I Have Never Think That I Would Have Loved Gregor Clegane Things. But This... Sweet Good, It Was So Good.

I have never think that I would have loved Gregor Clegane things. But this... sweet good, it was so good.

Good work dear Autor 👍 🫶

*slides over* heyaaaa how you doin? hope your doin great:], could i possibly ask for a gregor c fic maybe a smut maybe a fluff(possibly a continuation of the fic with the kids), okkkk now bye bye love ya!!❤

Warm Embraces and Warmer Beds

NSFW!!

Any and all characters depicted in NSFW pieces are of legal age. All characters are also consenting (Unless specificed by piece)

CONTENT: SMUT (underneath cut)- dub!con, Fingering, PinV, reunion! sex- Language, vague mentions of war + blood (it’s Westeros), discussions of SW

Big Greg… You know what you’re getting in to.

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Hey my pookies. Another day, another request, more regrets. Mistakes have been made, but I will do anything for my self-indulgent fics about a big ass man who’d probably turn me into a pavement pancake if we met irl (🤤)

Anyway…

Live long, prosper… I guess.

P.S. Als at some point (over) 50 of you silly geeses decided to drop a follow, so thank you sm my babies. I love you all.

I really need a Masterlist…

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To be married to a knight- Especially one who boasts his own keep- Is something most ladies of your standing can only dream of. Most low, noble girls are thrown off to a favoured squire, to old men and their older books, who couldn’t be bothered to find themselves a wife until it was much too late. But you? You are lucky. Your husband is feared, truly feared, you have no jealous lordlings come to take your land, and no threat to you, or your boys. Gregor Clegane is a name known across the Kingdoms, and you, as sweet Lady Clegane, are his responsibility. Not even the Lannister bannermen ask for voluntary contribution when they come for the tithes. You need nothing, and you are asked for even less.

But there are always sacrifices to be made. It is part of womanhood; the men hunt and drink and fuck as they see fit, and you are left to pick up the pieces, and tend to their wounds. You have never minded, though, Gregor is a sweetheart when he returns, like a kicked puppy, demanding a hot meal and a kiss to his cuts. His duty is to guard, and yours is to nurture, that is how it has always been.

It is not uncommon for he, Tywin’s greatest weapon, to spend months away from you. He is a knight, and that is how knights serve their lords. He leaves you with everything you could need and more in his absence: control over his land, his keep and, his prized possessions, your boys. Ronan and Finny are old enough to understand their expectations as the heir, and the spare, to the Clegane household. Armed with wooden swords and a promise to protect their lady mother, and the small, pink sack of flesh they call a baby brother. Something in you is glad they still idolise their father’s profession, that their heads are still filled with the notions of saving princesses and slaying dragons.

Still, even excitable little boys grow restless after so long without their father. There is a hush over the keep, and the land, and it is almost peaceful; not that it could truly manage it, with Gregor at its helm, but it is nice to see the pheasants running about, when the men are too busy fighting to hunt them down. One runs past, chased by a kitchen cat, in turn chased by Ronan. You grab him before he can reach the animals, he has a habit of staging races, and annoying the gamekeeper with the scratches across the lawns. The boy squeals, as he always does, caught in the act.

“Mama?”

Ronan is placated with a book and one of the very old, very fat cats he has no interest in racing. The thing, titled ‘lazy arse’ by Gregor, affectionately or not, sits across your son, with the bored expression you’d expect from the child himself. He, with his pages open at an illustration of the Valyrian dragons burning each other, is enjoying himself immensely. At least, you think, his studies are partially educational.

“Mh?"

“When’s Daddy coming back?”

You sigh, looking out the window as though the mustard banners would appear at any moment. You don’t know, in truth, Gregor could be a mile away, or halfway across the world, and it wouldn’t make that much of a difference. Dead, or alive, or turned into a beast of cool flesh and ice, the distance is about the same no matter how you think about it, and double so for your boys.

“I don’t know, sweet boy,” That’s all you can find yourself able to tell him. He looks at you, shrugs, and goes back to his book. You are glad he is not a girl, a girl would ask more questions, Ronan has always been happy with the simple.

It is relatively calm, it always is on nights like these. Finny is beyond himself, refusing to go to bed, as always, and the babe is unreasonably fussy for no particular reason. Still, it is near surreally quiet. You do not know much about war, but you know what it sounds like, and in your world, it sounds like silence. Something in you tells you to let the boys sleep in your bed, instead of forcing them into the room the clearly do not want to go in. Finny is light, easy enough for you to lift up and plop on Gregor’s side, Ronan, with slightly more stamina, follows along beside you.

The night has no major disasters, the babe is taken off by the nursemaids, and you wake to the sunlight streaming in through the window, you must have forgotten to pull the curtains, the staff would not have come in this early. Or perhaps they did; there is a bundle of daffodils upon your dresser, which you are certain were not there when you retired for the evening. Erra, one of your few handmaidens, enjoys making little displays, you assume she has snuck in some time before dawn to place them.

And then you hear it, those footsteps. No man alive can imitate the heavy, dull thud of them, you know it all too well. It stirs the boys, or, more likely, they were already awake, you aren’t particularly sure. You see the shadows change as the door opens, and you can recognise from the size of it alone who stands before you.

“You awake?”

The response you give is somewhere between a hum and a groan, not quite aware enough to answer him, yet enough to know he’s there. You can hardly move, both for sleep, and the fact that Finny has clambered across your chest at some point in the night, but he still knows. He always knows.

Gregor trundles in, washed and dressed in his nightshirt. You wonder where he slept, surely not beside you, you are certain he would have woken you, or the boys, getting himself into bed. The light blocks most of his face, but he moves with such power you assume he has no injuries. If he does, he is good at hiding them. When he reaches the bed, he pulls the quilts away from you, and you make a noise of complaint for the cold, even if the day itself is reasonably warm. Gregor pulls Finny from your chest, and Ronan from your side, and lifts them up, into his arms, and you are quickly reunited with your warm blankets. You hear one of the boys stir, though unsure which, and he is shushed by Gregor as they leave. For once, they may sleep in their own beds.

Your husband, your Mountain, returns to your side, and climbs into your bed. He is as warm as he left you, and just as willing to wrap you in his embraces. You feel the urge to go back to sleep, to rest in his arms as though he had never gone in the first place, and it is wonderful.

But of course, it is never that simple.

Big hands find your sides, sliding under your nightdress and scraping your bare thighs underneath. Gregor lifts you just slightly, enough so that when he bends his legs, you sit directly upon his lap. You make some sort of noise, some demonstration of complaint, but he has never listened, and he will not start now.

The first kiss you receive, after months of doing without, goes softly to the plumped skin of your cheek. Warm, and smooth and uncharacteristically delicate, like something you would dream of. Part of you wonders if this is, truly, a dream, as Gregor rocks you back and forth, hands seeking grip on the flat surface of the meat of your thighs. And he does not stop there, he hasn’t stopped a day in his life.

He grazes you, cool, rugged hands taking their place against soft, fattened skin. You wonder how many nights he has spent alone with his hands in the past months, just as you have. He would never take a whore, he tells you, he can’t be bothered with the effort. But you are no whore, you are soft, and delicate, and willing.

It doesn’t much matter if the noise you make is of protest or of enjoyment. You are tired, and growing increasingly wet, and this seems to spur him even more.

“Missed this…”

He murmurs against your skin, pinching fingers pulling up the skirts of your nightdress, so your bare arse rests upon those heavy, muscled thighs, sharp with a thousand tiny, black hairs. It shocks you, just enough for you to register it, but not so that you are fully awake.

You feel his cock immediately, of course you do. Its length, its width. He is a big man, and he has no lack of knowledge towards its usage. Even from within the confines of his nightshirt its outline is visible, and you are almost ashamed of the sudden desire which washes over you. At any other point you would feign shame, you would blush and whimper. But here, and now, there is only so much longing you can hold back.

Gregor’s great hands come up to caress your face, and he almost laughs,

“You’re drooling, love,” His thumb swipes at your bottom lip, and you resist the urge to bite, to show him you are in no mood for teasing, but you are certain your reward will come soon.

And it does, as always. In his usual fashion, the hands come first. Pinches become long, deliberate waves of touch, and there is the understanding that all of his play, his teasing, has ceased. He wants what he wants, and he wants your cunt.

In your sleep-addled state, and probably in his fully lucid reality, it is gentle and sweeter than usual. Perhaps he is being deliberately gentle to aid your fragile mind, or, more likely, he knows you have forgotten just how big he truly is, and a broken wife is just about as good as no wife at all.

