the back entrance, waiting for you to recover. You lean against him while he has his back against the stone wall, rubbing your back. Once the cold air hits you, you start to regain your strength, and soon you two are sneaking around guards to leave the castle. He lets you eat some bread on the way but doesn't stop until you reach the dragon pit.
The massive size of the cavernous building is imposing, to say the least. Even with his jacket on, you feel a shiver run down our spine. Echos of trickling water and dragon snores make you grip Aegon's arm tighter. You can feel him flex said arm in reassurance.
Actually paying attention to Ser Cole's training for once definitely paid off. Aegon mentally pats himself in the back.
Show off, you thought.
Without a care in his step, the prince leads you to where his dragon, Sunfyre, is enclosed.
The dragon rumbles at the sight of his rider. He lets out a low purr once you petted his snout, as you're one of the few he would allow touching him.
“Where are we going?” You stare at the prince with furrowed brows as he places the bottle and food inside Sunfyre's saddlebag.
“Anywhere but here.” He smirks and gets on one knee to give you a leg up. You squint at him, but he simply motions his head for you to get on. “Trust me, princess.”
It took little convincing for you to ride the gorgeous dragon. You let out a yelp as Sunfyre takes you to the skies. Aegon has his chest against your back and his arms by your waist, his grip secure on the leather reigns. A smile turns into laughter when you feel the clouds on your face and a flurry of rain droplets fly past your cheek.
Once you reach a clearing, your jaw drops. In front of you is the bright full moon. It looks so close to where you are that you could almost touch it. Its soft light gives a golden, ethereal glimmer to the dragon's scales. Even Aegon's hair seems to glow under the moonlight, like a halo made of silver and gold. He smirks as you look at him up and down. You blush and stick your tongue out at him.
You fail to notice the dragon rider's devilish grin as you fall into a sudden drop. It is his turn to laugh as you scream, clinging onto him for dear life. Just when you thought you were heading straight for the water, he swoops Sunfyre back up and skillfully swerves past rocks and canyons. The dragon runs the tip of his wings through the waves, splashing saltwater at the resisting breeze. The racing beat of your heart pulsates through your fingertips. An electric feeling of freedom courses through you. No one can touch you where you are. At that moment, no one else exists. You feel powerful. Alive.
You arrive at a small island. The sounds of waves washing ashore can be heard from below. Sunfyre lowers himself through a large hole atop a rock formation. When Aegon helps you down, you can feel sand under your shoes.
"Aegon, where are we?" You ask, uncomfortable in the nearly pitch-black darkness.
“dracarys.”
A billow of flames leaves the dragon's jaws and lights a nearby campfire. Both males act as if they have done it a thousand times before. After adjusting to the light, your eyes scan around the towering cave you're in.
Spiral walls rise to the hole in the ceiling. Its rocky layers oscillate between white, yellow, and orange. Half of the cave is surrounded by turquoise water, in which two arched entrances are connected by an amber-colored pillar. You cannot see past the three entrances, but you can imagine how otherworldly it would be here with a skylight. It is a monument worthy of the Gods.
“How do you know this place?” You ask, turning to him.
Aegon rummages through a wooden chest from the back. He takes out a couple of blankets and cushions from it and places them beside the crackling campfire. “Well, if you're around people who wish to take either your crown, your life, or your fun, you'd want to escape to a place like this, yeah?” He dusts his hands off with a proud face, but you raise an eyebrow.
He continues, “I found this place when I was ten and three. You remember that night. Aemond lost his eye, blamed me for calling Rhaenyra's sons bastards when I could barely discern left from right, yadda yadda.” He waves his hand dismissively. “In short, I got upset and left with Sunfyre. I didn't know where we were going; I just knew it was anywhere but there. Discovered the remains of an old, wrecked ship, found the cave, and it's been mine ever since.”
