Anyone But Him: Eddie Munson

The mentalist - Fic Recommendations

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If you ever wanna be in love -> series based on the rom-com set it up

@youvebeenlivingfictional

The Long Con -> He had given Marnie your name. That was going to be a problem for two reasons: 1. He had no idea if you would ever agree to go to a family wedding with him, let alone fly from D.C. to Texas for it 2. You were just someone he knew from work.

Odd Hours//Getting Even -> You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

Read you like a book -> Marcus Pike gets his chance to be a main character, and for that matter, so do you. Let’s solve some crime.

@lunaserenade

Meet me at Sunrise -> Even FBI Agents need someone to fuss over them.

Feels Like Yesterday Masterlist

Ship: Frankie Morales x Elena Bohannon (OC)

Preview    Inspiration    Playlist     Full Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

One Shots

Coming Soon!

Petitions

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: your family returns to Kings Landing to hear petitions regarding your brother's legitimacy.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: (this got away from me at) 11.3k+

note: i tweaked the timeline in the show a bit to match my own timeline. also it's long, but i need time to plan the next part(s). i hope this suffices!

warnings: spoilers, cursing, (poorly written) smut. basically when Aemond's in the training yard and the court scene. potentially too detailed but that's intentionally for the readers who don't watch the show. descriptions of violence, just a bit more background - marking this as fluff? it's pure filler? again, not edited, canon-level incest, dialogue. ❗️major season one, episode eight spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued

His gaze followed you around your shared room, smirking at your nervous, jerking movements. "You know we've maids for this kind of thing, my love. And you've cleaned three times this night already, I do believe it is as spotless as it will get, sweet girl."

"Okay, well, it's just not right, yet," you rushed, sighing to yourself as you rearranged the pillows on your bed again. "'S just not right, not right, 's gotta be right," you muttered to yourself under your breath.

"Why's that, pet?"

"It's just not, Aemond, please - stop questioning me!"

His hands rose in mock defense from his place in the carved, wooden chair beside the table and before the hearth, watching you for a few more minutes as you moved like a tornado. You picked things up and rearranged them somewhere new. When your busy body moved towards the table he sat at with a pile of books in your hand, he reached out swiftly and wrapped both arms around you - making you briefly panic. He pulled you to his lap, leaving little room for you to wiggle free.

"Aemond - "

"Ease yourself, my sweet wife," he spoke smoothly, loosening his hold to let you turn comfortably on his lap. "The room is absolutely spotless, you need not worry for a thing. And you've been barking at the servants all week to clean the other chambers, I promise, things are where they need to be."

You sighed and leaned over to set the books to the table, picking up his goblet when your hand was free, and leaning your back to his chest. "I do not bark, and you'd stand well not to mock me," you muttered softly, taking a sip of sweet wine.

"I do not mean to," he sighed, nuzzling the skin in front of your ear as you sat somewhat sideways on him. "You are worrying for nought, my sweet love. Please, ease yourself, my busy bee."

"My mother's coming to the Red Keep, Aemond," you refused, head shaking to swirl tresses of silver-white hair. "And it will be the first time in years I've seen her. Please, I only want her to see that we can keep house and feel as if she's raised a proper lady - who knows how to be a wife."

"You do realize it is not our responsibility, sweets, for this is not technically our house," he muttered against your temple, placing a kiss there as you drained his goblet. "It's my mother's house to keep, and she does, so you do not need to worry yourself. Besides, they are not going to stay in our chambers."

"I know," you sighed, finally deflating against his chest. "I just want things in place. I feel in place when things are proper and away."

"They are," he assured softly, letting you lean back into him with a snuggly arm around you. He reached for your goblet and extended his arm to set it to the table's top. "Are you going to meet them?"

"Yes, of course," you assured, reaching up to gently pet his jaw as you pressed your forehead to his neck. "You are to train, are you not?"

He sighed softly, "This morn, pet, yes."

"Will you join us after?" You pouted lightly. "Before we are to hear Lord Vaemond?"

"Perhaps it is not wise for us to visit with your mother before the proceedings," Aemond admitted before he pondered a moment and decided to adjust his answer. "Or at least... It is not wise for me."

"We shall see," you sighed softly, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw as you understood why the meeting would make him uncomfortable. "But you are excused, my love, if that's what you are looking for."

He chuckled, "Hmm, all right. Thank you, my sweet girl. You will find me after, won't you?"

"Oh! Do not tell me it is time to rise already? I have only just sat."

"'Tis time to depart, actually, yes," he mused, leaned in to kiss your lips. You whined lightly, keeping hold of his cheek as your lips adjusted against his; his breathing deepening when his hands tightened their hold on your hips; readjusting your hips so that both legs laid over his lap in a straddle.

"Aemond," you warned half-heartedly when he began to ease you back and forth over his lap, rocking you over his growing bulge.

He sighed, "What if we did not leave this room? Hmm? For the day?"

"We have to, because we are responsible and lead by example," you chuckled lightly, letting your tongue lick over his bottom lip.

"You're not making a valid case, pet," he returned your laughter, tightening his hands so they jolted into your ribs. You lurched forward with laughter, incidentally grinding over on his lap; the both of your breaths catching when he pressed you downward.

"Aemond," you now moaned softly, brows furrowed in concentration as your hands held his jaw and neck for balance. "You know we're needed in the courtyards."

"I think we've a moment or two," he muttered against your lips, breathing the same breath as he lead you back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over his lap. His hips stiffened to raise slightly, fighting back his moan when his cock rode up into your weeping hole. "You vex me, woman," he chuckled breathily, letting his tongue dart out to flex over your neck. "How the Gods have blessed me."

"We will be late, my love," you giggled lightly. "Your mother already blames me for your new late attendance record."

He smirked at you, letting your manicured hand caress his jaw; reveling in the warmth from your fingers, "But you are the reason for our late arrivals, pet. You're irresistible."

"Maybe you're just insatiable."

"Hmm," Aemond considered with a smirk, letting your lips pucker to pepper kisses around his jaw and chin. "Are you trying to distract me, my love? I hate to admit it might be working."

"Perhaps I'd only like to savor another moment with my husband before duty holds our obligations the rest of the day."

He nodded and let his hands fall to the meat of your arse, "Fair point... Should we go back to bed then, my sweet wife?"

"Do not tempt me with a good time," you mocked him, making him laugh and lean forward to peck your lips. "Come," you finally sighed sadly.

"Yeah, all right, c'mon. Mother needs one of her children to be responsible," he agreed, letting you raise off his lap to move around the table so he had room to stand. After taking time to finish getting ready, you both laced on your boots and moved out the door. Like a gentleman, Aemond escorted you to the front landing-courtyard, where you would wait for your mother's envoy; and after a kiss to your lips and a muttered, "I love you," your husband was leaving you there to head for his training session with Ser Criston Cole, Queen's Guard.

In truth, the knight was always polite to you, but you saw his glare when he thought he was concealed. Funny how people think themselves invisible, but in reality, they are glaringly obvious. Your mother had once told you the truth behind the drama she and Cole found themselves in from years ago, and while it wasn't your place to offer judgement, it was obvious now that Cole had never forgiven your mother. Being her daughter, you were the next best thing to take his anger out on. Yet he favored your husband and his obvious skill, so, you were merely endured.

You waited only a few moments before the front gates opened and your mother's carriage was lead into the courtyard, making you perk up; straighten up; hands clasping in front of you as your shoulders straightened. You wanted to show her that she had raised you right and she need not worry - because you were a proper Targaryen lady whilst under the Hightower's heel.

One of the stationed guards called in announcement, "All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

"Mother," you sighed to yourself with sweet relief.

"And her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

"Princess," a maid approached you with hurried steps and a flustered face, "you're needed - "

"Not now," you insisted, wanting to see your mother and nothing more. Even a glance - a simple glimpse of her would suffice right now. You had missed her gravely.

"Please, it is Kasta, Princess - she grows restless and aggressive," the servant rushed in worry. You sighed, nodding at her; taking the skirts of your dress in hand. "Thank you, Princess, thank you - you're the only one who can calm her."

"All right," you tisked, turning from the courtyard and following the young maid away just as your mother's carriage had opened, and she stepped out - catching a simple glimpse of your hurried back and recognizing the tense posture. "What is the matter?" You asked the maid, dodging around different personnel.

"She's refusing anything brought to eat," she explained quietly, "and she grows aggressive as time passes. We do not know what to do anymore, I am sorry for bothering you, Princess."

You huffed, "She's just restless I'd wager, I've not taken her out in a spell. Come, she'll want beef more than venison."

The maid nodded, and together, scurried off with you towards the Dragon Pit. She broke off to consult a local farmer, Mr. Drox, who provided livestock for the royal dragons, and when you reached the Pit, all guards were gathered outside in fear.

"Princess!" They breathed in relief.

"She's all right," you assured, spying the maid leading a fully grown steer closer. "Is she below?"

"No, she's refusing to go down," a guard explained, making you nod.

"Come," you gestured the maid forward. Taking the lead rope, you directed the frightened cow inward; soon spying your emerald dragon as she bellowed in distain. Sand and pebbles fell from the ceiling. "Kasta, easy, easy. What is it, my girl?" You spoke in High Valyrian. "Easy, my sweet girl. Hey, hey, hey," you sassed when she growled at you, "what's all that for, hmm? I know you want to go out, my girl, but soon. I promise, you've got to mind your manners til then, sweetness," you had to pause to turn and heave the steer forward until you could latch the lead rope to the post driven into the sand.

Kasta sniffed the air, cocking her head in curiosity when she understood your offering. Her head swung over to look at you, chittering lightly, and you smiled.

"Yeah," you sighed, "that's all and only for you, sweet girl. Kasta, you need to go down, my girl. Hey? If I offer this steer, will you go down? I will be back in the next few days to take you out. Yes? Is that fair?"

She huffed lightly, shaking her neck and head out before huffing two nostrils of smoke.

"Yeah, that's my good girl," you praised, stepping back to a safe distance. Nodding, you gave her the command to set the horned-cow on fire, listening to it wail in pain for only a few moments before dragon fire engulfed it whole - killing it over.

You watched as your terrible beasty tore the cow apart, listening to the crunch of bone and slurping of flesh before there was nothing but a charred mark in the sand where the cow once stood. You nodded in pride, approaching Kasta's shoulder.

"Good girl," you boasted to her brightly, patting her hide. "Was that enough of an offering? Could you go down now? For me?"