One hand keeps itself firmly upon your hip, in case you slip and slide away from him, as the other caresses your inner thighs, and, when he is satisfied you can handle it, to the true purpose of his invasions.

He has never let you enjoy his hands solely for long, and this shall be no different. For such a big man, Gregor is shockingly agile in this regard, fumbling steps and harsh palms becoming light touches against your clit. At this time, in this situation, he doesn’t dare venture any further than the surface. From his grunts and, dare you say it, his whines, you can tell he may not last particularly long, the consequence of months away from you, you suppose.

“Hey, hey- Sleepy girl,”

Gregor’s hands leave your body, and you find yourself pressed once again to the soft, inviting flesh of the mattress, still warm. The semi-shock you experience as your arse touches the cool air is dulled, instantly, as the big man pats it gently. Your hips are lifted, and he puts his own pillow beneath you, warm.

“Have you just the way you like, yeah?”

You affirm, face pushed into your own cushion. You can hardly breathe, but with the delicious tension, it doesn’t really matter.

And it comes, just as you expected it, perhaps more than you expected it. You see only darkness, but you feel so much more. He moves with poorly veiled desire, a necessity to touch you as only he can. You are his and, more importantly, he is yours, all yours. After all, who else is he taking with such delicate fervour?

You are kissed, you are held, and you are loved. Gregor’s cock finds its way, with simple instinct, to your cunt, and you wince and whine. He had expected it, of course, and gets no more than the tip into you before he has to stop. Not the desired reaction, but the realistic one.

“Shh, shh…” It seems a foreign sound for such a harsh creature. To hush, to comfort, “That’s my girl…”

You keen, your hips shift upwards and you let him in further, despite the uncomfortable stretching. You have always loved his praise, always loved to be his sweet, good, wife.

Gregor’s movements are gentle. When he takes you like this, after months apart, he allows himself to be gentle. He is your returned knight, your handsome, precious husband, and there is a time and a place for him to be the Mountain. Now, here, is not that place.

When he is certain you are comfortable, that it is not too much, he helps you sit yourself between his cock and your hand. Big fingers return to your clit, and he almost laughs as you squeal, the sudden stimulation, apparently, a shock to the system.

And, naturally, it does not take particularly long for him to reap the rewards of this uncharacteristic gentleness, as you let out your long, low moans, muffled by your face pressed into the cushions, and he feels you clench around him. It is something he has longed for, there is nothing quite like it, and it always brings forth his own finish.

So he does. Thick and hot, everything you might expect from a man of that stature, with such a glorious cock. The world does not give you many pleasures, nor does it anyone, but to be here, warm and filled, is certainly a pleasure worth noting.

Gregor stays in you, he likes to stay in you. In his brooding moments he likes to say it helps a child come forth, but you aren’t quite sure of the legitimacy to that claim. Not that it matters. You see the sunlight again, staring out your bedroom window with a wall of flesh at your back. And it is beautiful.

He has killed men, you know that, he will have rampaged through the Vale, or wherever it was he had been sent, destroying everything in his path and laughing as he did it. You see his great breastplate stained with blood, and the image turns you in some, not entirely unpleasant way. But you say nothing, you are too tired for a second round, and your Mountain seems to have spent his energy.

Later, once you are suitably cleaned of all remnants of your adventures, and Gregor is both awake and dressed, you sit around the table, the boys clinging to their father and desperate for tales of their father’s quests around Westeros. Not much of it is suitable for children, you gather.

They spend all day play-fighting, with their swords, and insist that you must watch, to referee, and you must give your favours to both of them, because every knight has their favours. They, as little knights-to-be, are satisfied by leaves you pick from the ground.

Finny wins, to everyone’s amazement, and as his reward is given first pick of pudding. Not substantial by any means, but enough to satisfy a small boy with a love of blackberries. Everyone is happy, all is content, and Gregor fits back into the family with no trouble, making your boys cringe as he kisses you before supper is served. You deserve your rewards too, after all.

Tags

game of thrones x reader Gregor Clegane x reader

He's first and only love part 3 (final)

Pairing : Daemon x chubby Fem readerAbstract: What will happen to the living? Who will win? Daemon and Y/n will manage to have a happy ending?

Trigger Warning: English is not my mother tongue, mention of: death, description of a corpse, scene of fights.

----

It was the singing of birds that awakened Y/n, she had not realized that she had fallen asleep. His mind was misty, as if lost in the thickest fog.

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was not in Winterfell, the rays of the sun lit the place. Y/n looked around her, discovering a large room, with stone walls and an oak floor. Two large windows let in the light, an extinguished chimney took a considerable place on the wall in front of it. Moving to get up, Y/n noticed that she was in deep red sheets. When you removed them, you could see that you were not dressed, the way she was remembered. She was wearing a black night dress with gold embroidery.

Strangely this place seemed both familiar and foreign. A part of her told herself that she should not be afraid, while on the other hand, her heart began to beat quickly, adrenaline in her veins, circulating quickly. Y/n moved the roof to put his feet on the ground. Said ground was cold, despite the sun radiating on it.

Y/n began to walk around the room which seemed to be a bedroom in the end by the arrangement of the room and its furniture. Y/n walked to the window. She could see a landscape she thought she had only seen in her dreams. No building reminded him of the architecture of the cities of Essos. Essos, Westeros… Daenerys! Y/n looked more frantically through the window and around her, some recent memories returning to his mind.

Suddenly, a wink of clinch made her stop, the door opened slowly to reveal a man with silver hair. It was him.

“You are awake, Issa jorrāelagon”

"Who are you?"

“You know who I am, just as I know who you are.”

The man walked slowly into the room. The door closed behind him.

“I dreamt of you…” Y/n remembered him. “In this cave… But how? Where are we?”

“The last place we were, before that dog separated us.”

Y/n didn’t understand what the man was talking about. She had a sharp pain in her head, as if her memory wanted to remind her of past events. Y/n pushed her hands against her temples, gnashing her teeth. She thought she heard screams… Wrestling noises… Her voice. Y/n had a flash, a scene lived, she was in this same room, standing in front of the large mirror, putting on a long tunic. His vision was fogged up and another flash arrived, an unknown man was in the room… The panic had just devoured her, she saw herself defending herself, screaming for help… Screaming a name… only one. Y/n saw herself stabbed and lost her blood. She was told the same name one last time.

“Daemon…”

This pain in the head faded slowly, a deep sadness invaded him, how was it possible? When she opened her eyes, she could see that the man with the silver hair had come closer to her.

“I should never have let them take your life so easily.”

“How come… His memories are not mine…”

“They are, jorrāelagon, just another life, but you are by my side, you have felt my call. I will never let them take you.”

Daemon put his right hand on the young woman’s cheek. She felt the cold emanating from his hand, which made her shudder.

“Nothing is stopping me now.”

In front of her, Y/n saw the walls change shape, the Targaryen prince, had the color of his skin change, turning blue, his purplish eyes became a supernatural blue.

Little horns that seemed to be a mixture of flesh and ice formed on the top of his head, his silver hair turning to a snow white.

Daemon showed him what he had become, whispering to him not to be afraid of him, his lips were moving and in his voice she heard a small noise, like ice. If that voice was gloomy, part of it wasn’t afraid.

Y/n felt even more alive, a part of her was found. She knew the night king wouldn’t hurt her. No. Never. This look of an ice blue, seemed almost sweet to her, it was Daemon’s words that made her understand that she was finally where she should be

"My queen."

---

At Winterfell, the atmosphere was not at the meeting, the night persisted, the crops were no longer growing and dying for lack of sun and the bitter cold, fortunately the fort had food to hold a siege of several months. But if the night did not leave room for the day, famine was assured and their chances of escaping were very slim.

All were on their guard, they no longer slept normally, their internal clock being biased by the perpetual night. Paranoia grew, although Y/N joined the army of the dead, it had not moved away from the ramparts. Everyone forgot that in the south, another war was waiting for them if Cersei did not decide to join them as an ally, if they did not survive in the north, then the south was lost.

The sound of a crow echoed outside Winterfell, this sound seemed almost herald of good news, as the bird came from the south.

A maester picked up the raven, taking the message he was carrying to Jon Snow. The king of the north was in the great hall of the castle of Winterfell, Daenerys seated in front of him raised his head towards the maester.

“A raven from the south has just arrived my king.”

