kailey's writing corner ♱

Technically.

Technically, Aemond had drunk himself silly during your wedding celebrations because he was so envious of his older brother. Aegon, for as long as Aemond could remember, had everything he wanted. You were no different.

Aemond could taste the wine on his tongue, a numbing sensation burning at his cheeks as he stalked through the hidden corridors of the Red Keep, his boots heavy against the old stone. He had learned of this passage the night of your wedding to his brother; he had been through many of the other passages throughout his youth, but stumbling upon Aegon's bedchambers had been like discovering silver and gold.

He had watched through a cracked door as Aegon fucked you for the first time. Aegon had been rutting into you like a dog in heat, and Aemond had to tune out the sounds of his brother's pathetic whines as he focused his one good eye on your body as you writhed on the sheets.

The whores Aegon had introduced Aemond to had been performative. Their sounds were too loud, too dramatic, whereas your sweet little cries had Aemond's inexperienced cock throbbing in his trousers as he watched from a distance.

Aemond had watched his brother with envy as your belly swelled with child, wishing that it was his babe instead of Aegon's. He thought he'd hate your children, but how could he when they wore your sweet face with every breath they took? Rhaelor, especially, with his big dark eyes and curls. Aemond could pretend that they were his, if only for a moment in his dreams.

You were so beautiful, even now as you watched over Aegon's burnt body. Aegon had yet to rouse from his coma, the smell of burnt flesh was enough to send the maids scattering, but you stayed in the room, your children (what was left of them) close by your side as you tended to the broken man that was your husband.

Maybe he liked haunting you, you thought.

"His Grace is lucky to have such a doting wife," Aemond says, a slight tilt to his lips when he sees you flinch.

Lucerys' death had caused a shift in your behavior, specifically towards Aemond. Luke was so young, an innocent child. Aemond had feasted on his body like a depraved creature of spite, and you couldn't deny the fear that lay in your bones whenever you looked at him, now.

A whimper leaves you as Aemond's nose presses into your hair, his hands pin your arms down on the bed where your unconscious husband lies. You sit still in the large chair as your brother-in-law traces the veins in your wrists with his fingers, teary-eyed as he prods himself further into your vulnerability.

You smell of cinnamon and bergamot, as you always have.

Aemond remembers the yearning he held as a boy, begging his mother to purchase scents that reminded him of you when you were away with your mother and her brood of bastards. He would smother himself in a pillow that he doused with your scent, dreaming of the moment you returned to Kings Landing, if only for a moment.

He had yearned for years until he had finally broken, his boyish crush turning into a smothering obsession, the longer you were married to your pathetic excuse of a husband.

You cry about Rhaelor and Vaella being asleep in their cradles as Aemond loosens his trousers, the fat head of his cock throbbing as he greedily takes in your smell. He shushed you, his fingers tremble slightly as he forces your hand around his cock.

"Shh, shh," Aemond coos, a slight shiver in his voice, a gasp leaves his lips as he moves your soft hand over his aching flesh. It's so soft, better than the whores he'd been using, and Aemond reaches up with his free hand to tug at his eyepatch. The leather drops in your lap, and you are forced to look your beloved brother's murderer in the eye as he humps himself into your hand.

"Aemond, please..." you beg him, and a guttural moan leaves his lips. His hips stutter and then start to thrust erratically; his free hand cups your face, forcing you to kiss him. Aemond scared you, and with your children already being in danger, you have no choice but to obey him. Aegon had promised to protect you and your babies, but Aemond had maimed him; you had no one to turn to.

So, you cry.

You cry as Aemond whimpers into your lips. You cry as his cock throbs, rivulets of his release creating a puddle in your lap. You cry when he kisses you harder as his orgasm rocks his body, soft gasps leaving him as he trembles. You cry when he tugs down the top part of your dress, his lanky body curling into your own as he begins to suckle at your breast like a deranged babe.

Aemond wanted to be loved by you, more than anything.

But he finds that you fearing him is much more rewarding.

Aegon being unknowingly cucked 😵‍💫

"Mount Silverwing and come to Harrenhall with me," your father had said, a clear grimace on his face, the look almost bitter as he stomped out of the Queen's chambers. You had just gotten back from Runestone, placing your eldest daughter in charge of your home until you returned. Silverwing was already feasting somewhere in the pit.

Before you could even reply, the Queen interrupted.

"No."

"No? If I wish for my daughter to join me in bwnding knees, that is what she will do."

Nevermind that you were a grown woman with two children, or that you were fully capable of making decisions for yourself.

"I need her and Silverwing here," Rhaenyra was quick in her words, her lips pressed together tightly as she stares at Daemon intensely. From the way they were looking at each other you couldn't know they were married.

They never spoke of you as a person, rather an object to be passed back and forth. You should have been used to it by now, but it couldn't be helped.

"Father," you say gently, your fingers meet his shoulder, your touch cautious. "It is possible that Aegon's faction could send someone to attack Dragonstone after the... incident. Allow me to watch over things here."

You watch as your father storms away, his frustration thick in the air. Caraxes soon departs from Dragonstone, and you nervously turn to look at your cousin - your Queen.

"Had I been born a man, it's possible that we would have been betrothed to each other, isn't that strange to think about?"

Considering she was married to your father, and you had no desire to lay with your own kin, it was quite the strange thought.

Later that night, Elinda had come to your chambers as you were seeing to Rhaena. Losing Luke had broken her thoroughly, and you wanted so badly to send her to Runestone. She would be safer there, happier. The seat of House Royce had passed to you after your mother's untimely demise, and you scarcely left. Your husband had died shortly after your twin girls were born, you had no intention of remarrying.

He was older, yes, but kind in a way you had always needed.

The only reason you left was to support the rightful heir, your cousin.

Rhaenyra had Elinda fetch you, and the two of you had been sipping at wine together for quite a bit of time.

"I doubt that very highly, Your Grace," you say with a gentle tone, careful not to illicit Rhaenyra's temper.