As though reading his rider's mind, Sunfyre flies off with a huff, giving you two privacy. Aegon walks back to you with the wine and bread in hand. He removes the cork with his teeth and passes you the bottle. You take a large gulp and sit down beside him on the blankets, still in awe of the place.
"Huh, I still can't believe you've never told me about this."
He shrugs. “I guess I just wasn't ready, you know, to reveal all about myself. I always came here when I couldn't handle the pressure, when it felt like everything was against me. Hells, I disliked who I was. Why not have an entire realm feel the same way."
You nod. He still has a hard time opening up about his insecurities, no matter how often you reassure him. “Thank you, for bringing me here, I mean. My nameday must be extra special for bringing me to your little paradise.” You nudge his side.
Aegon chuckles and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “It's our paradise now,” he captures your lips in a quick but heated kiss, “and you're its queen.” He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck, making you giggle. Without you noticing, he swipes the glass bottle from your grasp and takes generous sips.
“Where're you goin', princess?” he asks when you stand up and walk towards the water.
You loosen the laces of your dress and pull the sleeves down your shoulders. “That's 'my queen' to you, love.” You turn around and let the layers of clothing fall to your feet, leaving you in your undergarments. “Swim with me.”
Your husband grins with a fire in his eyes. “Yes, my queen,” he plays along. He strips to his breeches and joins you.
Time goes by fast as you enjoy each other's company. You splash and play in the waves, your laughter reverberating in the domed shelter. You've lost count of how many times you accidentally tasted the salty water from forgetting to keep your mouth closed. It was an unforgettable night, particularly for your husband, who you almost accidentally drowned while using him as a life preserver. You were lucky he showed mercy.
You will also remember this night as one of tender lovemaking. With the drenched, see-through fabric peeled off of you, you bathed in the warmth your connecting bodies emanated. Each kiss was a silent prayer for more. Waves of pleasure rolled off your tongue and hips, both wet for him to be one with you again. As the rumbling surf masked your moans and pants, you swam in the waters of desire until your bodies ached. You shivered with mirth and sweat dripping down your flushed skin.
Once you calmed down, you lie with his head between your breasts, basking your bare souls in the moonlit sky. You lean against the large rock behind you. Aegon sits comfortably with his back to you. You keep each other warm with your arms wrapped around his shoulders and blankets surrounding you. Even with your focus on the starry sky, you're grounded by the feeling of your husband's soft hands rubbing along your forearms.
The muscles of your shoulders relax. A sigh escapes your lips like a heaviness has left your body. He notices and squeezes your arm before kissing its damp skin. Every touch is so gentle—mindful.
You look back down and move him to face you. Like his touch, yours are delicate as they cup his face and brush back his messy locks. You smile softly, silently communicating how proud of him you are. He's grown so much over the years. Stronger and wiser he became, without losing the essence of who he was. You can attest he is just as sensual as you remember him to be.
Aegon looks back, confused at first. Your eyes still hold a tinge of sadness, but the pupils are dilated. Your smile is no longer strained, and your heart beats calmly from where his hand rests on your back. Without question, he captures your lips for another kiss.
Though he may never completely understand the intricate web of galaxies that make up his wife, he concludes that he will be there to feel everything—and face everything—with you. And if that means he's, for some reason, the cause of your serenity, he would fly you back here every night and recreate every moment. All of it just to see that look upon your face.
He knows he will never live up to his family's expectations, and one day, he may come to terms with that. None of them really matter apart from you. However, he finds himself a king as he sits with you on this side of paradise you created together.
a/n: Watching these two do anything in the same room makes me want to pull my hair out. I will not allow us to become children of divorce, so here's a short, self-indulgent one.
p.s. I chose the gifs with a fem!reader in mind, but it can be gn.
Warning: none. our bisexual moms getting the ending they deserve.
(Y/N) Targaryen. The Crown's Jewel. Adopted by Rhaenyra Targaryen and raised by Alicent Hightower. Blood of none, but beloved by all.