Jon advanced in the direction of the maester, took the message and read it. He shrunk when reading the message.

“Cersei has made the decision to withdraw his armed forces to King’s Landing. We will have no reinforcements.”

Jon ragged parchment, desperate for such news. It meant two things, either she thought they were all dead and she was preparing King’s Landing for the Walker army or she was preparing to finish any survivors. Without allies and not knowing the enemy’s positions, Jon tried to keep morale, he watched Daenerys. They still had two dragons, Melisandre had arrived shortly before receiving the message from the south. They always had a chance to win even if they were thin.

---

Tormund stood on the fort’s ramparts when a faint, frightening noise echoed in the silence of the night. This sound sounded like the croaking of a great raven, staring at the darkness, watching for the slightest movement that might trigger this battle, which seemed to them all to be inevitable. The croa stopped for a few seconds, before a bigger croak echoes, a form breaks away from the darkness, rushing straight at it. A large raven flew towards Winterfell. He passed a few centimeters from the face of Tormund, spanking him.

The bird circled around the inner courtyard of the fort, making frightful noises. In a few moments the bird was shot by an archer posted on the ramparts. The bird touched the wing and fell heavily on the ground, but continued to croak. A servant approached and saw that the bird was partially dislodged, one eye had gone out of its orbit and the other was hanging blue. The raven was finished with a dragonglass blade. A parchment was found at the level of what was his legs. The servant took the message and went towards the great hall. A message from the dead was something no one thought possible.

---

Daenerys read the parchment several times. Y/n seemed to be alive, she was both relieved but at the same time most worried. How long was she gonna be alive?

In the parchment, Y/n asked the Targaryen to flee Westeros while this was still possible. She begged him to go to Essos and take with her as many people as possible. The attack was imminent and his king would have no mercy.

Daenerys was ranting while reading her friend’s words, she was loyal and never would she have chosen to take a stand for the dead. She was his queen. Hers! Jon tried to bring reason to Daenerys, that was their chance to negotiate. But his queen refused. Daenerys began to write on another piece of parchment frantically. With a quick step, she went in the direction of the aviary, ordering a servant to send her message by raven in the direction of the north. The servant was hesitant, but Daenerys’s tone of voice made him understand that he would not have the right to refuse. The raven flew only about ten seconds. His cry died in the darkness, a hundred metres from the ramparts. The guards shivered. The dead were much closer than they thought.

---

Three long horns echoed in the night. The Dothraki, in the saddle, were the first defences of the city, followed by unsullied. Mélisande using an incantation lit up the blades of the warriors, illuminating the future battlefield.

No one really had time to understand what was happening to them. Darkness surrounded them, horses were put on the ground while warriors were put down. One after the other, they fell. The few survivors who were the furthest away fled towards the fort, horses without their riders turned back, while several warriors fled running for their survival.

Grey Worm, at the head of the unsullied saw the Dothraki return, cries of terror ran through them. He ordered his troops to stand in a defensive position, throwing by hand. The darkness was moving in their directions, carrying such cold air, that what he had experienced at Winterfell made him think of a sunny day. The first bone grunts echoed. Thinking one last time of Missandei who was in the catacombs of the fort, near the women and children. He tightened his spear. Ready to fight.

---

Fighting raged outside the fort, both armies had suffered losses, but it was not enough to stop the dead.

Grey Worm, surrounded by his soldiers, defended the ramparts, but with each death two others came to replace him, like a hydra. He could hear knights and warriors from the north screaming for help, others dying, or some asking for help from the gods or their mothers. His heart was beating so fast that he could have come out of his chest, never had they been prepared for such a battle. From the dead, some bodies were in very bad conditions, these were the easiest to beat. But the children were the most deceitful and quick. He had lost several friends to his enemies.

Round by round, flames of a red effervescent fall from the sky towards the darkness. Jon on the back of Rhaegon came to the aid. Daenerys on Drogon burned the other side of the ramparts. The army of the dead surrounded the fort. But their helpers were able to give respite to the warriors on the ground.

Rhaegon howled, some warriors raised their eyes in his direction. The dragon had flames coming out of its side, it screamed twice before collapsing on the ground two meters from the great gate of the fort. The dead and the living who did not have time to escape were soiled by the dragon’s corpse. A spear had been thrown from the darkness, leaving Rhaegon no chance.

Daenerys landing on Drogon’s back, seen are second «son» dying before his eyes. Drogon howled and prepared to rise. A tremor made Daenerys aware of the events, a grunt made her look to her left. The claws of hind legs ran down on her and Drogon. He no longer defended himself. Viseryon caught Drogon, tired him of his claws. Drogon was struggling, trying to bite Viseryon, flapping his wings to make a contrary grow. It was with a severe laceration on his left thigh that he managed to free himself, failing to make his mother fall in the action.

Drogon flew into the sky, trying to get past the clouds. Taking advantage of this moment, Daemon rode Viseryon melted on the fort, burning blue flames, all in its path. Part of the eastern ramparts had just fallen into the blast. Daemon knew that his greatest ally was darkness. He could see what was going on. He could see where Drogon was.

On earth, the fighting continued. Under the breath of Viseryon, part of the archès and warrior posting on the ramparts had died blowing by the infernal heat of the blue fire. The explosion of the wall threw many warriors, Arya who was in the compound of the fort seen men die before his eyes. Some dying from burns, which had not vaporized them.

She was trying to focus on her mission. Helping her family survive the attack. Killing most walker present. So we can get revenge on Cersei. A new roar made her look in the sky, Viseryon was flying towards the fort, she started running, trying to avoid the new flame attack.

The power of the explosion of the northern ramparts threw Arya into the air. In the meantime, she lost consciousness.

---

In the air, the fight was not the easiest for Daenerys. She had fought only weapons on the ground, the airs that they thought were her element, were much more dangerous. Daemon having fought more than once on Caraxes and having fought Vhaegar, knew several techniques to bring down and shoot down a dragon and its dragon tree. He thought that this would happen easily, it was without counting on the deceit of Drogon, who to save his mother was ready for anything. Until he rushes with all his weight against his opponent, destabilizing Daemon, forcing Rhaegon to spit on the ground.

The night king unleashed Rhaegon, moving to avoid being crushed by the undead dragon. He looked around him, several weapons of walkers and living lay on the ground. Crackles made him turn, he saw Jon brandishing Longclaw there, so he had survived, he found in this young Snow a good opponent, he owed him that.

"Dracarys!"

Daenerys had just ordered Drogon. Orange red flames coming out of the dragon’s gaping mouth, igniting all around the Night King.

Jon and Daenerys feel relief when they see the fire devouring everything in its path. All? No, a dark form was beginning to appear in the heart of the flames. The night king was still there, he slowly raised his smiling head. Jon and Daenerys as well as the few fighters who had lost sight of the scene had their hopes fallen. The dragons killed everything in their passages. Fire should have triumphed over ice.

Jon in a final burst of suicidal courage, raised his sword with two hands, running towards Daemon. But he was stopped in his stride. Daemon raised his arms slowly, spanking the dead who had not succumbed to the flames. They began to look at the living, waiting. The door leading to the catacombs fell, spanking several warriors, women and children fled the place, in front of them stood Sansa and Missandei holding daggers, behind the group stood Tyrion a sword in hand, at his side was a ten-year-old boy, also wielding a sword. The group fled towards the survivors, the dead in the catacombs had awakened and followed them as they walked.

Did any of them know what to do, attack or flee? Would he have the chance?

Bran’s voice echoed in what remained of Winterfell, Théon helped him to move from the sacred woods.

"We must flee! This is our only chance!"

Little by little the survivors began to regroup, the army of the dead let them pass. Jon seeing them flee hesitated, if he did not kill the Night King, they would have died, if it were not today that would be the next day. Bran yelled at Jon, insisting that retirement was the best solution.

"How can I believe he won’t attack us in the back?"

“She’s connected to the Night King, he won’t attack us. I saw her.”

Jon had learned not to question Bran’s gifts, but he remained puzzled, seeing the number of wounded dead, Daenerys clinging to Drogon who was wounded, Sansa reunited with Arya who was wounded, the cries of the children. Jon understood that he had to listen to his brother. And so he did.

---

The march of the living lasted a little more than a month, many of the wounded too seriously had died en route, they were not abandoned each being placed on a funeral pyre. But they finally reached the level of King’s Landing, the last great city before Dorne, not to fall.