You were only slightly younger than her, but Rhaenyra had always been too bold. Whenever you would come to Kings Landing with your father she would drag you around the castle.

Usually to her room.

"Why do you doubt me? Have I ever lied to you, Sweet Girl?"

Your grip is tight on your glass as Rhaenyra shifts in her seat, the gentle burgundy of her nightdress glowing in the candlelight.

You should have went with Kepa.

"... I should head to bed now, Your Grace," you attempt to stand, the uneasy feeling you remember from back then was crawling up your spine like a deranged serpent.

An expression akin to rejection flashes on Rhaenyra's face, her eyes harden, and she stands.

Like a dragon circling her prey, your cousin grabs you by the wrist, her intense eyes scaring you half to death.

"I thought if I married him, you would be closer, but you never visit," Rhaenyra says quietly as she pushes you against the table. Her touch is gentle, but you shake under her anyway. "You are loyal, but only to your Queen."

"Stepmother."

Rhaenyra hikes up the velvety fabric of her nightdress, her bare cunt visible to your eyes as she keeps a single hand to your throat.

"Devour your Mūna," Rhaenyra gasps, climbing over your body, her dripping cunt leaking against your lips as you squirm beneath her. Rhaenyra grabs at your head, her hips swiveling against your mouth, forcing your tongue deep into her pussy. Her throbbing clit rubs at your nose, you are consumed completely by her. The table shakes under you as Rhaenyra rides your face, her free hand holding her dress up as she bounced on your face.

You have hot tears dripping down your cheeks, but you truly cannot tell the difference between them and the arousal that flowed from Rhaenyra's cunt.

You just want to go home.

Balerion + Daemon's Bastard

♱ Balerion, who is too old to really ride to war anymore. He bonded with you for the same reason he stayed by Viserys' side for so long; the peace was welcome.

You were such a sad child when Balerion happened upon you, you were as pathetic as weeping children came, but you had a certain strength that Balerion couldn't shake. He supposes that he could come out of retirement for you, especially when your shit head of a father forces you into the war effort. He'd happily burn every inch of Westeros if it meant keeping you warm and safe.

Your death comes simply, the war had passed, your family was gone, and yet the Stranger had come for you. A sickness, you die in your sleep, and many report that Balerion follows shortly after setting your pyre ablaze.

For a dragon that had lived so violently, so loudly, Balerion passes peacefully with his body wrapping around your charred remains.

Grey Ghost + Rhaenyra's Heir

♱ Grey Ghost, who is hatched to you, and never leaves your side until the day of your death. He's a timid creature, yet large in size, and your mount matches you in personality almost to a tee.

Grey Ghost, who flies over The Red Keep during your pregnancies so he can see you from a balcony just to know that you are alright.

During the Dance of Dragons, he can feel your anxiety, the grief of losing your children. Everything was so overwhelming for you, especially after the death of your son. Grey Ghost takes his final ride with you sometime after the war ends, he takes you to Driftmark, a startled shriek leaves him as you simply slide off of his saddle, your body falls into the ocean.

Neither you or your dragon are ever seen again.

Grey Ghost had entered the world with you, and he had left with you just the same.

Silverwing + Targtower Princess

♱ Silverwing, who doesn't take a rider after Alysanne dies. She sees no one as kind and gentle come near her, and so she stays isolated for many years.

That is, until a little red-haired child approaches her, no older than nine years old. Hair the color of bloodied copper, you don't look like Alysanne, but you feel like her. You are all kind words and gentle songs, and Silverwing loves you just as much as a mother dragon loved her eggs.

Silverwing takes you to the skies, loud purrs emanating from her throat as the wind kisses her scales. It's nice, she thinks, to finally not be so alone.

She remembers the grief clearly. Your entire family was gone, save for your oldest brother, mother, and little niece. Daeron's death had shifted something in you, Silverwing had felt it. You were no less kind, but an air of sadness had followed you until the day of your death.

Your twin, the one you shared a womb with, had left a gaping mass where your heart should have been. It was a raw injury, one of comprised of grief.

You died from a broken heart, slowly.

Silverwing had watched you wither until nothing else remained.

The Cannibal + Maegor's Heir

♱ The Cannibal, who lets his flames devour whoever dares to try to claim him. He is not a beast chained by duty, as many of his kin had been. He would not die at the hands of men, nor would he obey at the crack of a whip. He'd rather slumber, dreaming of you.

Ten years, thirty years, fifty years, eighty years without you to keep him company. The daughter of an usurper, infamous for his cruelty, you had been the opposite. You life had been drenched in ash and blood, war-riddled years withered your dreams down to nothing.

In the end, Cannibal could do nothing to save you from your own mind. Many argued that you just so happened to find your father dead, others knew the truth of it. The poison found in Maegor's cup of wine told the story of your desperation. The war had been put to an end, but you had been in so much pain. The Cannibal had felt it, and he had lifted his head just in time to see you fall to the ground, a crack of bones, a splatter of blood.

The truest form of love, he thought, your blood tainting his teeth, a disturbed hiss sounding from his throat.

You were the last to leave your mother's womb, your twin brother Daeron coming before you. You remain as the last child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, and you were loved. You had been the only one of your siblings to inherit your mother's auburn curls, and you had grown into them so beautifully.

Your hair caught the light in reddish-brown tones; it glowed softly like embers under ash.

You looked scarily similar to your mother, the same doe-like eyes, the same pout to your lips when faced with a dilemma. You were the mirror of Alicent in her youth.

Perhaps that was why she found it so easy to love you.

With your siblings, it had been harder. They held such a resemblance to your father, and the trauma that came with that was something so vile it could make Alicent sick.

But with you...

It was so easy to just pretend that you were just hers.

Her daughter.

Her baby.

Her little girl.

"I miss Daeron..." you pout at the mirror as Alicent brushes through your hair. The scent of lilac incense is heavy in the air, a certain exhaustion already heavy on your person. Your twin brother had been sent to Oldtown with his hatchling, while you were left in Kings Landing with no dragon at all. You had never been separated from your brother until now, and it had been hard on you.

