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eraenaa · 4 months ago

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Chosen Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: Whore or more?

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Possessiveness, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, ¿Breeding Kink?, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 4,451

Prequels: Virginal Whore, Prince's Whore

“Will you please stop looking at my breasts?” You requested lowly as you had felt the lone gaze of Prince Aemond on your chest for the past few minutes. You two had been seated across each other in the seating room of his chambers. It was nearing both of your time of retirement, but you two had been preoccupied with the scrolls in your hands. His scrolls were filled with the progress of war and how many men they had left, and yours were filled with orders of the castle and what else was needed by the workers.

Though your entanglement with the prince began with you as his whore, it then progressed with you being an informal lady of the castle you two resided in the midst of war. You had gone from warming his bed, waiting for him at night when he sought release to the one who oversaw the goings-on in Harrenhall. Your duties were the same as your Lady mother's, tending to the keep and its staff, but your title was anything but. You were still the prince’s whore. Tasked to share his bed and be the reason for his pleasure, no matter if the other’s called you ‘lady,’ you believed you were too low and ruined for such a title.

“Have they grown?” The prince questioned as he discarded the letter he was reading. You frowned and lowered your gaze to your chest, which was covered in your shift. You turned to the prince and saw him already making his way to you, taking the empty space on the settee you sat upon. You took in a sharp breath as both of his hands unceremoniously took hold of both of your tits, assesing them. “They feel the same…” He muttered, and you could not help but hear a tone of disapproval. “Why should they change?” You questioned and grew conscious.

You locked eyes with the man who had brought you from the whore house and took you. Moons had passed since he had brought you to the castle in ruins, and it had been moons since you had given up on escaping him. Because whatever you did, you could not be freed of the shackles the prince had placed upon you. Besides, you had nowhere to go. Your father’s home was far from the Riverlands, and even if it were close, the prince had made the letter which stated you rebuked your house’s stance in the war, and you were certain your presence would no longer be welcomed.

You did not like to focus on the past and what had happened. It only placed a painful throb in your chest and tears in your eyes. Instead, you only tried to focus on the day that is to come— hoping that one day, all of this pain and trial would end.

“Nothing… I— I thought something had changed,” The prince muttered and slowly removed his hands from your tits. Leaving his mark as your nipples had pebbled and strained through the fabric of what you had worn. You pursed your lips and gave a small no d, not certain what to say.

“I… uh— the lords had been proposing a feast,” You suddenly say to the prince, trying to bring the subject away from your tits. “What for?” Aemond questioned as he moved his fingers to tuck in a stray lock of your hair. The fire light had illuminated your face so warmly and ethereally that he could not help but stare upon you at the moment instead of returning to his various scrolls. “Well, they wish to celebrate your victory in the god’s eye… they said it shall be good for morale.” You uttered, imparting the wishes of other lords.

“A feast?” The prince questioned, and you nodded. You hear him hum and use his fingers to caress your cheek. “Do you wish for a feast?” He questioned, his fingers tangling your hair, and he took in a lock and brought it to his nose to smell the scent of you further. “It matters not what I wish for,” You say and fiddled with the scroll in your hands. You watch as the prince raises his brow. “Yes or no, my lady. I shall let you decide.” The prince stated, and once again brought his touch to your skin.

“I cannot dictate such a thing… it is your approval or denial they seek, not mine.” You said. You watched as the prince’s face threaded closer, his gaze on your lips. “I know. But it is your opinion I seek, my lady.” Aemond stated as he began to place light feathered kisses upon your cheek and neck. You let out a breath, cursing yourself as desire was starting to bloom within even after all the times the prince had his way with you.

“I… I shall be fine with either, my prince.” You say, out of breath. His lips began to stray closer to yours, but he only placed his kisses on the side of your lips. A hum once again left his lips. “That is still not a definite decision, my lady. Yes or no… the decision is up to you.” Aemond stated and further more placed small kisses on your skin and let his hands roam your frame once more. He did not miss the wya you shuddered at his touch nor the gooseflesh that grew on your skin.

“The lords might take offence if they are denied.” You stated, “Who cares? If they shall give your trouble, you only to say, my lady, and I’ll gift you with their heads.” You took a sharp breath as the prince whispered in your ear and playfully nipped the lobe.

