dragonnwriter

[dragonnwriter]

baby fever. cregan stark.

Cregan proved himself as an amazing husband, but something clearly frustrates you — you hadn't had a child yet. Worried about you, cregan makes sure his lovely wife never feels empty again.

warnings: nsfw, (heavy) breeding kink, slight angst, cregan x wife!reader.

w.c: 3k.

Cregan could not accept a distant wife. He didn't expect a lovely wife either, but the Lord of Winterfell was a dutiful man also as husband, and he expected the same — for you to embrace your duty as wife and make his cold days a bit easier, to have someone to rely on trough tough days. Being Lord of the North was beyond titles, it meant carrying on his shoulders the responsibility of keeping his people from starving and freezing to death, of keeping his people away from the threats that wandered beyond the wall, of winter.

Cregan wasn't exactly demanding when it came to choosing a wife, but a weak woman would never survive the North, would never be fit for the role of a proper wife; to be the Lady of the North.

He expected someone who would bear it with him, someone to be trusted. And, if possible, gentle fingers to soothe his pain, a warm bed, cozy arms to embrace him and soft words whispered to his ear when he felt the need to be reassured, when he needed to be reminded of who he really was.

And then you came, he removed your leather glove to place a soft kiss on your numb fingers. The beautiful shade of pink that tinged you from your cheeks to the cold tip of your nose was different from anything he'd ever seen in that grey and white castle or it's pale surroundings. He judged you fit, soft for a wife, but educated for a lady, and he decided that he was willing to hold you until that freezing cold stopped shivering you to the bones.

He was rough, yes, his demeanor edging a distant coldness, but he was only a man in his raw essence. Cregan was kind under the thick furs that covered his broad frame. You've learned to love him, to understand every emotion under those icy eyes. Cregan was undoubtedly faithful, and the only nights he had you falling asleep in his absence was when council subjects took more of his time than he should allow.

But there was, deep down, something that bothered you, something you tried not to whine about too much; you haven't had a son, and it's been almost a year since you arrived to your husband's lands. You couldn't help but feel an enormous need to carry a piece of him inside you, to honor him with an heir, or better, to honor him with a great brood of babies for you to hold tight against your chest and cradle in your arms, for him to raise as the next keepers of Winterfell.

Cregan has always cherished you, always made sure you understood how much of a perfect dream you were for him, but you wanted more. You didn't need children to prove your worth, but you needed to do something about that need you felt within you, making you start to feel lonely and cold again.

That evening, Cregan entered your bedchambers. Your scent filled his nostrils, changing the atmosphere to a warmer one that he never thought possible to exist in that cold castle. For his surprise, you didn't wait for him with a steaming bath, or welcomed him with loving arms and happily began to help by shedding the layers of the heavy fur he wore. Your chambers were dark, save from the fireplace that burned low.

You layed still, your graceful form curled on the large bed, hugging a pillow with your back to the doors. It made him worried, to say the least, at first he even thought you were in pain. You could hear the sound of his boots against the stone floor; you'd prefer that he didn't approach, because you didn't want to explain the true reason of your frustration, nor to occupy his mind with more problems. You hated to feel like another burden to your husband's sore shoulders, but Winterfell was a cold and vast place and you felt alone in his absence, and that made your problems dig a wound in your heart even more painful than it should feel. So what was supposed to be little ended up eating you alive.

You tried to pretend to sleep, but the heavy sigh you accidentally let out was more than he needed. He sat at the edge of your side of the bed, making the mattress sink with his weight.

"My love?" he reached out to remove a strand of hair that covered your eyes, "You are not asleep. Are you in pain?"

Cregan's voice was rich, deep and tinged with a kindness he only had in his heart for you. It soothed your aches, soft like wind against your skin. You shook your head; all you felt now was guilt, for having him so worried over your stupid problems.

"I am not, my love. You should not worry."

He raised a brow, his calloused thumb caressing your warm cheek.

"What is it, then?" he asked with a slight hint of desperation in his voice; he couldn't bear the sight of you like this, "Something troubles you."

You signed, shifting a bit. When you opened your eyes to meet his, you softened instantly, his pretty eyes making your walls fall effortlessly. As if his words weren't enough to make you speak, he added, "You pout."

But you tried again, shaking your head and speaking in a dismissive tone. "My love..."

"Wife," he cuts you, his patience running thin and yet, his tone was nothing but kind, maybe the kindest it has ever gotten in that day, "I cannot bear the feigning, speak."

You blinked, then swallowed, and then words came out without your consent. "Something troubles me, yes. I simply find it expendable."

"Doesn't seem expendable." he insisted, leaning a bit closer, "Tell me, so that I can fix it."

You hesitated, letting go of the pillow to lean your weight on your elbows, your face level to level with his for a proper conversation. "It's been almost a year," you said, carefully, "and yet... I haven't given you a child."

He could sense your frustration, and something, something very little, shining like a spark of anger at yourself. He seemed taken aback, pulling back from your touch and straightening his spine. "We have tried, wife..."

You shook your head, like he wasn't getting it.

"We could do better," you said, eyes glistening with a hint of a bittersweet plea,"I don't feel like you give me enough chances to try."

There it was. Those words, the choice words, it hit a chord withing him, it almost felt like there was a hidden sense to it. Like it wasn't exactly about children, but about the little amout of time he actually invested on pleasing you — even if the ones he did, happened to be wildly passionate — , on warming you up. Cregan felt inefficient, and failing to his wife was something he could not accept. But it was true, in a way. He could see it now. You were always there, looking for after him after tough council meetings, after a long day of training. But he wasn't able to return the favor the way he wished to.

"I know duty demands a lot," you swallowed, your tone lowering to a whisper, "I didn't mean to overload you, so I thought it was best to stay quiet. But I can't anymore. I need to carry your babies inside me."

He swallowed hard, his lips going dry at your words.

"I am sorry, my wife," he began, a bit disconcerted, "I had not realized how much it hurted you. Forgive me," he said and you softened completely, the tension in your shoulders fading away. You sighed, looking down, ready to dismiss his apologies when you heard.

"Allow me to try," he asked in the sweetest tone, his rumble causing chills to your spine. Your glistening eyes widened under your hypnotizing long eyelashes.

"Now?"

"If you agree," he continued, playing with the strap of your gown while his eyes overflowed with affection — love. His words made you sit, quick eyes still trying to read him.

"Y-you must be tired, I-"

"No. Not for you, my love. I am sorry to cause you that impression," he leaned closer, trapping you against the mattress, "It is my duty to fulfill your desires. And if you want my babies, I shall fill you up with my seed."

He was already rubbing his lips against your exposed neck, his words coming out like thunders and reverberating over his chest like a rumble. You shut you eyes, lips parted in a silent gasp as he kept teasing your skin that way — it worked more than a thousand kisses. Your breath hitched visibly, and Cregan's eyes glistened with lust at the sight of you so desperate.

"You'll never have to beg again, sweet wife," he murmured and you could only nod repeatedly. His fingers worked vigorously on the laces of your gown, untying it with ease and letting the fabric fall back on bed. He wanted to swallow you. His beautiful wife begging to be filled, your rounded and delicate breasts falling as you got exposed, and he could only imagine how your silky skin would feel against his lips. His tongue darted out to swallow the rigid sensitive peak, he sucked and licked at your skin.

"Cregan..." you cried out.

It was like paradise, you felt so soft. With his head buried between your breasts, all he could smell was the scent of your perfume and your natural sweet scent, the same that cling to your pillow. He gave your breasts the attention they deserved before pulling back to remove his coat with a wolfish glint in his eyes, making sure you wouldn't step away from his reach. Course you wouldn't. Breathless and flushed, you could already feel the damp between your thighs. Cregan could see it too, the way your folds glistened under the flickering light, even if your thighs were pressed against eachother in a failed attempt to hide it. Gods, how much he'd neglect you. He wanted to bury himself in your sweet wet cunt, to fuck you the night away until you'd memorized how every inch of his cock felt inside you.

Cregan undressed in a hurry, with a dangerous look in his eyes — you didn't dare to move while his gaze burned that way, no. You simply stared at his pale skin, kissed with the cozy hue of a burning fireplace. His arms, oh, so strong, you wanted to hold onto them and disappear from the world while he hides you against that broad chest. Your husband parted your thighs with ease, gentle hands exposing your core while he positioned his big body between them, sinking into your breasts again until you let out those pretty little sounds that made him groan.

Cregan pulled back to cup your breasts in his hands, "They'll be heavy and full of milk, love," he said, making you moan shamelessly loud, his words having your core twitching in ache.

The idea of putting a child in you already did things to your husband, but now he seemed feral, moved by a raw, primal need to fuck you again and again until he was sure his seed began to bloom inside you.

He pulled back again, slipping his hand under his breeches to free his thick cock, already throbbing in his hand, painfully hard. When Cregan glued his body on yours, you cold smell the natural scent of his skin and it made your core pulsate even stronger. With your face pressed against his shoulder, Cregan forced himself inside you in a gentleness that did not match his feral need — a wolf's hunger. The things he wouldn't do for you, his lovely wife.

You were so wet, and his cock made his way inside you with ease, even though it's been some time since your pussy didn't receive some love from your husband and clenched incredibly tight.

"Gods," Cregan growled against your cheek, his cock pulsating hard against your insistent walls, and he couldn't help but notice how you curled up against him, "Have I neglected you this much, wife?"

Your lord husband couldn't forgive himself, not with the thought of you alone in this chambers, craving for his attention, his babies. He would make it right, rolling his hips against you the deeper he could, making you feel everything. There was nothing in this world he enjoyed more than the delightful sounds you made for him, he could already feel his skin burning with a uncommon heat in this Northern cold.

"Ah," you gasped, swallowing hard, "I need you."