"I know," Alicent says gently, easing your hair into a waterfall braid, similar to how she wore her own on most days. "The way of things can be hard, but you and Daeron can exchange letters." She smiles at you gently, smoothing out the powdery-blue dress you wore before escorting you out of her chambers.

"I will be attending a small council meeting with your father," Alicent presses a kiss to your forehead, her fingers cupping your cheeks gently. "You may accompany your brothers to the dragon pit, but make sure to stay close to Aegon, understood?"

"I... have a proposal," Rhaenyra is standing tall at the council table, her violet eyes stern as she stares at Alicent in her chair. "Let us betroth my son Jacaerys to your daughter (Name)."

Alicent can feel a blistering heat begin to settle in her head, her lips begin to curl into an even deeper frown. She glances at her husband, your father, as he smiles happily at his oldest child. Her anger could often be her undoing, but this was ridiculous.

"Our families have been at odds for ten years; I wish to mend these cracks. Let Jacaerys and (Name) rule together after my reign, the Realm will be better for it."

"A fine suggestion," Viserys says, smiling at Alicent as she sits silently at his side.

The Queen pushes her chair out, rising from her seat with a sneer on her lips.

"We shall consider your proposal, Princess."

Once in the King's chambers, Alicent could not contain her anger, her irritation quickly turning to a splitting migraine as she listened to her husband drone on and on about how she should accept the betrothal proposed by Rhaenyra.

"Jacaerys and (Name) would make a fine match, you would do well to consider it, My Dear Wife."

"(Name) is our youngest daughter," Alicent seethes, fingers shaking with irritation as she settles Viserys into his seat. "She is too young to be considered for any matches. Rhaenyra is desperate, she feels cornered. I refuse to marry off my daughter to one of her... plain-featured sons."

"Alicent..." Viserys' tone is exasperated as he glances at his wife.

"Your Grace," Ser Harrold enters the room, his face blank yet pale. "There has been an... incident in the dragon pit, it concerns Princess (Name)."

"I ask you one thing, one! Keep your sister close and safe, how did this happen?!"

Alicent has her oldest child by the collar, a sneer pulling at her lips.

You, her little baby, had wandered into the deeper part of the pit, and had claimed a dragon.

Silverwing, the former mount of Queen Alysanne, who had not taken another rider until now. She was a large, regal beast. Perhaps gentler compared to the other dragons, but she was still a dragon.

"It isn't Aegon's fault, I ran off by myself!" You wrap your arms around your older brother's waist, hugging him tightly.

Your copper hair was messy and out of place, a bit of dirt was on your nose (courtesy of your falling off of Silverwing), and your dress was dirtier than Alicent has ever seen before. It was a complete rehash of when Helaena had bonded with Dreamfyre.

Alicent stares at you with the same wide eyes that you had inherited, she drags a hand over her face before motioning to Ser Criston Cole.

"Ser Criston, please escort the princess to my chambers, have Aurelia prepare a bath and clean nightclothes."

You hold Aegon's hand tightly, a silent apology for getting your elder brother in trouble with Mother. Your lips are pulled into a pout, tears beading at your waterline. You never wished to have Aegon wroth with you, because you loved him the most out of all your siblings. No matter how cruel his japes could be, no matter how unreliable he could be.

You loved your big brother more than anything.

"(Name)."

Alicent's tone is stiff, and you feel Aegon flinch, suddenly aware that you're probably doing more harm than good.

You let go of his hand, shuffling over to Ser Cole quickly after. The Kingsguard takes your arm gently, escorting you out of the pit.

Leaving your brothers to the wrath of the Queen.

"Mother will be upset," you say quietly, watching as your brother takes yet another goblet of wine from one of the serving girls.

Driftmark was heavy with tension. It was the first funeral you'd ever been to, and you disliked it heavily, already. You had attempted to comfort Lucerys, but you had been dragged away by Aemond shortly after. You stand at Aegon's side, now, grimacing as he downs several cups of wine as the social procession continues.

"Fuck her."

You gasp, your eyes going wide.

"Are you angry with me, Aeg? I didn't mean for you to be yelled at again..."

Aegon ruffles your hair, a snort leaving his lips. His body sways slightly, and you aren't old enough to know that he's drunk off of his ass.

"Idiot..." Aemond mutters, looking at his brother with disgust heavy on his features.

You move to sit with Helaena, giggling as she hands you a shell she'd found somewhere on Driftmark. It's a pretty, pale pink color, speckled with dots of silver.

"Did you know that Dreamfyre's rider was the older sister of Silverwing's? Queen Rhaena and Queen Alysanne," Helaena's voice is soft, she handles a spider in her hands, its legs like long, black needles. "They would ride their dragons together often, like we will once you get used to her."

Helaena smiles gently as you gaze at the long-legged creature in her hands in wonder.

Perhaps other little girls were terrified of Helaena's bugs, but she has shared them with you since you were a babe. You had gotten used to them, even delighted in them much as she did.

"I like having a sister more than brothers," Helaena says, closing the spider in another shell she had gathered.

The funeral had ended in absolute disaster.

Aemond had snuck out to claim Vhagar, leaving you, Helaena, and Aegon asleep in your shared quarters. You had woken up terrified as a Kingsguard rammed the door open, gathering all of the Kings children. You had been brought to the solar of Driftmark, shivering in your nightclothes.

You had still been clinging to Aegon when you saw it.

Aemond was bloodied, his face twisted in an inhuman shape. A jagged wound of flesh replaced his usual face, his eye was in the process of being cut out by a maester, and even more blood poured from the socket once the vein was severed.

You had shrieked, tears rolling down your cheeks as you saw what had become of your older brother.

Aemond had been hurt.

Aemond had been disfigured.