Oh, how you wished your mothers loved each other as they loved you. You always saw the sadness in their eyes whenever they meet, a longing between two souls that were more familiar than the men they married.
It is why they currently sit across from you. The silence is suffocating. The queenly women wait for an answer as to why their child called for a meeting with them in private.
You take a deep breath. “I want you both, for once, to say what is on your mind and make amends for this drawn-out feud. Forgive me, but I cannot help but feel partially responsible if I fail to do something about this.”
It might be naive to think they would apologize for a conflict that has persisted for years, and it probably was. You witness the pent-up frustration in their hearts pour out as they face each other. Their voices raise like whoever was louder was less guilty.
You can still tell they want an end to it as much as you do. However, years of repressed feelings, miscommunication, and external pressures keep them from doing so. It felt like a tug of war ever since you were a child. You were just a small, shivering babe in a rotten box when Rhaenyra took you in. Despite how much the family, and especially the court, protested against the decision, she saw something in you that forged an unbreakable bond—a mother's love for her child. Prophecies be damned if someone were to dare take you from her.
Alicent took longer to accept you, but you did not have to do anything. No matter the day, she would always find herself looking for you. You were always so excited to see her and let her braid your hair. Perhaps it's the curiosity to know what it's like to have a loving relationship with your child, as hypocritical as it sounds from someone who already has children of her own. But you were so easy to love. She fell harder than you could ever comprehend with that precious mind of yours.
It was how she and Rhaenyra came to an agreement. You get to spend time with both under a given schedule. Half of the time is spent with Rhaenyra and your adopted brothers, and the other is with Alicent, Viserys, and their kids. Regardless of how busy they are, they would always find time to spend it with you. It was surprisingly a happy childhood, one that most likely kept the peace between the two families.
You were brought back to reality by the scraping of chairs. Pride overcomes prudence as your Targaryen mother rises from her seat and makes her way toward the door. The brunette queen has her back facing them with fingers picking at skin; a distraction from the ache in her heart.
Alicent says with a stern yet audibly hurt tone, "(Y/N), this will be the last time you force such a discussion between me and Rhaenyra. If you are so displeased, choose a side," the queen bites her lip as she hides a deep frown, "because we cannot be there for you together."
"What?" The hurt in your voice makes Rhaenyra stop in her tracks, her instincts yelling at her to comfort her child.
"I can't... You know I can't do that." Your throat tightens.
"My dear-"
“To choose one of you is to lose half of myself.” You feel the tears welling behind your eyes, but keep your chin up. "You're both my mothers. If there were truly any malice or hate between you, I would have noticed. You two always try to act distant, but the next minute, you look into each other's eyes, hold hands, and just generally gross me out with your badly hidden flirting." If the atmosphere wasn't so tense, you could have laughed at yourself. You sigh and continue, "If I'm not so bad, then neither is the person that raised me. You know it better than I do, don't you?”
Your gaze shifts between the two women, who now have their eyes on the floor, and then eventually to each other.
"If you'll have me," Rhaenyra breaks the silence, "we could talk it over a cup of tea."
Alicent and Rhaenyra exchange a look, and at that moment, they are children again. A time without worry and responsibilities that made them set aside their happiness. A time when their minds were preoccupied with nothing but the young girl that always stood by their side. In those teary-eyed windows, they see a glimpse of their best friend, their biggest confidant, and their first love. No matter how long ago that wound was sewn shut, there is always an opening that would let them back into their lives if they just had the chance.
With a wistful smile, Alicent nods. "I'd love to."
You, now bridging your mothers' hands, pull them into an embrace. They hug back tearfully, now less afraid to mend the bond. Never mind Otto's disapproval or Daemon's, as long as they have each other like they used to. They touch foreheads together, their hearts rejoicing, for they found the last page of a book that will always end with them.
a/n: Idk why I came up with this. I wrote this in the middle of a party half-awake with a splitting headache. Maybe because I can relate to the Targs when it comes to chaotic family gatherings lol.