Cersei, seeing the eternal night advance, realized that the north had not stood. Worried for her own safety, she had considered fleeing Westeros, but her pride made her stop her project, her and Jaime’s return which miraculously (or more informally, with the help of Lady Brienne) had survived. His brother had managed to enter the city, fortunately he knew the said city very well and a good part of its passages. Jaime tried to persuade her to help the people coming from the north.

"Cersei, for all the love I have for you, I beg you at least let the women and children take refuge in the city."

"To end up stabbed in the back?"

"If you do not help us we all die!"

Jaime was angry with her sister, how could she be so selfish in the face of the misery that lay before her?

Heavy clouds crossed the sky, covering the sky for several minutes. Cersei looked through the large windows.

“It’s too late.”

---

The children and babies were crying in the sore arms of their mothers, Tyrion was talking to several commanders of the army of Cersei, he had met several of them during the battle against Stannis, he was trying to persuade them to bring in all the people who couldn’t fight. For long hours Tyrion argued that the north would have agreed to protect their wives and children by their honours.

The cold became more and more biting, away from the group of survivors, Bran was installed in a makeshift wagon. Théon looked after him, and Sansa. For more than two weeks he had been trying to get back in touch with Y/n. But at every attempt, Daemon was there standing by his side. It had become dangerous for him to contact her but he still tried.

Jon was looking away at his brother, the events of his last years had been most complicated and cruel and fate seemed to be picking on them more and more. Arya was standing by his side, she had been injured during the capture of Winterfell, but had recovered. They were all on guard, the war was not over. Not without the defeat of the Night King.

That’s not counting Daemon’s plans.

A violent gust of wind carried large quantities of snow, a heavy rumble was heard. People living in King’s Landing get out of their home, looking up, wondering what was going on.

A blue fire crossed the sky, the mothers took their children in their arms, the men in front of their wives and/or children, others gathered. Suddenly, the ground trembled, a big boom appeared! Everyone began to panic. Smoke rose in the air, from the northern walls of the city. All fled, trying to take refuge in their homes or businesses. Outside the walls, warriors escorted the women and children back into the city through the ruins of the walls.

Daenerys tried to persuade Drogon to steal, but he refused. Prefer to stay back, observe his brothers stolen in the sky, which did not prevent him from spitting fire on any walker who came too close to his mother. Sir Jorah and Missandei stood by their side, ready to protect each other.

In the distance, anyone outside the city could see the army clearly for the first time. Hordes of living death would run from the darkness. Giants walked, horses rode the most powerful walkers, live bears, the vision of spiders made them shudder. They were the size of a large dog (German doge type).

The final battle had just begun.

---

Y/n surrounded by Daemon’s army watched the scene in front of her. Théon took Bran and Sansa to the city, knights protecting them at the cost of their lives. Mélisande, who was still alive, ignited any allied weapons passing near her. Knights of Cersei would flee the battlefield leaving the northern warriors, Dothraki and unsullied still alive, fighting, accompanied by the rare knights in the colors of the Lannister brave enough to fight.

Y/n walked slowly towards the city. She could hear the cries of Drogon, looking towards him, she saw Daenerys, Jorah and Missandei being surrounded. A pinch came to her heart. She was so sorry for her friends, but she knew Daemon’s plans and all this had to happen.

The further Y/n went, the more the smells became foul. It was a smell of burning, charred flesh, dust, metal and blood, in large quantities. The snow fell and began to cover the ground, hiding in places pieces of bodies torn off or cut off from their bodies. The snow took on red colors, and charcoal depending on where it fell.

The walkers did not spank her, protecting her even when swords or spears approached her too close.

She looked one last time towards her queen, murmuring.

“I am so sorry.”

---

The city was in ruins. Houses collapsed, blue flames crossed the city. The grunts of Vysereon and Rhaegon Came from the Red Keep, the blue flames had just started to ravage the castle.

Around her, women holding their children and babies in their arms tried to protect them, while the dead approached them. Having no mercy at all.

Y/n seen in the distance Tormund, Brienne and Jon trying to kill the dead around them, Potrick stood a little further, he and Gendry fighting together the horde of death.

It was with a heavy heart that she saw all her horror scenes, a deep feeling of sadness overwhelmed her. But she kept moving, Daemon wanted her to be at the Red Keep when he won.

The towers of the castle had collapsed, the roofs were burning. Y/n had just stopped in front of the collapsed doors of the castle. Sighing, she began to enter, flashes came to her in memory. She knew her places, each corridor seemed familiar to her, instead of the lion symbols she saw symbols of a trisepal dragon, instead of the servants trying to escape she saw other people, more serene. Instinctively, she knew which hallway to take, which staircase to climb.

Vyserion’s heavy grunting made her understand that she was close to Daemon.

Passing the shaky doors of the throne room. She saw that the upper part no longer existed. Blocks of stone were laid on the ground, the pillars had shattered on their tops, and the flow of glass ran through much of the room.

Daemon was in front of the throne where Cersei was sitting, Jaime was in front of her, his sword in her left hand. Viseryon ignited a gigantic man, which startled him, a moan from Cersei’s mouth as Jaime tried to stand in front of her to protect her.

Walker’s «leaders» began to move towards the throne, Jaime did not let himself be fooled. One of the walkers grabbed Jaime by the pass and projected him into the room freeing the passage for Daemon towards Cersei.

Y/n had approached Daemon, one meter from the throne markets.

Daemon advanced, pulling his sword out of his scabbard, Vyserion had gone back, helping Rhaegon to ravage the city.

A noise made Y/n listen, the rubble seemed to have moved, a slight gust of wind put her even more on guard.

In a few seconds, Arya appeared behind Daemon, who turned to catch him, Arya dropped his dagger ready to recover it with his other hand. But couldn’t do it.

A blade pierced Arya’s head, piercing her eye. The tip of the blade in the direction of Daemon. He released the young felle to see his sweet Y/n splatter with blood. Breathing rampaged. His hands trembled. The king wanted to approach her but was restrained by the noise of Cersei trying to escape. The «leaders» walker the restraint, preventing him from fleeing the destiny that Daemon had chosen for him.

---

In a few hours, Cersei was thrown from the ruins of the castle, Jaime was also brought to this fateful fate. The few fighters were less and less noisy. The boats that had left the sea were chased by Rhaegon.

Daemon looked Y/n before turning towards the iron throne.

Its under the cries of the last survivors, the collapsed houses still standing. Let Daemon sit slowly on the throne, savoring every moment of this moment. The war of the succession of the seven crowns had killed many of the descendants of his enemies. His vengeance was slow and calculated.

Daemon raised his hand in the direction of his queen inviting him to approach him. Y/n climbed the few steps separating her from her king.

Daemon made her sit on one of his legs, a hand resting on the hips of his beloved.

In front of them, King’s Landing was on fire, from the strangest blue coming from a dragon, snow falling in fine powder on the ruins of the castle as well as in the throne room. Daemon had everything he needed. There was no need to transform her queen so that she could live by her side, on her equal, ruling over the dead. Forever.

Translation:

My love / Issa jorrāelagon

Tag list:

@avalyaaa @noodle81937

@praline357

@thestartitaness

@applepie02

Tags

house of the dragon x reader daemon targeryen x reader daemon x reader house of the dragon fanfiction daemon targaryen x chubby reader daemon x chubby reader Game of thrones crossover

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earenwen-leafwhisper

7 months ago

Did i continue to write in irl?

Did I don't write?

That's the question

I want to write,

Did I have the motivation?

When talking with people's on commentary or dm.

When alone

Did I talk to a lot of people's ?

Did I go to people's easily?

No (thank my complicated past)

Did people's will read this until now?

🤷‍♀️

Tags

Author news

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earenwen-leafwhisper

9 months ago

Hello 🙂

I hope you’re all right.

I came to give you some news.

For the next fanfiction, publish, this will be a request for Maegor Targaryen.

Followed by two for Daemon Targaryen.

Then, in addition to the list in the last survey, I have the idea of taking inspiration from the history of my hometown.

Who is to have been besieged by Charles the Reckless, Duke of Burgundy (Charles le téméraire, Duc de Bourgogne in 1468, after three revolts of my city because the elections to become prince-bishop had been rigged by his father. And had inherited the city.

There are battles and the city have fighted with "six hundred Franchimontois" (les six cents Franchimontois), the steps of "the mountain of Bueren" is in homage to their dead. The city was sacked, the population massacred, women r*ped and ,looting neighborhoods by the army despite the ducal restrictions.

The city was set on fire three times and burned for seven weeks.