He could only groan in response, hurrying his moves when his cock began to twitching painfully in a silent request, his rigid stones hitting your ass several times.

"Forgive me," he muttered against your cheek, the tip of his nose nudging your flesh, "Please, forgive me for leaving you alone like that."

You could almost scream, his frenetic moves mixed with his words overwhelmed you with too many sensations for your body to take at once. His cock filled you up perfectly, it was a shame for your man to have so many duties to attend to. Absence made you incredibly horny and sensitive, and he could tell it by the way you squirmed beneath him.

"I will give you the attention you deserve, wife," he murmured, now peppering your warm skin with kisses from your neck to your jaw and collarbone, "How silly of me, not filling you with my cock everytime you lay pretty like this."

You whined, nails leaving red marks on the pale skin of his shoulders. You were close, he could sense it. A few more thrusts and he pulled back, leaving you empty, begging for release. Cregan took one of your legs, shifting your position until you layed on your side. With no warning, he pushed inside again, his cock entering your aching pussy with even more ease with all that slick, forming a ring at the base of his cock. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, relishing in the wet sounds, the warm and familiar feeling of his wife's cunt.

"Cregan—," his cock hit you deeper now, hitting a spot in you that got you seeing stars. With his hand tight around your heels, you couldn't move, only contort wildly against his cock.

"Fuck," he breathed out, "That's it, love."

You pressed your thighs together, creating a deliciously sweet friction to your pearl, and a few more thrusts and there it was, you could feel release building up in your tummy quickly than you expected and blowing up in an explosion of sharp pleasure, the tension that had your body curling up moments ago now dissolving in a sweet bliss.

Cregan smiled, his fingers reaching for your hair. He would only come when he was certain that his wife felt good, because just giving you his seed wasn't enough. You hadn't completely came down from your high when Cregan's stones twitched slightly and his cock throbbed hard inside you, spilling ropes and ropes of his thick seed inside you with a groan. You managed to curl your lips in a satisfied — but tired — smile.

"There it is, love," Cregan rumbled, his voice reverberating within your chest, "All for you."

You didn't move, silently praying for the Gods, for them to make your husband's seed to flourish inside you. Cregan ran his fingers trough your hair, admiring your ethereal features before pulling out from you, his eyes now fixated on the way his cum overflowed it's way down your thighs.

"It must be enough," he said, placing a kiss at your temples, helping you to fix your gown, "But we shall keep trying."

You nodded, too happy to do more than that.

"Rest now, wife. Do not worry; I will make sure you never feel lonely again," he said, his thick arm caressing your sides one last time before he covered you with warm blankets, shielding you from the freezing cold. "I love you, my sweet wife. I can no longer wait, your belly will be round with my babies soon."

You smiled, the affection in his words filling your chest. You quickly fell asleep, it was easy with your husband's hands all over you — Cregan knew how to make you feel safe. You had no doubts, he was the best husband you could've had, and the Gods had been good — you expected them to be good just one more time, waiting for them to do the rest as his seed rested inside you.

[dragonnwriter]

[dragonnwriter]

Ewan Mitchell as Aemond Targaryen in House of the Dragon S2 (2024)

[dragonnwriter]

Alright, everyone in unison: Women <3333

This also goes out to the actresses & Nonbinary actors that portray these women <3333

[dragonnwriter]

I've got a portable tablet for drawing, not only at home. However, I need some adaptation time, as it feels and performs differently🥲

Here are some experimental sketches, even more messier than usual😅

#old_valyria

[dragonnwriter]

Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife

Summary: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen returns to King’s Landing victorious after besting his uncle during The Battle Above the Gods Eye, securing his withering brother's claim to the Iron Throne. Upon his arrival, he learns that his wife was a casualty of a Black ambush, suffering a severe blow to her skull. When her disoriented mind wakes, she’s lost all recollection of him and their shared past.

Warnings: 18+, amnesia, injury, medieval medicine, ableism, post-dance, ptsd, smut (fingering, dirty talk, P in V), blood, gore, suicidal thoughts, graphic childbirth, mention of torture, mention of miscarriage

Word count: 54k - completed

A/N: Hi friends 🩵 I’ve decided to take a step back from tumblr, the motivation to write just isn’t there anymore. This post will serve as my ‘see you later’-message and remind you to read this story if you haven’t, I’m quite proud of it 😌 Kisses xx

It is the thunder in her head that wakes her, a sensation resembling a storm trapped in her mind, shooting lightning bolts through her skull.

She cannot feel much besides the pain travelling from her head down through her entire being. It leaves her disoriented, and the deafening ringing in her ears makes her feel like she’s spinning.

She tries to open her eyes, but only darkness greets her.

She wonders if she’s ever been able to see.

Is this normality?

The thoughts beginning to form in her head are pushed aside by the horrendous throbbing. The pain pulsates vigorously, and as spots of light start to appear before her eyes, she can make out a lanky figure towering over her.

“Princess?”, the figure calls, a cool hand coming up to touch the scorching skin on her forehead. She tries to speak, to grunt, to give any indication that she is conscious, but her mouth does not obey her as it stays shut.

“I think she’s coming to again”, the voice mutters, removing the cold touch that had comforted her. She wants to cry. To beg whoever was tending her to keep their hand on her to soothe her burning forehead.

Spirit defeated, she closes her eyes again.

She cannot make out more than obscure shapes and shades anyway. Soon, the horrible ache in her head lulls her back to sleep.

She feels like she’s floating in water, body drifting between dreamland and the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

A voice reaches her ears, panicked yet quiet as a whisper, “I couldn’t face the Prince if we had to inform him that his wife perished”.

“He would surely have our heads”, another murmurs, “though, if the rumours are true, he’s found solace in the witch bastard ruling Harrenhal’s embrace. His wrath may be fierce, but short-lived”.

Gently rocking out of the ebbs of slumber, the only feeling she’s able to register is thirst.

A low whine rumbles in her throat, alerting the pair inspecting her sleeping form that she’s rousing.

“She seems to be waking. Place the wet cloth in her mouth, Arsa”

She’s grateful for the cool, wet piece of fabric forced into her mouth, welcoming it greedily. Her frail state renders her muscles almost idle as her mouth weakly tries to suck on the cloth.

Still, the few drops that fall on her tongue revive her.

“Lady Lannister, open your eyes if you can hear me”, one of the voices commands, as if her body obeys her.

She fights against the heaviness of her eyelids, channelling all the strength she can muster.

Her efforts are sparsely rewarded as her eyes flutter open slightly. Two silhouettes linger beside where she lies, clad in dark colours.

Or perhaps it’s the room that’s submerged in darkness?

Nothing around her provides her with any clue of where she is. Mayhaps this is her home? Or the quarters where they keep the weak and sickly?

“Is she aphasic?”, one of the voices questions. The smack of a palm striking a cheek follows.

“Watch your tongue, or the Prince Regent will take it!”

The Prince Regent?

✨ Read the rest here ✨

[dragonnwriter]

I See You As You Are - Pt8

aemond x wife!reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Aemond now have three kids and a family of your own and navigating everyday life has been easier than you thought. Between picnics and growing dragons everything seems so blissful. You return to court at Aemond side once more and it seems as if the ladies have something to say about you and Aemond will hear absolutely none of it. 

Warnings: 18+ super sappy family time with dad aemond -i have heart palpitations when i write these!!, aemond being so devote and in love with you, body image issues but aemond plucks every single one of those thoughts from your mind, blood and a knife(not violent in any way - def not the scene ur expecting), oral(f), p in v, overall this man is just outright worshipping you x

Authors Note: slight recap from the full moon special but just to add some more details 🤗 also me apologizing again for taking my time writing this bc i’m attached and in love and i’m sorry 

Word Count: 6.5k 

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Three Years Later

The past three years have blessed you with two more children. Aerys who has recently turned two and Aelys your first daughter that you welcomed but a month ago. After Aerys was born you and Aemond decided to seek other chambers, large enough to accommodate your growing family. The stairs that plagued your original chambers caused concern once Aelor started walking and Aemond had you all moved into new chambers within two days. 

The new chambers had adjoining bed chambers for the children and had a main seating area more than large enough to allow them space to play as they please. Thankfully the dragon keeper is still close enough to be able to assist with the children’s dragons. So far each of your children have been blessed with an egg and you currently have two small dragons running around along with your children. Aelys’ egg stays nestled in her crib with her or near the hearth when she’s not sleeping.

Much to your relief Aemond has been more relaxed after this birth, though he doesn’t hesitate to do everything he can to ensure you don’t have to do more than necessary. You thought having two children was perfect but having your third is only making you yearn for a fourth. When you gave birth to your little girl Aemond cried more than you and now always whispers about how his ‘perfect little princess will never want for anything.’ when he rocks her. 

The sun has barely crested over the Bay when you hear giggles and small dragon screeches. Aemond tugs you out of bed with him and wraps you in a robe before pressing his lips to yours. When he opens up the door Aelor squeals and runs away from the handmaidens and clings onto Aemond’s leg. Aerys is a couple wobbly steps behind him and reaches up for you. You squat down and bring him into your arms peppering his face with small kisses. 

“And where pray tell is my little princess?” Aemond hums walking over to her bassinet. “There you are.” he coos and scoops her up. “Any changes to her egg?” he whispers to the handmaidens who shake their heads. 

As if on cue Aelor’s and Aerys’ dragons flock over to you and Aemond nudging against your legs. Aemond doesn’t speak much of Aelys egg not hatching yet but you can tell he’s worried and thinks about it often. You offer him gentle words when you catch him looking at it and whispering to it in Valyrian. His face falters every morning when there's no change but you always hold him tightly and whisper about patience. 