Warning: None. Filipino culture.
Most family gatherings happen at Viserys' place. As the family patriarch, he always sits at the end of the table. Expect the table and chairs to be made of expensive carved wood. Images and idols of Faith of the Seven can be found everywhere in the house.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the kids are the latest to the party. They use the excuse that "a future queen is never late", or there was heavy traffic.
Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Rhaenys try to one-up each other with the potluck. Rhaenys has the best lumpiang shanghai and pancit, Rhaenyra is the favorite when it comes to barbeques, but no one can top Alicent when it comes to serving the biggest, crunchiest lechon baboy.
Aegon is grumpy the whole night because he is forced to sit at the kid's table.
Helaena is happy playing with her phone on the couch, watching insect YouTube videos.
Jacaerys is trying to reach over the billiards table while Daemon teaches him.
Lucaerys and Joffrey keep asking Aemond if he has games on his ipad, and he's this 🤏 close to having a meltdown.
Baela and Rhaena smiling politely at relatives Alicent when told how big they've grown. But when Aegon says it, he gets hit upside the head.
Viserys, Daemon, and Corlys getting along over Pale Pilsen and chicharon as they not watch over the kids play in the pool.
Aemond doesn't want to swim but he gets pushed into the pool anyway.
Laenor is used as a floatie.
Rhaenys not allowing the kids to pass by her without them giving 'mano' (An honoring-gesture as a sign of respect to elders).
Alicent saying how "chubby" the kids have gotten but also forcing them to eat more.
Laenor and Laena belt it out on the kareoke.
Rhaenyra sitting at the back, breastfeeding her 100th child.
Aegon is scolded for staring.
When snacks and dessert come around, the kids will come out of the pool shivering like leaves with towels wrapped around them.
The kids are quick to fall in line for Viserys' gifts, which are almost always money.
Joffrey and Luke are sleeping in someone's bedroom a few hours later.
Aegon is passed out on a sofa after stealing the adults' drinks.
Daemon pays him back by leaving a sweet letter...on his face.
Helaena posts it on Facebook.
The servants will cry over the mess afterward.
The next day, the adults drink coffee and smoke, acting like they don't have a headache, while the kids wake up at the break of dawn to swim again.
The best breakfast after a party is some good ol' hotdogs, spam, tocino, or tuyo. Whatever the ulam is, there are always fried eggs and rice. If you're feeling chilly, Arroz Caldo is there to warm your soul. There is also a container of melting fruit salad for dessert.
In the end, everyone will bring home leftovers that will last for days.
A/N: I'm still waiting for my birthday present in the form of ancient sexting.
Warning: Targcest. smut. Medieval sexting. Aemond sounding like a bad Tumblr writer.
Minors DNI
The waves of the Narrow Sea crash against the jagged rocks of Dragonstone. Even from above, on the balcony of your chambers, you can smell the saltiness of the sea in the cool evening breeze. It feels like a goodbye from your second home, for you will move back to King's Landing before the sun rises.
Your grandfather, King's Viserys, announced a feast to celebrate your upcoming nameday. You do not usually call for such events, but a part of you is thankful to return where the object of your affection waits patiently for you.
Each raven he sends rekindles a fire in your heart. No longer shall you have to wait with bated breath for his affectionately written letters, telling you how much he wishes you were there by his side. Pressed flowers accompany each one. All represent feelings that he could not properly describe on paper.
Whether it be about friendship, loneliness, or carnal desire, every trace and tremble of his pen made you fall for a man miles away. You wrote back with the same poetic ardor, unafraid because of the proximity that separated you for years. Now, the reality dawned on you; you are soon to be married to Aemond Targaryen. The one-eyed prince, rider of the beast Vhagar, known to intimidate a room with a glance, is the person that can make a poet look like an illiterate jester.
You chuckle at the juxtaposition as you comb your hair early for the night. Behind you, your brown-haired half-brothers linger in your room like they always do.