It’s violent, that’s true. But I have in mind to get inspired by it, for a fanfiction about Maegor or Daemon maybe in one-shot or headcannon for Aegon II, Aemond, Gwayne,... About how a person of the people wanting to save her city and her relatives. Travels to them and finds a way to convince them to help her city.

I will see if I publish it, it all depends on the feedback in comments or mp or in anon. It's not a joyfull event, but I can made it with two ending. A good and a Bad ending ? I will see.

Have a good weekend.

Earenwen

Tags

chubby reader aemond targaryen x reader gwayne hightower x reader aegon ii targaryen x reader daemon x reader house of the dragon fanfiction Maegor Targaryen x reader daemon targaryen x chubby reader Author news

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earenwen-leafwhisper

1 year ago

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌

Thank you, Fae 🥰

Tags

you are so sweet:)))

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earenwen-leafwhisper

1 year ago

Hey,

I have begin to draw on digital media, and even if this draw will change as I will learn about the app. I will show you what I have done 🙂

The mushroom is a character that I have create and is also the first try.

The next is a try of Maegor Targaryen.

It's not like I have Never draw the bear of a men before

It's a first try, and a rough so, with day's and weeks it will change.

Ps: I write, do not worry, next week, I will post a headcanon or a one shot 🙂

I Hope you a good day or night💕

Earenwen 🌿

Tags

digital art drawing asoiaf maegor targaryen

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earenwen-leafwhisper

1 year ago

Cinderella

"Illustration draw my me"

---- Masterlist ---- Rules for request ----

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x chubby Fem reader

Abstract: A young woman from an archipelago allied to Westeros, did not think that fairy accounts exist or even suspected the charm of a prince.

Author’s note: the release of this One-shot took time because I had to finish the illustration first, I want to thank @avalyaaa who very kindly, saw the sketches for the illustration and encourage.

Trigger Warning : English is not my mother tongue.

---

The kingdom of Y/k/n was located in the west of Westeros, beyond the sea, an island archipelago formed the kingdom, this one was prosperous for several centuries, this prosperity, came from fertile agriculture, from the extraction of ore in long seams in the mines.

The people respected their rulers, for they managed to keep peace with the other kingdoms. Exchanges of food, materials were customary, several lords of Westeros, had united some of their children girl or boy, with merchants or nobles of the kingdom of Y/k/n, perpetuating the peace agreements, hard won.

During the conquest of Westeros, the king of the time allowed people to take refuge from the conquest of Aegon the conqueror. Let it be nobles to peasants. At a time when circular rumours about the possibility of a future war against the monarch Targaryen, the king who although loyal to his kingdom, signed a non-aggression pact between the two kingdoms, he did not want his people to perish in bloodshed and fire. The archipelago retained its sovereignty, remaining an independent kingdom but ally of Westeros. However no marital union was declared, dragons were not allowed to fly around the archipelago, defences made up of various weapons some were throwing heavy projectiles into the sky were a reason alone.

As the centuries passed, peace endured, exchanges continued, the shadows of dragons roamed the sky in the distance, children’s dreaming of theim.

King after king, the people listened and followed their monarchs, looking in the distance at the castle, built on the largest island of the archipelago, its white stones were embedded in the mountain and reflected the light of the sun.

In this castle lived, king Y/f/n was a fair man and concerned about the people, he tried to keep a cordial understanding with Westeros, meaning that his people did not pay the price.

This king was a widower, from his first wife he had with his wife a daughter, whom they named y/n. Although he was a good father, he thought that the love of a mother was indispensable to the happiness of his daughter. He chose a noble woman born on the archipelago, she was recently widowed, and already mother of two daughters, Karoline and Melina, who was the same age as Y/n.

If this second marriage went smoothly, the people happy to have a new queen, it was only at the premature death of the king, that the true nature of his second wife revealed.

She was a cold, calculating and cruel woman, madly jealous of the kindness and attention that Y/n drew around her, the people worshipping their princess and future heiress, but above all she was determined to put the interests of her two female manipulators daughter first.

Over the years, the castle fell into ruins, the new queen regent had nothing to do with the castle, the money of the royal family was squandered to satisfy the whims of the two girls, whether in expensive dresses, fruit to carry from Essos, boat trips to Westeros to try to get them married to a noble house. Y/n deceiving and humiliating at a young age was relegated to the role of servant in her own kingdom. The people no longer heard of her, the queen having declared that their princess was sick and could present herself before them, only vile lies on her part. The last raven from the Targaryen came to leave a message of condolence and then no more news. In spite of this Y/n remained gentle and kind. Knowing that one day the truth would come out, that the world could not be gray and gloomy. She kept the secret hope that her dreams would come true and that her family’s honor would rise from the ashes.

---

The stones once covered with frescoes, were not renewed, leaving the walls to suffer the weather and become gray again. Most of the windows overlooking the kingdom, had their heavy curtains pull, preventing the light. Only one window had no curtain, it was the highest window of the castle, one of the towers of the keep. The light slowly entered the doorway of the window, lighting a small room, advancing minutes after minutes towards a sleeping young woman. The open window allowed the singing of the birds to echo, gently awakening the young woman.

She opened one eye gently, looking around her, and breathed a sigh, reminiscent of the dream she had just had. It stretched out with a few movements, while rising, looking at the window, observing the sky of a clear blue, where no clouds were visible.

“A beautiful day is coming,” she thought.

The young woman put her feet on the ground, slowly remembering the tasks of her day. The room which was the bedroom of the young woman was the smallest room of the castle, made of brick wall covered with white paint yellowed by time, of a floor of oak wood, which was lightened by the sun. From a single window open to the outside of the castle. In one corner of the room was a bed that took up much of the space, a small bedside table where a candle was placed, a closet that looked more like a broom closet closed by a wooden door, on a small shelf, there were two frames in which portraits of her parents were placed. On the other side of her room, there was a screen of his favorite color inherited from her mother. A copper soup bowl that served to hold the water for his morning bath and a boudoir.

At the first blow of bells, she began to prepare herself, quickly spanking her toilet before dressing up and hanging her apron around her neck and her plump hips. The young woman looked in the mirror to make sure that her outfit was properly fitted, she could see her hair y/h/c stylized in a way that her hair would not interfere with her future tasks. Her dress in earth tones, was well placed, the strict cut did not allow the birth of a possible neckline, this outfit was made only for work and nothing else. It changed a lot of the dresses the young woman wore as a child. This young woman remembered pretty dress in Y/f/c color, where beads and small stones were embroidered, but remembering seemed very distant. Just like the memories of her parents before her mother-in-law arrived. The life of a princess no longer existed.

---

Y/n went down the many steps that made up the stairs of the tower, passing through several rangers of stairs, corridors and the inner courtyard of the castle, going towards a dark wooden door and worn out by time, taking it towards the sub-floors where kitchens were installed.

In the kitchens, the few servants always at the service of Madame and her daughters, set to work. All had known Y/n’s father and supported the young woman, knowing that the situation was complicated and their uprisings would have led to more trouble for Y/N.

It was with a smile that the young woman arrived, she greeted the servants present, wishing them a good day, before preparing the morning meal of the animals who lived in the enclosure of the castle, including the preparation of the grain for poultry, hay for cows and horses, taking time to fill the dishes of stray dogs and cats passing through the castle, but who were each time hunted by her mother-in-law, the said woman loved very little, and pets were not a part of it.

The servants had orders never to help Y/n in her chores, whatever the difficulty, because Madame was watching over the grain and had ensured a great punishment. The few who rebelled in the early years had ended up whipping blood, others were locked in the castle dungeon. The servants present watched Y/n place the food bowls in a large wicker basket, taking it with one arm and catching a large, heavy bag of grain on her opposite shoulder, the servants, every day had to see the young woman although robust bend under the weight of successive sacks, bales of hay and mockery of the people who were to be her family.

One of the remorseful servants began to heat the water for the tea of the dreadful mother and daughters sleeping upstairs. Screams call the young woman, was about to begin.

When Y/n entered the kitchen, she saw that all she had to do was pour the hot water and take the hot buns freshly bought by one of the servants in the city. She silently thanked her friends, and began to finish the preparations, not noticing a cat hanging around the silver cups filled with tea, as the whisper-like cries began to reason in the empty and dusty halls of the castle, distracting her.

---

Y/n crossed the kitchens, exited into the inner courtyard, to climb endless stairs and walk through many corridors, the trays place on his arms.