“I suppose it… It shall boost morale. The men seemed to be overtried.” You reasoned, feeling a bit of guilt as you had grown concerned for the opposition, but you thought that even if your views did not fully align, they were still men. They still feel. They were still human. And you could not help but feel pity as you see them struggling day to day. “So, a feast then?” The prince asked as he placed another mark on your neck, the one he placed last night still hadn’t faded and thought it needed a companion. To let everyone know you were his.

“I… I do not know. Could you please just the one to decide?” You asked, the prince’s hands once again on your tits and you pressed your legs togeher to surpress the desire that pooled between them. “No.” The prince said plainly, a smirk on his lips as he saw the blush on your cheeks and the glass in your eyes that often indicated to him that you were filled with desire.

“Decide, my lady. Yes or no?” Aemond pressed and lowered the sleeve of your shift to expose more of your soft skin. The prince watched as you bit your li through darkened eyes. “Yes or no. My lady? Decide.” He said, growing impatient as he wished to be absolved of the matter that plagued you so he could finally bed you. “Fine. Very well. They shall have their feast.” You connected, unable to bear the wanting bubbling inside you. It was shameful but else is to be expected when you were his whore?

“Good. But you shall not plan it alone. They had exhausted and worked you enough… do not try to deny it. I had seen it plainly.” The prince stated, and before you could protest, he placed his lips upon yours, and what you had wanted to say died on your tongue, and it’s grave the prince’s tongue danced with want.

You let out a shaky breath as his hand moved from holding your waist down to the hem of your shift and hiked up the skirt. “Always so ready and eager for me, my lady…” The prince hummed as his fingers traced your cunt. You whimpered as you felt him add pressure as his fingertip came into contact with your nubbin, swollen and calling for his attention.

You could not help but let out a moan, your head tilting back ever so lightly, but the prince was quick to dip forward and kiss your lips, unable to let space grow between the two of you. “You take my finger so well, my lady… I could never understand no matter how many nights I havehad you, your cunt is still so fucking tight.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core as he curled his fingers inside you, seeking out that spot that made your legs tremble and made you moan out his name so sweetly. His lips never strayed far, dragging along your jaw, nipping at your throat as he reveled in your whimpers.

Aemond could no longer restrain himself. You cried out in disappointment as he stole his fingers away and took the digits between his lips to taste you, just as he did every single night. You watched through hazy, lust-filled eyes as the prince took you in his arms and carried you to the bed. His movements were fast, desperate as he took off his clothing and positioned himself between your legs. He had a harsh hold on your thighs as he assesed you dripping cunt.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you feel him run the tip of his cock along your weeping slit, teasing you. “What do you want, my lady? Just say it, and it shall be yours.” Aemond smirked and watched as you once again struggled to admit what you wanted— what you needed. “Come now, just conceed— just as you had the night before… and before… and before.” Aemond taunted and watched as your brows furrow deeply as the tip of his cock continued to brush agaisnt the pearl of your cunt.

You let out a hopeless moan. “You— gods, I want you!” You cried in wanting and shame. And in your cries, the prince felt a surge of further pleasure. "You clench around me so sweetly, my lady,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, his lips hovering just above yours. "Like you never want me to leave.” He smirked as a moan left your lips, and he took that as your agreement. “Perhaps you never do… No matter what act you throw at me, I know perfectly what you want— who you need. And it is me, my lady. It shall always be me.” Aemond gritted as your cunt clenched further, your release coming quickly as he had denied you of pleasure earlier. “You’re never leaving me… you’re mine.”

You try to shake your head, but the sensation of your peak coming over you had muddled your senses, and all you could do was cling to the prince and let him kiss your lips as he spilled his seed deep inside your cunt.

“You’re mine. Say it.” Aemond panted as he collapsed atop your frame. Your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, plump lips parted, and cheeks scarlet. You let out heavy breaths, wanting to deny him with words, but as you stared upon his lilac eyes, you could not help but succumb. “I’m yours.” The prince let out a satisfied hum and kissed your lips once more before reluctantly moving to clean the mess that two of you had made so you could finally acquire much-needed respite.

“My lady… the prince and your meal waits for you in your chambers.” A maid said, as you had been busy overseeing the preparations for the feast. “Could you tell him I shall be there momentarily? He can begin eating; I shall take a moment.” You say, as your attention was caught by the other squires who began to decorate the hall that was still in ruins. You had no idea how a feast could be celebrated here. And you could only pray to each god that it would no longer rain as all the guests would be drenched and your efforts would be wasted.

“He refuses to eat until you come, my lady,” The maid said, and you let out an aggravated sigh. “Very well, see to it that they hand that banner higher… and do not let any wilted flowers be placed on the vases,” You said, and the maid fervently nodded as you hastily ventured towards the prince’s chambers.