Aerys wiggles out of your arms and him and Aelor begin to chase their dragons around offering Aemond a much needed distraction. He can’t help his mind from wandering to what if it never hatches. What then? Will his little daughter hate him? His mind slows when he feels you curl into his side.

“Let’s go dress while they’re distracted.” you whisper up at him before leading him back to your bed chambers. “Tell me what's wrong.” you make him sit down on your chaise as you pull out clothes for the both of you.

“I’m scared she won’t have a dragon.” his eye starts to well with tears before he quickly blinks them away. 

“Will you love her any less if she doesn’t have a dragon?” you ask but you already know the answer. 

“Of course not.” he responds quickly. “I just don’t want her to feel different.” he looks down at his hands. 

“It still has time to hatch.” you cup his face. “Maybe she’s already decided she just wants to fly with you or her brothers. Or maybe she wants to remain at my side and hold my hand as my heart stops when the three of you take to the skies.” he looks up at you with a smile starting to form. 

“I wish I had someone like you when I was growing up.” he rests his hands atop yours that are still resting on his cheeks. “You’re so kind and patient.” he leans into your touch. 

“I’m here with you now and forever.” you press your lips to his forehead. “As for my patience..” he looks up to you and is greeted by your smile. “I wish to dress and take our children out to the Bay before the sun sets behind it.” he's on his feet and pressing his lips to yours quickly. 

“At once, my wife. Let me not keep you waiting.” he starts to pull off your night dress.

You both steal kisses as you help each other dress before joining your children out in the main chambers. Aelor has been fully dressed and you’re greeted by a naked Aerys running around giggling until Aemond scoops him up and helps dress him. You find Aelys in her bassinet dressed for the day, blinking up at you with a small smile on her face. She reaches up for you and when you take her in your arms Aemond is at your side once more with both of your sons who are now dressed.Your handmaidens nod after the five of you as you filter out of the chambers and begin to clean up the mess that always seems to come over night. 

Today is the first day you’re taking Aelys to the back of the Keep for a picnic while the five of you look over the Bay. Walking through the halls is now an event as you stop and let the boys touch the decorations that adorn the walls and pull everyone into a conversation. By the time you make it back to the expanse of grass the servants are just finishing setting up the blankets and pillows along with food and drink. Aemond helps you settle onto the blanket and you reach up and cradle Aelys into your arms. He herds the boys over to the blanket before taking a seat beside you and letting you lean against him. 

Your boys barely stay seated leaving the three of you two watch as they charge around on the stone path. They run back over to eat small bites of food before they run off to play again. Aelys blinks around at her new surroundings and you and Aemond look at each other with warm smiles. The boys eventually tire and join the three of you on the blanket and begin to scarf down their food. They slow down after a couple hushed words from Aemond but once he looks away their plates are cleared and they’re up playing once more. 

“You’re sure the new minimum is six kids?” Aemond watches your boys with a smile.

“Would you like to up it again, husband?” you watch as he slowly turns back to you. 

“Whatever pleases you.” he hums, scooting closer to you. “Everytime you bring us another child I think you are the moon, not me.” his hushed words catch you off guard. “You’ve given me everything.” he searches your face. “You are my everything.” you reach out and cup his face.

“Aemond,” you whisper, brushing your thumb under his eye. “I was just asking if you wanted a seventh child.” a small chuckle leaves your lips. His hand encases yours on his face as he leans into you.

“And I was just reminding you that I’ll do anything you ask.” he turns to press his lips to your palm. “I love you so very much.”

“I wish to hold Aelys.” Aelor stands in front of you both with his hands clasped together with Aerys peeking out from behind his back. 

“Come sit.” Aemond leans back and starts to clear the plates out of the way so they can sit closer. 

You lean over and place her in his arms and watch as a smile spreads over his face. Aerys scoots closer and stares down at his sister. They ask you both when she’ll start talking and be abl;e to run around with them. You gently remind them she’s only a month old and she still has a long way until she can do those things. They whisper to her of plans they’ve come up with and promises of dragon rides. 

Aemond watches them with such love and turns his attention to you who is looking at them with the same look in your eyes. He imagines how in a couple years you’ll practically have a small company running around back here when you spend early mornings watching the Bay. He’s pulled from his thoughts when your voice greets his ears. 

“Alright, everyone settle in so your father can begin reading to us.” you smile helping them scoot closer to the both of you. 

He watches as your three children cuddle into you before turning their attention to him. His heart swells when Aelor pouts before crawling into his lap so he can read with him. He lets Aelor flip the pages and points out the words Aelor wants to know how to say and what they mean. You watch him with a content smile as his soft voice lulls you into an even more calm state as the sun begins to rise and bathe the five of you in golden light.

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It’s been a couple weeks since you’ve been to court and today is your first day back. Aemond has showered you with kisses and soft words of how beautiful you look in your new gown as he escorts you to the door. The children are with your handmaidens for the day, terrorizing them with their dragons no doubt. 

“It’s almost too quiet.” he whispers, opening the door for you. 

“I was thinking the same thing.” you smile up at him grabbing his arm. 

Aemond starts to lead you down the hall and you lean closer into his side. The servants offer you warm smiles as you pass by and make your way to the stairs. When the two of you make it to the bottom of the stairs Aemond presses his lips to your forehead and pulls you against him. He whispers low words of love and affection before pulling back and taking in your tinted cheeks. He continues to lead you down the hall and you steal glances up at him watching his hair whisk behind him. 

The guards open the doors for the both of you and you begin your descent down the walkway. You look around at all of the faces and your brows scrunch when you see ladies looking at you before whispering to their friends and laughing. You continue to look around and see a couple more simpering smiles before you curl into Aemond and look at your linked arms. Aemond looks down at you confused by the sudden shift in your mood as you both take your place next to his mother. 

“What’s wrong?” he holds you closer and watches you shake your head, refusing to look up at him. “Tell me now.” he steps in front of you. “Please.” he whispers.

“I will tell you after court.” he inhales sharply when he takes in your glossy eyes as you look up at him. “I’m okay. Please.” you grab onto his arm with pleading eyes. 

He sighs and takes his place next to you once more. You curl into him and try to blink away your tears but they fall over the edge. Aemond turns all of his attention on you as you wipe away your tears. You look straight ahead at the swords as you feel him step closer. His mind is racing at what could have possibly have happened in the few steps from the door to right now. He wants to take you out of this hall now but court has officially opened and you’re both now stuck. 

You slowly relax as the minutes tick by just wanting court to end already. Aemond is rigid next to you and you can feel eyes on the back of your head. You know you’ve changed since bringing three children into your family but you didn’t think it was that noticeable. The giggles and the whispers said otherwise and now your mind can’t stop focusing on their words. You want to disappear as you step closer to Aemond and he wraps his arm around you not caring if it's not an appropriate gesture for court. 

“Do you want to leave?” you barely catch his low question.

You shake your head once because you don’t want to make a scene. He sighs and looks ahead once more and you feel your lip wobble at upsetting him. Now your mind is racing about what Aemond thinks. What if he agrees with them? What if you’re no longer good enough? The moment Aemond hears your sniffle he’s pulling you off to the side and out of the hall. The doors shut behind you and he begins to lead you further away hoping the distance will calm you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” he steps in front of you once you’re down the hall. 

“Nothing.” you shake your head.

Aemond searches your eyes and offers you his arm. You grab onto his arm and he’s quickly leading you down the hall and away from court. You’re back up the stairs in moments and he’s sealing the both of you inside your chambers once more. He helps you settle on the couch and goes to fill a cup with water for you.

“Will you please tell me?” his voice soft as he hands you the cup.

“I don’t know.” you look down at the cup in your hand.

“Tell me what is upsetting you.” he tilts your chin upwards and you see his slight frown.

“I’m different.” his brows scrunch. “Since bearing children. My body has changed.. I should’ve realized my chest was practically spilling out of this dress.” you shake your head. “Maybe it's holding me too tightly, I don’t know..” your voice wavers. “But they were laughing at me and whispering.” he wipes away the tears on your cheeks.

He’s silently watching you and wiping away your tears trying to rein in his anger. How could you feel this way or allow others to make you feel like this. He won’t allow it. He can’t. He won't. He nods his head with his decision and tilts your chin up once more.

“I’m sorry if I’m not good enough for you.” more tears fall down your face. 

“Tell me their names.” he whispers with a soft nod. “Or come and show me.” he reaches for your arm. 

“No.” you shake your head.

“Just tell me their names then. You can stay here.” he walks to the door. “Tell me what they were wearing.” his hand is resting on the door handle. 

“Aemond please,” you hiccup. “No, please just stay.” you reach out to him and he's walking back over to you on the couch. “You can’t yell at them if they're right.” he shakes his head at your words.

“They’re not.” he takes a seat next to you and grabs both of your hands. “You’re the mother of our children. The love of my life.” he shakes his head. “I think you are so very beautiful. As for your ‘changes’ I only view these as blessings. You are not spilling out of your dress.” he brings a finger to trace the neckline. “And I’m the one holding you tightly, not this dress. But it does hug you very tenderly.” your eyes snap up to him.

“I want to also remind you that I don’t just love you for your physical aspects. Though I do love them very much.” he smiles softly. “I think you are so sweet and kind. A gentle mother to our children. Brave enough to raise their dragons.” he smooths your hair back. “And somehow you love me. I’ll die for you. I’ll kill for you. Wield me as you see fit.” he wraps his arms around you as you curl against him. 

“I love you so much.” he whispers, pressing his lips to your hair. “Please don’t doubt that.” you crawl into his lap and he holds you as you continue to sniffle. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been worshiping you properly.” you pull back with scrunched brows. 

“You didn’t make me feel this way.” you shake your head. 

