shrimpybbq - shrimps
shrimps

a lover of sad and needy men

115 posts

Affection Is A Remedy For Many A Problem

affection is a remedy for many a problem

Affection Is A Remedy For Many A Problem

continuation of a contended husband is no menace to the kingdom

______________________________________________

Aegon doesn't entirely change just because he feels loved and cared for, no. The trauma and lack of affection in his childhood still incites his drinking, but it's to a lesser degree. Still, it's not uncommon for his niece to wake to his slumbering frame reeking of cheap Flea Bottom ale, his late night antics with his sleazy friends having ended with the guards dragging his body into their shared chambers in the early morn. One would think she would be repulsed by such situations, and yet, Aegon often finds himself in the large tub with his wife washing his hair, her delicate hands bringing a soothing pressure to his waning headache. The Prince would be silent as a deep sense of shame settles over him, his expression settling into a grimace as he remembers the conversation that led him to Flea Bottom this time. His mother had been yelling at him for declaring his lack of desire for the throne - a desire that had never increased no matter the number of conversations they had. A sharp slap to his cheek before she sent him away from her chambers had been his final straw. He didn't remember much after that. Aegon is thankful that his sweet wife understands him, knowing he is trying to be better for her. She is always by his side.

The one thing that cheers him up the most is seeing his sweet little babies. The twins had come soon in the course of their marriage and though he'd been reluctant to become a father, there was soon nothing more important to him than caring for his children. He saw opportunities for redemption in them, and his wife was so good with them. She was motherly in a way that his own mother had never been, always coddling them and squeezing them tightly, praising them and laving them with affection. To see his own children loved so much healed something in Aegon. The married couple spend many hours together with the children in the nursery each day, playing with them and conversing. When the Twins had learnt of their mother's second pregnancy they had become even more excitable, always babbling to the babe and asking when their brother or sister would be born. As Jaehaera clings to her father and plays with his matching silver strands, Aegon can only look over at his wife and Jaehaerys as he presses his ear to her stomach, seeking to hear the babe. His heart swells at the realisation that he finally has a family that love him, and he who loves them more than anything in the world.

(I 100% believe half of Aegon's problems could be solved with a lot of love and affection)

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More Posts from Shrimpybbq

9 months ago
Rafe With His Son From His High School Gf! Hes Always Cuddled Up With The Baby And Doing His Normal Activities,
Rafe With His Son From His High School Gf! Hes Always Cuddled Up With The Baby And Doing His Normal Activities,
Rafe With His Son From His High School Gf! Hes Always Cuddled Up With The Baby And Doing His Normal Activities,
Rafe With His Son From His High School Gf! Hes Always Cuddled Up With The Baby And Doing His Normal Activities,

rafe with his son from his high school gf! he’s always cuddled up with the baby and doing his normal activities, just plus his cute as shit kid (all the girls stare at him and he loves it, complimenting his son and how much he looks like his father. rafe 100% has kids that look like his carbon copy and it just makes him so smug)


Tags :
9 months ago

rafe cameron getting his high school gf pregnant

rafe who knocks up his high school gf at the end of their senior year

he was high at the time and forgot to use a condom (he’s always been gunning to fuck her raw, he just doesn’t think about the consequences)

his pretty girlfriend is so angry and upset and yet she tells him that she’s keeping the baby

her parents want to send her away but somehow ward convinces them that the cameron’s will take care of her - she’s family now

something stirs inside of rafe when he sees her growing larger, her belly peeking out of her tank tops, he starts to feel even more possessive of her

his father drags him to her ultrasound and something shifts in him when he’s told it’s a boy. he finally sees an opportunity to be the man of the household and be great like his dad

rafe is probably high when she goes into labour, missing it completely. he only knows she’s in the hospital after his sister sarah calls him angrily, his coked up ass showing up at the door after his little son was born

rafe who, despite it all, loves his son so much. he feels so protective over him

he’s determined to be nothing like ward and tries to dote on the little boy, not realising he can’t buy his affection just yet

the little family sit out on the porch all the time soaking up the sun, their son resting on rafe’s bare chest