She huffed, and you swore, if dragons could talk, she'd be grumbling to herself like a sassy teenager. You praised the great dragon the entire walk down under the Pit, leaving her in the Dragon Caves so she could curl up in her alcove begrudgingly. "Oh, I know. That's my very good and patient girl," you assured, scratching the scales of her head. "I will be back, and we will stretch your wings, my love. Soon, I swear it." She sighed sadly, a light stream of smoke billowing out. "I know, but today is very important... My brother's lineage is in question, and I must be present for the proceedings."

Her head lifted to tilt at you as if in question.

"I know," you assured with a patient hand. "It's been very stressful. I'll come back and tell you all about it, my sweet. How's that sound?"

Kasta let out a long huff and laid her head down, making you grin with acceptance and give her head a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Patting her scales once more, you bid her a safe night before heading out and discovering the guards still gathered. Still trembling. Still scared out of their minds.

"She's all right," you informed the men with a sigh. "She's under the Pit in the Caves and she will not come out without me. She'll have an attitude, but she's doing well. Leave her be for now."

"Yes, Princess - thank you, Princess."

You nodded in response, wiping your hands on a spare cloth as you moved away from the Pit with a deep sigh; navigating through the city. By position in the sky, you wagered you had spent quite a bit of time there, and when you returned to the Keep, there was a commotion in the training yard that caught your attention.

Slowing your gait while you aimlessly wiped your hands still, you saw your husband in the middle of the commotion - but it was Ser Cole that was posing the challenger. You paused at your vantage point in the causeway to watch, not wincing like you used to as Cole took fatal swings because Aemond was truly a gifted warrior. You used to worry, but there was no use now.

Aemond was just too good.

At the end, your husband had flipped his sword in hand to position at Cole's thick, pale neck - signaling the end of the match. This earned a round of applause from the lingering bystanders, and for the Queen's sworn sword to compliment, "Well done, my Prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

As you descended the stairs leading into the yard, you heard Aemond respond, "I don't give a shit about tourneys. My wife is all the prize I need. Nephews," he directed, sword hilt twirling effortlessly in his hand as his eye shifted over to the crowd, "have you come to train?"

But luck served its purpose, and a guard was shouting, "Open the gate!"

You sighed as you reached the crowd, passing a few drooling Ladies of the court to stalk up to your husband. Approaching his flank, you reached for his elbow first; his head snapping over but relaxing when he took in your face.

"My love," he greeted calmly, smirking gently, "I did not think to see you so soon. Did you catch the show?"

"I did," you nodded, smiling up at him. "You did well, my Prince. It was very impressive, indeed." You leaned up a bit to speak in his ear, "But you'll do well not to challenge my brothers like that again, yes?"

He nodded to you, "As you wish, pretty girl. Have you been to see your mother?"

"Not yet," you sighed, "I was called away to the Pit, Kasta was restless and the guards grew fearful."

"Hmm," he nodded once, easing his arm around your waist tightly as the gates had been wrenched open and your Uncle Vaemond's entourage entered into the Red Keep - waving the blue Velaryon banners. You sighed as Aemond took up a shield, his attention turned to the marching procession and unable to fight off his taunting smirk.

"Aemond," you sighed, jabbing his ribs with your elbow.

"What?" He asked innocently, another smirk in place.

"Behave yourself, please," you sighed, seeing Cole readying for a new fight. Leaning in, you held his waist to peck his lips, "Good luck, my Prince."

"Thank you, sweet girl," he whispered, smirking down at you before stealing his own kiss, and pulling away as he readied his sword. "My wins are in your name, of course."

"And your losses?" You teased him as you backed away a few paces, hearing him chuckle.

"I have none, Princess," he assured with a curt nod, which you understood was more of a wink for him. At least, between the two of you, that's what you understood.

Aemond relied on mostly nonverbal communication and after being married for a few years now, you could read him like you did Valyrian.

You sighed to yourself with a small grin as you approached your brothers, greeting, "Oh, who are these handsome lads? Surely not my wee brothers? All but scrawny last I saw them!" They turned swiftly and grinned at you, breathing your name as they both surged forward to latch onto you in greeting. One set of arms around your neck and the other around your waist. You laughed as you hugged them back, "Oh, my sweet boys! How good it is to see you, hold you again. Ah!"

"It is good to see you, too, sister," Jace beamed; you could hear it in his voice. The two pulled back to face you in full, and your hand reached to caress your younger brother's nervous face.

"Yes, I am glad you're here, too," Luke nodded after, glancing at his brother.

"Oh, worry not, my boy," you sighed, your thumb rubbing the skin of his chin, "for we all know you are the rightful heir to Driftmark, but because Lord Corlys does not have an obvious heir right now, this is just protocol. Though, because grandfather already settled this, I'd not worry at all, Lucerys," you reached for his shoulder then, giving it a squeeze. "You are not standing alone, and you know if it would help and come down to it, I will stand for you."

"You will?" he whispered, small tears gathering in his eyes. "I could not ask that of you..."

"I would never let you stand alone, Luke," you smiled. "Or you, Jace, ever. You both will always have me on your side," you nodded at your other brother. "Though people like to whisper, we share the same blood, and to our mother, the Heir to the Throne, and grandsire, current King, you are her true born sons. That is all that matters, my loves," you spoke with reassurance. "Now, might you want to sneak into the kitchens this me? I hear they're making lemon cakes..."

"Oh! Let's go," Jace beamed, nudging his brother into action. Either boy took your hand, and felt your husband's eye on your retreating form. For the following hours, you and your brothers pursued around the Red Keep with lemon cakes, meeting with your cousins, the Ladies Rhaena and Baela; all reminiscing on shared memories and fond moments from your childhood.

They asked how your life was in the Red Keep, and while you assure all four that you were okay, you smiled sadly as you told them that you missed them all dearly. They filled you in on what your mother was up to, how your step father, Daemon, faired; what they were learning, and how life was treating them as of late.

Rhaena still did not yet have a dragon, but you knew it could not be long before she had one to claim.

Baela was doing well, all things considered.

And outside of this legitimacy fiasco, your brothers were well, too.

When the time for the court proceedings drew nearer, Aemond found you in the Godswood with the other four. "Love," he called, stalking towards you stiffly.

"Oh, Aemond," you smiled.

"Though I hate to interrupt, we're needed, love," he nodded at you with meaning, and you understood.

Again, you knew how to read your husband incredibly well.

"Right," you nodded at him, letting his hand take yours as you turned to your brothers and cousins slash step-sisters. "I will see you lot in the throne room, yes?"

"We'll be there," Jace nodded, glancing at Aemond - who only watched you. "Thank you for the hospitality, sister."

"It is always a pleasure to host you, my siblings," you spoke softly, winking at them with a smile before letting Aemond lead you away. When you exited the Godwood with your dress' skirts in hand to save you from tripping, you asked, "I imagine the Queen has summoned us?"

"She wants a word before the court proceedings begin, yes," Aemond nodded, sighing sadly. "How are your brothers, my dear?"

"Good, thank you for asking," you whispered, smiling up at him. "It is good to see them. And my step-sisters are doing well, too."

"That is good news. It is good to see you so happy," he nodded, readjusting his hold on your hand so you stepped closer all the slightly. "Mother will want us to change before court."

"Saw that coming," you teased. "Wanna match?"

"Hm, what color are you thinking, love?"

"Black," you smirked, making him paused before his mother's chambers to chuckle. "You look very handsome in black."

"Deal," he winked, pecking your forehead as he knocked at the door. When it opened, Ser Cole was on the other side, and let you pass through the open doors.

"The Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N, Your Grace," he announced to your step-mother, who paced in front of the fireplace.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," she thanked, dismissing him, and leaving you three alone. "Would you like to sit?" She offered softly, gesturing to the seating before the fire.

Like you always did, you let Aemond take the reins when talking to his mother. "No, thank you, Mother. We are going to change before the trials, after this meeting."

"'Tis not a trial, Aemond, but only accounts we are hearing. Petitions," Alicent Hightower nodded to herself. "Speaking of, my Lady, might I ask which position you intend to take?"

Knowing now was the time, you assured the King's wife, "The same position I plan to always take, Your Grace. That of my husband."

She nodded once, "Good. That is good to hear."

"Though, should I need to, I am prepared to come to my brother's defense," you spoke strongly, feeling Aemond stiffen slightly. "I do not intend for it, but should my Uncle Vaemond want to drawl me into his petition, trying to cite me, again, as absurd evidence, then I am prepared to support the Prince Lucerys' claim."

Alicent offered a solemn smile, "I would expect little else, dear girl. Very well, then..."

"If it's any peace of mind, Your Grace, I do not intend to stray from my husband's side. It is only if I am forced to, that I am prepared to defend my brother. And I only expect my Uncle Vaemond to do such, my mother nor brother would never."

"I understand," Alicent offered a smile. "Thank you for your honesty."

"Of course, Your Grace," you nodded, bowing to her after.

"If question of my wife's loyalties was all, Mother, we're going to take our leave to change before hearing these... Petitions," Aemond spoke with a hardened tick he rarely took with his mother, cocking his head slightly at the end.

"All right, yes, go on," she dismissed, waving you both out as she turned to resume her nervous pacing. You would've asked if she was all right, but decided against it.

"Everything all right, my love?" You asked when the door shut behind you and Aemond - him tugging you towards your rooms. "Hey, hey, hey, hang on a bit, my legs don't move as fast as yours, love!"

He slowed his gait, sighing lightly, "Sorry, sweet girl. Forget how fast I move sometimes."

"Yeah, 's all right, love, but are you all right?" You asked again. "Got a bit lippy with your Mum, didn't you?"

"Well, she does this often enough," he seethed slightly. "Questions your loyalties even after all these years. It's fucking ridiculous."

"She questioned my mother, she'll question me," you sighed, not wanting to stir him up. "I do not wish to say it is okay, but in a strange way, I do understand it."

"Shouldn't have to," he grumbled, arriving at your chamber doors and pushing them open.

"Well, it's our reality," you rebutdtaled as you moved past him to enter your rooms. "Is that truly what plagues you, husband?" You wondered gently after he shut the door, hands to your hips.

"For now," he sighed. "How was your mother?"

"I told you, I haven't been able to see her yet," you admitted. "I was gathered before I could see her to deal with Kasta."

"Yes... What was wrong, again?" He wondered softly, moving to select something more appropriate for your time in court.