“I have told you not to bother yourself with the preparations.” Those were the first words that greeted you as you entered the chambers. The prince sat before the various dishes that were untouched as he had waited for you. “You should have begun eating; your food is growing cold, my prince.” You instead said, as you did not wish to entertain the quarrel that the prince was starting to begin.

“I have called for you, but you had denied me,” Aemond stated, growing angry as you had brushed him off because your concern lay with the preparations. Before, when he asked for your presence, you would be quick to come to his side. “Apologies, my prince. It shall not happen again… it is only that I was assisting them in the pr—“

“I have told you that you need not be the one to prepare the feast! You are exhausting yourself!” The prince seethed, and you clutched on tightly at the back of a chair. “I… I am fine, your highness.” You say, though you knew whatever word you uttered would be moot and would not lessen the fiery anger inside the prince. “No, you are not. You should not be tired— it is not good for your countenance nor the babe’s!”

You sighed and were ready to speak, but as you realized what he said, your lips parted in confusion. “The babe?” You questioned and watched as the prince pursed his lips. “But I am not pregnant, your highness.” You explained and felt your hands grow cold. “Precisely. How could you be pregnant when you constantly exhaust yourself?”

Confusion consumed your system, and you had to take a seat as you tried to figure out what the prince asked of you. “What…. what—“ you try to speak, but your words elude you. “I want an heir.” The prince stated. You looked upon him blankly, not certain if he was intoxicated or if you were deluded with tiredness. “You want an heir…with… me?” You questioned slowly and felt a pool of dread come to your stomach. “Have I not made it quite obvious?” The prince scoffed as he realized that his actions were not taken clearly.

He had been wondering why, after all these moons, his seed was not taking. He had been impatient to see you swollen with his babe, and that was the reason why he fretted you exhausting yourself. Now he realized that you had no plan to give him the heir he wanted and been using measures to make certain you would not grow with child.

“But I am in no station to bear you an heir. I am just your whore.” You say and tear slowly trickled in your system as the prince’s hand clenched around his chalice, and he stood to go over where you sat. You watched through apprehension as the prince knelt before where you sat, and his hand cupped your cheek. “You are a lady. A lady who has the blood of old Valyria in her veins. And you, my lady, shall bear my sons and daughters.” The prince stated, his voice uncharacteristically soft. There was certainty in his lone lilac eye that took you aback, and it took everything in you to not beleive it. “No, I— “

Aemond let out a harsh breath, his hold on your cheek growing slightly harsher but not enough to cause discomfort, more so just to assert his power, control, and wanting. “You will not deny me of this. You shall be the mother of my children, and you shall forever be bound to me.” You looked upon the prince, horrified, and quickly stood to acquire space between you two, but as always, he did not let even a single second pass where he was not close to you. “No! Marry a lady— another lady— I—“ You try to protest, but he is quick to speak and cut you off. There is darkness in his eye that you have come to know, and you feel your knees grow weak as you anticipate what he is going to say.

“I do not think you understand. I have no want for the other ladies. I want you. And you are and will forever be mine. And soon, a child will grow in your belly, and he shall be ours.” He stated, face threading closer to yours. “You will sire a bastard?” You question and hear a sardonic laugh leave his lips, his nose touching your skin, the prince using it to tauntingly trace lines on your cheeks. “No. You shall be the mother of my children… and my lady wife. You have no escape from me now… by the eyes of gods and men, you are completly mine.”

You shake your head, feeling as tears burn your eyes, but you refuse to let them slip. “No.” You croaked out, and Aemond let out another laugh. “No? It was not a question, my darling. You are mine. And you shall be my wife and bear my heirs.” You shook your head once more. “It’s not as if you shall have any other choice. You forget, I have bought you… You have nowhere to go to but me. Not even your traiterous father’s house will accept you now… nor the line of suitors I heard tell you had, for who would want the prince’s whore? Certainly no one… no one but me.” The prince said menacingly. Doing his best to impart to you that there was no one else but him. It shall only be him in your life. And it shall only be him where you can run to.

“Now, do not cry, my lady… You would not wish for our babe to be a sad when he is born.” The prince tried to hush you, cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I— I have told you, I am not pregnant.” You say harshly and watched as a smirk rose on his lips. “You are not pregnant yet. But fret not, that shall change soon.” You gasped as the prince intertwined your lips, and you tried to push him away, but whatever resistance you made was not enough.