rafe is 100% always shirtless with his kid resting on his chest - he remembers seeing something about skin-to-skin once and won’t let it go

rafe and his little son walking around figure 8 with topper and kelce, visiting the country club and drinking, just with a baby

his lifestyle doesn’t change, he just does it all with a baby

rafe is a big believer in the trad housewife and will keep his gf at Tannyhill to look after his kid while he does whatever he wants

sarah loves her nephew to bits and her and wheezie are constantly coddling him while his mother rests

at the start of season one, ward talks to rafe about how he thought having a kid would make rafe responsible, but it didn’t

rafe’s high school gf is probably quite sad most of the time, always left with her son and alone, no friends other than sarah, not that rafe notices

rafe’s whole psyche is still rooted in proving himself to his father, but now he also wants to prove that he can be a better father than his own, and he’s always trying so hard to make ward see that (no matter the cost)

part 2>>> here


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9 months ago

rafe and his pregnant high school gf! during her pregnancy

rafe and his high school gf used to spend hours by the pool during their summer break, but now it feels different as the pair lay on the pool chairs side by side

rafe can’t stop looking at his girl’s growing belly, the bump now large enough for all to clearly figure out what happened

the book she had been reading said his baby was the size of a banana or some shit, but ward keeps saying she’s going to have a big baby like rafe himself was

he hates to admit it, but he’s so turned on by the idea of her carrying his son in there (even if he didn’t really want the baby at first, he’s starting to see the benefits especially as he looks at her growing breasts)

after the ultrasound, he’s been so touchy and always finds a way to be near her

rafe getting his gf to come in the pool with him, just so he can hold her close and kiss her as much as he wants

rafe doesn’t fully understand pregnancy cravings, but he does try his best to help his girl by bringing her drinks and food so she doesn’t have to get up

he does get angry though when she wakes him up at night to tell him she’s craving a specific dish from the wreck. he gets so grumpy and isn’t being very nice when he notices the tears welling up in her eyes, his eyes widening as she begins to cry into his arms

rafe goes and gets her stupid meal from the wreck :)

rafe loves the reactions from the people at the country club when he brings high school gf to lunch one day. he’s got his hands around her waist as he walks through to the reserved table, smiling as the crowd start to whisper. yeah he did that, that’s his kid in there and no one can do anything about it

on a more canon note, after a fight with his dad, rafe gets super high on coke and disappears for a few days. he stumbles back to tannyhill on day 3 looking for his girl, only to find her sitting with Sarah worried and crying

he’s standing there with open arms saying “hey baby, why are you crying, I’m back” like an idiot thinking she’ll happily greet him

only to have her start screaming at him, crying and asking where he went for three days, Sarah rubbing her back soothingly and trying to calm her down. she’s telling him he can’t be doing that with a baby as she sobs

he’s so dumbfounded by her reaction that he can’t help but stare, but soon the pair are in a screaming match and rafe is hurling all sorts of insults at high school gf! (it’s his defence mechanism and even his gf isn’t protected from it)

rafe wakes up in his room later that day coming down from his high only to realise his gf has moved her things into the guest room, not wanting to be around him right now

he blames it on her hormones to topper and kelce, but part of him knows he fucked up really badly when she doesn’t move back to his room by the end of the week


Tags :
9 months ago

Hii

I was thinking about fem! Targaryen who was sent to fight with Guyane and Criston.

She grow up in Oldtown with Gwayne and they fell in love. She’s supposed to marry Aemond before the war and was kinda closed with him ( he’s very possessive of her)

So it happens before Rook’s Rest, you know when they are camping in the wood, she want to wash herself in a river and of course grayne make sure that no one is looking her but then they start their little business and Criston see them.

The battle happend (she also had a dragon) but when they come back everyone know for her and Gwayne, coz you know Criston says everything to the queen…

Alicent and Aemond are against them but when Aegon wakes up he approved their love as a revenge against Aemond 👀

Down by the River

Hii

- Summary: After a forgotten betrothal with Aemond, you found love and comfort in your uncle's arms.