"She is annoyed with me," you chuckled, stripping from your dress to favor the new black gown you chose to wear. "She wants to fly but I have not had time as of late."

"Hmm."

"I will take her out soon," you promised your husband as your had your dragon. "There's more on my mind currently."

He nodded, fixing a new tunic and jerkin on over his pale torso. "Things like your brother's standing as Lord of the Tides?"

You huffed before snapping, "He's the rightful heir, I do not know why this is suddenly back in bloody question. I'm sure mother's been overwhelmed with this, and I have not been there to aid her."

"Why would she be stressed?"

"How would you feel if your children's birth was called into question around every fucking corner?" You sent him a hardened look, pausing your ministrations to stare at him with malcontent. Your eyes dared him to argue with you.

"Well... When you look like you, and they look like them... Love," he sighed, pleading for you to see his reason.

"You act as if our familial traits cannot do funny things through bloodlines and time," you snipped, crossing your arms. "The Gods favored me only by allowing me white hair and the paler complexion of my father - and the boys were not so lucky. That does not make them any less Targaryen, Aemond, and I will not have this argument with you again!"

Aemond sighed and wanting to placate your ebbing and waning anger, agreed, "You are right, my love. I'm sorry for pushing."

"It's all right," you sighed, shaking your head as you went back to work, "it's not like I'm stupid or blind. I know we look different, but it does not mean that we do not share the same blood."

"No," he nodded, reaching for you to help lace up your gown. "But for now, they will plead their petitions - "

"Uncle Vaemond is the only one with a fucking petition because Luke is the rightful heir," you corrected.

"Right," he nodded in agreement, patting your waist when he was done lacing you in. "Ready, pet?"

"In a moment, yes," you sighed, reaching for a new, extravagant jewelry set - one Aemond had gifted you on your name day, the first one you shared together after you took his last name as your own.

When you were in your new gown and boots and your jewels attached properly, and your husband was changed into a new tunic, jerkin, and trousers with boots; you laced your hands together, and out the door you went. There was a growing crowd outside the courtroom, and as you drew nearer, the procession was halted to allow you passage first.

Your husband's name was announced first, and then your own; letting the two of you descend into the courtroom together. Behind you, other patrons were allowed entrance after you were a distance inside. You saw your mother and brothers standing there, smiling at her before taking your place at Aemond's side behind his family. You saw your name form on your mother's lips before she was returning your smile, only looking away when Otto Hightower, your step-grandsire and Hand of the King, took his place in front of the Iron Throne.

How wrong it looked to spy a Hightower at the legendary Throne, but you knew he was only exercising his common occupancy of being a placeholder. With the thought in mind, you let your hand press to Aemond's stomach as his hand curled around your waist; turning your attention, obediently, towards the front of the courtroom. Aegon, Helaena, and Alicent stood in front of you both, but neither you nor Aemond seemed to mind; as the second row provided optimal viewing.

Otto's voice boomed over all as he started the proceedings, "Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He turned slightly to guide himself to the edge of the Throne's seat. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

"Oh, Gods, here we go," you whispered, your husband smirking and tightening his arm as your great-uncle stepped forward to the attention of the courts.

"Shh," Aemond shushed quietly with a smirk stretching across his lips to assure you he was entirely entertained by the events.

"My Queen," Vaemond greeted Alicent first with a respectful nod of his head. "My Lord Hand," he addressed Otto. "The history of our noble Houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our Houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name..." His voice raised to address the whole of the court, and Aemond's hand curled and pet over your waist in an effort to soothe you. "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

You wanted to protest, but your mother, ever the protective Mama Bear, spoke first with interjection, "As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your House's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition."

Without missing a single beat, Queen Alicent was calling, "You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

You lifted your chin with a clenched jaw, watching your mother's head turn from Alicent to stare forward again, as Vaemond's smug face turned to stare her down. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess, outside of your only daughter?" He sneered, making Aemond's arm constrict to pulled you a step closer so you were nearly standing on top of his feet. This was what he feared, you being pulled in, but you remained silent with a hand pressed flat to your husband's chest. "I could cut our veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it." Your mother nodded, as if making a mental note of the insults he projected - not missing the veiled threat to you. "This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours."

You let out a soft huff when you could see Luke's face full of fear, looking down to your feet for a moment to recenter yourself; Aemond's thumb rubbing with reassurance - something that Daemon, your step father, clocked from his position across the way. Your hand briefly pet down his chest to then rest against his stomach again, an effort to remain close... To remain safe.

Your Uncle Vaemond turned from glowering smugly at your mother and her family, to then face the front of the room again, addressing, "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition." You missed the way your brothers glared at your husband, who stared back with unnerve, because your own violet eyes glared at your father's uncle. "I place the continuation of the survival of my House and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

You sighed through your nose as Otto called, "Thank you, Ser Vaemond." There was a sickly pause as Vaemond nodded, your mother looking like she was visibly trembling; and your brother-by-law looked far too pleased and amused by the proceedings. Aemond kept his usual mask of neutrality, but his arm was heavy around you as your feet shifted your weight. "Princess Rhaenyra," Otto called, "you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

You smiled softly as your mother stepped up in a gorgeous black gown that had red and gold embroidery around the hemlines; coming to a halt in the middle of the courtroom to be presented. Her hands discreetly caressed the front of her pregnant belly.

"Never have I witnessed a man threaten a Princess so boldly and get away with it," she spat towards Vaemond, "and if you ever speak of my daughter again, I will ensure it be the last time you speak. Now..." She faced the front again. "If I am to grace this farce with some answer," she spat again, as she could not hold back her temper from Otto or Alicent, "I will start by reminding the court," but behind her, the throne room's door opened with a heavy clang, "that nearly 20 years ago, in this very cour - " She cut herself off, turning with shock to spy who had entered the room during an official hearing, but never did anyone imagine the late arriving newcomer.

Two guards opened the doors, and two more entered first, with only one announcing, "King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name," your mother's head snapped over to catch your eyes, both of you sharing a look of utter shock, "King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men." Otto rose from his seat on the Iron Throne slowly, staring with disbelief as your mother's father, your husband's father, your grandsire used a cane to help him hobble into the room. "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

The entire courtroom bowed in respect as nobody could believe their eyes; having the impression that King Viserys, the Peaceful, was not soon for the world. Yet here he was, dressed in his robes, golden face mask in place to his the injuries his illness has left, and with a decades-old, ancestral crown sat on his balding head, limping into the throne room. Yes, he limped severely, and yes, he required a cane, but by the Gods, this was something akin to a miracle.

You felt tears of pride swelling in your eyes, knowing the babe you grew in your womb would wreck havoc on your emotions, and in an effort to not give anyone reason to question your tears, willed them away. But it was a powerful moment to watch your grandsire, and technically, father-by-law, show the court that he is not yet done with this world, and what an entrance to make.

You knew that with Viserys present, there was no real need for Rhaenyra to give her petition. However, your eyes clocked the way Vaemond looked from the Queen to the Hand with distraught, disbelieving confusion. Your eyes cut over and met that of your step-father, your single brow perking in conversation; and he subtly gave a nod of his head before turning back to watching Viserys.

But it was obvious both you and Daemon had noticed the same motions and figured it meant Vaemond had struck some deal with the Hightowers prior to the current court hearing.

How interesting, indeed.

With worry, you asked quietly to Aemond, "Should one of us help him?"

"No, sweet girl, 's all right," he assured in your ear. "Father's a proud man," he let his forehead rest against your temple; finding your kindness a breath of fresh air in the otherwise tangibly tense room.

Aemond eventually took both of your hands in your own as if to keep you anchored at his side, but your body had turned to watch the King; and as his sunken, dried, deadened eye turned, your grandsire caught sight of your encouraging smile amongst a sea of envious Green - who all provided unsure looks of shock.

A few steps later, and he saw the relieved look on his beloved daughter's face - and Viserys knew, he made the right choice in coming today.

When he leveled with Otto, the King breathed through a wheeze, "I will sit the Throne today."

You had to hold your breath to resist the scream of laughter and excitement you wanted to give. What a moment - what a fucking moment to bear witness to. And by the small smirk on your husband's lips when his gaze darted down to meet your eyes, he was feeling something akin to pride. Aemond let loose a small snort of air out of amusement, patting your hip before gripping it once more.

"Your Grace," Otto agreed, stepping away as the King tried to make it up the stairs by himself and his cane.

The whole hall echoed the the thumps of his cane and groans, moans, and grunts of determination - as well as unfiltered pain. When his guards tried to help, King Viserys refused help, and only made it a few shuffles on his feet before the crown on his thinning head clattered to the stone floor.

But tears sprung to your eyes involuntarily when Daemon stepped up beside his brother and picked up his ancestral, golden crown.

Viserys, again, tried to refuse aid, but when he saw his brother's patient face and heard his whispered encouragement, the King allowed his brother to help him. Such a moment you were feeling privileged to witness, because what a moment it was - to see Daemon, the once scorned, reckless Prince of the City, who had been disinherited as Viserys' heir in favor of your mother, Rhaenyra, helping his weakened, sickly brother up to take his seat on the Iron Throne. He then placed the golden crown to his head, taking a moment to absorb his brother's very being, and then turn to head off the Throne's pedestal.

Daemon returned to your mother's side on the court's floor; both taking their posts around their children as your hand slid into Aemond's to hold in a vice. Viserys readjusted in his seat as your husband didn't care for your positioning, pulling you closer by your waist and settling there.

Through panting breath, Viserys called to the court, "I must... Admit... My confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. Only one present... Who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

All eyes, including yours, turned to look at your grandmother - who stood with her ward, Rhaena, who was Daemon and your aunt, Laena Velyaron's, daughter. Baela, their other daughter, had chose to remain, it seems, with her father and step-mother.

Princess Rhaenys is married to Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, where the two shared two children - you aunt Laena, and your father, Laenor; both of whom were deceased. Now, with Lord Coryls' severe wounds, it seems only his wife can provide proper insight to what his wishes are following his death.

Gods forbid it came to that...

Inclining her head, your grandmother, who was years ago passed over to succeed the Iron Throne in favor of your grandsire, Viserys, agreed, "Indeed, Your Grace." With a solemn look to her brother-by-law, Vaemond, she moved for the center of the court. When she came to a halt, she kept her voice even and diplomatic, "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him." You noticed her words drew the attention of the Greens, remaining silent. "As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena." You noted the looks your brothers offered your mother, smirking gently. "A proposal to which I heartily agree."