The tension was shattered into pieces when your mother brandished the Catspaw Dagger, lunging herself at Rhaenyra with all the ferocity of a mother scorned. Your tears are hot and furious against your cheeks, Aegon pushes you behind him, keeping you a safe distance away before he moves closer to the incident. Helaena takes you, then, the both of you shielded by Ser Criston.

You hear a yelp, Rhaenyra and Alicent disconnect, and a splatter of blood is left on the cold stone floor.

Rhaenyra clutches her arm, thick blood slipping between her fingers as she stares at your father with wide, lilac eyes. You often envied Rhaenyra, your older sister, because she was truly beautiful.

"Alicent!"

"You have spilled the blood of the heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaenyra speaks, venom laced her voice as she spoke, her intense eyes burning holes into your mother. "Therefore I have a demand."

"You will demand nothing, not after taking my child's eye!"

"Father," Rhaenyra directs her attention to the King, leaving Alicent bristled. "Accept my earlier proposal. Betroth Jacaerys and (Name), all will be forgotten."

Your mother still grips the dagger in her hand, the Valyrian steel glinting under the light. Alicent's knuckles pale as her grip tightens, her anger almost boiling over once again.

She itched to maim.

"Viserys-"

"This is through!"

The old King slams his cane against the cold floor, exasperated beyond himself. You worry for him, then. All of the stress could not be good for his frail heart.

"Prince Jacaerys will marry my daughter, Princess (Name) when both are of age," Viserys turns to look at Alicent. "Do I make myself clear?"

You cling still to Helaena, your cheeks wet with shed tears. It was so frightening; all the blood, shouting, watching your mother turn into a feral animal in order to avenge her children.

"No... no, you cannot allow this, My King," Alicent drops the dagger, her wide eyes darting to you and Helaena as you cling to her tightly. Her baby was so scared, and Alicent could feel a shiver of shame trail down her spine knowing that she had played a part in your terror.

In the end, there was nothing the Queen could do.

Rhaenyra remained victorious, a smile on her face as the King ordered the crowd to disperse.

I'm going as Alicent to Indy Comic Con in June I'm so excited 😊

Reader is about the same age as Jacaerys, just for reference!

Aegon -> 20

Helaena -> 18

Aemond -> 17

Daeron & Reader -> 16

Jacaerys -> 16

♱ Alicent, who bears the responsibility of producing Targaryen heirs for the Crown. All of her children sport the white-gold hair and lilac eyes of their father's house, and it becomes a sense of pain for Alicent because they look so much like Rhaenyra - the friend she lost all those years ago.

With Daeron comes you.

King Viserys' youngest child, only you don't share the usual Targaryen look as your older siblings do. You have the same auburn hair and dark eyes as your mother, you're more Hightower than Targaryen.

♱ Oh, how Alicent adores you.

With your older siblings, there was always a bit of resentment. They were a constant reminder of how she was sold off to an old man when she was still a child. However, with you Alicent could pretend that you were just hers. You didn't have to belong to politics and such as Aegon and Helaena.

You're so sweet, like she had been before the poison of Kings Landing had gotten to her. Alicent keeps you close, never allowing you out of her sights. Even once you claim Silverwing, Alicent remains protective of you, always sending Ser Criston to escort you to the Pit whenever you wished to ride your dragon.

♱ While Daeron was sent to squire in Oldtown, your mother could not stand to be separated from you. It was hard enough sending her youngest son away, but Alicent refuses to be parted from you.

You're her baby.

♱ Rhaenyra has a weird obsession with you. Not only are you her youngest sister, but you hold such a familiarity to Alicent when they were still young girls. It doesn't help that your mother dresses you in soft blues and silvers, the same as she wore back then.

You are a vision of the Lady Alicent.

The one Rhaenyra still missed dearly.

Rhaenyra wishes to marry you to Jacaerys. To have you in her clutches would be perfect. Her innocent little sister who would make such a good queen for her firstborn.

Alicent, being the protective mother she is, absolutely destroys any proposals put forth by her former friend. Your mother has no intention of marrying you off to anyone, certainly not now while you were still so young.

♱ Rhaenyra, who adores you. She'd always wanted a younger sister, and being unable to bond with Helaena, she fully intends on sinking her claws into you and never letting go.

♱ Alicent, who will do anything to keep you to herself, lowering her morals to keep you pristine and innocent.

Heard a rumor that Daeron might have Alicent's hair and I spiraled lmao

꣑ৎ Alastor thinks you're fascinating.

Sinners cannot procreate due to the fact that they're already dead, so from a scientific standpoint, your existence is an insane miracle of the impossible. Alastor fucks with Vox any time he can, and he's generally only around you when your father is throwing tantrums due to his own actions.

You're like him, though!

Fluffy ears and horns curved on your head, you hold more of a sacrificial lamb look to your rather than some demon. It's cute, in the more traditional sense.

Born from a rush of extreme emotions, your own emotional state is, at best, incredibly fragile. You're prone to tears, misery, and any other extreme sadness.

Alastor is a selfish individual, however. He definitely uses you any chance he gets to piss off Vox. He wishes you no harm, but letting your father believe otherwise is so fun! It's entertainment in the best sense of the word.

꣑ৎ In the scenario of Alastor having a child due to similar circumstances, he pushes for the two of you to meet any chance he gets. Alerie is a menace, but they take a liking to you almost immediately, and the two of you made a fantastic duo.

At least... that's what Alastor and Alerie choose to believe.

In reality, you're probably terrified of both of them, you father filling your head with fears of anyone outside of your family.

Alerie is obsessed with you, it's incredibly creepy.

She crawls into your room and stays under your bed just to feel close to you, just wishing you'd give her the time of day! She gets so excited just to be near you, her claws rip at the bottom of your bed, scaring you half to death and running to your papa.

Poor baby is so scared :(

She just wants to be your (girl)friend!!!

You had dreamed of your boys a few nights before your labors had begun.

They were not clear in the traditional way; their images flashed in colors and feelings. Spools of white and dark thread, one bearing the name of your father.

It had been such a sweet dream, but that was all you thought of it.

A dream.