“No but the fact that others' whispers could make you feel this way tells me I’m not doing a good enough job.” he pulls you back against him. “You’re so very beautiful. Truly the mother made flesh.” he presses his lips to your neck. “I personally would prefer if your chest was spilling out of your gown.” his words start to form a small smile on your face. 

He pulls back from your neck and looks at your red cheeks. “Look at you.” he whispers. “A mothers body.” his hands that rest on your waist smooth down the curve of your hips and pull you closer to him. “A woman’s body.” he watches as your breathing deepens. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want you any other way besides the way you are.” he searches your eyes. 

“I love you. My wife. The mother of our children. My moon.” you press your lips to his as your tears start anew. 

For the next couple of hours you and Aemond cling to each other and share kisses and words of adoration. The only times you pause are to receive supper into your chambers and ask your handmaidens to keep the children for the night. After the sun is down you and Aemond are a tangle of limbs in bed as he continues to softly whisper to you between pressing his lips across your neck. You cling against him as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth and in turn he holds you tighter. 

“I love you isn’t enough.” he whispers and your brows scrunch. “Marry me in the traditions of my house.” he pulls back and looks at you. 

“We’re already married.” a small smile forms on your lips. 

“This is a different kind of ceremony. More binding. More intimate.” he grabs your hands. “Please,” he whispers. “Marry me again, please.” you chew your lip and nod once. 

“Yes, I’ll marry you again.” he presses his lips to yours quickly. He has you both out of bed and at the wardrobe at once. “It’s the middle of the night, Aemond.” you chuckle as he pulls out a new gown for you. 

“No matter.” he shakes his head and helps you out of your current gown and into the new one. 

You let him help you before you turn and offer the same, helping him ready for your late night ceremony. He looks you over with a dark eye and presses his lips to yours before grabbing your hand and leading you to the door. The halls are dim and barren as he guides you through them. You’re both up the steps to the maesters tower and Aemond is quickly knocking on the door. You wince as an older man opens the door with tired eyes and straightens up at Aemonds presence. 

“My Prince,” he clears his throat and blinks his eyes a couple of times attempting to wake up. “What can I do for the both of you?” he scans over the both of you and doesn’t find anything out of place. 

“I need you to wed us in the ways of my house.” Aemond quickly nods. 

“The hour is-

“I’m aware of the hour. Just the three of us. Just say the words and we’ll leave you.” the old man nods once and opens the door for the both of you to step in. 

Aemond leads you to a table near the window and smooths your hair as the maester begins to grab different supplies. Aemond whispers to you about how it works and if you’re okay with the different aspects. You nod your head, content to do anything he asks of you. The maester clears his throat as he walks back over to you with a folded cloth and some cream colored bindings. 

“Are you both ready?” you look at the maester who puts on a more awake face. “Did you want to do it here or where?”

“Here.” Aemond nods and you rise to stand at his side. 

“Very well.” the man nods and Aemond turns to face you as he begins reading off the words. 

You feel bad for the maester because you’re not even paying attention to the words he’s speaking, but to the man before you. Aemond mirrors your devotion filled eyes and you both continue to step closer to one another. After a couple more minutes of his hushed words he offers Aemond the cream colored cloth. Aemond unfolds it delicately revealing the dragon glass blade he told you was waiting. 

He grabs the blade in his hand and looks at you, who is waiting with an open palm. He cradles your hand in his and searches your eyes in silent question. You nod and step closer to him and watch as he brings the dark blade to your palm. The pain is fleeting and soon burgundy follows in its wake. He takes the blade to his own palm and you watch as the same burgundy follows in its path. 

“I think I expected stars to come out of you instead.” you whisper up at him as he presses your palms together. 

“If it would make you happy I could figure out how to bleed stars for you.” he whispers, lifting the blade up to your bottom lip. “Are you ready?” he watches you tilt your head further up for him. 

He makes a small cut and watches as red spreads across your lip. He offers his lip the same quick cut and turns to the maester. The maester begins to bind your hands together with cloth. Your eyes are locked on Aemond as you feel the knot tighten around your hands. The maester is whispering lowly in Valyrian and Aemond is looking at you with such devotion you can feel it piercing through your chest. 

“Just repeat the words after me and I’ll translate them after.” you nod your head at his soft words. 

“We are one flesh.” he makes sure to speak slowly and clearly for you. 

“We are one flesh.” he’s done for at the sound of your voice speaking his language. 

“We are one flesh.” he softly squeezes your hands. 

“We are one flesh.” you whisper up at him.

“One heart.” Aemond nods at you to repeat. 

“One heart.” you pray you’re not butchering the language. 

“One heart.” the only reason Aemond isn’t on his knees right now at your voice is because your hands are bound and he wants to be on his knees alone for you.

“One heart.” your words caress his ears. 

“One soul.” he nods, not paying any mind to the way his voice slightly cracked. 

“One soul.” your voice so soft he wishes he taught you the language already so he could listen to you for hours. 

“One soul.” his words barely a breath. 

“One soul.” you can’t help the tears that are welling in your eyes. 

“Now and forever.” you don’t know what he’s said yet but you feel the meaning, the impact, the love. 

“Now and forever.” he swallows back his tears at your words. 

“Now and forever.” he slowly leans down to your lips. 

“Now and forever.” you tilt your face up and when his lips touch yours it’s as if it’s your first kiss all over again. 

You both reluctantly pull back remembering the tired maester who just wants to go back to bed. He’s already walking over with a small pouch of cloth and things to help the small slices on your palms. He unbinds your hands and Aemond takes the cloth and shoves it in his pocket before quickly wrapping your hands. He takes the pouch from the maester with a whispered thanks before he’s whisking you back down the stairs. He begins to lead you out of the Keep and you look up at him with scrunched brows. 

“Why are we going outside?” you curl into him as the cool breeze greets you. 

“So the stars can witness our first dance.” he leads you into the gardens. “I wish it was a full moon.” he whispers, pulling you into the small courtyard you’ve become so familiar with. 

“All of my wishes have already come true.” you smile up at him as he pulls you against his chest. 

“As have mine.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “But I like the way you look when it illuminates you.” he starts to slowly sway you. “You always look like a goddess but especially when the moon kisses you.” 

“Then kiss me.” you tilt your head further up towards him and he presses his lips softly against yours. 

Aemond continues to slowly move you both across the stone as your lips mend as one. He feels as if he’s pouring his soul into you and he hopes you can feel his utter devotion to you. You cling to him, trying to get him as close as physically possible. You wish you could somehow pull your heart out and just offer it to him, offer him anything, everything. You both pull back, softly panting and looking at each other's tear stained cheeks. 

“I love you so much. So entirely. It hurts my soul sometimes.” you curl against him once more. 

“I know I love you more.” he shakes his head wrapping his arms tighter around you.

“No.” you whisper. 

“Yes.” he softly chuckles. 

“No.” you pull back with a smile. 

“Let’s agree that we both love each other so very much.” he cups your face. “And to go back to our chambers so I can worship you for what’s left of the night and maybe into the morning.” he watches your cheeks redden. “We must consummate our marriage properly.” he presses his lips to yours quickly before leading you back out of the gardens. 

The walk back to your chambers is filled with heated glances and lingering touches. A couple times he pulls you to the side and presses your lips together, unable to wait he mumbles against your lips until you playfully push him off and tug him down the hall. Once your chambers are in sight he’s pulling you faster to the doors and clicking them shut behind you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.” he pulls you against him. 

“My beautiful, beautiful husband.” you cup his cheek and pull him down to your lips. 

He scoops you up, never letting your lips separate as he carries you to your bed chambers. He sets you down at the edge of your bed and turns you around to start slowly pulling at the laces of your dress. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. When he loosens the last of them he slowly pushes the material down your body before helping you step out of it. 

“My Gods you are so beautiful.” his hands grab your waist and pull you closer. He trails his hands all over your silk clad skin before slowly pulling off the slip. 

“Please do not tease me like our first wedding night.” you voice full of want. 

“Oh no, no,” he hums, continuing to softly caress you. “I’m worshipping,” he brings his hands back to your bare waist and softly squeezes. “Memorizing,” he slides his hand up your back. “Mapping,” he presses his lips to yours. “Loving,” he starts to kiss down your neck. 

“Teasing,” you're breathless from his soft touch. 

“You and I both know I’m not teasing you.” he softly bites at your neck. 

“Then why am I still the only one naked?” you tug on his jerkin. 

He continues to press his lips against your neck as he begins to pull his layers off. At every inch of skin he reveals your hands are there pressing against him and holding him tightly once he’s free of his clothing. You bring your fingers up to his eyepatch and he nods with a soft smile. You discard the leather near your clothes and pull him back against you once more. He slowly backs you both up to the bed and lays you back down and you pout as he stares down at you. You tug on his hand but he won’t move as his eye sweeps over every inch of you. 

“Aemond please,” his eye snaps up to your face. 

“Hush, I’m admiring.” he purses his lips. “And deciding where to start first.” his lips tilt upwards as his eye settles on your chest. He crawls over you and engulfs your breasts pushing them together. “I think I'll start here.” he nods, swiping his thumbs against your nipples. 

“If I had it my way these would be more than spilling out of your gown.” he dips down and softly licks at one of the hardened peaks. “One of my favorite things when you’re with child is how they swell.” he swirls his tongue around you. “They get so sensitive. Mm,” he kisses over to your other nipple. “I could lay in our bed with you all day and lick these,” he nods, circling his tongue around the bud. “Squeeze them,” you squeak when he does. “I just,” he groans, pressing his face between your breasts. 

Your fingers card through his hair and he presses his face closer to you. He turns his head to the side and you cup his cheek in hopes of bringing him up to your mouth but he has no plans on moving up your body anytime soon. He kisses and softly bites all across your chest and you’re sure you’ll wake up littered with small marks.  

“Aemond,” his name a plea. 