Your stepmother shook her head in displeasure, and you realized, while Vaemond had sought the Queen and Hand's council, your mother had alined herself with Princess Rhaenys - and it was checkmate.

Your mother had the upper hand, and now with the Princess' words, you knew she had solidified her son's position. Well played, Mother...

"Well... The matter is settled," Viserys decided. "Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon," heads turned to look at the boy, "as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

Hearing Viserys wheeze in punctuation, Rhaenys turned from her place, sending a small smirk to Rhaenyra, and moved back towards her granddaughter, your cousin and step-sister, Rhaena.

But the matter was far from settled.

"You break law..." Vaemond seethed, stepping up to the King's attention, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... Who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon... No... I will not allow it," he hissed in anger.

"'Allow it'?" Viserys repeated. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

You flinched gently when Vaemond turned to point an accusatory finger at your younger brother, "THAT is no true Velaryon," he turned back to the King, "and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," you mother demanded of your brothers. To Vaemond, she directed, "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," Viserys reiterated. "And you... Are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You... May run your House as you see fit... But you will not decide the future of mine. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides!" He growled. His head whipped around to glare at Rhaenyra. "And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this - " He took a breath to finish his sentence but pursed his lips, reminding him that he was in the presence of the King. He held his tongue.

Across the way, you saw your step-father challenge under his breath, "Say it."

Your spine straightened as Aemond's hand rubbed deftly up and down in assurance, everyone waiting for Vaemond's next words. Even Viserys cocked his head as he waited with a pant to his lungs.

"Her children," Vaemond started quietly - but all still heard him, "are BASTARDS!"

"Hey, hey," Aemond whispered, both arms around you when you shifted in place - wanting to throw some punches, but your husband restrained you.

Anger shifted around your family, both boys doing little to hide their disrespect; you doing little to hide your acute anger. Daemon caught your eye and you saw him raise a silent finger, sighing, and relaxing into Aemond's chest. He even breathed a sigh of relief when you did, pressing a quick peck to your temple as if to thank you for backing down - saving him from a fight.

"And she..." Vaemond turned forward to tell the King, "Is... A whore."

The crowd gasped, Aemond smirked, and his arms tightened around you - despite your frozen shock. Truth of the matter was that both Laenor and Daemon had taken time to train you themselves on Dragonstone with a sword, so, you felt as if your odds at taking on the older Velaryon were better than most.

But your attention turned towards the King as he hobbled from his Throne with a hefty glare. "I..." He breathed, yanking his dagger free from his belt, but your eyes watched Daemon as he moved stoically, almost invisible to the court as they were all waiting for Viserys' judgement; the King panting, "Will have your tongue for that!"

Before you could yell not to, your step-father had unsheathed his sword and expertly cleaved Dark Sister to slice clean through Vaemond's head. You flinched some and Aemond turned his body to turn you away from the sight, blood splattering across the floor. Helaena and Alicent turned away, too, Aemond seemingly unable to look away, as Aegon only turned his head to the side with disgust.

When the dead body hit the floor with a squelch, you could see that Daemon had sliced clean through the man's skull - and only his jaw and tongue were attached - the latter flopping to the side uselessly. Standing above the body, Daemon glared down at him with Dark Sister planted to the ground, his hands folded over the hilt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon leered.

"DISARM HIM!" Otto snapped back into his senses from shock, hollering to the King's Guard; making a chorus of unsheathing swords sing.

"No need," Daemon brushed off casually, catching your eye to drop a quick, reassuring wink as he lifted his blade to wipe it clean while he moved back for his wife's side - ever the protective husband.

But you seemingly heard him first, and caught sight of Viserys' strength failing him, "Alicent - the King," you rushed to tell her.

Her head snapped around as Viserys collapsed, moaning in discomfort. "Call the Maesters!" She cried, a hand briefly squeezing your forearm in thanks before rushing up the stairs to catch her husband's failing figure.

"Father?" Rhaenyra stepped up, and while you wanted to rush for her, the King was the most pressing matter, and you paused at Aemond's side. Though the King never truly showed his sons love, you knew in some twisted way that he did; and so did Aemond in that moment, for his face showed concern while you felt his body tense.

You turned to press into his side, under his tight arm, and with your hand flat to his chest, muttered, "'S all right, love. He's got help."

He nodded mutely at you, trying to relax as a guard took Viserys under his arm - the Maester racing to the scene, and together, they helped the groaning King down from his Throne. You pet over your husband's chest as the King was escorted away, leaving Queen Alicent before the Throne, and Rhaenyra at the base of the pedestal.

How odd to see... Alicent standing above Rhaenyra. Green above Black. Hightower above the mighty Dragon.

The turn of the tide was soon to crash over the House of the Dragon, and from the image before you, you worried the Hightowers would topple the structure of your beloved family. Aemond sighed heavily, his head tilted towards your ear. "C'mon, my love. Please."

You sighed and let his hand tangle with yours, waiting for dismissal - but after the King leaves, there is little need to linger. You could not yet speak to your mother, step-father, brothers, or cousins, but you managed to catch your mother's eyes - nodding once, to which she returned the motion, and then Aemond was striding out of the hall with you in tow. His siblings might've followed, you're unsure, because your feet had to jog to catch up with your husband's elongated strides.

When you got to your chambers, he ushered you inside and shut the door before locking it. "Aemond?" You asked in a breath.

"What was that?" He asked, starting to pace the length of your room. "What the bloody hell was that? Huh!?"

"Aemond, calm yourself a moment to explain to me what you're on about."

"That!" He roared, hand held up in gesture.

"Sadly, that was just Daemon being Daemon. He's rash, my love, and has always operated by his own want, merit, and doing. He cares very little for political politeness. Even when he was heir after Viserys, before my mother, he was ruthless. He's calmed down considerably, but he is still brash. Do not let Daemon startle you - "

"I am not startled."

"Then what is this?" You asked, sighing with a gesture towards him.

"It is strange, is it not? That he can behave in such a manner?"

"He's the King's brother," you shrugged a bit.

"I am the King's son," he snapped, "and yet when his grandsons attack me, he favored them over me. Even after I was disfigured! What am I doing wrong? Hey? His brother is allowed to openly murder a man, yet I lose an eye without consequence, and for what?"

"Vaemond Velaryon offered deep, troubling, public insult to the crown heir of this kingdom," you snapped. "Nevermind he also seemed to have threatened your wife, my dear husband! Mind your fucking manners for that is still my mother and our future Queen you speak of. Vaemond decided to raise ill word to her, insulting her seed, insulting the King's seed, threatening to make me bleed, and Daemon does not handle disrespect well." You were enraged, but your heart also shattered in your chest for your husband. You stepped up so you could take his hands in your own, "But I am so sorry for what happened years ago, Aemond, I truly am, my sweet love." His hands tore from yours in favor of squeezing your waist closer to him. "It is not fair and justice was never served for your injuries, but I implore you to see that this jealousy will not get you anywhere. You forget, my young brother is heir after my mother, and my brother after is heir to Driftmark. But I, my sweet, am heir to Dragonstone. When the time is right, you and I can be away from this political foolishness and have our own homestead to rule over. You will not always endure being a second son, because you will be Lord of Dragonstone. Hmm? We will not always have reason to play by everyone else's rules."

He sighed, chuckling lightly after, "Aye, you know how to soothe me, don't you?"

"I'd be a pretty terrible wife if I did not," you teased softly. "Vaemond made a mistake, my love, and while I will not justify Daemon, I cannot say I am surprised. He is not named the Rogue Prince for nought. But I do know there will be no consequences to his actions."

"And how fair does that seem, wife?"

"It is not, husband," you sighed, "but there is little to be done."

"Like there was little to be done when I lost my eye?"

You frowned, caressing his cheek softly before reaching for both his eye patch and hair clip; releasing his silver locks first. His eye closed and his head bowed some to then let you lift the leather patch from his face. "Would you look at me? Please?" You asked softly, caressing his cheek again to let your thumb run over the under side of his scar softly. When his violet eye met your amethyst orbs, he shuddered a small breath. "The loss of your eye is truly unfortunate, and I cannot extend my deepest sympathies for it. But it does not take away from you," you let your eyes rake over the injury, the sapphire he liked to put in his bare socket almost winking at you in the torchlight. "I find you incredibly beautiful, my sweet husband." Your eyes moved to his, "And nothing is going to change my love for you. Eye or no eye... So long as your love remains mine, I do not wish for anything else. You are all I need in a husband, in a partner," his hands tightened to a bruising strength, pressing you against his front - and growing bulge, "and I love you exactly the way you are."

Aemond, a man of little words, surged forward to lock your lips in a searing kiss; earning a high-pitched whine from you. His arms locked around you, your hands gripping his neck as if he was the only thing keeping you upright. Aemond felt emotion swell in his chest and started to back you up towards the bed; leaning you down to sit on the bed, hands locked in your hair.

He smirked when your teeth pulled over his bottom lip, letting it snap back into place. "Lay back," he ordered quietly, aiding you by means of guiding your legs up to help you push back on the bed. His smirk didn't falter as he unlaced your boots and then pulled them off, caressing your bare feet after pulling your stockings off. His hands then moved up your calves, pushing the skirts of your dress up as he went. With your feet planted, he pushed your knees apart and let your skirts fall up your hips.

He let his gaze rake over you, his nose exhaling a deep sigh.

Your head cocked slightly, asking as you reached for him, "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," he assured swiftly, pausing to start unlacing his leather jerkin. "Just appreciating the view of my stunning wife."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbows, smiling at him, "You know this view well, do you not?"

"I will not tire of it," he nodded, finally ridding his upper half naked, much to your appreciation. "I do swear you get more beautiful as time passes. How blessed I am."

Sliding yourself to sit up, you let your hair tumble around one shoulder as you watched him. When he moved towards you again, you held a hand in pause to him, making him halt in wonder as you explained, "The pants, too, my Lord."

He smirked, "You do not wish to dispose of them yourself?"

"I want to watch you," your voice lowered, standing from the bed only to pull all your under clothes off from underneath your skirts. Dropping them at his feet, you looked him up and down as prey did predator before moving for the spare table. Pouring yourself a goblet of wine, you moved back for the bed to sit, cross your bare legs, and take a hefty sip as your brows perked. With your eyes watching your husband, you prompted, "Well? Do you mean to disobey your wife? I did not think I'd have to ask twice."