You hadn't expected the arrival of another babe after the first left your womb.

"You must continue to push, My Love." Rhaenyra is at your side, her fingers petting at your messy hair as you close your eyes in exhaustion. "I know it is difficult, but you must stay awake and deliver your second child." A certain ping of fear could be heard in your mother's voice, and it scared you horribly.

The labor had not been an easy one. You'd been in the birthing bed for almost a day, and after hours, your son arrived, the loud wailing at least giving you enough peace to know that he was healthy and alive. The second babe was being more stubborn.

You could feel the sticky warmth of your own blood against your thighs; it soaked the bed beneath you, and you tried your best to keep going, even as you felt as though your body was being torn apart.

Maester Gerardys had delivered you eighteen years ago, and now he helped ease your second child out of between your legs.

"Another boy, Princess," Elinor says happily, holding the younger boy as Gerardys severs the birthing cord. You let out a gasp of relief as the pain starts to ebb.

Your mother presses a relieved kiss to your crown, a smile large on her lips as she wipes away the sweat from your head with a soft cloth.

"You did so well, My Girl. Look at them, they're perfect!"

Two boys.

Two boys, just as you had dreamt.

"What would you like to name them? A strong name for this one, I wager," Rhaenyra smiles as Maester Gerardys hands over the older boy, his body wiped clean and wrapped in a blanket. You had always intended to name your first son after your sire. Ser Laenor would always remain in your heart, even after years of his death. You cradle the older babe with the help of your mother, and you smile tiredly at his tiny face as he gurgles at you. Rhaenyra holds the younger twin once Gerardys wraps him up, and she marvels at the little tuft of dark hair upon his head.

"The older one is Laenor, to honor my late father..." You trace your fingers over the soft white wisps of hair on Laenor's head as he squirms in your arms. The door to your room opens, and Aegon enters the space, moving to your side hesitantly as Rhaenyra stares holes into his head. "The younger one will be Rhaelor, after my mother."

Aegon had expressed no real interest in naming them.

'You pushed them out of your body; you should name them.'

"You should hold your son, let (Name) get some rest," Rhaenyra says with venom in her tone.

Laenor, the older boy, he was loud and chubby, like a little puff pastry.

Rhaelor was much smaller than his brother, but the maesters had told you it was somewhat expected for one twin to be larger than the other. It seemed that Laenor had been a greedy little thing even before he'd taken his first breath.

Maester Gerardys had taken Laenor from your arms, cradling the newborn babe in his arms as he tried to coax Aegon's arms open enough to hold the babe. Aegon awkwardly holds the child in his arms, his eyes trained on you as Rhaenyra continues to soothe you, as Elinor hands you some Milk of the Poppy. The second babe was nestled in the arms of Daemon the moment he entered the room. Rhaelor was seemingly calmer than his brother, already fast asleep, his little lips pressed into a pout as he snoozed.

"Everyone, please vacate the room. The Princess must rest now," Rhaenyra stands, looking like a mother dragon protecting her eggs. Elinor, your maid, starts a bath for you as everyone starts to leave, Aegon standing in the nearby corner.

"Aegon, bring the child to Mother's solar; she would like to meet the new princes." Aemond appears in the doorway, being careful not to fully enter, lest he invade your privacy in such a vulnerable manner.

"Come now, Love," Your mother gently guides you into the cool water, being careful with your hips and nether regions. "It hurts," you whined. The stinging of your body was not completely dulled by the milk. "You just pushed out two babes, even the Mother herself would be hurting, I imagine." Your mother smiles at you, her eyes soft with affection as she shoos away your maid.

"I do not wish for the boys to be kept in the nursery," you say suddenly, glancing at your mother anxiously.

Rhaenyra smiles gently, dragging a wet cloth over the length of your arm, the water soothing the sweat off of your skin.

"I will have the servants move their cradles to your chambers then," Rhaenyra seemed almost lost in thought as she helped you bathe. You imagine it's a bittersweet thing for her. A mother caring for her child after having her own babe. "I never let them touch you; you had come into the world early, and you hadn't breathed at first. You had been so tiny, sickly, even."

A kiss is pressed to the back of your head.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was many things, but above all, she was a proud mother.

Shortly after bathing and allowing your mother to put you to bed, you glance out of your balcony window, your back propped up against the headboard. The sky is purple, dark as a bruise.

You had been blind sighted, not realizing it was already the time of the owl.

Your mother returns shortly with the twins in tow.

Rhaenyra was in her nightdress, a pale purple silk. Once she settles, Rhaelor is in your arms, suckling at your breast.

"How are you feeling, Sweetling?" Your mother settles beside you in your bed, her fingers stroking over your hair as you cradle your youngest son in your arms. Rhaelor had refused any wet nurse who attempted to feed him, and his cries had broken you apart. You chose to feed him yourself, and the babe sleeps nestled against your chest.

"Exhausted, but I am happy," you say quietly, watching as Rhaelor's lips curl into a pout.

Laenor was already fast asleep in his cradle, his belly full.

"Will you stay in Kings Landing for a little while longer? I do not want to be left alone..."

Rhaenyra pulls you into her arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"Of course. However long you wish."

"I am honored by the Mother to be blessed with two healthy sons, don't you think?" Rhaenyra smiles at you as you start to drift off into sleep after finally getting comfortable enough.

It was instinct to feel so safe in the arms of your mother. You whimper as Rhaelor is eased out of your arms. Rhaenyra has one of your ladies place him in the cradle with his brother, the two babes at peace as they slept.

The candles go dark, and despite being a woman grown, you fall asleep to the sound of your mother's heartbeat as your head rests on her chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

No one expected much out of Aegon.

Especially not as a father.

No one thought Aegon would take to fatherhood in the way that he had. It had surprised you, most of all. Before marrying Aegon, you had heard the stories of his whoring. It scared you more than his drinking, because it was unpredictable. Something you didn't understand completely due to your inexperience.

Laenor and Rhaelor were loved deeply, both by you and Aegon.