"Are you certain that you're fine with marrying that cyclops?" Lucaerys asks for the fifth time, earning a pinch in his ear by Jacaerys. "Ow! What? It's true."
"Aemond is an honorable man," you defend your fiancé, "and it is necessary to keep the peace between our houses."
As much as you've tried convincing your brothers that Aemond is not as bad as he seems, their impression of him has not changed for the most part.
Luckily, Jace is more open to the idea. "At least it's not Aegon," he says.
Your father, Daemon, walks in and ushers the boys out of your room. He bids you goodnight before closing the door behind him. You lie down and wait until the rest of your family has settled down for their early departure tomorrow.
You sit back up and take out a box hidden under your bed. Inside is the most recent letter Aemond sent you. Red wax seals it shut and bears the three-headed dragon sigil. The first thing you see after opening it is a red aster flower. Surrounding it are a few red rose petals.
You smile as you twirl the flower between your fingertips. Lying down, your eyes carefully read the elegant handwriting of your beloved. The yellow and orange hues of the candlelight match the increasing warmth you feel as you continue down the amorous letter.
Aemond is eager, impatient to have you back in King's Landing. One too many nights have you had him pace around his room like a lunatic, all because endless thoughts of you plague his mind day to day. They vary from ones that have him cringing at how cheesy he can be to those that keep him awake at night with an insatiable burning within. It is a fire that burns for you. If he becomes careless with his wording, it could end up sounding like a pathetic plea. But it does, and he is on the precipice of doing so if you do not come any sooner.
You have a way with words, he thought. Only someone like you, who has only ever shared a look, a touch, and then a searing kiss with him in private, can make him regret doing the right thing. He looks back at that night, a couple of moons ago, and wonders what would have happened if he didn't care if you had to return soon from his chambers. What would have unfolded if he had simply forsaken duty and lost himself in you? Maybe then he'd understand his libertine brother better.
But alas, the past is history. Tomorrow, when the hours pass late into the night, he will finish what you both started. With doors locked shut, he promises to cover you with kisses, with an addiction disguised as his caresses. He will make you lose your inhibitions with every inch of exposed skin he claims. Only he can give you the warmth for which your body will shiver.
He still remembers where he last kissed you on your neck. It was just below your ear, where he whispered if you truly wanted him. If you stay true to your answer, let him leave a trail down from that spot and stop at the precise moment when you hold his head, keeping him from reaching past your thighs. Allow him to fulfill his wish of knowing you with all of his senses as his tongue learns you inside and out. He prides himself on his ability to be good at everything he sets his mind to. Every twitch and sound that leaves your pretty mouth will encourage him further. He will earn what he's been craving until it is dripping down his chin and pushed back to his lips.
His love for you allows him to look upon the beauty and tenderness in your eyes, but also to pin you down under him, surrounded by whatever luxury you so desire. In return, forgive him if he loses composure and fervently claims you as his, glorying in the soft, hot tightness of your insides. You will make a man out of him, he is certain, just by the sound of your voice and the sight of your flushed cheeks and tangled hair. His old attempts at recreating his imagination were doomed to fail. Nothing can compare to the feeling of you. So when you are too ashamed to meet his eyes, know that you are his love, his heart, his (Y/N).
By the end of the letter, he apologizes for writing something so lewd to his lady. However, considering he sent this to you with full knowledge it could be received by your parents first, he might not actually be sorry. With the remaining space on the parchment, he lets you know that some furniture has been moved in preparation for your arrival. The benches are now closer in front of the fireplace with an additional rug gifted by a lord from Lannisport. His desk now sits in front of a window that provides one of the best views of the city. He also took your advice and added some new tapestries above his bed, which he had upsized to fit the both of you more comfortably.
Once he finally has the pleasure to speak to you again in private, he asks you to let him know where you would want him to fuck you first. Rest well and travel safely, for your intimate reunion has a celebration of its own that will last until dawn.