He begins to press his lips down your torso and place a ring of kisses around your belly button. His hands are still touching and caressing your sides as he kisses back up to your breasts once more unable to help himself. He’s greeted by your hardened peaks and he lashes his tongue against one of them listening to your soft whimpers. 

He chuckles and begins to kiss back down your body. There’s not an inch of your skin his lips are not pressing love against. As he scoots lower you chew your lip in anticipation until he lingers at your hip and keeps kissing down your leg. His lips softly press to your knee and he hears your small noise already guessing the next string of words that will leave your mouth when he starts at your other hip. And sure enough when he’s kissing down your other thigh..

“How fine is the line between teasing and worshipping?” your words breathy enough to tell him when he finally opens your thighs you’ll be dripping for him. 

“I should flip you over and start the whole process over.” he looks up at you with a dark eye. “Mm, I quite like that idea.” he smirks up at your pout. 

“I’ll fall asleep and then we’ll never consummate our marriage.” he chuckles against your thigh as he kisses back up it. 

“No you won’t. You’re dripping and you never go to bed wanting.” he starts to kiss up towards your breasts once more. 

“If you come up here for my breasts once more I’ll make sure I’m covered like a septa for the rest of our days.” you chew your lip at the glint in his eye. 

“I don’t think I put too much thought into pretending but I think I could figure out how to corrupt you as a septa.” he watches your cheeks flush even more. “Show you how to kneel for something else.” your breathing deepens at his low words. “Mm, does that excite you?” you nod your head quickly. 

“Please, I just want..” you trail off with small whines as he finally settles between your thighs. 

“Just know you have another round of that but flipped over another night.” he spreads your legs wider and smiles at your wetness. “This is the other place I could stay buried for a whole day.” he places kisses along the side of your slit and around your inner thighs watching you squirm before him. 

“Aemond, ple- yes,” he looks up at you as he encases your bud with his mouth and softly licks against it. 

His movements are slow and deliberate listening to each and every sound you make. The moment your hand cards through his hair he pulls you closer and moves his tongue faster. He smiles when you jolt and he slowly pushes two fingers into your core. He groans at how warm and wet you are as he starts to pump them in and out. 

“Yes, I’m,” you pant. “Please,” your legs tremble on either side of his head. 

He continues to worship you between your thighs listening to your soft pleas. He knows you’re close and when you let out a breathy cry his name he smiles feeling you flutter around his fingers. He continues with his slow licks and pumps as soft moans and whines leave your mouth. Your body is humming with pleasure and you gasp when he curls his fingers. 

“Just a little faster.” you pant. “Please, oh Gods just like-“ you squeak as his tongue and his fingers start a new rhythm. 

Aemond smiles against you when he feels his hand getting coated in your pleasure as he continues to lash his tongue against you. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you arch off the bed as your pleasure is rapidly approaching. You’re repeatedly crying out his name as you softly roll your hips against him. Your pleasure slams through you and your whole body trembles. He slowly removes his fingers and starts to kiss around your thighs once more. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” he whispers as he starts to kiss up to you once more. “And now you’re too blissed out to scold me for stopping here once more.” he chuckles as sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“Please, I need you.” you whine, squirming under his touch. He finally kisses back up to your mouth and you sigh, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you.” you mumble against him. 

He settles more comfortably between your thighs and the moan that leaves your mouth when his tip slides up your slit has him wanting to abandon his slow movements. You gasp into his mouth as he continues to slowly rock his hips against you, savoring every small sound that it elicits. He reaches between you and guides himself to your entrance and you both sigh into each other's mouth when he sheaths himself into you. 

“My beautiful wife.” he rests his forearms on either side of your head, allowing his hair to curtain you both in as he leans down and captures your lips once more. 

His hips are rolling into yours after every slow thrust. Your arms are wrapped around him wanting him as close as you possibly can have him. He presses himself closer to you, wishing you both could be absorbed into one for a couple of hours. You both pull back from the kiss and pant into the small space between you staring at one another.

“I love you.” you whisper followed by a small moan. 

“I love you.” he moves his arms to allow him to cradle your head as he presses his lips to yours once more. “Can we have another child?” he pulls back at your small chuckle. 

“We only have three.” you gasp when he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. “We need at least three more.” you pull him back down to your lips. 

He continues to push his hips into you slowly. You feel your pleasure coiling as he slides in and out and the way he’s holding you so closely. You’ve never felt more loved and he’s never been more in love. You open your eyes when you feel a small drop and see him crying and when he opens his eye he’s greeted by your own tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I love you so much.” you softly hiccup. “I don’t..” you shake your head at a loss. “I’d do anything.” your words are getting slightly pleasure slurred. 

“I love you. My wife. My moon.” he presses his lips across your cheeks. “You can let go. I’m here.” he whispers, coaxing more pleasure out of you. 

“Aemond,” you cling to him as your pleasure washes through you and you feel him fill you in the same moment. 

He stays buried inside of you as you both whisper words of love and adoration between kisses. When he finally does pull out he rests on the bed next to you and pulls you against his chest to continue with his soft touches. When the touches get too heated you both mold back together as one until you are both spent. For the rest of the night and into the morning you both whisper about your growing family and names for the babe you’re soon to be carrying. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist  ⏾  wips  ⏾  taglist

next chapter these kids will be up and babessss the cuteness i have planned for this !!! someone fucking sedate me 

ps: there’s another time skip next chap so i might do another little special to help smooth it over idk yet! 

pss: no bc i could have too much fun writing reader dressed as a septa to see what aemond would do jfc soooo 👉🏼👈🏼👀

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee @lfzyxf 

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine @supernaturalwitch89 @the-wife-of-fictional-men

[dragonnwriter]

I've been thinking about all this discourse around Alys for a long time, especially how her relationship with Aemond is described by TB fans. "He raped her," "She suffered," "She's a victim." And...why? I mean, okay, you don't want to see romance in this situation - that's your business, you hate Aemond - okay, but why is Alys always a victim? I'll remind you that she was, well, a witch. Why don't you think she might have used Aemond? A young prince regent with the world's largest dragon is a good social elevator for a woman of her level. Why don't you think that being with Aemond was her conscious decision - okay, not for love, but for personal gain? After all, this also corresponds to the idea of the absence of sympathy in this relationship. Ah, but the men from the green team are supposed to be cruel to women, of course, how could I forget. Aemond must be a rapist, he must be a monster. Sure.

[dragonnwriter]

Being rude to service staff is #1 indicator that someone is garbage

[dragonnwriter]

Absolutely nothing worse than finding out that you share interests with someone you hate. Has you thinking things like fuck you I'm better at enjoying star wars than you are

[dragonnwriter]

Thinking about raw missionary with tongue kissing and creampies

[dragonnwriter]

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

[dragonnwriter]

Aegon and Helaena losing the son they were forced to have in a war they didn't start for a throne they didn't want. God my tragic children I love them so much

[dragonnwriter]

aemond | call out my name

[dragonnwriter]

i love how kendrick lamar was like i fucking hate this one dude and the rest of the industry was like fuck man we do too give this guy 5 grammys

[dragonnwriter]

I don’t even like the Lanisters so idk what got me to start this but DAMN. Four beautiful chapters and a smashing ending. 🫠

The Golden Court (the pact)

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Adult themes will progress more and more as chapters go on. This fic is pure filth and I make no apologies for it. You have been warned.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (you have been warned)

- Previous part: the hunt

- Tag(s): @scarletdfox

The corridors of the Red Keep were mostly empty, save for the occasional patrolling guards who loomed in the flickering torchlight. The distant murmur of celebration from the Great Hall had begun to fade, swallowed by the deep, twisting passages of the keep.

Jason Lannister moved swiftly, his boots clicking softly against the polished stone, his breath even, controlled—but his pulse was anything but.

Because he had you.

His fingers were firmly wrapped around your wrist, guiding you, his grip possessive, but not forceful. You allowed it, walking alongside him with an unhurried grace, as though you were merely indulging a passing amusement.

That damn smile.

It was still there, teasing, unreadable, making his confidence falter for just a moment—because no woman had ever smiled at him like that, as if he were the one being lured into a trap, rather than the other way around.

He pushed open the heavy door to his chambers, pulling you inside before the guards rounding the corner could so much as glance your way.

The moment the door shut, he turned, expecting some protest, some mocking remark—but instead, you simply stood before him, smirking, watching him with those unreadable violet eyes.

Jason swallowed, just for a moment uncertain—but it was fleeting.

Because he was Jason Lannister.

And he always took what he wanted.

His bravado returned, bigger than ever, as he stepped forward, closing the space between you, his hand lifting to your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, his breath brushing against your lips.

Your smirk widened. “Have I?”

Jason growled under his breath, his mouth crashing against yours, his hand sliding into your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt further back.

You didn’t resist.

You met him move for move, your lips fierce, unyielding, your hands suddenly everywhere—sliding over his chest, clutching at the collar of his doublet, teasing over the muscles of his abdomen, pressing against him in a way that made his restraint snap.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the heat of his desire, the evidence of it pressing against the silk of your gown.

Jason groaned, taking one of your hands, guiding it down, placing it over his arousal.

“Feel that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, his grip tightening over your fingers. “That’s what you’ve done to me all night.”

You let out a soft hum, your fingers flexing deliberately, pressing against him just enough to make his breath hitch.

Jason’s teeth scraped against your jaw, his lips trailing downward, down the curve of your throat, his fingers already working on the laces of your gown.

He wanted you bare, wanted to devour you, wanted to win this game you had played so masterfully.

He had just loosened the first tie, just begun to slide the silk off your shoulders when the door swung open.

Tyland Lannister stepped inside, unbothered, utterly calm—his presence as effortless as if he had been expected.