“See… you cannot even deny me with your lips— you want this too. Enough with the act. I’m growing overly tired of it. Accept that you are mine.” The prince whispered in your ear as he turned your body so your back faced him. You shut your eyes tightly as you feel his hand cup your tit and the other hike up your skirt.

“You are mine. Say it, my lady. Stop lying to yourself. I know fully well that you are in want of me as well.” The prince whispered as he felt your body respond so eagerly to him. Your skin was riddled with gooseflesh, and the bodice of your gown could not hide the way your nipples strained through the fabric. “Enough with your self-deprecation… you are the only who considers yourself a whore.”

“But it is true. You have made me your whore.” You spat as you tried to appear stoic and seem unaffected by the prince’s touch. But with how warmth pooled between your legs, it was growing harder to conceal it. You hated yourself as your body and mind could never conincide, your bodily whims always made the final decision as it could never resist the prince and the pleasure he offered.

“Aye, I have. You are my whore in my chambers, when it is just the two of us. And you play the part so well… but outside? When we are in the eyes of the smallfolk? You are a lady… my lady. Now, enough of this— succumb to me, as you have done before. Be my whore, my wife, the mother of my children— be mine.”

You let out a yelp as the prince suddenly took hold of your frame and carried you to the bed. Making good on his desires to have you bear his children. “No— Please—“ You cried as he began to rip apart your gown, the prince now far gone as his mind was conquered with the thought of you swollen with his child. His cold, calloused hands roamed your body, mapping every curve, desperate to claim every inch of you.

"You are mine," he rasped, his breath fanning your skin. "And tonight, I will make certain of it.” He promised, but in his mind, you were his the moment he had saw and claimed your maidenhead in the whore house. It was only you that he waited upon to accept the truth that you were his.

Your gown was no match for his impatience—fingers tearing at the laces, fabric parting beneath his rough hands as he stripped you bare before him. Aemond's gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of you, his hunger sharpened to a lethal edge. "You will take me," he said, voice laced with possession. "And you will bear my children, my darling. I will see you round with my seed, swollen with my heir."

His words sent heat through you, a mixture of anticipation and something primal. His lips found yours again, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he stole every sensible thought in your mind. The night stretched long, filled with his whispers, his praises, and his oaths that you were his as he sought to imprint himself upon you, not just in this moment but for both of your futures—one where he would see you full with his heir, bound to him forever. And gods help you, but at this moment, when his cock filled you and his fingers played with taut buds of your tits and your mind was consumed by the image of him pleasuring you, you wanted it just as desperately as he did.

“Why me?” You could not help but ask as you lay on the prince’s chest. His fingers running through your hair, his little ritual to aid you both in sleep. “What?” He asked quietly after a moment. “Why me? Why could you not just claim another? Why could you not set me free?” You asked, voice heavy both with sleep and emotion.

“It is simply because I want you. You need not wonder why or question my decision— I want you, my lady… I have never wanted— needed anything more that I have wanted and needed you.” You stared blankly upon the pale skin of the prince that you lay upon—letting him continiously run his fingers through your hair. Your mind did not wish to believe his words. Regretting asking him the question because it paled with further confusion and strain in your mind.

“I will never be free, will I?” You asked, a tear sliding out of your eye. “Never. You shall forever be by my side, my lady.” Aemond swore, ignoring the tear he felt that left your eye for he believed that in time you shall fully accept him and your station.

You sat quietly in the great hall of Harrenhall. Riverlords gathered and celebrated the victory of the prince and his faction. You sat at the great table, your prayers heard as the unceasing rain finally ceased for the night and not made your efforts moot. You tilted your head upward, the stars shining upon the hall, stars you had not seen for so long finally revealed themselves on the night a where an announcement you still could not comprehend was to be uttered.

You feel the prince take hold of your hand under the table, squeezing the apandage and urging you to look upon him. You did so reluctantly and were quietly shocked to see serenity and perhaps even joy in his usual cold lilac gaze.

“I have just received word,” He whispered, and you stayed silent as you waited for him to impart to you what he had learned. “My brother… he has succumbed to his injuries.” Your eyes widened at the news, but mostly because there was not an ounce of sadness nor concern in him. “I— are you to tell them?” You asked, glancing towards the guests who were none the wiser of the turmoil happening in the capitol.

“No. This is our night. Let them know of it after, but tonight. We, my lady— my future queen shall be all that matters.” He murmured, and you feel your stomach pit with something that was not dread.