Warning: Targcest. Mentions of alcohol withdrawal symptoms. Fluff. Dehydrated Aegon trying hard to be a good boy.
You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, a product of her affair with Daemon shortly after she was married. However, Laenor accepted you as his own, and you were brought up as Rhaenyra's heir by a loving family. As an alliance with the greens, you were betrothed to Aegon since you were born. Since then, you have grown up with him and his siblings.
Aegon didn't really care much about the arranged marriage, as he never had any interest in becoming king. You were too young back then for him to pay you any mind, a year younger than Aemond.
But you were a persistent child. Maybe because you always had people wrapped around your finger, but you would constantly follow him around, asking him questions and giving him small gifts in the hopes he could at least give you back a smile.
But he remained cold, giving you nothing more than an impatient look and a click of his tongue before walking away. You would soon believe that your friendship meant nothing to him.
You instead found company in Aemond. He was always kind and appreciative that you would choose to spend time with him over your half-brothers. Even Helaena took a liking to you, considering you one of her closest friends.
Eventually, Aegon would notice how you stopped following him like his shadow. You did not bother asking him what he was doing or if he was ok like usual.
He thought he wanted the freedom from you, but it was quiet—too quiet.
His jaw would clench seeing you play with wooden swords with Aemond.
His eyes would linger in your direction during training lessons with Ser Criston. But you never gave him a second glance. Your eyes were glued to Aemond, cheering him on with that dazzling smile you used to give him
He couldn't help but sneer whenever you would defend his brother from his teases and pranks.
Even the smallest of bruises had you healing Aemond with careful hands, hands that should have been holding him and him alone. Your nurturing instincts were only amplified once he lost his eye.
Why should Aemond deserve to be coddled by you when he wasn't even your future husband? It should be him.
His heart skipped a beat when you finally spoke to him after so long. He didn't care if you were scolding him because of an inappropriate remark. He was just happy to be noticed again.
As much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn't, not when you knew who he really is. He's the boy who would constantly drink his worries away than face the daily reminders of how much of a disappointment he is to his family.
He was known to be a pervert, enough to make the maids draw straws to see which poor girl has to fear being around him for the day. Even rumors circulated about how the king's eldest son would whisper lewd offers to the female servants and touch and fondle them whenever he pleases.
Luckily, only the first part was correct, for his betrothed would always be there to correct him. You weren't above putting him in his place, but you never laid your hands on him.
You knew how he was treated by his mother and grandfather. Even his own father was not there for him most of the time. But to him, you were neither harsh nor neglectful. You were caring, gentle even, but firm.
When you began giving him your attention again, it was not what he was hoping for. He was tired of seeing the same disappointed expressions on everyone around him. He can't have you looking at him that way too.
You began noticing how proper he became around others. When asking for wine, he would simply gesture the maids or ask, sometimes with a "please". Aemond almost lost another eye when it nearly popped out of his head after hearing it
He wouldn't spare a second glance towards women he passed by. At most, he would give a nod. He even stopped staring at the maids' chest as they placed food on the table.
Even Alicent noticed how less often she saw him drinking. He seemed livelier, more grounded. She silently wept during one of her evening prayers, thanking the gods for whoever brought her son to his senses
The effects of avoiding his drinking habits have caught up to him, unfortunately. He became sick with a fever but was determined to talk to you like he has for the past few months. You and him started hanging out more often until it became a daily routine.
As he passed by one of the many rooms of the palace, he overheard a conversation between his mother and father.
"I've been seeing Aemond around the gardens more often, with (Y/N)," Viserys brings up casually. He rubs his hands in front of the lit fireplace.
Alicent nods as she takes a sip of tea. "I agree. The sweet girl has been such a dear friend to him and Helaena. I've yet to see her not by his side since..." she pauses, but her husband nods in understanding.
He changes the subject to a lighter one, "If I've known how close they would have become, I should've wed those two instead."
The last sentence was enough to have Aegon rushing to find you. He knows the one place where he can always find you roaming around.