Melina preferred not to be awakened before her servant arrived to dress her, so her tray was left at the entrance of her room. Karoline, wanted to leave her tray in her room, her hot tea, while she took her morning bath. As for Madame, she wanted Y/n to put her tray in her room on the desk where she had to leave scrolls devoured by moths.

Everything was in the best of worlds, all seemed satisfied with the service.

It was without counting, a shrill cry, which made the windows tremble, slightly out of their hinges.

“Oh no…”

Heart pounding, hoping to have imagined having heard this cry, Y/n did not move from the stairs. Her hands trembled, her breathing accelerated, a fear she knew all too well, swelling in her belly.

She saw Madame’s daughters running near, from the corridors of their apartments, one of them half dressed, her servant running to destroy her, holding the ties of her dress. The second arrived barefoot, lifting her dress to her knees not to trip over the bottom of her dress. Their eyes crossed Y/n’s eyes, silently accusing without knowing the reason for the screaming, the young woman. They plunged into their mother’s chambers, worried about their mother’s cry. The ears of Y/n whistled, she felt that a punishment would fly against her.

"Y/N! Come here now!"

She felt her feet moving without even having the desire to advance, going up the steps as slowly as possible, walking the few steps that separated her from the dark room of her mother-in-law.

To say that Madame’s room was dark was an understatement, no light entered except the light of the hallway, hiding at the bottom of her bed, only the reflection of the light in the old woman’s eyes showed her presence in the room. The daughters were sent out, and although they were not satisfied, she did what their mothers ordered, for even they feared the matriarch.

“You started to hide things.”

“Madame, I don’t know what's...”

“Silence! You know exactly what you did.”

“I don’t know, I swear, I made your tea like every day…”

"Enough! I know you’re lying, you never loved me, you want revenge. I understand, but I’m the only family you have left, understand the good. Without me you have nothing!”

“Yes Madame…”

“To punish you, you will be deprived of food, let it be a lesson, and maybe it will help you lose weight.” said Madame with a smirk.

With her heart hurting, Y/n had to bow slightly to her mother-in-law, as she had violently taught her, at least this time, the punishment was not directly physical.

The day must have been beautiful, quite the contrary.

---

Y/n climbed the water from the well of the great court, when she saw a Herault, wearing a black tunic, on which was placed a armor, pass the guards and the great door that separated the castle from the people.

Surprised she looked at the man walking towards the great gate of the castle, knowing that she was not to interfere at all with Madame’s business, she filled a bucket of water, and left with it in the direction of the large basin where the washers washed the linen.

The song of the birds, like sweet music, reasoned in the gardens on this sweet spring afternoon. Although the archipelago was in temperate waters and the sun was mild. It was always more pleasant to wash the laundry in a warm water by the heat of the sun, than under the cold wind in the late afternoon, where the water is so cold that at the end of the chore, the fingers were so cold, that they became numb.

The washers were squatting around the basin, dirty laundry was placed in large wooden basins, a smell of plants, flowers and soap emanated from the water, many of the women sang songs that had been passed on to them by their parents or other servants. Others talked about their other chores, or the actions of Madame and her daughters.

Y/n placed her water seal next to the eldest of the washers, the old woman’s back was bent under the weight of years and arthritis, preventing her from lifting too heavy objects. She stayed a few minutes with them, participating in the conversations more or less silently.

It was only at her call that Y/n stopped talking.

"Princess! Princess!"

It was Foulques, the old maester who had seen her grow up.

“We received a herald from Westeros. The Targaryen seal the scroll. It’s for your family.”

Foulques, put with his trembling hands, wrinkled skin and moles appear, the parchment in the hands of Y/n.

Y/n looked at the parchment with hesitation, although she wanted to read what was written on it, it had worked for a long time since the last message.

"Have you told Madame?"

Several washerwomen spit on the ground to mention the dreadful woman.

“No princess, it makes more sense to me that it should come back to you.”

“You’re well aware of what would happen if she found out?”

“Yes, but if someone could help you in your situation, they would definitely be the most powerful family in Westeros.”

Her desire to read the parchment was powerful, but her fear of Madame’s blows was much more powerful. It was against her heart that she had to convince the maester to warn her mother-in-law, finding as a compromise that she followed him in the throne room.

---

Y/n followed the maester in the direction of the great throne room where Madame was, the great room was originally decorated with gold and jewels, large tapestries telling the royal story, while celebrating the ingenious talant of the guilds of the archipelago. Madame dressed in a long black dress, from the collar up to below her chin, sat on the throne, dictating orders to servants, in a room now covered with spider’s web on the high ceilings, where the tapestries were torn off and the walls crumbled.

“Madame, a messenger from Westeros just dropped off a scroll.”

"Give me this!"

Madam, raised her left arm in the direction of the young woman, making gestures of the hand to encourage Y/n to approach. The parchment was plucked from her hands, when she was reachable, the daughters of Madame, who were present at their mother’s side, approached her, also wanting to read the parchment.

"Listen! The king and queen of Westeros, decreed the preparation of a great ball! All the young women of good families are invited. This ball is being announced for Prince Aemond Targaryen to find a bride.”

"Oh that’s fantastic!" said one of the first girls.

"I would be a real princess," said the second, beginning to dance clumsily.

“That means I can participate,” says Y/n.

“What do you mean? With rags? You saw how fat you are, I’m sure the prince won’t even notice you.” Both girls were annoyed.

“After all, I am of this family. You said it yourself. I am of noble birth. I am also a guest.” Y/n no longer paid attention to the mockery of her sisters-in-law. Look into the eyes of her mother-in-law, with her head held high.

"Enough! You can come." Madame had spoken, her daughters were beginning to contradict her. “As long as you finish all your chores before we head to King’s Landing.”

"Thank you Madame."

It is joyful that Y/n left the room, setting off in the direction of the tasks assigned to her, not paying attention to Madame’s smirk.

---

The trunks were prepared, the carriage repaired and cleaned. Y/n stood by her little trunk made of wood and leather, she was of medium size, lying down she reached her knees. The trunks of her in-laws took up much more space, the girls each had two large trunks only for their dresses, not to mention the smallest for the underwear, stockings, shoes and accessories. Her mother-in-law took only a large trunk where her belongings could return without difficulty.

The trunks were attached to the carriage, failing to fall more than once on the way from the castle to the port.

The windows of the carriage were obstructed, Y/n sitting opposite her from her in-laws, had to restrain herself from moving the small curtain from the window to her left, it now did what seemed to her an eternity that she had not seen the streets of the city and its inhabitants, she wondered how the children she played with as a child had become, whether they were married, had children, whether they still lived on this island. But though the desire to know all this burned within her. The cold, calculating look of her mother-in-law gave her chills, she watched.

Y/n including directly what was hidden in the eyes of the people, going up into the boat by a bridge away from the eyes, she had to sleep near the goods, away from the eyes of the passengers. Although she was sad about the fate reserved for her, an anger was born in her, more and more noisy, screaming that she had to free herself. But each time, she convinced herself that it was not the right time, once she arrived on Westeros, she could think about it.

The vessel was making the longest voyage, Madame having ordered the captain to dock directly at the port of King’s Landing, wanting a grand arrival for her legitimate daughters. From two days of sailing and a week to travel Westeros in a straight line, it lengthened by one more week, skirting the coasts of Dornes, deviating from the path, classic to avoid corals and bottom too low to sail in peace, fortunately avoiding very frequent storms along the way and having a very favorable wind to the chosen path.

---

The grand entrance if desired was unfortunately for them, foil by a natural element. Rain.

The voluminous robes of the sisters-in-law were waterlogged, preventing them from walking without tripping because of their weight. Madame fulmina, the few people present of several mestres began to mock her daughters. Seen from the corner of the eye, Y/n go discreetly in the direction of the coach charter to bring them to their Inn.

Oh yes an Inn and not apartments in the Red Keep, the delay taken by the change of route made them arrive last. Relegating them to the same level of noble houses and poorer than others.

---

The inn was dark, but welcoming, much more than the corridors of the archipelago’s castle, less dusty, there were more candles to light the place despite the lack of windows.

Madame asked for the most remote room for Y/n, asking in a dry tone of voice, that no one be in contact with her, forbidding her any visit of the city, even accompanied.

The room of Y/n was for what we can say spartan, a bed with mattress made of straw, a small window turn towards the castle, walls of torchis crack a wardrobe to the door brinquebalante and to fill it all, a very strong smell of enclose. The place seemed more like a prison than a room.