Before you could speak once more, the prince stood, and you watched as the hall turned silent as all palced thier attention to the prince who now was to be king. “Welcome all! As many know, we are here to celebrate our victory not only here in the Riverlands but the whole of Westoros.” The prince began, letting a rare smile slip his lips as he had come to realize that all that he wanted since he was a child was finally in his grasp. The crown, adoration of the kingdom, and most importantly, you. Someone that was his. A woman who shall be his queen and the mother of his children.

“But tonight, we shall as well celebrate my marriage with Lady Celtigar!” You feel time freeze as the hall is rendered to stony silence at the prince’s words. When Aemond made you stand, his smile grew as the hall burst into cheers. No matter how much you sold to yourself as a whore— someone who was lowly, you were still well recieved by they noble houses and smallfolk as though you were not completly sold in the green’s faction, you still showed compassion and empathy towards those who faught in the war. Aemond wagdered that they would have no trouble in accepting you as queen.

“To Prince Aemond and Lady Celtigar!” You hear someone shout through the cheers and claps. The prince once again took your hand and moved it to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. You stared into his eye, and for the first time since you had met him in the whore house, you finally started to believe that your place was by his side. For the first time, you felt that you were more than the prince’s whore.

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cherryheairt · 8 months ago

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Hidden Truths pt.2

Cregan x wife!reader

named reader no description, from house Glover

masterlist

part 1

thank y'all so much for the kind words and eagerness to see this part. Please forgive me for not replying to all asks being sent to inbox, you'll understand with the chap lol. The pressure was so real I had planned to write other things between pt 1 and 2 but I dropped everything to do this between work and sleep lol

changed the og ending because so many people thought it would be more fitting and I agreed lol

anon pointed out my mistake on glover and bolton im so sorry for that confusion yall it is meant to be glover originally. i made too many mistakes im a mess rn

Ernest makes it to Cregan's solar first, Ron not far on his heels. Panting, the younger speaks up first when Cregan Stark shoots them a bewildered look whilst hunched over his oak desk.

"Was Lady Stark due for some business today, My Lord?" He asked, catching his breath as Cregan sat up in his seat, attention fully on the guards.

"Not any that I'm aware of. Where is my wife?" He asked, glancing outside of his small window to the blistering storm outside. There was no way she would be anywhere except her chambers—not after he caught her soothing Brandon to sleep. The sight had melted his heart immediately, glad to see his wife finally finding it in her to go see him, to give him a chance.

Though, he could not blame her, of course. He could still remember the day he brought the Stark babe home, and how he dreaded the meet throughout his months of journeying home to Winterfell.

Aelys had been on the forefront of his mind, even through the slimy politicking of King's Landing. The wait was only made ever longer by the fact that the party Cregan traveled North with had to wait until Brandon was old enough to travel, too. Moons went by painstakingly slow, and Cregan moved to load the carriage for the boy as soon as the Maester gave his word that Bran would not be suseptible to the outdoors during long durations on the road.

Cregan dismounted his grey mare, patting her on the neck in thanks before the stable boy guided her back to her designated place. With a tense sigh, he rolled his shoulders and opened the carriage door that held Brandon and his new wet nurse. Sara, his older sister, would join the family in a few short weeks while she continued her stay at the Blackwood's. He wished she was here to console his wife in the coming days. Gods know that he cannot, not when the news of his betrayal had to come from his own mouth. As he promised himself it should be. The sinner should say his own penance, no one else. A Stark is a slave to his oaths.

Thanking Greya kindly, Cregan picked up Bran in his arms. His onyx black curls shifted against the crook of his arm as he shifted the babe to be held better. The four moon-old babe fussed as he was removed from the woman's comforting hold. As if was, Cregan was more of a stranger to the young babe than his wet nurse was. Unfortunately, the Lord had not spent the amount of time with him as he knew he should have. The thoughts and guilt racked up in his mind and burned at the back of his throat every day, leaving Cregan to promise himself that in Winterfell he would spend more time with him.

Another promise for the list.

Cregan stepped through the courtyard's archway, holding his breath as he watched his beautiful wife standing by the Keep's doors, shivering but still insisting that she come out to meet her husband. Her smile was as lovely and bright as he remembered, a much more contented and relieved smile than she had sent him off to battle with. That day, she could hardly stifle her tears back as she hugged him 'goodbye'. He felt quite the same. Cregan would never leave for Southern business again, not in his lifetime. Once had been enough to last generations, though he was sure the Stark family would not go too long before being summoned again.