His fingers slowly, tauntingly, yanked at the leather strings of his trousers; never once breaking eye contact with you as you took another gulp. In the effort to finish your cup before he was done, you took another drawl as Aemond yanked the hips of his britches open; then shucking them from his hips.

Your head cocked with a tease, swallowing another mouthful of sweet wine as he tugged the leather trousers down his muscular thighs, and then finally, down around his calves.

"Keep going," you whispered, his hands pulling his boots free, tossing them to the side; and then finishing by freeing his legs, tossing his leather pants away. They landed near his boots, but still, his eye did not break free from yours. You finished your wine.

Slowly, your tongue licked between the seam of your lips, tasting the sweet Dornish wine Aemond preferred. You hummed lightly, smirking at your husband, making him prompt, "And now, my Princess?" He took confident steps forward, making your legs uncross to spread and welcome him. "What would you have of me, wife?"

"On your knees," you whispered when his face hovered over yours. He took the goblet from your hands and let it clatter to the floor.

"Hmm. On your back first, love," he purred in response, making you smile when his hands swiftly bunched your skirts up to your waist, lowering himself as he went until he was perfectly level with your bare cunt. He breathed across your lower wetted lips, taking a tasting lick. He hummed, "Just as I thought you could not be more perfect. Gods, you taste delectable, my sweet girl."

Before you could speak his name in reprimand, he opened his mouth, and dove tongue first into your weeping heat. All that fell from your lips were breathless moans and his name chanted like a prayer; legs spreading wider to accommodate his broad shoulders while your head tipped back in pleasure.

With desperate fingers, you pulled at your dress to free your arms and wrangle from the garment; his hand instantly shooting up your body to palm your breast with near relief, kneading it with fervor. His mouth engulfed the whole of your cunt, moving both tongue and jaw to lap at the juices you secreted from arousal.

He hummed against your clit, tongue messily wagging back and forth; hand tight on your tit, the other holding your hip in place. "Aemond," you begged shrilly, without breath; mind lost to his ministrations. Your hand tightened in his free flowing locks. "Wait, wait, wait," you panted, over come by the feeling he provided you. But he bore down, keeping you in place, and the hand that had once twisted your nipple dropped to sweep against your weeping hole.

With a wanton cry from you, his fingers pushed in, and the combined pressure of his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly with his lips sucking on your puckered clit sent you to heaven.

A warm flushed your body, and your blood began to sing as you were overwhelmed with the adrenaline rush - gasping for Aemond, hands fisting his hair, and keeping him close to your cunt; resulting in you releasing over his mouth, chin, and fingers.

"Ah, that's it," he praised, not relenting his finger's motions to only glance up at you, "keep going, my sweet girl, that's it. Good girl, yes," he gazed back at your cunt, speeding his fingers up when your back arched, and a moment later, a second wave crashed and Aemond was laughing as you squirted over him - again.

"Ae-Aemond," you pleaded brokenly, nearly wriggling with pleasure.

"One more, one more, one more," he grunted, one arm now holding your hips down as the other rapidly spurred into you to prod at that spongy-good spot within your walls. His drool dripped onto your puffy clit before he descended to suck his lips over you. "Yes, yes, yes, good girl, that's it, fucking soak me, go on, yes, that's my girl, one more, one more," he praised in a chant, holding you down as your hips bucked and for a final time, spewed over your husband's chin and chest.

"Oh, my Gods," you panted, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes involuntarily; chest heaving as your legs felt limp, yet simultaneously alight with a buzz. "N-No more, please. Gods..."

"Yeah? You all right, precious girl?" He chuckled, crawling up your body. He paused for a moment to finally yank your dress off you; raising your hips to help him before crashing back to the bed.

"Yeah," you panted still. "Gods, where did that come from, hey?"

"You're surprised?" he chuckled, laying beside you a moment; letting his head dip down to kiss your neck.

"No," you admitted, chuckling a bit. "Just not used to it, yet."

"Your body sings for me, pet," he whispered, letting his tongue rake up sweaty skin. After biting at your throat gently, he wondered, "Got another in you?"

"Anything for you, my Prince," you whispered, petting his cheek to raise his lips to yours. He groaned when your teeth bit his lip, making him press harder into you; bare, throbbing cock pressing into your hip. "Aemond," you begged, reaching for his twitching member; hearing his breath sharpen and stagger.

"On your stomach, sweetheart," he smirked, petting down your waist. When you felt his hand purposefully skate across your lower stomach, you worried he felt the change in your body.

"Maybe not," you pouted some.

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly.

Your hand laid over his, curling around it to hold. "Well, I'm soon to start my cycle and I believe the fish the other night wasn't good. I just feel bloated, not myself."

He hummed, "Do you feel unwell?"

"No."

"Then it is of no concern to me because you know you're perfect in my eyes," he chuckled a bit, leaning in to kiss you fully. "Let me fuck you, pretty girl."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever my Lord husband wants," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, easing from under his body to plant your feet on the ground but lay your stomach on the bed, giving your hips a quick wiggle. "Hmm?"

"Good girl," he growled, wasting no time in leaping off the bed after you; planting his feet between yours, and after giving a single sweep of his cock up your slick, he pushed his hips forward until fully sheathed inside you. The both of you moaned, and while you thought your husband often insatiable, you would not get used to his size nor girth; often craving it.

You panted beneath him, feeling his hands move from your hips to waist to your back and then your hair and to your shoulders then to waist, again. All the while, as if energized by something you could not see, his hips hammered into the back of yours; making your hands fist your sheets in tune to his low, growling grunts.

You begged his name as if for relief, but it fell on deaf ears.

Aemond was chasing his orgasm now (that had built all day), letting his fingers find your clit to rapidly toy with it; feeling your knees buckle into the side of the mattress. You let your face screw up slightly as your orgasm was damn-near blinding, nearly collapsing into the bed as Aemond's hands seized your hips to hump all the hard, all the faster.

"FUCK!" You shouted from a twinge of pain, feeling him stretching you - prodding into spots deep within your walls, and feeling your pleasure mount to new heights. Your hands once held the sheets now shot back to grab at his forearms, trying to alleviate the pressure you felt, but he did not falter - nor slow - his hammering hips.

"That's it, I know you can fucking take it, like a good fucking girl," Aemond snarled, one hand holding your hips as the other reached out to wrap in your hair and yank back. Your back bowed and your chest rose; a guttural moan ripping from your throat with near pain from the pull to your scalp. But when you were close enough, his arm helped adjust you; one hand in your hair as the other wrapped around your chest. His hips did not falter in their movements, that now pounded into you upwards. "That's my girl," his lips spoke in your ear, wetting the shell of it before giving a scrape of his teeth. "Always so fucking good for me, so wet and willing. Just sucking me in, Seven fucking Hells."

"Aemond," you whimpered now, almost delirious as one of your hands drifted down your body to finger your clit while the other helped you keep your position.

"Get there, my love," he encouraged, licking at your neck. "C'mon, pretty girl. Get there, I feel you squeezing me - lemme fucking feel you gush all over me."

It did not take long, and within a few strokes, you were tumbling over the cliffside; Aemond following only a few moments after to paint your inner walls with his hot ropes of cum. You both let yourselves fall forward to the bed, and your husband did his best to hold his balance off of you. But his chest rose and fell with trepidation, making you reach back to pet over his cheek.

His hair was damp from sweat, your own no real different.

Aemond heaved for breath as he pulled his softening cock from your cunt, shoving himself up the bed before reaching for you, and yanking you up by grabbing under your arms. You whined, naturally, but settled when he had laid you against his chest; pausing only to readjust comfortably against him, one leg hitching over his hips. "Please tell me we are done for the day?" You sighed against his flushed chest, manicured nail tracing patterns over his breast. "We're not needed elsewhere, right?"

"I believe we're done for the day, yes, my love," he sighed softly, kissing your forehead.

"Hmm," you nodded, playfully nipping at his pebbled nipple.

"Hey, now. Do not tempt me, I will take you again right now."

You grinned up at him when his arm tightened. But before you could say anything, there was a (dreaded) knock at your door. "Prince Aemond?" A servant called through the wood, making your head fall to his chest with a defeated sigh.

Your husband huffed and grumbled a curse while sitting up to yank a blanket from the bottom of your bed; swiftly covering both of your lower halves with your chest pressed to his side for protection.

"Come in," he lazily demanded, laying back to the headboard with an arm behind his head, and looking to the opening door. His other hand lazily drug calloused fingertips over the plain of your bare back, sending a legion of goose flesh over your flesh and for a shiver to shoot down your spine. "What is it?" He asked stoically of the servant.

"M-My Prince, Princess," the servant nervously stuttered, bowing with respect, "my apologies for the intrusion, but the Hand has called for a dinner later in the evening."

"I'm sorry?" Aemond snipped, making your hand thump against his chest in silent reprimand. He adjusted his tone when he asked, "What's that to mean?"

"The K-King, my Prince, has called for a dinner. The Hand is tasked with delivering the message and ensuring the royal family attends."

You sighed and whispered, "'S fine, love. Dinner sounds nice."

Aemond nodded, waving the servant out, "There a time?"

"Sundown, my Prince."

"That will be all," he dismissed with finality.

"Thank you!" You called, hearing the door shut right after. You chuckled, "You could stand to be a bit nicer, you know. It will not kill you, my love, I promise."

"They're lucky they knocked when they did. Should they have arrived minutes prior, I might've had to knock around a skull or two," he grumbled.

You chuckled slightly, "Perhaps you'd fancy a trip to the training yard, my love? Work out your frustrations with a sword?"

"Usually you offer yourself," he teased.

"I need to be able to walk if we are to have dinner with the King tonight," you covered, leaning up to peck his lips. "But I can feel your tension, just thought you'd want to hack your sword into something."

"Have another uncle I could dice up?" He teased.

"Oh, you're so bloody funny, ha-ha," you teased, feeling his lips spread in a grin across your forehead. With a sigh, you let yourself relish in the few moments more you had with your husband - before he would rise, dress, and depart, and you'd be left alone to figure out what the hell to wear that evening. You've already worn most of your dresses that concealed your swelling-belly, wondering what else was left in your wardrobe to use.

After another few moments to stretch in bed, you called for your handmaiden, Amira, and rose to tie a dressing robe over your bare figure. While you waited for her arrival, you chose proper undergarments and in an effort to save yourself embarrassment, dressed quickly before retying your robe - where moments later, Amira knocked, and began the process that would ensure you wore the perfect gown for dinner.