---

The first few days, Y/n keep, day and night, the small window open to help her get rid of the ambient smell, she dared not remove her clothes from her trunk, prefer to leave them in safety, taking only when appropriate clothes.

From her window, she could see at times dragons flying around the castle, from one huge, much larger than the others, that she wondered how it had reached such a size, was it due to its food? Imagining the quantities of meat she had chills in the back, an army would not have been enough to feed the beast.

The day of the ball was approaching, as was her nervousness. Was she going to live up to the event? Could she participate without an intervention of her mother-in-law? How was the prince? She had no idea, but kept the hope that for one night she could be who she was, a princess and not a servant.

---

At sunset, on the night of the ball, Madame had allowed Y/n to leave her room, but had not allowed anyone, to the point of paying the employees, to help the young woman prepare. But his attempts to prevent a young woman from participating in the ball were null.

As Y/n walked down the stairs, she realized that her plans were being undermined.

The young woman, even without help, had managed to put on her dress. It was Y/f/c, the latest fashion in the archipelago. A soft neckline underlined the young woman’s chest. Her make-up was light due to lack of materials and her desire not to resemble her sisters-in-law’s one-layer make-up reminded her of the gesso layers used for paints.

Her sisters-in-law were furious, for although the young woman was rounder than they were, a sweet aura emanated from her, an elegance they could not achieve. Both began to complain when their mother approached Y/n.

“Beautiful, it’s true, this color suits you.”

Madame walked around Y/n watching her with disdain from head to toe.

“Well, let’s go.”

A weight on the shoulders of Y/n withdrew when she left the inn. The biggest had just passed, she had no longer crossed her fingers for the journey to go awkward.

This was without counting on her sisters-in-law.

All four had to walk in the alley where the inn was to take the carriage in the main street, other coaches were placed in the alley, but had blocked each other, as it was narrow, If the one at the entrance didn’t move, neither did the others.

The day before, the rain had once again fallen on King’s Landing, The cobblestones were wet on both sides of the road, large puddles of water and parchment mud parched the alley.

Melina and Karoline complained about the humidity, explaining to their mother that their dresses would be destroyed by the mud.

“You don’t have to walk on the pavement, you’re not commoners, the mud isn’t for you.”

Her two daughters looked at each other for a few seconds before turning in the direction of Y/n. The young woman did not pay attention to her in-laws, preferring to observe the city, the people she met, smiling at the children.

All of a sudden, Y/n felt hands resting on her back, pushing her forward, she tried to catch up but the slippery pavement made her trip, in a fragment of a second, she found herself lying face down in the mud. Her ears were buzzing, her heart pounding, she thought her blood was freezing. Trying to get up, she felt a small pain in her hands, they were scratched due to the fall. Two laughs were quickly heard, which was the only laughter she heard.

"Oh, poor Y/N, you are relegated to your rank," said Melina in a mean voice.

Y/n got up with difficulty, the bottom of her dress was torn during her fall, mud covered her face and her clothes deformed by the weight of water and mud. Her hands were shaking, her breathing rampaging.

“You’re not going to go with us looking like a sow, go back to the inn, we’ll discuss this when we get back.”

Madame with a mischievous smile began to walk in the direction of the carriage, her daughters following her closely. A few passers-by approached Y/n wanting to know if she had hurt herself in her fall. But all that Y/n could do with the feeling of betrayal was to flee. Her steps carried her to the sandstone of the wind. Passing through different streets, small and large, taking her to one of the gates of the city walls, she passed it, not paying attention where she was resting only well away from the ramparts.

If anyone could have said the place was dangerous, Y/n would not have listened to them as she was devastated.

---

Y/n collapsed on the ground covered with dead leaf, breathless and exhausted.

As the sun set, she paid no attention to the animals present, nor to the sounds they made.

“Honey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Y/n raised his frightened head and looked, the woman standing in front of her, this woman wore thin wings almost transparent in the back, a long hooded dress of a blue king, which hid her white hair for the most part.

"Who are you?"

The old woman kept a warm smile on her lips.

"A fairy?"

"Ah? Dragons can exist and not fairies?"

“Oh forgive me…”

“Don’t worry, I know this is new to you.”

The fairy asked her why she was in such that state, as the story progressed, the fairy, gnashed her teeth. The young woman might have believed that flames appeared in the woman’s eyes.

“We’re not going to let them win! I’m going to let you go to the ball.”

“I don’t want to go anymore… What’s the point?”

“Oh dear child, there’s so much more you can imagine there.”

The fairy godmother began to look around her, seeming to be looking for something. The fairy began to think several minutes before raising her right hand in the air.

“What do we need… Oh yes I know! A carriage!”

Suddenly, roots began to grow and move towards the fairy, taking with them pieces of wood, iron and plants. Under the fairy’s enchantment, the pieces of wood and metal began to fly, gathering, a carriage beginning to form before her eyes, the plants were used to plug the places that were not comparing wood and metal, slowly solidifying, forming vegetal forms accentuating the basic structure before the eyes of the young woman, adorning herself with the coats of arms of her family, wearing colors and gilding. At the same time, squirrels began to fly, gradually turning into four dashing horses. A fox began to fly in the direction of the carriage, its hairs began to change shapes and color, the animal gradually transformed into a man wearing a tunic with Y/k/n coats of arms, he became the coachman. A last animal, a greyhound also began to fly away, grow, and the hairs transformed into a human in the same outfit as the fox, he became footman.

Y/n was blown away, she thought she had gone crazy or fell asleep, dreaming everything that was happening. Although she thanked the fairy, she was still not sure if she wanted to go to the ball. Or even if she could trust that person. The fairy noticed the young woman’s outfit, it is ruminant that she transformed the clothes of Y/n, these transformed into an elegant dress Y/f/c, with advantageous neckline without being provocative, it was not typical of the archipelago.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfect for this event.”

Y/n looked at her feet when she felt light tingling at her feet. She saw beautiful glass shoes, pure sapphire blue

The young woman had learned many years rather than that everything had a price, and all this, had to be of a gigantic cost.

"I... I cannot accept all this. I don’t know if you are really a fairy and not a witch in disguise. Everything at a price, and I’m afraid it will be more than I can offer.”

"You are destined to be taller than a mere servant, and you know this very well in the depths of your being. You’ll understand later, now go to the Red Keep, your destiny awaits you.”

The fairy gently took Y/n’s arm helping her to get into the carriage. Closing the door, she spoke again.

“But be careful, because at the twelfth bell, ringing midnight, the spell will be broken.”

Y/n looked at the woman, understanding that this was to be part of the price to be paid, and kept the warning in mind, she wanted to ask questions but was stopped, the carriage starting to set out at the time the missing fairy.

---

At King’s Landing, the ball festivities were in full swing. Street shows were held, a parade of young women also animated the life of the city. One after the other, they were heading towards the Red Keep. Day after day, the number of girls did not decrease.

Alicent was beginning to lose patience, his second son had to find a wife from whom the family had armed forces in sufficiency, and from power on Westeros could tip the advantage for his children, in case of open conflict with Rhaenyra. Otto was placed next to his daughter and told her that the best solution would have been to choose an arranged marriage rather than letting the prince choose.

For several hours the noblest young women had presented themselves to the prince, but Aemond had little interest in it, feeling his boredom rise in him. Alicent was getting more and more annoyed, the incessant words of her father did not help her.

On the announcement of young women arriving from a country allied to Westeros, Alicent looked, seeing two young women, at the makeup more than outrageous. Aemond’s only valid eye was more than frustrated.

“Lady Karoline and Meline de (name of their mother), adopted daughters of the deceased king of the kingdom of Y/k/n.”

Otto hearing the name of the kingdom and seeing the young women told himself that they looked nothing like the girl she met a long time ago on a trip to strengthen connections with the Y/h/n family.

While Alicent sighed more than hopeless about the situation, Otto began to speak to her.

"What did you think? Having a prince of Targaryen blood as an ally would bring many people. And then do you think that at the corner of a corridor, a young woman would arrive and attract Aemond’s gaze?"

Alicent looked in the direction of his son, seeing him walking towards the big door, pushing the two dreadful young women on his way, spanking them with screaming voices. Intrigued, she stared at her son, avoiding looking away at the arrival of an alcoholic Aegon.

Aemond, on his side, had seen a round young woman who seemed more beautiful than any jewel of Westeros, arriving. She was about her age. She seemed lost and alone in the castle, something in her attracted him and he did not understand what was, he must have known.