"But," the king continues in his dry, raspy voice, "I would be a fool not to notice how she looks at Aegon."
The prince finds you among the flowering bushes. Luckily, you are alone. You yelp in surprise when you are suddenly hugged by an out-of-breath Aegon. You ask him what happened and if he's alright, noticing his face glistening with sweat like he ran a marathon. He doesn't reply and instead cups your face with warm, shaky hands.
"...she could be the sweetest downfall of that boy," Viserys chuckles lightly, reminiscing bittersweet memories of his first wife. He places a hand over Alicent's, to which she responds with a relieved smile, knowing that their son will be just fine in your hands.
"Are you in love with Aemond?" Aegon asks you.
"Wh-what? Aegon, what are you-"
"I cannot hide this dread you planted within me any longer." He swallows the lump in his throat. "Just say it. One word. Tell me if you are in love with my brother, if you'd break off our engagement to be with him or not."
You look up at him, not knowing whether to answer the mess of a man in front of you or take him to the maester first. But his glassy eyes tell you that he won't take anything but your answer.
You sigh and hold his wrists. "I don't know if it's the fever that compelled you to say something so stupid or if you broke your word and drank again, but no, I do not have any romantic feelings for Aemond."
He was quick to prove his sobriety, "No, no, I swear I haven't drank in days—or was it weeks... But I promise you I haven't drunk anything. It's actually why I've been feeling unwell," he sees your face fall in realization at the cause of his poor state, "which is good! I think."
You can't help but feel your heart swell at his dedication. He truly made the effort to become better for you in hopes you will start seeing him as something more: a man, but most importantly, your future husband.
"Oh, Aegon. No one else can be as dear to me as the one who stole my heart."
His frowns, mentally listing every other man in Westeros that could've possibly caught your eye. "Who?"
You roll your eyes. You wonder if he took not drinking anything too seriously and included water. "You, dung for brains. With all of your silly antics and foolish vices, I still wanted you as you were. I thought I could never steal a glance from you, even as your wife, but you paid attention. You listened and tried even when it cost you so much."
A stray tear falls down his flushed cheek. You push away the strands of hair sticking to his face. The gentle, soft touch he missed so dearly. "How could I not love you?"
He sniffles quietly. He quickly fixes himself, noticing how you gaze lovingly at his red face and trembling lip.
"I'm as imperfect as any man. I might not be as skilled as my brother nor as wise as my father," he takes both of your hands in his, looking up at you, "but I'll be good for you. Anything you want me to be, just say it, and I'll see to it that I can fulfill your needs as you have mine. My crown, my future, they mean nothing without you."
He stands there, baring his heart and all that he is. His head is tilted downward, and his gaze is set on you like you can shatter him any second. He has never felt so vulnerable yet safe when you pull him into an embrace and run your fingers through his damp hair.
"So you'll still marry me?" he mumbles against your hair.
warning: mentions of alcohol withdrawal symptoms. fluffy Aegon trying hard to be a good boy
Imagine holding Aegon's hand under the dining table because he's shaking after not drinking for days. He can't stop bouncing his leg, his head hurts, and his palms are sweaty and clammy. Yet, you keep your hands intertwined despite his embarrassment. You would only let go to rub soothing circles over his thigh to stop him from fidgeting so much.
You would tell him he can have a glass of wine if he really needs it, but he would always shake his head no.
"I don't need it anymore," he whispers, leaning closer to you while the rest of his family talk amongst themselves.
His eye bags are more prominent. His eyes look tired but hold a seriousness to them. As his wife, it hurts you to see him suffer from the withdrawals. It was obvious he was trying so hard, trying because it makes you happy. You don't know how much happiness you bring him; not even alcohol can compare. It was a cheap, fleeting high that he would rather sacrifice than lose you because of his foolishness.
"I love you," you whisper back as you would always remind him every day, every minute if you could.