Something proper that would not give away the shape of your belly, and therefore, uncover your secret.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

No Questions Asked

Author’s Note: MASSIVE thank you to @violentcosmicsymphony and @briefgalaxycat for beta reading this and being such supportive cheerleaders!

Masterlist

Part one of the Meet Me at Sunrise series

Next Chapter: Return to Me

Words: 725

Warnings: None? Some yearning? Pure fluff and a love letter to Washington, DC

Summary: Even FBI agents need someone to fuss over them. (Marcus Pike x FBI Agent!Reader)

“Sunrise or sunset?”

“Hmm” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck as he thought. “Sunrise. City or country?”

The two of you had been at this for a few hours. Stuck in a car overnight on a stake out, what had started as quizzing each other on their past devolved into a quick-fire game of ‘This or That?’ You had gotten to know Marcus fairly well since he came to the unit six months ago, broken-hearted but hard at work. You quickly came to admire him. Smart, charismatic, funny… and very handsome you had to admit.

Keep reading

Telltale Heart

A Frankie Morales x F!Reader one-shot

Rating: Explicit for strong smut, angst angst angst

Wordcount: 14.9k (I’m just as shocked as you are)

Dedications: To @yespolkadotkitty​​ you own my heart!! I love you beyond words, the mostest of them all; and most beloved crowned angst-queen, co-conspirator @thirstworldproblemss​​ Thank you both ever so much for your endless patience with me, talking me off the ledge from deleting and for being the most amazing beta-readers.

Also to @loversandantiheroes​ 🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎉 you amazing genius you! & to @buttercup–bee​ 💖🐝 know that I love and adore you and your beautiful writing.

A/N: Nothing actually happens for 10k words, then they have sex for 8 pages (feel free to skip ahead to the “Spring” section). PLAYLIST SOUNDTRACK

Summary: It’s what always happens in the movies; the man grovels, the woman forgives. There’s a passionate kiss; all is well, cue the credits with a heart swelling cinematic score. But somehow you’re unable to forgive him. 

Photo by Rhendi Rukmana on Unsplash

Maybe the right decision would have been a divorce.

On paper, only a madwoman would have stayed. The man failed a standard drug test at work for cocaine and lost his pilot licence. Then still under suspension, he’d left the country for a month-long stint (promising it’d only be a week). Leaving you and your new baby at home. Leaving you to wonder if this meant you would have to carry on as a single mother from then on. 

When he finally returned, it was with $17,000 deposited in your joint bank account and a haunted look in his eyes, attached to a poorly made up lie.

And as you were contemplating whether to stay and forgive; or leave and resent him forever, your family and friends all told you that: ‘sometimes good people make bad decisions. They fuck up, but it doesn’t mean they’re bad. Just human, capable of making mistakes.’

Keep reading

hello, nurse

[whiskey x reader]

author’s note: yaaaay i have finally written for whiskey. hope y’all enjoy

word count: 1,080

Keep reading

Unexpected (Part I)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: long chapters, swearing, eventual mature content (18 +)

Part I

Part II

“Prince Aemond Targaryen”

My name was announced as I entered the dark and macabre hall of Storm’s End. My eye quickly flickered to the round and dark-featured male sitting upon his chaise, watching me as I moved towards him.

The room was silent besides the pattering of rain against the stone walls and the click of my heels against the floors.

“Prince Aemond” Ser Borros Baratheon greeted, his head dipping in respect, though he did not stand from his chair.

I didn’t particularly care for the impertinence, but my boredom at this tedious affair was pushing me to end this quickly and fly home.

“Lord Baratheon, thank you for extending your welcome to me. You have a fine home.” The words were still and passive as I stood before the man. He observed me, eyes weary at the eye patch adorning my face and the various daggers and swords strapped across my body.

They were not for him, I reminded myself, trying to ease my posture to not be honed for violence and battle.

“It is an honour to have you here Prince Aemond” Borros replied, his deep voice echoing in the large space. “The raven your mother previously sent was persuasive indeed, a rather beneficial alliance for my house should we choose to ally with your brother instead of Princess Rhaenyra.”

He chose his words carefully- brother, not King and Princess, not Queen.

“I don’t see any downfalls to joining our cause, Ser” I raised my brow, scrutiny across my tight face. “King Aegon has the allyship of majority houses and their men, and should you too ally with us not only will you be on the winning side of this war but your grandchildren will be both of Targaryen and Baratheon blood.”

The idea slithered across me in disgust, the prospect of marriage and children one that brought a scowl to my face.

Though I did not show it, I would do my duty to my family and marry.

But that did not mean I had to do so with a smile on my face.

Lord Baratheon considered, his large chest rising in a deep exhale as he nodded in agreement.

“Right you are Prince Aemond.” He said, and I nodded my head in thanks, victory filling me at the notch in our belt against my whore sister and her bastard children.

“Bring in my girls” Borros called, his dark eyes shifting to the left doorway, a mixture of pride and uneasiness etched across his face. My lips thinned and I hide my gloom as four ladies strode in, each beautiful, tall and thin with dark hair and eyes and lovely gilded skin.

I wouldn’t pretend that they were unpleasant, but as my eyes ran down the line, ignoring the hopeful and pleasing smiles etched onto each girl's face, I frowned.

“I was told that you had five daughters, Lord Baratheon.” The room shifted at my words, Borros tensing as each girl's smile faltered. “There are only four here.”

“Indeed Prince” He rustled out, rubbing at his beard with annoyance. “My youngest daughter is… not suitable for this arrangement.” The words came out in a hesitant, strained tone.

“Her age?” I asked my brow-raising, curiosity filling me.

How unsuitable could she be that her father would deny her the chance to marry a Prince?

“Ten and eight,” He said frowning “But that is not the issue at hand. There are four of my very beautiful and endearing daughters before you, you may choose between them.”

My eyes narrowed at that command and Borros stiffened as I stepped closer, the light above cascading over my severe expression.

“What is wrong with her exactly?” I demanded, my voice slipping into that calm storm that had most men shaking, and though Borros contained himself, fear flashed in his eyes.

“She is not particularly trained for the challenges of marriage, My Prince” One of his daughters, the girl in the middle stated, her eyes bright and lip quirked as she beheld me. “ We consider her a bit… simple and strange in our family.”

The other girls giggled, hands covering their mouths delicately as she spoke and my eyes tapered, silencing their teasing.

“I will choose my betrothed upon seeing all of your daughters, Lord Baratheon, as is my right” I mandate stoically, eyes falling back to the rage and ire that shines on the Lord’s face. He looks as if he will protest and even the young women beside him look outraged, but no one disagrees.

“Mary” Lord Baratheon calls to the Lady-in-waiting standing by the door, his voice a sharp slice “Call for... “

“No need for the trouble Lord, I will follow Mary to the young ladies' chambers and return with my answer. The walk will allow me some needed time to think, I’m sure.” I tried not to show my distaste at the girls before me, but still, they seemed stiff with indignation.

I didn’t wait for the Lord’s reply before strolling over to Mary, and her face flushed and auburn hair fell to shield her face as she bowed to me in greeting. I nodded, tilting my lips in what I hoped was not an intimidating greeting and she calmed marginally before turning on her heel to lead me through the doors.

To the unwanted daughter that lay beyond.

***

“Gods, I am going to throttle Floris for touching my things. She never puts them back where they belong” I mutter, growling in anger as I grabbed my discarded book off a completely random shelf, a place it had not been before.

The doors of my chambers click open, and with eyes firmly on the novel in my hands, I turn “Mary, tell me, which of my miserable sisters did the Dragon choose as his prey” I tease, chuckling.

“The Dragon is yet to decide which prey suits him.” An amused and deep voice rasped.

I gasped, my book clattering to the floor as my eyes beheld the silver-haired, one-eyed Prince before me. “Shit!” I whispered and then winced at the profanity as I ducked to grip the book back into my shaking hands.

The Prince watched me with a wide and surprised eye, his lips twitched slightly at the corner as he observed my rattled form and obscenity.

“My Prince” I bowed quickly, discarding my book and attempting to recall how the Septa would scream at me to bend my knees lower and straighten my back. “I express regret, I had not been expecting your presence in my chambers-“

His eye glosses over the room at my words, taking in the books littered carelessly across the floor and tables, the clothes scattered in a heap at the corner of the room and I close my eyes in humiliation as his eye finally falls to my white and fitted nightdress.

The one I had adamantly not wanted to change out of.

I fiddled with my fingers, nerves wrecking through my body as I beheld his scrutinising watch, his face tensed with contemplation as he looked at me. His face revealed nothing of what he thought though, that angled and strong face a wall of impassivity.

My gaze flickered over him, having never seen him before. I took in the tight and form-fitting leathers that clung to the toned body beneath obscured by his long coat, the assortment of weapons strapped to him before tracing over the thin line of his pursed lips, the smooth texture across his severe face.

And that eye patch.

He hardened as my gaze fell upon it, as if in expectance, as if in interest at my reaction. Though when I merely cocked my head, curiosity and gentleness filling my eyes at the soft scar and brown leather, he seemed to relax, huffing quietly.

“It would seem that you were neglected from the introductions today, Lady –“ His brow raised in expectance and I stepped forward, arms folding over my body to hide from him.

“Y/n, Lady Y/N” I replied quietly and he nodded softly in acknowledgement.

“I was told that you were not suitable for this arrangement Lady Y/N, despite being of age and your sisters implied that you were not appropriated with the requirements for marriage.” He drawled, observing my reaction as he spoke.

“Let me guess” I muttered, biting back the bitterness in my tone “They described me as simple and odd, a cordial way of calling me a freak and unparalleled to them as a Lady and woman.” I scoffed out a laugh at that tired dialogue, and the Prince's eyes seemed to light in response, his body now leaning against the chest of draws at his side.

“Indeed” He hummed, curiosity and intrigue beaming in that sole eye.

***

The girl before me was not what I had been expecting.

I suspected that the fifth daughter had some kind of abnormality, a deformation that had marred her as unpleasant or made her act out.

And yet, as I stared at the blushing girl before me, it didn’t quite make any sense.

She was lovely, not like her sisters but unique from them.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and doe-like, intently watching me as I considered. She had thick and flowing straight mousy hair that was untamed as it fell down her back and shoulders, laying across the nightgown she had clearly not cared to remove.

It told him that either she had not been expecting company, or she did not care to impress said company.

His lips quirked at that, amusement filling him at, indeed, the strangeness of her character.