Alicent saw her son approach and finally land a young woman, and ordered the guards to prevent anyone from disturbing the prince.

“Oh, this is getting interesting.”

“Aegon. Don’t bother your brother.”

“He has so much to learn.”

“Listen to your mother.”

Otto looked at Aegon, knowing that arriving at a certain number of jugs of wine, he could become a pleasure for his brother. A maester discreetly entered the great hall, heading towards Queen Alicent. The maester explained that the king had asked for it, she asked Otto to take care of everything. Let nothing happen to the prince and the young woman.

---

It was with a mutual charm that the two young men began to approach, the fact that Aemond was one-eyed did not put off Y/n. Oh no, an almost bewitching charm took away the young man who had accosted him. It is almost hypnotized, that both began to discuss, forgetting both being of royal birth, the musicians present began to play their music, taking with her, the guests, Aemond, extended his hand towards the young woman, Although he did not like the idea of dancing, his mother the queen had told him enough, that certain protocol had to be respected, the dance was part of it. Y/n saw the outstretched hand of the young man with the long silver hair, the heart palpitating and a feeling of warmth rising in her, Y/n accepted, secretly hoping not to have forgotten the dance lessons she had when her father was still alive.

---

When the young couple moved through the castle to the gardens, then outside the castle enclosure, skirting the niche of Vhaegar, the guards remained close, not too close to avoid disturbing them but enough to prevent anyone from bothering them.

Vhagar, on her side, watched her master walk alongside a young woman, first of all awakening to the slightest risk that could happen, and she realized, seeing the gestures of the two persons, that nothing was going to happen to Aemond, She had seen it many generations before.

The stars illuminated the sky, giving a heavenly atmosphere to the evening.

---

It was without realizing that the first sounds of bells began to ring. If the first two Y/n did not pay attention, she began to panic.

“Oh… I can’t stay…”

"But why?"

“The prince…I didn’t see the prince.”

“So you don’t know…”

Other bells resounded in the city. Y/n started running towards his carriage, shoving the guards in places, narrowly avoiding getting caught by Otto who, just a moment seemed to recognize the young woman.

Running down the stairs, avoiding falling, she lost one of her glass shoes, but time was running out and the guards and the king’s hand would chase after her.

Y/n barely got into her carriage when a guard was about to grab her by an arm.

All the horsemen brought by Otto chased the carriage in the colors Y/h/c. All saw the rear that it the bells sounded the closing of all the doors of the city walls. When Otto saw the doors closed and realized that the young woman had no way to escape, but was stunned, as she was turning through one of the streets taken by the carriage, there was nothing left but wooden planks, plants and metal, lay on the ground, walking down the street, he didn’t see a living soul.

---

Y/n did not know how she did to be back in her room of the inn, when she woke up, her dress had disappeared, she first believed in a dream, but when she placed her feet on the ground, she felt that one of her feet was wearing a shoe, a blue sapphire shoe. Realizing that the night had indeed taken place and that she had indeed met her beautiful stranger, hiding the shoe, she heard her sisters-in-law arrive, their nauseating mockery, audible through the door.

"So how’s spending your night alone here?"

“Calm… Did you meet the prince?”

«Of course what do you think» Karoline was bitten alive, always humiliating the treatment received by the prince.

“He spent most of the night wooing us.”

Y/n could recognize the lie in the voices of her sisters-in-law, she could not ask them any more questions, Madame went up the screaming stairs.

“My children! I have a great announcement for you!”

The three young women turned in the direction of the door which opened with a bang, Madame entered, her hair ruffled gave her a look of a person not virtuous.

“A castle announcement has been made! The King has decreed that all the young women of King’s Landing go to the castle. They are looking for the young woman who took the prince’s heart. “ She glanced at his daughters. “Get ready, be presentable, we’ll leave as soon as possible.”

Y/n the throbbing heart did not believe his ears, the prince was looking for a young woman, maybe she could find her stranger in the castle. Lost in her thoughts, she heard that at the last moment the door closed in a cloud of dust.

“I will release you once one of my daughters has married the prince.”

Y/n approached the door, grabbing the clink wanting to open the door but encountering only resistance, the young woman began to scream and beat at the door. Asking to be released. But no answer.

At the entrance of the inn Madame”paid the employees, to keep her locked up, ordering them not to let anyone help Y/n.

---

In the castle, the servants and knights walked the corridors quickly, all the young women came one after the other, since the announcement, whether it was from the commoner to the young noble woman.

The king was not present in the throne room, the shoe was placed on a cushion in the colors of the Targaryen, in the center of the room, Aemond was standing surrounded by Aegon, Helaena, Alicent and Otto. He could recognize the young woman he was sure of, but the shoe test only confirmed more officially the refusal of the prince.

Otto Hightower, who thought again and again how the young woman could disappear, raised his eyes in the direction of the great door and was greeted by the most disastrous vision he could see. An old sour woman and two young women who unfortunately would be more likely to find love with the local blacksmith than with Prince Aemond.

“The King decreed that all young women to be married should try the glass shoe, in case the shoe is in the right size, the Prince will marry the young woman, which will make her Princess Targaryen.”

These words were repeated to every young woman.

It was with a sigh that the royal family saw, the young women began to fight to proclaim that the shoe was theirs, without thinking that a charm was spelling the shoe, preventing anyone from wearing it, igniting the feet, or shrinking on the feet of all young women who were not its owner.

---

Y/n locked in her room, screaming and drumming at the door, seeing that no one was going to help her, she looked at the small window, she was too small for her to pass but maybe by luck someone was going to hear her.

In the alley, knights walked through each building, forcing all the young women out, forming lines of people.

Criston Cole, who led the search, saw a knight approaching while running.

“Sir, a young woman screams for help in an inn, they refuse to let her out.”

Cole frowned, ordering the knight to guide him to the inn. Crossing the streets, Criston heard the screams of a young woman, he started to run, the order was to give that all young women be introduced, no one will go against the throne.

Employees seeing guards approaching the castle began to wonder if letting the person be locked up was always a good idea. Seeing that no one was moving, Criston passed over the employees, the knights holding them in the entrance, going up the steps, he looked for where the voice came from. Continuing up the steps he finally saw an isolated door, the cries came from there.

In decided to break down the door, giving several blows with force, fortunately, the door in poor condition did not last long. The door came out of its hinges and fell to the ground. Y/n remained silent, seeing a knight at the entrance of his room.

"Are you all right?"

Y/n shook hrr head, having lost her words, now everything was fine.

---

By nightfall, the crowd was only beginning to fade, hoping to find the young woman as well.

Only three people remained, although the shoe test was disastrous for them. What annoyed Alicent, so much she wanted to see them flee the castle.

At the level of the large gate she could see Cole enter, the search had to be completed. He approached the queen.

“Majesty, the search is over, we found a young woman locked up and brought her here.”

When Y/n entered the throne room, Aemond recognized her directly. Madame, I recognized her too, quickly.

“Oh it’s nobody, just our servant.”

"Why did you lock her up in this case?" Alicent looked at the frightening woman with a questioning look.

“I am not a servant. I am Y/n Y/h/n, true heiress of the Y/k/n. kingdom.”

Alicent looked at Otto for confirmation of the words spoken by the young woman in front of her. He reflected for a moment on why her face seemed so familiar to him. He confirmed with a gesture of the head.

A servant took the pillow where the sapphire shoe was placed, wanting to get closer to Y/n. Madame with an unfortunate little movement of feet, made the servant trip.

The shoe burst in contact with the ground, Aemond looked with his only eye at the old woman, her blood bubbling in her veins.

“I have another one.”

The royal family looked at the plump, surprised young woman, Y/n out of a pocket of her apron the shoe identical to the previous one. And help a servant get her off.

There were no flames or shrinkage, the shoe fit perfectly. His mother-in-law began to threaten Y/n, forgetting the Targaryen and Hightower present.

"You little bitch! How dare you? When we return to the archipelago, you will be entitled!"

Aemond stood between Y/n and the mother-in-law, staring at the woman. Under the orders of Queen Alicent, guards led Madame and her daughters into the dungeons. He was spanking later, the time for discussions was passing, the next days were going to be charged, for the moment, Y/n had to rest from the screams, the dirt and the threats. Oh Aemond wasn’t going to pass that.

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aemond x reader aemond targaryen x reader house of the dragon x reader house of the dragon fanfiction daemon targaryen x chubby reader aemon targaryen x chubby reader aemond x chubby reader

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