And by Meraxes.

The hound stood vigil over the twins while they slept, ate, and even while they were being held by a member of the royal family.

You entrusted the twins' safety to her when you left the Keep, Ser Harrold escorting you to the dragon pit.

"He has been restless, and the Keepers cannot keep him restrained in the Pit, Princess," Ser Harrold says in an almost amused tone of voice. "Never before have we seen a dragon so free-spirited. The smallfolk do not fear him, but the fishermen do. He has caused them much grief."

Grey Ghost had never taken to captivity. After relocating to Dragonstone all those years ago, he hardly spent time in the pit; he always found himself dipping into the sea for fish. Dragons grew larger the less captive they were. He was almost as large as Syrax now.

You had heard his calls from your balcony several times during the last moon of your pregnancy with the twins. A nasally sound of pure anxiety. He would fly over the Keep, see you were unharmed, and fly back to wherever he was staying. A cove off to the west, you'd wager.

Stepping out of the royal wagon, you smile gently as the sound of beating wings welcomes your ears.

Ser Harrold stands nearby, keeping a safe distance from you as Grey Ghost spots you from where he was in the sky, a high-pitched sound coming from his nasal cavity as he nose dives towards the ground. The ground shakes forcefully as Grey Ghost lands in front of you, his long tail swishing behind him, and he nudges you with his muzzle. A sound - almost like a purr - leaves him as he arches his neck when your hands come to scratch at his thick scales.

Your boy had missed you.

Dearly.

"Ser, please let my mother know that I have gone riding," you turn to the Kingsguard, a hand gently petting at your dragon's snout as he mewls at your touch. "She is sure to be worried by now. I will return to the Keep shortly."

Mounting Grey Ghost, you can feel his anxiety melt away as he starts to flap his wings, the large mass of his body lifts from the ground, and with a final growl of affirmation, Grey Ghost flits into the air with you upon his back.

The air is crisp against your cheeks, a sting that you welcome with open arms as your dragon swiftly makes his way towards the ocean, his maw open as he watches the water, eager to fetch his next meal.

Grey Ghost was swift, quicker than most dragons. His wingspan was large; he could carry you anywhere.

You hadn't been able to ride your dragon in months.

You were going to enjoy this.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Rhaenyra had been delighted by your twins, Rhaelor especially.

"He looks just as she did when she was a babe," Rhaenyra's voice is soft, the newborn curled in her arms as she sits near Laenor's cradle. Alicent is silent on the other side of the cradle, having just put Laenor to sleep. She doesn't speak, not knowing what to say to the woman she once held so much love for in her youth.

"(Name) is a good girl. She's pious, just as you were," Rhaenyra looks towards Alicent, seemingly looking for a response from the queen as she stares down at the oldest boy. Laenor Targaryen had his father's likeness, Alicent realizes. He looks like Aegon when he was a babe. It was so long ago, and it had spelled disaster for Alicent's future.

But you doted on him, loved him as a mother should. Something Alicent had struggled with when she was a young mother.

Having children has made you happy.

"She will make a fine mother," Alicent's voice shakes a bit, she soothes out her dress before glancing towards the person she once called a friend.

"Princess (Name) will be well-loved and taken care of here. The King looks forward to her permanent residence in the Keep." Alicent pauses, her lips curling into a small, almost unnoticeable, smile. "As do I."

"Mother," Aegon enters the room, Meraxes trails behind him, immediately darting towards Rhaenyra, her nose pressed wetly against the crown of Rhaelor's head. Her tail swishes happily, her snout nuzzling the babe gently. "Have you seen (Name)? I cannot find her anywhere." Aegon questions, coming to his mother's side. He goes to pick up Laenor from his cradle, only to be slapped away by Alicent.

"What was that for? Can I not hold my son?"

"He's just fallen asleep! Your wife has two babes to look after, she's exhausted enough!"

A pout pulls at Aegon's lips.

"Well then, where is my wife? Since you know so much about her needs."

"Grey Ghost has been spotted near the docks," Alicent says stiffly. "The maesters have cleared her for riding. She left the Keep this morning with Ser Westerling."

"(Name) shares a special bond with Grey Ghost," Rhaenyra pipes in, staring at the tiny face of Rhaelor as he slept in her arms. "She is a Targaryen, after all."

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Your bed is soft against your skin as you rest against it, the furs brushing against you gently. Having just put the boys to sleep, you could rest easy knowing that they were happily fed and loved.

Meraxes flops on top of Aegon in an attempt to get him to move, wishing to sleep next to you on the large bed.

It was abnormal for a man and wife to share a room, yet you found Aegon in your bed most nights. Before the birth of Laenor and Rhaelor, it had almost always ended in a sexual encounter that had you flushed and sore in the morning, but now he simply slept beside you, near the two cradles that your sons resided in. You had no doubt that he wished to mount you once again, being as insatiable as he was, but the maesters warned him against such things.

Your fingers dance against the soft white hair atop Aegon's head as he snores against your chest.

You had not expected to love him when you married Aegon. He was a drunk, a whore, and you knew he could be cruel in certain instances. You simply intended to strengthen your mother's claim to the throne by producing heirs when you married him. Your shared childhood had been bitterly forgotten after the incident on Driftmark.

You, as the heir of Rhaenyra Targaryen, had not entered this marriage with the intention of loving your husband.

The twins had changed things for you, however.

The love you had for Aegon had been a soft thing, mostly due to the kindness and affection he gave you without warning. You didn't hate him, and you found yourself enjoying his company.

But the boys?

The twins had made you love Aegon more than you thought possible.

You loved them dearly, the fear of being a bad mother still lingered in the back of your mind, but you could hold them close and whisper sweet promises to them as much as you wanted. The only reason you had such happiness was because of Aegon, because you married him, because you had done your duty as your mother's heir.

You loved Aegon because he had given you your boys.

More Mama! Nyra centered this chapter, and the babies are here 🥺 also some rhaenicent crumbs

For those who are wondering, Meraxes is a blood hound!