Jason barely glanced up, half-drunk on wine and lust, irritation flashing across his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, voice thick.

Tyland arched a brow, eyes flicking between you both—the way Jason had pinned you against the wall, the way your gown was already half undone, the way your breath came faster than before. “What are you doing, Jason?”

Jason smirked, his fingers still on you, his body still pressed against yours. “Does it not look obvious?”

Tyland exhaled, closing the door behind him, stepping further into the room without hesitation.

Jason scoffed, chuckling as he turned back to you, pressing a slow, heated kiss against your bare shoulder. “You’re not here to play the Septa, are you?”

Tyland’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Hardly.”

Jason huffed a laugh, his fingers trailing lower, gliding over your corset laces, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath the silk.

“So what then?” Jason asked lazily, his green eyes flickering toward his brother, amusement curling through his words. “Are you going to stand there, watching like some gods-damned court scribe, or are you joining us?”

Tyland took another step closer, his keen green eyes never leaving yours, his fingers lifting to brush a stray silver strand from your cheek, his voice low, smooth.

“You deserve better than his drunken lust, princess.”

Jason growled softly, his hands never leaving your body, his frustration barely restrained. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tyland—”

Tyland didn’t look at him.

He looked at you.

And when he spoke, his voice was a murmur of something deeper, something more controlled, something calculated.

“Tell me, princess.” His fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face toward him now. “Would you rather be claimed by a man who simply wants to win a chase…?”

His fingertips brushed lower, trailing the edge of your collarbone, the touch featherlight, teasing.

“Or by one who knows how to truly worship a woman?”

Jason bristled, a flash of irritation clenching his jaw. “You arrogant little—”

But then—you laughed.

Soft, breathless, entirely amused.

And Jason felt it then—the shift in control.

His smirk returned, but it was tighter now, warier.

Because he could see it in your eyes.

You liked this.

You liked them both.

And Jason had never been a man to share—but for the first time in his life…

He realized he might have to.

Jason's smirk was still there, but the amusement had sharpened, his eyes flickering between you and Tyland as he shrugged off his doublet with practiced ease.

Tyland, by contrast, was deliberate, methodical. His fingers moved with purpose, undoing the ties of your gown one by one, the fabric loosening, slipping further down your shoulders. His touch was light, teasing, but his eyes—sharp, focused—were anything but.

"You take too long, brother," Jason muttered, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you back against his chest as Tyland worked. "She’s been waiting for this all night."

Tyland only smiled. "Patience, Jason," he murmured, trailing his knuckles along the exposed skin of your shoulder before lowering his head, pressing a lingering kiss there. "A woman like this deserves to be unwrapped slowly."

You exhaled softly as Jason’s lips found your neck, his breath warm, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. His hands roamed over your waist, your hips, gripping possessively as he tilted your head further for better access.

“Tell me, princess,” Tyland murmured against your collarbone, his voice low, velvet-soft. “Do you want to be worshipped?”

Jason huffed a quiet laugh against your throat, his fingers tracing over your ribs, his palms pressing against the curve of your body. “Or do you want to be fucked?”

Your breath hitched as Tyland smirked, his hands pushing the silk of your gown further down, letting it slip past your breasts, your stomach, until it pooled at your feet in a soft rustle.

Jason let out a low groan as his eyes raked over your now-bare form. His grip on you tightened. “Gods,” he muttered, half to himself.

Tyland’s lips brushed lower, skimming over the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking against your skin in slow, teasing strokes. Jason, meanwhile, was relentless—his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the pulse of your throat, his hands kneading your hips, your waist, as though he could mold you into his shape.

Tyland’s fingers trailed down the soft curve of your stomach, moving lower, his breath warm as he kissed his way down. His movements were smooth, precise, practiced—he was not a man who rushed.

Jason, on the other hand, had always been more impatient.

“Fucking tease,” Jason muttered, watching as his brother knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them just slightly.

Tyland only chuckled, his lips hovering just above where you ached for him most. He glanced up at you, his gaze molten. “Let me hear you, princess,” he murmured. “I want to know what you sound like when you fall apart.”

And then—his mouth was on you.

Your fingers tangled in his golden hair, your back arching as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive place, slow and deliberate, tasting, savoring. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pulled you closer, burying himself against you.

Jason’s lips found your jaw again, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive peaks. “That’s it,” he murmured against your skin as your breath hitched, as a soft whimper left your lips. “Let him hear you.”

Tyland hummed in satisfaction, the vibration sending a sharp wave of pleasure through you. His hands pressed against the backs of your thighs, his tongue working in slow, precise circles, drawing sounds from you that you hadn’t even realized you could make.

Jason grinned against your shoulder, his own arousal pressing hot and insistent against your back. “Do you see, brother?” he murmured. “This is what happens when you stop wasting time.”

Tyland didn’t respond—not in words, at least. Instead, he tightened his grip, his tongue pressing harder, his pace quickening.

You gasped, your legs nearly giving out, but Jason held you steady, his arms wrapping around you, supporting you. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice dark with promise. “Not until we have you in bed.”

And then Jason was guiding you backward, his movements firm, possessive. Tyland rose to his feet, his hands gripping your waist as he helped you onto the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jason discarded the last of his clothing with practiced ease, his lean, muscular frame illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Tyland followed suit, slower, more measured, his hands moving to the ties of his tunic, his eyes locked onto yours.

Jason crawled over you first, pressing a lingering kiss against your lips, his body flush against yours. “Tell me, princess,” he murmured against your mouth. “Are you ready for us?”

Tyland smirked, settling beside you, his fingers tracing over your stomach, moving lower once more. “Or do we need to make you beg first?”

You exhaled sharply, your chest rising and falling as you turned your gaze toward Tyland, your lips curving into a knowing smirk despite the heat pooling low in your belly. The candlelight flickered over his features, his golden hair tousled, his green eyes dark with unspoken promise.

“Beg?” you echoed, tilting your head just slightly, feigning contemplation. “I think not.”

Jason huffed a quiet laugh, his hands gripping your hips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble, princess.”

You turned your head just slightly, meeting his lips in a slow, teasing kiss before pulling back, your voice a whisper of wicked amusement. “Only if you catch me first.”

Tyland chuckled, low and dark. “Fortunately for you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, guiding you onto your hands and knees, “I don’t need you to beg.”

Jason let out a breath as Tyland moved behind you, his strong hands adjusting your hips, positioning you exactly as he wanted.

“This should be me,” Jason muttered under his breath, his voice rough, filled with something dangerously close to frustration. His hands slid down your waist, gripping possessively. “You should’ve let me take you first we played this game all night.”

Tyland smirked, his hand skimming up your back before fisting in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. “And yet,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear, “you are mine to break in.”

You gasped as he entered you, slow, deliberate, stretching you inch by inch until you were trembling beneath him. He didn’t thrust, didn’t rush—he simply stayed there, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him.

Jason cursed under his breath, his grip on you tightening. “You bastard,” he ground out, watching as your lips parted in a silent moan, as your nails dug into the sheets.

Tyland exhaled through his nose, pleased, his hand stroking down your back soothingly as he pulled out almost entirely before easing back in, keeping his pace agonizingly slow. “She needs restraint now,” he murmured, his voice calm, controlled, “not your ferocity.”

Jason scowled, but said nothing.

You, however, let out a low whimper as Tyland’s fingers traced over the small of your back, his movements measured, his touch firm but unhurried. He was not a man who took without care—he wanted to feel every reaction, to draw out every sound, to make you unravel beneath him at his own pace.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his free hand gripping your hip, steadying you as he set a slow, rolling rhythm. “You take me so well.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between your blissed-out expression and the way Tyland moved inside you, slow and devastating. “Are you done savoring her yet?” he muttered, his voice rough with restraint.

Tyland hummed, amusement lacing his tone. “Not nearly.”

Jason groaned in frustration, his fingers gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You moaned against his mouth as Tyland’s pace quickened just slightly, enough to make your fingers clutch at the sheets.

Tyland’s control had always been his greatest strength, his defining trait—a Lannister who observed, who calculated, who struck when the moment was right. But here, with you trembling beneath him, your body molded to his, your breath coming in uneven gasps as he moved within you—his restraint was slipping.

You felt it in the way his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. You heard it in the way his breath turned ragged, no longer controlled, no longer measured.

He had taken his time, savoring every whimper, every inhale, every desperate clutch of your fingers into the sheets. But now—now, something in him snapped.

Tyland’s pace quickened, no longer slow and deliberate, but hungry, relentless. A gasp left your lips as his thrusts became rougher, deeper, pushing you into the mattress with every motion.

Jason cursed beside you, his own breath uneven, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fucking bastard,” Jason muttered, watching as you arched into his brother, as your lips parted in a moan that sent heat curling through his already aching body. He had been chasing you for over a moon, had danced with you, flirted with you, watched you tease him with those violet eyes of yours—only for Tyland to take what he had wanted first.

His patience was wearing thin.

Tyland let out a low groan, his hands pressing firmly against your back, guiding your body against his as he chased his release, his carefully cultivated composure in tatters. His mouth found your shoulder, his teeth scraping against flushed skin, his hands roaming over every inch of you, mapping the curves and dips of your body as though committing them to memory.

Jason watched, his frustration mounting.

“You’re so fucking smug,” Jason growled, his hands trailing down your sides, possessive. “Like you’ve won some gods-damned prize.”

Tyland tightened his grip on your waist. “I didn’t win anything, Jason,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened with pleasure. “She gave herself to me.”

Jason’s fingers twitched, curling into fists against the sheets. “Don’t fucking gloat.”

Tyland didn’t answer—he was too focused, too lost in you.

His movements turned desperate, his rhythm breaking as his breath hitched. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you back against him one last time before he shuddered, a groan ripping from his throat as he reached his peak, his release spilling inside you as his grip turned bruising.