- Paring: niece!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Raring: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

Hii

The air around you is filled with the scent of pine and earth, the quiet hum of nature occasionally broken by the distant rustle of your encampment as soldiers and servants bustle about. The shadows of the surrounding forest stretch long, casting a serene gloom that wraps around you like a cloak. It's a rare moment of solitude, a brief escape from the weight of your lineage and the battles that loom on the horizon.

You make your way toward the river, the cool breeze tugging gently at the loose strands of your hair, which falls freely around your shoulders. The forest whispers in the language of rustling leaves and the distant call of a nightbird, and you savor the rare, quiet moment to yourself. Grey Ghost is near, ever watchful, his presence in the skies above comforting in its familiarity.

The river comes into view, its waters reflecting the dappled light of the fading sun, a shimmering ribbon cutting through the dense green of the trees. You step closer, the soft earth giving way beneath your boots. A sigh escapes your lips as you begin to shed your dragon riding attire, the leather and metal falling away piece by piece until you stand at the water's edge, clad in nothing but the simple shift you wear beneath.

The river is cold as you dip your toes into the shallows, the chill sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. Slowly, you wade in, feeling the water rise up your legs, cool and cleansing. The shift clings to your body as you move deeper, the fabric becoming almost weightless in the water. You close your eyes, tilting your head back, allowing the river to wash away the grime of travel and the tension that knots your muscles.

"Enjoying yourself, my lady?" The voice is familiar, laced with a teasing warmth that pulls a smile from your lips even before you open your eyes.

You turn your head, seeing Gwayne standing at the riverbank, his arms crossed casually over his chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, the color of storm clouds on the horizon, linger on you with an intensity that sends a different kind of shiver through your body. There's an easy confidence in his posture, but beneath it, you sense the tension that coils between the two of you, always simmering, always waiting.

"I was, until you decided to interrupt," you reply, your voice carrying a playful edge as you tread water, your shift billowing around you like a second skin.

Gwayne chuckles, the sound rich and low, as he steps closer to the water's edge, his boots sinking slightly into the soft mud. "Then perhaps I should leave you to it," he says, though he makes no move to turn away, his gaze never straying from you.

"And let you miss the sight of me like this?" you counter, raising an eyebrow as you glide a little closer to him, the water lapping softly at your waist. "That hardly seems fair."

He kneels by the bank, close enough now that you can see the glint in his eyes, the way his lips quirk up at the corners. "Fairness has never been our strong suit, has it?" he replies, his tone lighter now, but his words carry the weight of truth between you.

You tilt your head, studying him, the sharp lines of his face softened by the fading light. There's something about him that has always drawn you in, something beyond the bonds of duty and family. A fire that burns as fiercely as your own, a desire that matches yours in its intensity.

"And what will you do while I bathe, Ser Gwayne?" you ask, letting the title roll off your tongue, lacing it with just enough mockery to make him smile. "Stand guard? Ensure no one stumbles upon me?"

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the twilight. "Of course. Someone must keep watch over you, lest the gods themselves be tempted by such a sight."

You laugh softly, the sound carrying over the water, and shake your head. "You always did have a way with words, Gwayne."

Before he can respond, you begin to wade back toward the shore, your movements slow and deliberate, water streaming off your body as you emerge from the river. The air is cool against your skin, but the heat in Gwayne's gaze more than compensates for the chill. His breath catches slightly as you approach him, the shift clinging to your form, leaving little to the imagination.

You stand before him, the last rays of the sun catching in your hair, casting a golden halo around you. He looks up at you, and for a moment, neither of you speaks, the tension between you crackling like a storm about to break.

Then, without a word, you kneel before him, your fingers brushing against the rough fabric of his tunic as you lean in to kiss him. It's a soft kiss, almost chaste, but there's nothing innocent about the way your lips linger on his, about the way you taste him as if he were the very air you breathe.

"Join me," you murmur against his lips, your voice a soft plea that you know he cannot resist.

For a moment, he hesitates, his hands hovering over your shoulders as if he's unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away. But then, with a low growl, he gives in, his hands tangling in your wet hair as he deepens the kiss, pulling you against him with a fervor that makes your heart race.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression fierce, his breathing ragged. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" he says, but there's no anger in his voice, only a hunger that mirrors your own.