He never found the whores on campus attractive, their short skirts and breasts spilling out of their tops could never illicit a response from Michael. He was a man, he had his own fantasies, but silly little bimbo sluts had never been his cup of tea.

But you...

The long skirts and sweaters you wore had never failed to have him leaking in his pants, voice so sweet it had him reeling the first time he'd heard it. Your intelligence was so fucking hot it made him into a whimpering mess almost every night. Michael Gavey was a goner the moment he met you.

He followed you to your classes, sat behind you during lectures just so he could catch a whiff of the soft vanilla of your scent. Your left behind hair ties and pencils you had nibbled on? The tie is wrapped around his cock as he fucks his pillow, his tongue laving the pencil as he imagines the taste of your saliva.

So, yes.

He is pretending to struggle with this class just so he can hear you lecture him. He can imagine his dirtiest fantasy as you talk endlessly, your words holding a certain gracefulness that has Michael palming his cock under the table. You would make a fine professor. He'd kill to see you in the same heels and pencil skirts that some of them wore.

Just as long as you wore that fucking sweater.

"Michael, you're doing so well!" You praise him, a soft smile on your full lips as he hesitantly answers the question correctly. His hand is down his pants underneath the table, his cock throbs as he jerks the leaking tip gently, precum pools in the slit, adding lubrication to his debauchery as you innocently question him on why exactly he needed your help if he was at the top of your shared class.

He hopes that you pull away and see exactly what he's doing. He'd kill to see the look of flustered surprise on your face as you watched him cum all over himself.

There's a flush to Michael's cheeks as he cups his balls in his hand, he rolls them as you flutter your pretty lashes at him, and a shudder leaves his body as his cock throbs. Hot strings of semen leave his slit, a soft dripping sound could be heard as the milky white hits the ground the library. Michael's breath hitches, his eyes roll back just a bit, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders dissolve as his cock throbs painfully underneath the table.

You don't notice, too busy pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

Fuck.

He loves those glasses.

Watching the Princess' womb swell had been an exciting time for all at court.

For Ser Criston Cole, it had been hell.

He had no way of knowing if the child growing inside of her was his or not. Had Laenor and Rhaenyra consummated their union, or was the product of Criston's sins slowly growing inside of the woman he now hated?

Your birth had changed many things. King Viserys had delighted in you, happily taking you from Rhaenyra's arms at any time. You were his first grandchild, the future heir to the Iron Throne. Viserys had blinded himself to your obvious parentage; it seemed everyone had. The dark hair atop your small head had turned to curls the older you became, and Criston knew you shared his eyes as well.

You looked like him.

Criston had thought he'd hate your existence; you were simply a reminder of his momentary weakness.

And yet...

And yet he longed to hold you in his arms, to cradle you gently to his strong chest. He wished to tell you how similar you looked to your grandmother. He'd kill an entire army of men just to be able to brush your hair. He wondered if your hair was as thick as his, and if your handmaidens struggled to brush it in the early mornings.

The rage he felt knowing your whore of a mother was keeping you away from him had Criston stewing for years.

Laenor Velaryon could dote upon you as much as he liked.

Ser Harwin Strong, despite not being your father, could protect you from crowds at social events without drawing strange looks.

Rhaenyra could press kisses to your crown, never to face a single consequence.

He could do nothing but watch.

But now... now you were here, married to the prince, and you would remain in Kings Landing as Rhaenyra and the rest of her entourage would travel back to Dragonstone. The old king had at least a decade left in his bones, Criston thought, and he had plenty of time to correct his wrongdoings by you.

"Ser Criston, please fetch the princess. I wish for her to join me for tea."

Alicent knew of the affair, and she knew of her sworn sword's connection with you. Perhaps it was the bleeding heart of a mother who hadn't seen her youngest son in years, but he knew Alicent could not hate you. You had been such a happy baby, chubby smile and all.

You were hard to dislike, even now.

Aegon had taken you to bed several times since your wedding night, and all suspected that you were soon to be swelled with child.

He would have legitimate grandchildren.

"Princess, the Queen requests you join her for tea," Ser Criston looks at you with a certain sadness in his eyes, the ones that were oh so like your own. Dark voids that held too much emotion for one single body.

He loved you; he loved you; he loved you; he loved you.

"The Princess is tired," Rhaenyra says, glaring at Cole with deep lavender eyes as he greedily takes in your figure. You looked like his mother, the slope of your nose, the plumpness of your cheeks. How sweet.

A certain comfort, you thought, considering you hadn't been able to stomach anything all morning. The maesters already spoke of a child possibly growing in your womb, the morning sickness already making itself known. Aegon had paid it no mind, still mounting you every chance he got. It felt nice, you supposed.

It felt nice to know that you were wanted.

"It is alright, perhaps some tea will do me well, Mūna," You press a soft kiss to your mother's cheek, bidding little Aegon and Viserys goodbye before you follow Ser Cole out of your mother's room.

You're quiet as you walk beside him, your lips pressed into a cute pout whilst you look at the stone floor of the Red Keep.

The revelation of Ser Cole being your actual father had truly sent you into a panic. Ser Harwin had been kind, despite being called Breakbones. You had enjoyed his doting just as much as your brothers, but now you were left with the question of whether or not he had truly cared for you in the same way. Ser Criston Cole shared your features, and you couldn't believe you hadn't noticed it before. Perhaps it had been an unconscious attempt at protecting yourself as a child?

You wanted to speak with him about it. Your mother had said he knew, and you had spoken to Aegon about it once.

Ser Criston knew you were his daughter.

"Her Grace heard from Prince Aegon that you were feeling unwell," Criston starts, still walking smoothly beside you, his dark eyes peering at you through thick lashes. "Ginger tea with cinnamon cake had always comforted my own mother when she was ill, specifically for the belly."