He stilled for a long moment, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin, his body pressed against yours.

Jason shoke his head. “Seven hells.”

Tyland finally released you, his hands lingering on your hips as he withdrew, his breath still uneven, his control shattered.

Jason, still affected by the wine, still burning with frustration, finally lost what was left of his patience.

“Move, brother,” Jason muttered, his voice tight, his hands already gripping your waist, flipping you onto your back. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Tyland smirked slightly, still breathless, his green eyes glinting as he leaned back onto the mattress, utterly unbothered. “Impatient as ever.”

Jason ignored him, his gaze dropping to you.

Flushed, breathless, still trembling beneath them.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk.

“My turn.”

Jason’s hands were on you before you could catch your breath, strong, possessive, pulling you toward him as though he refused to let even the space of a whisper exist between you. His frustration simmered in his eyes, still touched by wine, still edged with the bitterness of having been second to his brother.

He tilted your chin up, his thumb grazing over your lower lip, his smirk full of something dark, something dangerous. “You enjoyed that,” he murmured, his voice husky, roughened by restraint he no longer wished to have.

You let out a soft hum, your lips curving into that same teasing smile—the one that had driven him mad for over a moon. “Did you not?”

Jason let out a breath, shaking his head, his smirk turning into something wilder. “You’re a wicked thing,” he muttered, his hands parting your legs without hesitation, his fingers gripping into the soft skin of your thighs.

Your smirk only deepened. “And yet, you’re the one trembling.”

Jason growled under his breath, his grip tightening. “Not for long.”

He dragged his hands over your hips, over the curve of your waist, his touch lingering just long enough to savor every inch of you. Unlike Tyland, he did not take his time to tease, to test the limits of his control—because Jason had no interest in control.

He wanted.

And Jason Lannister always took what he wanted.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his eyes locked onto yours, his smirk never fading. “You’re going to feel me for days,” he murmured, his voice low, dark with promise.

Before you could respond, before you could continue to toy with him, he pushed inside you in one swift, claiming thrust.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your fingers clutching onto his forearms as the stretch of him sent a shockwave through your body.

Jason let out a long, satisfied groan, his head tilting back for just a moment as he savored the feeling of you around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on you tightening, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You exhaled shakily, your lips parting as you tried to steady yourself, but Jason gave you no time to adjust. Unlike Tyland, who had been measured, patient—Jason was neither.

His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt, a growl ripping from his throat as he finally—finally—took what he had been chasing for far too long.

You let out a soft, breathless moan, your head tilting back against the pillows, but Jason wasn’t satisfied with that.

He gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. “Don’t you dare look away from me,” he growled. “You wanted this, princess. Now, take it.”

You shuddered, your body responding to the dominance in his tone, to the raw, unfiltered need in his eyes.

He set a brutal pace, each thrust deep, deliberate, designed to leave you breathless, to make you feel every inch of him, to claim you in a way that left no room for doubt.

Tyland had taken you with control.

Jason took you with possession.

His hands roamed over your body, greedy, relentless—one sliding to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his palm. The other gripping your thigh, pulling you tighter against him as he thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

“You were made for this,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “Made for me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still toying with him even now. “Such arrogance.”

Jason smirked, pressing his lips to your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin as he snapped his hips forward, harder this time, forcing a moan from your lips.

“Say that again,” he dared, his voice dark with amusement. “Say it while I’m buried inside you, while you tremble for me.”

You shuddered, your nails dragging down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. Jason groaned at the sting, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he redoubled his efforts, determined to wring every last sound from you.

“You’ll remember this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice softer now, but no less possessive. “Whenever you lie alone in your bed, whenever you ache for more—you’ll remember this.”

You gasped as he angled himself just right, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, your fingers gripping onto him as you felt yourself begin to fall.

Jason grinned wickedly, feeling the way your body clenched around him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his breath warm against your throat. “Now come for me.”

But as he continued to claim you in a way that left no doubt—he realized something.

He had chased you for more then a moon, had thought he was the one pursuing you.

But here, now, as your lips parted on a soft, breathless moan—he understood.

You had been leading him the entire time.

Jason was relentless.

Even as your body trembled from the force of your release, as your breath came in unsteady gasps, he did not slow. If anything, he only quickened his pace, his grip turning bruising, his fingers digging into your thighs as he sought his own peak.

His movements were rough, desperate, full of an unchecked hunger that had burned inside him for too long. He had spent weeks chasing you, fantasizing about this moment, about the way you would feel wrapped around him—and now that he had you, he was determined to leave you properly ruined.

"You think you're clever," he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, uneven. "You think you can tease me, toy with me, and walk away unscathed?"

You barely had the chance to respond before he buried himself deep, his hips snapping against yours in one final thrust, a rough groan escaping his throat as he found his release. His body shuddered above you, his grip tightening as he spilled inside you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he breathed heavily, his body still trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sound in the chamber was his ragged breathing, the quiet crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

Then—Tyland spoke.

"You could have been a little more considerate, brother," he noted, his voice dry.

Jason let out a breathless laugh, lifting his head just enough to cast his twin a smirk. "And you could have gone first with a bit more urgency," he shot back, shifting slightly as he slowly pulled out, his release already beginning to spill from between your thighs. He reached down, running his fingers through the evidence of what he had done to you, his smirk widening. "Looks like I've marked my claim properly, after all."

You exhaled softly, unbothered, unashamed. If anything, you found his arrogance amusing.

"How very Lannister of you," you murmured, stretching languidly beneath them, the glow of candlelight painting your skin in soft golds. "Do you intend to leave me looking like a conquered kingdom, or would you rather lay tribute at my feet?"

Tyland chuckled, settling beside you, his fingers brushing down your spine with an almost absentminded gentleness. "She toys with words as well as she toys with men," he murmured, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

Jason smirked, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you. "It's not words she's been toying with tonight."

You turned your head, fixing him with a teasing smile. "No, I believe it was you who was toyed with, my lion."

Tyland hummed in approval. "She has a point."

Jason scoffed, shaking his head as he traced lazy patterns over your hip. "If being ruined by me is a game, then I think she’s lost."

You arched a brow, tilting your head as though in contemplation. "Lost?" Your smirk deepened. "I haven't even begun to play."

Tyland let out a soft laugh, while Jason merely grinned, his fingers tightening against your waist.

"Then I suppose we’ll just have to keep playing," Jason murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your collarbone.

You sighed dramatically, shifting against the pillows as you glanced between them. "Gods, and here I thought I would be able to sleep."

Tyland smirked. "Oh, princess. Who said we were done?"

Jason chuckled lowly, his hands already starting to wander again. "You should know better than to taunt lions, little dragon."

And with that, the game continued.

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over the tangled mess of limbs and sheets. The chamber was warm, the air thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and satisfaction. Your body hummed from the onslaught of pleasure, a languid soreness settling in your limbs as you sprawled between them, entirely spent yet utterly unrepentant.

Jason lay on one side of you, his chest rising and falling heavily, his golden hair tousled, sticking to his forehead. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles against your waist, his other arm lazily thrown behind his head, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Tyland, ever the picture of composed arrogance, rested on your other side, his breathing only just steadying, his green eyes watching you with quiet amusement. His fingers skimmed over the marks both he and his twin had left behind—bruises, nail scratches, love bites marring your usually pristine skin.

It had started with Jason's hands pinning you down, his words rough against your ear, his thrusts as deep and unrelenting as before. Then Tyland had joined in, his control unraveling, his pace calculated but no less devastating.

They had taken you together for the rest of the night, both lions prowling their prey, neither willing to yield. And you? You had relished in it.

Your lips curled as you exhaled, tilting your head lazily to glance between them. “I never knew the two of you shared anything.”

Jason let out a breathless chuckle, still basking in his satisfaction. “We don’t.”

Tyland smirked, his fingers brushing idly against your stomach. “Apparently… until now.”

You arched a brow, amusement glinting in your violet eyes. “Well,” you mused, stretching slightly, feeling the pleasant ache settle deeper in your muscles, “I must say, you do make a rather spectacular pair.”

Jason scoffed, tilting his head to look at you. “Spectacular, is it?” He exhaled, his smirk sharpening as his fingers traced down your hip. “I think the word you’re looking for is ruinous.”

You hummed in consideration, shifting against the sheets. “Perhaps.” Your gaze flickered to Tyland, your voice lilting with mischief. “And what do you think, my quiet lion?”

Tyland’s smirk widened just slightly, his hand moving to grip your chin, tilting your face toward him as he studied you. “I think you should be careful about feeding Jason’s ego. He might start thinking he actually won something tonight.”

Jason scoffed, propping himself up on one elbow, his smirk never fading. “Oh, I won something, brother.” His fingers ghosted over the marks on your thighs, his grin nothing short of wicked. “And she’ll be feeling it for days.”

Tyland hummed, unconvinced. “She will be feeling something for days,” he agreed, his green eyes glinting as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “But I rather think I was the one who broke her in first.”

Jason growled under his breath, his smirk faltering just for a moment before he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Enjoy it while you can, Tyland. I promise you, she will be calling for me next.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, completely unbothered by their jabs, your amusement growing as you stretched once more, unabashed in your nudity, relishing in the way both of their eyes flickered over you.

“Oh, my lions,” you murmured, your voice warm, honey-sweet. “You assume I’ll only call for one.”

Jason’s smirk returned instantly.

Tyland simply chuckled.

The remnants of last night’s revelry still clung to the Red Keep like a lingering scent, a mix of spiced wine, burnt-out candle wax, and the perfumed trails left behind by nobles who had danced, drank, and indulged well into the early hours. But now, the Great Hall had been emptied, its grandeur restored to order, and in the private chambers of the Lannister delegation, the true business of the morning was being discussed.