"Then we shall die together," you whisper back, your hands working to undo the fastenings of his tunic, the feel of his skin warm and solid beneath your fingers.

Gwayne rises with you, his movements quick and sure as he shrugs off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment his body touches the water, you see the tension melt away, replaced by something deeper, something that has been building between you for longer than either of you care to admit.

He steps closer, the water rippling around you both as he pulls you into his arms. The kiss you share now is different, slow and deliberate, a promise of what is to come. The river swirls around you, cool and calming, but the heat between you is undeniable, consuming.

In this moment, with the war hanging and the dragons stirring, nothing else matters but the man before you, the way his hands trace the curves of your body, the way he breathes your name like a prayer.

Gwayne pulls you closer, his hands firm against your waist as he draws you into him, the water lapping gently at your entwined bodies. The river is cool, but the heat between you is a fire that cannot be quenched, a blaze that has been smoldering for far too long. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is all-consuming, his desire mingling with your own as you lose yourself in the moment.

His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs your name, the sound of it sending a thrill through your body. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the press of his body against yours, the feel of the water swirling around your legs, and the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

The river’s shallows cradle you as Gwayne pulls you down with him, the weight of his body over yours a comforting anchor in the midst of the chaos that surrounds your lives. Every touch is laden with a history of stolen glances, whispered secrets, and unspoken longing. As you join, the world seems to fall away, leaving nothing but the raw intensity of your connection. 

Your breath comes in soft gasps as you cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, and he responds in kind, his hands sliding along your sides, his grip firm yet reverent. The river murmurs around you, the sound a gentle lullaby, as you move together, each moment a dance of passion and desperation, as if you could both ward off the impending doom by holding each other tighter, by pouring all the love and fear and hope you have into this single, sacred act.

Gwayne's lips brush against your neck, your jaw, your mouth, as if he cannot get enough of you, as if this is the only thing that has ever mattered. You respond in kind, your kisses fierce and desperate, trying to convey all that you feel for him, all that you cannot say aloud. You know this moment cannot last forever, but right now, with him holding you, it feels like it could.

“I love you,” he breathes against your skin, the words barely more than a whisper, but the weight of them is undeniable, as if he is baring his very soul to you.

Your heart swells with the force of your emotions, your own reply caught in your throat as you press your lips to his, letting the kiss speak for you. You love him too, more than you can ever express, more than you should, given the circumstances, but here, in this moment, nothing else matters.

The river flows around you, carrying away the sounds of the camp, the war, the world. For now, there is only the two of you, locked in this dance, this act of love that transcends the boundaries of duty and loyalty.

Hii

Criston Cole stands at the edge of the camp, his sharp gaze scanning the treeline. The night is cool, the air is still heavy with the scent of pine and earth, but it does little to calm the storm that rages within him. He had noticed your absence, as well as Gwayne’s, and though he had no real reason to suspect anything amiss, a strange unease had settled in his gut.

Needing to clear his head, Criston had left the camp, telling himself that a walk would do him good. But as he wandered through the trees, his instincts sharpened by years of battle, he found himself following the path you had taken earlier. He had not intended to spy, but something—call it intuition—had led him this way.

The sound of the river reaches him first, a soft, bubbling murmur that seems almost peaceful in the quiet of the night. But as he draws nearer, his eyes narrow, and he sees the silhouettes by the water’s edge. He freezes, the breath catching in his throat as he recognizes you, entwined with Gwayne, your bodies moving together in the shallows of the river.

For a moment, Criston can only stare, disbelief and anger warring within him. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword, but he does not draw it. Instead, his jaw clenches, and his eyes burn with a fury that he struggles to contain. He had suspected something between the two of you, but to see it confirmed like this, in the open, makes his blood boil.

His thoughts turn dark as he imagines the consequences of this liaison. The Dowager Queen must be informed, of course. Your mother, Alicent, who has always been so careful, so calculating—what would she think of her daughter’s reckless behavior? And Gwayne, his own blood, betraying their cause with this forbidden affair?