His gaze trailed lower, grazing over the supple breasts prominent below the white gown and then over her soft and curved hips and the stomach that sat out against the cotton material.

Unlike her sisters, she was much shorter and curvaceous, her body shaped with flesh and softness that went from the roundness of her blushed cheeks, to her breasts and ass, and I imagined filled at her hips, stomach and thighs.

She flushed slightly at my wondering eye, her hands clasping and unclasping before her, her restless feet rocking back and forth, as if desperate for me to either speak or leave.

She didn’t appear frightened of me though, besides the initial shock that had her jumping and swearing at my entrance, she hadn’t so much as stuttered as we talked.

“What do you think Lady?” I asked suddenly, my arms folding over my chest. She quirked a brow at me, surprised that I was asking for her opinion.

I imagined that very few cared to hear her thoughts in this place.

“I-“ She paused, swallowing as she looked down for a moment “I understand their sentiment, I have never been one for embroidery or etiquette classes, not particularly amenable. Especially not for a Prince. My sisters have excelled in that department and they are better suited to marry into the Targaryen family and bring honour to the Baratheon name.”

The words were quieter and tamed in comparison to the girl I first found when entering the room. I bit back my ire at that shining insecurity, that familiar ache of understanding running through me at the displacement she felt.

“Tell me about yourself” I demanded and she balked at that. I chuckled, low and throaty and she bit her lip in weariness. “Tell me more about what you like Lady- if not etiquette and embroidery then what?”

She contemplated for a moment, her hands rubbing against her thighs as she still gnawed on that plump lip. I begrudgingly dragged my attention away from her lips as she spoke.

“Reading,” She said nodding, her eyes lighting as she looked at the endless books scattered across the room. “I enjoy reading. And being outside; in the garden, the neighbouring villages… I used to train with my father as a little girl, wooden swords and then eventually a bow and arrow.”

I quirked my brow at that knowledge “Not many young ladies find interest in weaponry and fighting.” I say, though my words hold no judgement and she smiles slightly in appreciation at that.

“No, they don’t. And, such in my case, even if they do the unspoken laws of society deem it inappropriate” She rolled her eyes with ire and I hummed in response. “ But still when I can, when no one is watching and I have the time, I will practice archery and occasionally mimic what my father does with a dagger or sword.”

Her words held purpose, that shine of passion and delight flashing across her eyes as if in memory.

I don’t know why I did it, what came over me but before she could begin speaking again, I tore my dagger from its sheath and with imperceptible swiftness chucked it toward her.

Most women and some men would have recoiled, and rushed out of the way in instinct.

And yet, she caught it.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, slightly off-kilter, knuckles white as she panted, her eyes wide in disbelief.

I smirked slightly, nodding to myself as I stood up straighter. My arms linked behind my back as she gaped at me, her large eyes flickering from me to the shining dagger in her right hand.

“What if I hadn’t caught it?” She demanded, a trace of anger lacing her words.

“But you did,” I replied simply, and her eyes narrowed down at that nonchalance lacing my tone.

Gone was that shy girl.

Good.

My face fell back into neutrality as I began to stalk toward her. She stiffened at my approach, her hand still holding that dagger before her as she watched me with weariness. I stopped an inch in front of her, that dagger's edge pressing into the leather at my rib.

She exhaled sharply as her uncertain and anxiety-riddled eyes observed me and she audibly inhaled, her hand shaking as I grazed my thumb against her palm, the dagger falling into my awaiting hand.

Y/N remained silent as I sheathed the dagger back in my belt, her breath a hot and shaky caress over my chin, her eyes looking up at me with perplexion.

“Lady Y/N,” I said calmly, my lips tilting at the corner in a lazy smile “ Please pack a small overnight bag with some clothes and necessities.”

She froze, lip pulling into her teeth as she hissed.

“Why?” She whispered back, hoarsely.

“Because you will be returning to Kings Landing with me.” I said, a low and carnal rumble “as my betrothed.”

***

I gaped, my mouth falling open in utter shock.

As my betrothed.

My heart was hammering in my chest so loud that it was all I could hear, all I could comprehend as I stared dumbly at the Prince before me.

“What?” I spat, noticing his eye spark in humour at the lack of formality and propriety behind my baffled tone.

“Pack whatever you wish, the rest can be brought over in the coming weeks.” He ignored my horror and trembling body as he stood back, his gaze shifting towards my door with veiled boredom. “I should go and inform your father and sisters of my choice.”

My sisters.

Oh, gods. My sisters.

I had just stolen their chance with the Prince, unwittingly yes, but they won’t see it like that.

“You worry about their reaction?” He asks, his jaw clenched, and I can’t form the words, so I merely nod in reply. He scowls, lips curling back from his teeth, “Not even the Gods could deny me what I want my Lady, your father and sisters stand little chance.”

My heart stuttered at the cruel and downright possessive tone and before I can even respond, the Prince is turning on his heel and coolly walked through my room and out the door.

Oh, dear Gods.

My hand was clutching my chest as I panted, desperately trying to gather myself when my eyes lifted to Mary, my lady-in-waiting, standing hesitantly by the door.

“The Prince chose me” I whisper, shock and horror present in my stiff body and wide eyes.

“I know” She nods, her face grave and she rushes towards me with a shaky sigh. “It is ok, Lady. You must breathe… here, sit” She pulls me over to a chair and my body collapses against it with a thud.

“Ok?” I choke, my voice and alarm rising “I am not suited to marry anyone, never mind a Prince of the Targaryen family!” I spread my hands over the cold wood of the table, digging my nails into the roughness to draw myself out of the hysteria.

I gasp, chest heaving up and down, up and down as I begin to hyperventilate. Mary rushes to kneel beside me, her golden eyes bright with worry as she rubs soothingly at my back.

“Y/N” she calls and snaps her fingers before my eyes to bring my attention back to her. “Do your list, tell me… tell me what are the pros and cons of this marriage” She beseeches with a straight and calm face.

Pros and cons.

My mind focuses, pushing out the blur and begins to flick through them, beginning with cons per usual.

“He’s said to be a very terrifying and ruthless man, I’ve heard some terrible tales about Prince Aemond.” I shudder, but she ushers me to continue “His family is in the middle of a civil war, I could get caught up in that nonsense and knowing me I’d probably get killed.” I whimper.

“And the pros?” She urges, nodding to me.

“He didn’t… he seemed normal, a little icy but not cruel or scary like I had thought he would be.” I say, nodding along tentatively as Mary does, a small smile gracing her lips “And… I suppose that Kings Landing would be rather beautiful, full of culture and experience. The opposite of Storms End.” I feel that clenching pressure in my chest begins to ease as more and more positives start to outweigh the negatives.

“One more.” She stresses, smiling encouragingly as my breathing evens out.

“And my sisters are going to cry with fury when they realise that their freakish, unpleasant little sister has snagged the Prince that they were desperately fighting each other for. They didn’t even consider me a contender, had bad-mouthed me, and yet it is I who will become a Princess.” I snorted, a giggle escaping me at the thought and its absurdity and as Mary chuckles along, I can’t help the endless and overwhelming bellowing of laughter that rushed out of me.

I bellow, clutching my chest, tears leaking from my eyes and Mary reciprocates, her slightly more mature skin, creasing.

“What is the meaning of this?” A stern female voice demanded.

The laughter cuts off abruptly at the sight of my mother’s fury in the doorway, her blue eyes glaring harshly at the two of us. Mary stood apologies falling from her lips, but my mother didn’t even glance her way.

“It seems that Prince Aemond has chosen you as his betrothed, Y/N,” She said coming towards me, her eyes softening as she beheld my apprehension. “You must fulfil your duty to our family, this alliance, this marriage will secure our place for centuries to come.”

“But mother, I didn’t intend-“

“It matters not what you did or did not intend, Prince Aemond had chosen you as his Lady wife, quite adamantly, and you will leave with him today.” Her sharp eyes snapped to Mary. “Begin packing her things, only necessary garments, only her best and some fine jewellery too.”

Mary bowed and rushed off, moving swiftly around my room to pack and organise for me to leave.

Leave my family.

Leave my home.

“Come” Mother called, her hand gripping mine and helping me up before pulling me along and sitting me before my vanity. She was wordless as she began brushing through my long hair, careful as she yanked out the knots in them.

She had not done this for me since I was a little girl.

My heart clenched and throat tightened as I beheld her frown, not at the wildness of my hair, but as she looked at me, knowing that I would soon be departing.

No one expected that this would be my last day at home.

I sat silently, my eyes taking in every feature, every touch, every smell of her as she pulled back the silken locks, pinning and half braiding the hair to fall in an extravagant fish-tail plait against my back. Her soft hands tugged at the front pieces loosening them, and the dark coffee strands framed my face.

I begrudgingly allowed her to rub a pink-rose petal extract against my cheeks and lips to bring some colour to them and even while flinching, I allowed her to adorn my eyes with the black kohl. I turned to her, my hands fidgeting relentlessly as she gazed at me.

“Beautiful” She whispered softly and I nearly sobbed at that pained tone, at that word that rarely had ever left my mother’s lips when regarding me.

I focused on my breathing as I was stripped, rubbed, cleaned and then oiled with jasmine and lavender before a few more servants came to help dress me.

Unlike my usual loose and unrestricted garments, my mother chose a dark green and cream embroidered gown, the neck low and laced as it went straight across my shoulders and back, revealing the bare skin there and my collarbones. The pearls adorning the clasps at my breasts revealed slight peeks of the flesh underneath, as scandalous as my mother could allow.

The dress fit tight against my chest and waist, hugging the stomach that was not at all flat. My mother frowned as she ordered the dress tightened, and I gasped in pain, my hands flying to the wall to hold myself up as the servant pulled the laces at the back, more and more.

By the time she was done, breathing felt like inhaling glass, but indeed, my waist and stomach were snatched in and looked much smaller than it truly was. I levelled out my breath as I beheld the way the dress flared out at my wide and fleshy hips, unchanged in shape, before cascading down in soft open waves around my simple flats.

I looked pretty, delicate yet womanly, and more polished than I’d ever been.

But I looked nothing like myself.

And The Prince seemed to notice that immediately.

I followed wordlessly behind my mother as we entered the Great Hall and as my eyes locked onto Prince Aemond’s, he frowned, his eyes falling over my hair, and face and then resting on the waist that was too small.

I blanched at his stare but quickly was saved from any further scrutiny as my Father came to stand before me.