He smiles softly, raising your clasped hands to kiss your knuckles and your two rings. One that he gifted to you when he promised to marry you, and then the larger ring he gave you the day you were married.
"And you are my happiness," he replies, looking at you like no one else exists, "one that I can't live without."
Warning: incest. drunk semi-smut(?). Aemond and Aegon surprisingly sharing reader without giving each other death threats.
Minors dni
You fail to hold in your giggles as you are led down the empty hallway by your uncles. Aemond is doing most of the heavy lifting while Aegon accompanies his niece's inebriated laughter, occasionally almost tripping over nothing.
"C'mon, you two." Aemond huffs as he easily picks you up with both arms, heading towards your chamber doors. He nods for his brother to open the doors for them, which he does. The lock clicks shut, separating you from the loud, ongoing party downstairs.
Aemond puts you down on the bed, and you whine for him to stay when he goes to your drawer to get you a change of clothes. Pouting, you pull the older male to your bed instead. Aegon, in response, places his knee beside your seated form and slowly lays you down with a heated kiss. He leads your tongues in an entangled dance, making you swallow every moan he elicits from you.
You part from him to switch positions and straddle his waist. Aegon sighs with a lazy grin. His eyes trail down the body only the gods can make. Delicate chains of gold and jewels embellish the expensive silk dress you have been showing off the whole night. With deft movements of his fingers, he undoes the lace of your dress, letting your sleeves slide past your shoulders.
He raises his hips, encouraging you to grind against the straining material of his pants. His hands trail under your skirt, their surprising gentleness making you shiver. He is only ever careful under the influence when it's concerning his beloved (Y/N); your very presence brings out a gentleness in him that he rarely shares with any other woman, as you're the only one he can ever see himself with truly.
Aegon is taken from his thoughts when he feels another roll of your hips. He squeezes the soft fat of your ass when he hears you whine into his ear.
"So impatient," he tuts. "Can't even wait for a second before begging for my cock."
Contrary to his teasing, the almost painful tent in his pants indicates he is just as desperate to feel all of you. He hurriedly springs himself free, whispering to you his lewd thoughts that would last you all well into the night.
A hand pulls you backward and into a hard chest. You whimper at the loss of contact as Aemond does not waste a second of stripping you naked, holding his favorite nightgown of yours with one hand. He lifts your dress up and slaps your tits to silence your bratty mouth.
"You'll get your fill sooner if you behave, my heart," he whispers. The smell of alcohol on him was obvious, and it brought out a side of the prince you were always happy to see.
His words and warm breath against your neck made your back arch and hips move for any kind of friction. There you notice he's already shirtless and his pants unbuttoned. He hisses at the feeling of his sensitive head trailing along your slick folds. His length slides back and forth along your pussy as he puts the thin piece of clothing on you. He was even thoughtful enough to get towels and warm water to clean you up later.
Aegon crawls to his knees in front of you to lock his lips along your skin. A hot wet trail makes its way toward a hard nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from the princess.
The sensations bring you to a high no amount of alcohol can give. Despite the cold weather outside, the room feels increasingly warm. You can already feel a sheen of sweat covering you three as you get lost in each other. Your nightgown is pulled up above your breasts, your lips captured by Aemond as he grinds against you from behind, and your tits sucked and worshipped by Aegon and his skilled tongue. You don't know where you start and end. All you wants is to have them close, deep, inside you.
"Aemond, Aegon, please," you beg breathlessly. You gasp as you feel yourself being carried by your legs. You steady yourself by holding onto Aegon's shoulders. Aemond's callous hands grip behind your knees and force your legs apart, exposing your wet cunt. The beautiful sight makes the older prince's cock twitch with need.
"You have a mouth to speak, my love. Best to use it properly, hm?" His voice rumbles from his chest to your back.
Aegon leans forward and teases you with his tip, so close to just having you right there. "Or we could use it for you," he suggests before biting the swollen bottom lip of their beloved little niece.