But Criston does not approach. He knows that confronting you now would achieve nothing but chaos. Instead, he turns on his heel, his boots grinding into the earth as he steps back into the shadows, his mind already turning to what must be done. 

As he walks away, the image of you and Gwayne remains burned into his mind, fueling his anger. He knows what he must do, but it does not make the task any easier. There will be a reckoning for this, and Criston Cole will see to it that the Dowager Queen knows every sordid detail.

The night closes in around him as he returns to camp, his steps heavy with the burden of the knowledge he now carries. In his heart, he knows this will change everything. The war may be fought on the battlefield, but the true battles, the ones that will decide the fate of the realm, are fought in the shadows, where loyalty and betrayal are two sides of the same coin.

Criston breathes in deeply, the cold air doing little to quell the fire inside him. He must remain calm, focused. The Dowager Queen must know, and then… then they will see what must be done.

But as he walks away from the river, the sound of your laughter, soft and joyful, echoes in his ears, a reminder of the happiness you have found, however fleeting it might be. And though Criston does not allow himself to think on it for long, a small part of him—buried deep beneath his duty and his anger—wonders if he is about to destroy something that might have been beautiful.

Hii

The morning sun rises over Rook’s Rest, and the men stand ready, swords drawn and shields raised, their eyes darting nervously to the sky. There’s a sense of foreboding, an unspoken understanding that today could be their last. You stand with them, Grey Ghost nearby, his massive form blending with the morning mist that clings to the ground.

Criston Cole, ever the stalwart commander, paces before his men, his expression grim as he surveys the scene. He gives you a brief nod, a signal that the time is near. You can see the anticipation in his eyes, the way his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to give the order that will set everything in motion.

The roar of dragon wings beats above, and your heart quickens as you turn your gaze to the sky. Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, appears on Meleys, her dragon a brilliant scarlet against the pale blue of the morning. The soldiers around you shift uneasily, fear evident in their eyes as Meleys descends, flames already curling from her jaws.

"Hold the line!" Cole shouts, his voice cutting through the rising panic as Meleys sweeps low, releasing a torrent of fire that engulfs the front lines. The screams of burning men fill the air, and the acrid smell of charred flesh assaults your senses. But you remain steady, your hand gripping the reins tightly as Grey Ghost growls low in his throat, ready to leap into action.

The signal comes—a sharp, commanding gesture from Cole—and you meet Aemond’s gaze across the battlefield. His eye, cold and calculating, locks with yours, and a shiver runs down your spine. There’s something in his gaze, something dark and possessive that chills you to your core. But you don’t have time to dwell on it as you both prepare to launch your attack.

Grey Ghost takes to the sky with a powerful surge, and you feel the familiar rush of wind against your face as you rise above the battlefield. Aemond is beside you on Vhagar, his expression a mask of grim determination. For a moment, the two of you soar together, a united front against Rhaenys and Meleys. But the unity is fleeting, as Aemond’s gaze flicks toward you, his lips curling into a smile that is more threat than comfort.

Then, out of nowhere, a bright golden streak cuts through the sky. Your heart lurches as you recognize Sunfyre and, atop him, your eldest brother, Aegon, his armor glinting in the sunlight as he charges into the fray. He’s come from King’s Landing, against all expectations, to fight alongside you. Your chest tightens with a mixture of fear and hope as you cry out his name.

“Aegon!”

Without thinking, you urge Grey Ghost to follow Sunfyre, to join your brother in his attack on Meleys. Grey Ghost answers your command with a powerful dive, his wings slicing through the air as you race toward Aegon. But behind you, Aemond’s voice rings out, sharp and furious.

“Get back!” he shouts, his tone laced with authority and anger, but you don’t listen. You can’t. Not when Aegon is here, risking everything. Not when you see a chance to end this battle, to save him.

Sunfyre clashes with Meleys in a burst of fire and fury, the golden dragon tearing at the scarlet scales of the older beast with a ferocity that takes your breath away. You can see Aegon, his face set in a grimace of determination as he fights to bring down Rhaenys. Meleys roars, thrashing against the combined assault of Sunfyre and Grey Ghost, and for a moment, it seems like the battle might be yours.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Vhagar, and your heart freezes. Aemond’s dragon, vast and ancient, dives toward the fray, and there is no mistaking the deadly intent in her descent. Aemond is not coming to support you—he’s coming to destroy.