Jason Lannister sat comfortably in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, his expression utterly at ease. The golden embroidery of his doublet caught the sunlight filtering in from the high arched windows, a lion at rest, basking in the afterglow of both celebration and conquest.

Tyland sat opposite him, ever the image of controlled amusement, his eyes observing his twin with something between exasperation and reluctant admiration.

Beside Tyland, Lord Alton Lannister, a man who had always carried the weight of Casterly Rock’s concerns with solemn dignity, looked less than pleased. And next to Jason, reclining in a casual sprawl, was Ser Reynard Lannister, his own goblet dangling lazily from his fingers as he watched the scene unfold with a smirk that mirrored Jason’s.

It was Alton who spoke first, his tone measured but firm.

“A raven came this morning from Lord Westerling,” he announced, his voice heavy with displeasure.

Jason lifted a brow, unimpressed. “And?”

Alton sighed. “And he will no longer entertain the idea of you marrying his daughter.”

Jason’s smirk barely wavered as he took a slow sip of his wine, letting the weight of Alton’s words settle over the room before exhaling a quiet chuckle. “Is that all?”

Alton’s jaw tightened. “Rumors have reached him,” he pressed. “Of your… less than honorable pursuits concerning the princess.”

At that, Reynard laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You say ‘less than honorable’ as if the princess isn’t quite pleased with the arrangement.”

Tyland hummed, setting his goblet down with a soft clink. “It would seem Westerling is a man of principle,” he mused, glancing at Jason with a knowing look. “Or at least a man who wishes to avoid having his daughter attached to the lion who’s been chasing after a dragon.”

Jason rolled his shoulders, utterly unconcerned. “Let him keep his daughter then. I doubt she was much entertainment.”

Alton let out a slow breath, clearly attempting to keep his composure. “Jason—”

Jason leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, swirling the wine in his goblet lazily. “Westerling has always been tedious,” he remarked. “And if the man has decided that rumors—not facts, mind you—are enough to turn him away, then I doubt we would have ever seen eye to eye as family.”

Tyland smirked. “Rumors?” he repeated, amusement lacing his voice. “If they are only rumors, then tell me, brother, what exactly were you basking in when I walked in last night?”

Jason’s grin sharpened, his green eyes glinting. “I do not recall denying them.”

Alton’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Regardless, this will not be the last of it,” he warned. “Word is traveling. If House Westerling knows, others will follow. The princess is highly favored, and your reputation—”

“My reputation is exactly what it has always been,” Jason cut in smoothly, tilting his head. “That of a man who takes what he desires.”

Alton exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. “That of a man who has wasted a promising match for our house.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “Miserable match. And tell me, Alton, is House Lannister so weak that it cannot afford to lose one skittish ally?”

Reynard chuckled, lifting his goblet. “Hardly.”

Jason inclined his head in agreement. “Exactly.” He took another sip of his wine before setting it down, leaning back comfortably. “That being said, it would be wise for the rest of you to return to Casterly Rock.”

Alton blinked. “You mean to stay?”

Jason smirked. “For a little while longer,” he admitted, glancing toward the windows, where the faint echoes of life in the Red Keep continued beyond their chambers. “King Viserys has extended his hospitality, and it would be rude to leave so soon after his nameday celebrations.”

Tyland arched a brow. “How generous of you.”

Jason’s smirk widened. “It is, isn’t it?”

Alton looked less than convinced. “You mean to linger in the hopes of continuing your pursuit of the princess,” he stated flatly.

Jason merely took another sip of wine, his smirk never wavering.

Alton pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “Jason, this is reckless.”

Jason finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, looking at his cousin with easy confidence. “Reckless?” He chuckled. “Or strategic?”

Alton shook his head. “And what exactly do you stand to gain from this?”

Jason grinned. “The better question, cousin, is what I stand to lose.”

Tyland watched his twin with that same quiet amusement, before turning to Alton. “There is no convincing him,” he remarked dryly.

Alton sighed heavily.

Reynard smirked. “Well, if nothing else, it will be entertaining to watch.”

Jason raised his goblet in mock salute, his smirk never fading. “That, cousin, is the spirit.”

The chamber door closed with a final thud, leaving only Jason and Tyland within the private quarters. The echoes of Alton’s disapproving sighs and Reynard’s quiet chuckles faded into the distant hum of the Red Keep’s halls, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

Jason leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out with an air of casual ease. He swirled the remnants of his wine in his goblet, watching the deep red liquid catch the light before finally speaking.

“We need to set some rules.”

Tyland arched a brow, unimpressed. “Rules?”

Jason smirked, tilting his head. “You and I have never shared anything before, and yet—here we are.” He took a lazy sip of his wine, his gaze glinting with something between amusement and challenge. “So, if we’re going to continue this arrangement without strangling each other, we need to clear a few things.”

Tyland leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. “By all means,” he said smoothly. “Lay down your terms, brother.”

Jason let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “This is not just my terms. You’re in this as much as I am.”

Tyland exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Very well.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp, assessing. “Go on.”

Jason’s smirk lingered as he set his goblet down, tapping his fingers lightly against the polished wood. “First,” he began, “no competing over her.”

Tyland scoffed. “You say that as if you haven’t already been treating this as some conquest.”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “I was chasing her before you decided to step in.”

Tyland smirked. “And yet, I was the one to take her first.”

Jason’s jaw ticked just slightly, but he merely exhaled through his nose, schooling his expression into one of easy amusement. “Which is exactly why this conversation needs to happen before I gut you in your sleep.”

Tyland let out a soft laugh. “Please. You couldn’t land a clean hit on me even when we were boys.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Regardless. We’re in this now. No childish squabbling, no undermining each other. She enjoys the game, but she’s too smart to tolerate petty jealousy.”

Tyland inclined his head in agreement. “Fair.”

Jason’s smirk widened slightly before he continued. “Second,” he leaned forward slightly, his green eyes darkening with something more serious, “we do not push her into anything.”

Tyland blinked. “That goes without saying.”

Jason nodded. “I know. But it needs to be spoken aloud.” His voice was lower now, quieter. “She’s… herself. She’s not some blushing maiden who can be corralled into a role that doesn’t suit her.”

Tyland studied his twin for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. “You’re more taken with her than you want to admit.”

Jason’s smirk faltered for just a moment—so slight that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Tyland knew him.

“I enjoy the chase,” Jason replied smoothly.

Tyland hummed. “And when she decides to turn the chase on you?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Then I’ll run, and see if she catches me.”

Tyland exhaled, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “So—no competition, no forcing her into anything, and no pettiness.”

Jason nodded. “Exactly.”

Tyland tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. “And when she grows tired of us?”

Jason paused for a moment before shrugging. “Then we will bow out with grace.”

Tyland chuckled. “Grace? You? That’ll be a sight.”

Jason grinned, raising his goblet once more in a mock toast. “Then let’s ensure she doesn’t grow tired of us.”

Tyland smirked, lifting his own goblet. “Agreed.”

The air carried the faint scent of roasted meats and fresh-baked bread, though you had only picked at your meal, your appetite more inclined toward leisure than hunger. Across from you, Daemon Targaryen sat with his usual effortless confidence, his posture loose but his dark violet gaze missing nothing.

Your father had been watching you for some time now, absently toying with the dagger in his hand, spinning it between his fingers with practiced ease. He had not spoken yet, letting the silence stretch between you both as he nursed his wine. But Daemon was not a man known for patience.

Finally, he broke the quiet.

“You left the feast early.”

You lifted your goblet to take a slow sip, offering him nothing but a casual shrug in response. “I was bored.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head as he set his dagger down against the wood with a thunk. “Bored?” he echoed, amusement dancing in his voice. “A hall full of lords throwing themselves at your feet, offering you flattery, gifts, dances—and you were bored?”

You exhaled, swirling the wine in your goblet. “They are predictable,” you mused. “They prattle on about their titles, their lands, how they would make me a fine match. As if I care for any of it.” You smirked slightly, tilting your head. “If I wished to be entertained by empty boasts, I would have stayed near Uncle Viserys and listened to his councilors bicker about coin and crops.”

Daemon let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like me.”

Your lips curved. “And is that a bad thing?”

His smirk widened, a flicker of pride gleaming in his violet eyes. “Not at all,” he admitted, reaching for his goblet, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. Then, with a look far too knowing, he added, “So… if you were so terribly bored at the feast, I assume you found something far more entertaining to occupy your evening?”

You did not answer immediately, instead watching him over the rim of your goblet as you took another sip, offering nothing but a small, enigmatic smile.

Daemon arched a brow. “Ah,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly, resting his chin against his knuckles. “Now I’m curious.”

You hummed in amusement. “Are you?”

His smirk grew, but his eyes sharpened, assessing. “I know the look of someone who’s spent the night in far more interesting company than their own bed.” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You play your games well, daughter.”

You tilted your head, your smile never fading. “I learned from the best.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. But there was something else in his gaze now, something keen and knowing—something protective. “Careful, though,” he murmured, his tone turning softer, though no less weighty. “You might find yourself ensnared in a game you can’t control.”

You exhaled through your nose, unbothered. “I have a dragon, Father,” you murmured, your voice warm with amusement. “Do you think a lion can trap me?”

Daemon let out a quiet, approving hum. “Perhaps not.” But then his gaze darkened, and he leaned forward slightly. “But lions do not hunt alone.”

Your smirk did not waver. If anything, it only deepened.

“Neither do dragons.”

Daemon studied you for a long moment before shaking his head, laughter rumbling low in his chest. “You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

You merely hummed, lifting your goblet once more.

Let him wonder. Let him suspect. Let him know.

[dragonnwriter]

You guys do know you're supposed to reblog things, right