Your hands come to hover over your belly suddenly, your thoughts drifting to the new part of life you were soon to be met with. Maester Gerardys had already warned you that you were most likely with child. It hadn't come as a surprise; still, your anxiety spiked the sicker you felt. Would you be a good mother? Would you die in childbirth? Would your children be born with the same dark hair that had haunted you your entire life?

You hadn't told anyone yet, but you're sure Gerardys would soon tell your mother. He was loyal to her.

The anxiety of keeping the news to yourself was slowly eating you alive.

"Prince Aegon speaks endlessly of you to Her Grace," Criston's tone is light as he opens the door to Alicent's solar, the scent of religious incense heavy in the air. Criston fluffs a pillow and lets you rest your back against it in one of the large chairs. "He is quite smitten with you, I would wager."

You flush at his words, suddenly less shy and quiet than you had been before.

Glancing around the room, you notice that you are alone with Ser Criston.

Heart nearly beating out of your chest, you look up at him desperately.

"You... you know that I am..." You hesitate, sucking your lip into your mouth as your eyes prick with tears.

"You are mine, (Name). My child," Criston swallows the anxiety in his throat before gently gathering your hands in his own, suddenly bowing before you.

"I promise to protect you with my life, Princess."

For the first time in a month, you finally felt safe.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

In the months following your talk with your father, your womb had swelled significantly.

Rhaenyra and the rest of your family had decided to stay in King's Landing until after your child was born. Rhaenyra had certain fears about childbirth, as her own mother had died when she was young. It was especially hard on Targaryen women; she had told you. Some children came out dead with scales and tails, the dark magic of your ancestors still cursing your bodies centuries later. Your pregnancy was not an easy one; the sickness was constant and exhausting.

You were not unhappy, however.

"What names have you considered for the babe?" Aemond sits beside you as the two of you watch Aegon make a fool of himself. Alicent has him by the collar, chastising him for drinking recklessly while his lady wife was heavily pregnant.

Aemond had changed drastically since your shared childhood, but you cannot help but see him as that shy, sweet boy without a dragon. Before the incident on Driftmark, the two of you had been rather close, despite the tension between your two families. He was ten and six now, a deep scar that was mostly covered by his eyepatch running down his face.

Still, you somewhat enjoyed his company.

"For a son, I would name him Laenor, to honor my father," you smile, covering up a laugh as Aegon stumbles over himself. "For a girl, I like the name Rhaella or Vaella."

"I wish for a daughter, though," you say with a laugh.

"Mother says that daughters are easier," Aemond says flatly. "If we're lucky, your children will favor you in appearance rather than my brother."

You look over at Aemond, an expression of an almost humorous shock on your face as you digest his words.

"My husband is a pretty man, I would say," you counter with a hint of embarrassment in your voice. Aemond's lips turn upwards just a bit, his head turning to the side as Aegon is dragged away by his mother. The gardens are suddenly much more peaceful.

"Mn."

Aemond had always thought fondly of his niece, despite her being a year older than him. You were always sweet to him; the games where you allowed Aemond to be your knight instead of Jace always brought a smile to his lips when he slept.

It was a pity, Aemond thought, that you were wasted upon his fool of a brother.

Aemond would have done well by you, should the two of you have been married. He had dreamed of it many times during his childhood.

Even now, Aemond thought you were a saint.

"Do you need help returning to your bedchambers? I fear my brother is already abed," Aemond is quick in his suggestion, already eyeing Daemon and Jace across the courtyard. You were never truly left alone; someone was always trailing behind you at your mother's behest.

"I could not ask you of such a thing, Good Brother," you say in a gentle coo that sends a chill down Aemond's neck.

Your voice had always been so calming and sweet, like a balm to his troubles.

"I insist, Sister," Aemond stands and offers you his arm. The child swelling in your belly had limited the speed at which you could move. A healthy pregnancy, his mother had noted. You seemed happy, excited to be a mother. Aemond had no doubt you would excel at doting on the new babe once they arrived.

You take Aemond's arm tentatively, quite hesitant to touch a man who wasn't your lawful husband. Aemond was still that sweet little boy to you; you could not imagine touching him the same way Aegon touched you.

You make eye contact with Jacaerys from across the courtyard, the panic obvious on his face as he begins to stride towards you and Aemond. You shake your head and give your younger brother a sweet smile, letting him know it was fine.

As Aemond leads you through the corridors of the castle, you steady a hand on your swelled tummy as Aemond speaks to you about how his dragonriding was going with Vhagar.

"I have seen her, she's a magnificent dragon, your personalities mesh well."

You spoke the truth of it. Aemond's presence seemed to inflame the old dragon, giving her new energy and strength in her elder years. Aemond had obviously become more confident since claiming Vhagar.

She had done well by him.

Aemond opens the large wooden door leading to your bed chamber.

He pauses, his one eye narrowed as he tries his best to make out the figure on your bed.

"Oh, Seven!" You let out an embarrassed laugh as you try to lead Aemond out of the room. His vision was hazy, and you just hoped he hadn't caught the naked body in your bed.

"He is a disrespectful newt." Aemond seethes through his teeth, a redness to his pale cheeks.

"Have a nice evening, Good Sister," Aemond is tense as he walks away, and you close the door behind you before making your way towards the bed, a certain waddle to your steps due to the child in your womb.

Aegon is splayed against the royal blue covers of your feathered bed. He is bare, his face pressed into your pillow as he groans softly.

Alicent must have brought him to your room in his drunken stupor; he probably wouldn't cooperate with her enough to get him to his own room. A hand cradling your belly, you grab one of the many furs you had folded on the large chair by the window. You cover your husband with the fur before fetching one of your ladies to help you dress for bed.

"Have a good sleep, Elinor," you bid her good night and settle yourself into bed next to your unconscious husband. Meraxes flops onto the cushion next to your belly, and you subconsciously reach over to play with Aegon's platinum hair, the strands slipping through your fingers as you smile gently.

You were happy.

Aegon: omg I love my wifey smmmm

Aemond: me too lol

Aegon: ...

Aegon: what

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