“No!” you scream, but your voice is lost in the chaos as Vhagar’s flames engulf Sunfyre and Aegon. The world seems to slow as you watch in horror, the golden dragon shrieking in agony as fire consumes him. Aegon’s screams echo in your ears, a sound you will never forget, as Sunfyre, ablaze and dying, spirals downward, crashing into the earth with a force that shakes the ground beneath you.

The shock of it rips through you, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Rhaenys takes the chance to flee, and Meleys, despite her injuries, manages to pull away from the wreckage of the battle, disappearing into the clouds. You barely notice, your eyes locked on the smoking crater where Sunfyre has fallen, where your brother lies.

“Aegon!” you scream again, the word tearing from your throat, raw and filled with pain as you urge Grey Ghost to dive toward the crash site. The wind roars in your ears, the ground rushing up to meet you, but all you can think of is your brother, of the fire, of the betrayal.

But Grey Ghost pulls up short, his instincts overriding your command as he veers away from the deadly heat. Your scream dies in your throat, choked by the smoke and the realization that there’s nothing you can do, nothing but watch as the flames consume what’s left of Aegon and Sunfyre.

You clutch Grey Ghost’s reins, your hands trembling, as the dragon hovers above the wreckage. Aemond circles above you, Vhagar’s massive wings casting a shadow over the battlefield, and you know, with a sickening certainty, that this was his doing. That he had chosen this, chosen to burn your brother rather than risk him taking the glory of the kill.

Tears sting your eyes as you look up at Aemond, his expression unreadable as he watches the devastation below. There’s no regret in his gaze, only the cold satisfaction of victory, and it makes your blood run cold.

“Why?” you choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper, lost to the winds as you struggle to comprehend what has just happened. But there is no answer, only the roar of the dragons and the distant cries of the dying.

Grey Ghost pulls you higher, away from the wreckage, away from the unbearable heat, and you realize with a cold, sinking feeling that you are retreating. Rhaenys is gone, Aegon is broken, and the battle—this terrible, bloody battle—is over.

But it is not victory that fills your heart. It is grief, and rage, and a deep, aching sorrow that you know will never fade.

You scream Aegon’s name one last time, a sound of pure anguish that echoes across the battlefield, carried by the winds to where the dead lie in smoldering ruins. And as Grey Ghost bears you away from the carnage, you know that nothing will ever be the same again.

Hii

The air in the Red Keep is festers with the scent of burnt flesh and the acrid sting of ash as you stand by Aegon's bedside, your fingers entwined with his charred hand. The once-proud Dragon King, your elder brother, now lies shattered before you. His silver hair, once a symbol of the Targaryen lineage, is singed away in patches, leaving his scalp raw and exposed. His breathing is labored, each inhale a painful rasp that reverberates through the silent chamber.

You try to keep your composure, but the sight of him like this—so broken, so helpless—breaks the dam within you. Hot tears spill down your cheeks as you lean closer, pressing your forehead against his cold, clammy skin. "Aegon," you whisper, your voice cracking. "Please... stay with us."

Beside you, your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, stands rigid, her face a mask of stoic grief. Her eyes, however, betray her sorrow, glistening with unshed tears as she looks down at her firstborn son. Aemond, your elder brother, looms at the foot of the bed, his single eye sharp and calculating, though his expression remains impassive. There is a distance between you now, a chasm that has only grown wider with time. He is no longer the boy who once protected you, but a man consumed by his own ambition and possessiveness.

Aegon stirs at the sound, a pained groan escaping his cracked lips, but he doesn't wake.

You can’t bear to stay any longer. The weight of it all is too much. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, and you can’t breathe in this room any longer. Slowly, you release Aegon's hand and step back. "I need some air," you murmur, your voice hoarse.