“Father” I whispered tenderly and his eyes melted as he beheld me.

“My little girl, all grown up.” He said quietly enough that only I could hear. I choked, tears now welling in my eyes, and I did not care who was around as I threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest with a sob.

He sighed dejectedly, his large body engulfing mine in a hug that was too much yet not enough. I shook slightly as he rubbed my back and pacified me, and after a few moments, he pulled back, sadness in his now-red eyes.

I wiped at my face, not caring at how the cosmetic had smudged there as I regained my composure and evened my breathing. He nodded gravely at me and as he kissed my palm with a father's love, it took everything in me to not begin sobbing again.

I sniffed, my hands clasped against my stomach in pain as he moved from my path and I beheld my four sisters.

And suddenly, crying felt bizarre to do.

They glared at me, accusation and bewilderment in their brown eyes, even as they beheld how I looked. I could see that writhing jealousy a mile away. I sighed wretchedly and bowed my head slightly with a frown in goodbye.

They seemed to pause, their faces faltering as they glanced at one another. I turned to move away and before I knew it, I felt several arms wrap around me at once.

“Oh, you absolute pest, how can you leave us” Cassandra scolded against my neck, even as a gasp of a cry escaped her.

I laughed in surprise as my sisters hugged me fiercely, and was even more surprised by the small cries and wet tears that I felt against me from them all. “Take care of yourself Y/N, don’t forget ‘Ours is the Fury’,” Floris said, tears shining in her beautiful eyes as she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheeks.

I nodded back firmly, no longer crying, yet dumbfounded and unable to speak. They all stepped back from me, retreating to the side again as I closed my eyes and braced myself before turning to walk over to Prince Aemond.

He was frowning uneasily as he watched me, his arms behind his back and his body straight but his face did not hold any cruelty, any mocking as he beheld my tears.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand lifted, steady and sure and so very gently wiped away a tear that fell down my cheek. I bit my lip, my hands clenching as he watched me and my body grew hot under that neutral look.

“Prince Aemond, perhaps you should consider your journey, the sky seems to be darkening.” My father roughly cut in, a harsh and protective glare thrown at the Prince. He looked at my father, irritation lighting his face but he simply nodded, looking once at me in confirmation and then walking towards the front doors.

I followed behind with shaking hands and trembling feet but I tried to maintain my control as we stepped out into the courtyard.

Where a Dragon the size of a castle stood, baring its teeth and growling in all its glory and horror.

“Vhagar” I gasped in amazement and Prince Aemond’s eyes locked with mine, his lips parting.

“You know of my dragon?” He questions in intrigue.

“Of course,” I say, my eyes returning back to the beast in complete awe “She’s the largest in the world, Visenya rode her during Aegon’s conquest- well their conquest, I suppose. ”

Silence followed and my eyes moved back to the Prince, but he was already watching me, an expression of respect playing on his strong face.

“Well, considering you already know so much about her, riding her shall be little difficulty then.”

“What?” I snapped but then cringed in apology at the horrified look my mother threw my way. He snorted quietly before walking forward towards Vhagar and I trailed, my stomach twisting into knots.

Never mind dying in the war, I’d probably get eaten by the thing before I even left my home.

“Don’t worry my Lady” He said, noting my paleness “ Vhagar will not harm you, not when she sees you with me and you won’t fall, because I won’t let you.” His stare held conviction, utter conviction, and I merely nodded reluctantly in reply.

“I suppose that dying while riding a Dragon is quite a worthy death” I joked, and despite my family's indignation and sighs, Prince Aemond merely huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He held out his right hand as he stopped beside the ladder descending down Vhagar’s back, patiently waiting for me to take it.

I exhaled harshly as I neared the obscenely large and terrifying creature, the low growls and snarls reverberating across the ground and into my body. I nodded to my sisters and then to my father and mother in a final farewell.

I look away quickly at the bitter sadness that seems to suffocate the air, my eyes already burning. Instead, I place my shaky hands in the strength and solidity of the Prince’s and I’m glad for the reassurance in his sapphire blue eye.

He takes my hand and places it against Vhagar’s rough skin, and I shudder at the scale and indents of hundreds of years’ worth of life as the beast groans but doesn’t falter. I nod once and Prince Aemond hoists me up, my hands coming to grip the ropes and lift my gown so that I won’t trip.

My chest aches in fear but as I glance down, Prince Aemond is already right beside me.

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His eye seems to say in a reminder as he watched me.

I inhale and exhale deeply and without too much thought, I begin my climb up the side of the beast. It takes some time and exertion, my weariness and gown obstructing me and a few times, I would slip a step and cry out, only for a hand to instantly be at my ankle or shin, guiding me back to the step.

I pant as I eventually reach the top of Vhagar, my fingers digging into the seat placed there and I use that hold to drag myself up and onto the very top. I rasp as I take in the view, so much higher, far more surreal atop the writhing beast than it was through the window of a tower.

“Well done, My Lady,” Prince Aemond rasps beside my ear and I blush as I notice how close his body is to mine as he kneels beside me. He didn’t look nearly as winded, in fact, his body seemed to calm and breathing evened from the familiarity of his dragon.

He takes my hand and helps me onto the front of the seat, his hands fixing my skirt so that my legs could hold against the sides without issue. I shiver as his nimble fingers lift the material and he caresses my legs up to my knee, readjusting and strapping a tie around the sides.

 I don’t speak, nor does he, as he ties another around my waist, the rope attaching to the seat.

“In case you lose yourself in the air, the rope will ensure that you don’t fly off of Vhagar,” He says, noticing my stare, but when I blanche, he adds “ But I will already be there to ensure that none of that happens.”

“Thank you,” I say softly as he finishes securing me in place and then with swift and easy movements, the Prince moves behind me and mounts the seat.

I hiss in harshly at the feeling of his chest pressed to my back, though he doesn’t comment, instead his long and toned arms reach around my waist with efficiency, securing a tie all the way around the both of us before hooking it into place.

I tremble against the heat of his body, his chest and thighs like fire as it presses against my thin clothes and I bite my lip as the cool caress of air brushes my right cheek as he speaks lowly to me.

His hands fall to my waist as he says “ My sight is limited as you know, I rely on my right to steer Vhagar” He shifts my body to his left side where the eye patch is and rests my back against his chest there so his head is peaking over my right shoulder without any obstruction.

I nod absently, my body still tense and stiff at the foreign feeling of him and his hands that are grazing across my waist and hips, and perhaps unwittingly, but the sides of my breasts too.

“Should you feel you need the extra support, for fear or whatever else, you can grab onto these handles here, they will keep you firmly rooted in place.” He says seriously as if it were a crash course in Dragon safety.

“What about you?” I ask quietly and his eye glances over my shoulder to my weary face “If something happens… have you ridden with someone else on your dragon before?” I question and he shakes his head slowly, but his hands grip my waist in reassurance.

“Vhagar has never acted out without provocation and I do not expect that we will find any in the skies as we fly back home. I will be fine, as will you.” He reaffirms and I nod gently, my body relaxing against him slightly.

Once we were completely strapped in, I gazed down towards my family, much smaller as they stood at the doors of our home- no, their home now. I felt my chest constrict and tears burn my eyes as I lifted a tremoring hand and waved, their answering waves back a dagger to my heart.

Prince Aemond frowned at my teary sight but did not say anything as his hands snaked around my waist and he clasped onto the ropes there.

“Vhagar! sīmonagon se ivestragī īlva sōvegon” Prince Aemond bellowed out, and I crooned in wonder at that authoritative and accented tone, even more surprise filling me as that wild beast, listened and purred in response, stretching out its endlessly long wings.

“Ready, My Lady?” Prince Aemond whispered with a grin beside my ear and I couldn’t contain the thrill that wrecked through me as I gripped the handles before me.

“I’m ready, My Prince.”

He huffed, a hot breath beside my ear before he commanded “Sōvegon!”

And we were shooting up to the sky.

it’s a good thing.

(billy hargrove x female reader)

summary: billy hargrove knows that soulmates are bullshit. especially when he meets you, because you’re not his soulmate. and that really sucks, because billy is kind of going insane.

word count: 3, 551

a/n: this is set roughly to mindset by every avenue. this would have been done earlier but my dad kept asking me what i was typing and there was no way in hell i was gonna say that i was writing a soulmate au featuring a hot guy with a mullet. BUT HAPPY NEW YEAR’S EVERYONE! i hope that it’s wonderful and great and that we all kick 2018′s ass! 

It wasn’t that Billy hated the song, but if he had to see the words i bless the rains down in africa one more time on his hip, he was going to scream. It wasn’t like he went looking for it, but anytime he was changing, he’d glance down. More often than not, some song lyric would be scrawled in black. It etched across his skin in a feminine sort of chicken scratch, one that made him embarrassed in the locker room.

He walked over to his bedroom mirror, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he regarded himself. He still needed to get dressed and grab a bite to eat before school, but there was time to stall. Not long, though. His fingers itched to tug the hem of his boxers down just a little, but he was faltering.

“Anything but Toto,” he mumbled under his breath. He hesitated for a second longer before jerking the fabric down. The black ink was stark against the tan of his skin.

who you gonna call

“Jesus, you’ve got shit taste in music,” he said, shaking his head. He allowed himself the smallest of grins, that familiar flicker of warmth darting through his chest. It only lasted a second, that brief allowance of hope. It was squashed after that, Billy hardening himself against it.

Soulmates were bullshit. Utter bullshit.

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Maverick

Recently released biography, On the Road with Her Majesty, details the lives of the band Queen and their families. With an introduction by Dan Sinclair, please enjoy an excerpt of the book. 

I had been hired by Freddie to write about the group. My editor had laid down the job description in front of me, with a grin wide on his face. Dan, this will be perfect for you, he’d said.

Wanted:

A writer, a good writer, to document the lives of Queen as honestly and as glamorous as possible.

Hours are brutal. Travel required. Rockstar tempers expected.

Pay is enough.

Two weeks later, I was on a flight to Vienna.

I traveled with the band across Europe for a few weeks. There was a gap in the tour before they headed to the United States and Freddie was insistent that I spent time with each band member during the off time. We have just as much story to tell off the stage, darling.

He was right of course. The quiet of Freddie at home was different than at any other point I’d seen on tour. John was at ease and talkative among his wife and children. Brian was the most unchanged of the band members, smiling and soft.

Then there was Roger and his wife, Maverick.

One of the most interesting stories of all.

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Masterlist Oberyn Martell

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