Alicent reaches out to you, her fingers brushing your arm in a silent plea to stay, but you shake your head. "I’ll return soon," you promise, though even you aren’t sure you can keep that vow. With one last glance at Aegon's broken form, you turn and leave the chamber, the heavy door closing behind you with a soft thud.

Hii

Inside Aegon's chamber, a heavy silence lingers after your departure. Alicent stands at the bedside, her hands clasped together in a desperate prayer. Aemond remains at the foot of the bed, his eye fixed on his brother with a cold, calculating gaze. It is then that Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, enters the room, his expression grave as he looks between the Queen and her son.

"Your Grace," he begins, his tone measured and careful. "I must speak with you both. It concerns your daughter and Ser Gwayne."

Alicent's head snaps up, her brows knitting together in concern. "What is it, Ser Criston? Speak plainly."

Cole hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Aemond before settling on Alicent. "I regret to inform you that I witnessed something earlier... in the woods near Rook's Rest. Princess Y/N and Ser Gwayne were... engaged in an intimate act."

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Alicent's face drains of color, her hands trembling slightly as she grips the edge of the bed. Aemond, on the other hand, goes deathly still, his eye narrowing into a slit as fury coils within him like a serpent ready to strike.

"Are you certain?" Alicent's voice wavers, though she already knows the answer. Ser Criston would not lie about such a matter.

Cole nods, his face grim. "I saw them with my own eyes, Your Grace. There is no doubt."

Aemond's hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles white with the force of his anger. "She was meant to be mine," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. "She was promised to me."

Alicent looks at her son, her eyes wide with fear. "Aemond, please—"

But before she can finish, a weak, rasping voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "No."

Aegon's voice, barely a whisper, startles them all. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with pain, open just enough to focus on his younger brother. There is a clarity in his gaze, a sharpness that wasn't there before. He draws a shuddering breath and speaks again, louder this time, though the effort clearly costs him.

"Y/N... will marry... Gwayne."

The declaration hangs in the air, and for a moment, no one speaks. Aemond stares at Aegon in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to process the words. Alicent looks between her sons, horror dawning in her eyes.

"Aegon," Aemond begins, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. "You cannot—"

But Aegon only smiles—a cruel, vengeful twist of his lips that sends a chill down Aemond's spine. He knows, in that moment, that this is Aegon's retribution, his way of striking back at the brother who attempted to take his life at Rook's Rest. 

Aegon, broken as he is, still has the power to take what Aemond desires most.

And he has.

Aemond’s gaze flickers to his mother, whose face is a mask of anguish, and then back to Aegon, who closes his eyes once more, his strength spent. There is no room for argument, no room for defiance. Aegon has made his will known.

9 months ago

Gwayne and his camp bride!

Just think of the gossip that would stretch across Westeros at the news of the young princess marrying Gwayne Hightower, not to mention the rumours of her being with child. Merely speculation said the crown, and as long as her bump was hidden under her close gowns, then speculation was all it would be.

The pair were married in the Sept at Oldtown in front of all the clergy, and soon, Gwayne was walking around with his pretty Velaryon wife on his arm. She’s always by his side or hiding in their chambers, Gwayne’s hands lingering on her lower back as they stand.

When her bump starts to show, Gwayne tells his court that the Maester believes it to be twins. There’s no other explanation for the size of her bump so soon after their wedding. She’s always so exhausted too, napping wherever she can and taking hot baths each night.

I have this idea that the married ladies of Oldtown wear head coverings like those of Lady Frey. Something like this: https://pin.it/1KM9soIhO. Gwayne loves to see her so proper and stately, but he loves even more to take her veil off each night and play with her hair. Imagine it’s how a member of team black sees her when they try and rescue her, dressed impeccably in a velvety green gown and a silk veil - the very image of a reverent Hightower, her newborn babe clutched to her chest as she stares at the familiar face in shock (and fear)…

!!!!!!!!

Oh the idea of her being dressed like this; Gwayne adores seeing her like this as she walks around the gardens.

She can only compliment Oldtown; its so fresh and clean.

Her eyes are so wide as she recognises the person before her and all the Princess can do is clutch her babe tighter. "Princess..."

She began to look around as her heart pounded in her ear


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