Her face shifted from joy to confusion in a matter of seconds. As Cregan continued straight towards her, Bran bundled up in so many wools and pelts that it entirely engulfed the babe. She lifted her skirts to step down to meet him. Originally, Cregan had wished to scoop her up in his arms and place a sweet kiss on her cold lips, but the bundle between them prevented such things. He could not greet her so sweetly and then present the bastard to her. Ripping the bandage off a fresh wound, Cregan would not be deceitful for longer than he had been during his moons of silence in the South.

"Husband," She smiled, reaching out to touch his chilled face, pink in the cheeks and ears from exposure. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." She was antsy on her feet, eager to get inside to proper reunite with her husband, no bystanders gawking.

Speaking of bystanders—Cregan's entire party had separated and dispersed around the courtyard. They met their own wives, parents, or children as they laughed and conversed. Though, the loud and joyous clamor soon died down when whispers had been spread around by those who already knew of Cregan's boy. Wives that knew Aelys well stared in pity, clutching their shawls to their chests and shaking their heads quietly at their Lord.

He fought the urge to hang his head.

She had not yet seen the babe, only the cloth surrounding him.

"Cregan?" She whispered, tilting her head with concerned eyes. "What is wrong?" His sweet, sweet wife. Her first priority had been him over anything since the days of their honeymoon—the days she had confessed to be extremely anxious about during their courtship. She was a Northern woman herself, hardened and shaped like an ice sculpture but retaining her warm heart and spirit. Cregan had intimidated her greatly, according to her giggling confession, and she had feared he may be a cruel and selfish man since he could easily do as he wished to his Lady wife. He proved her wrong, apparently, getting to know his wife throughout their private honeymoon. They had a bond like no other, always at each other's side and filling in for the weaknesses of the other during their duties as leaders.

Cregan's brow furrowed deep, blinking away as he felt his nose start to sting.

Only then, when his glossy eyes met hers silently, did she glance down to the cloths. Slowly reaching up a shaky, gloved hand adjusted the pelts so she could peer past them. Gasping at the pale babe, Aelys' eyes sharply met his. A million thoughts raced through her head, clearly showing in her facial expressions. Not assuming the worst, as she probably should have done, Aelys asked, "has one of your men died? Is this babe an orphan?" Always so trusting of her Lord husband, something Cregan had admired and was eternally grateful for throughout their marriage.

"Aelys..." He cleared his throat when his voice came out much too quiet and hoarse. "This is my son." He declared to her, and to the onlooking crowd who did not bother hiding scandalized gasps.

Her eyes blinked in rapid succession, shaking her head lightly and smiling. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son."

His silence met her words. When he did not cave and admit to messing with his wife, Aelys shook her head more firmly. "No." She said, whispering. Her eyes clamped shut as she breathed in and out deeply, only opening to glance down at the babe, scrutinizing its appearing and comparing every freckle to Cregan's. "Don't do this to me, please. You would never do this to me." Her words were nearly lost to the air.

"It was one time, I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan told her.

"On your name?" She harshly bit, stepping away from Cregan as if he had burned her. "Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods. Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—" She gasped out, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and clutching her stomach. A choking sob rippled through her, and Greya stepped forward to gingerly take Brandon from Cregan's grasp. His arms fell to his side, clenching as he stopped himself from holding his wife in comfort. She could find no solace in the man who hurt her so.

"I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too. Was it just not me you wanted a family with?" She asked, cranking her neck up to look at her shameful husband.

"Aelys, I did—I do!" He started, stepping forward to wipe a hot tear from her cheek.

Flinching away from his touch, she looked up at him with the same mistrust and solemn acceptance that he found in a dying prey's eyes. Suddenly, Aelys looked to become aware of the crowd. Glancing around self-consciously, she straightened herself upright like the people expected of a Lady Stark. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." She loudly adressed the weary party and their families, who awkwardly moved to shuffle inside the dining hall. With a final glance past Cregan's shoulder to the wet nurse, Aelys was gone.

Seeing the shared glances of horror between the two, Cregan cleared his throat. "Where is my wife, boys?"

Ernest swallowed harshly, not daring to look him in the eye. "She—she said that she 'ad business in Winter Town. That you approved of it, I swear!"

Ron nodded so quickly that his head of curls messed about and framed his face further. The snow still on their heads and shoulders had now melted in the warmth of the Great Keep, reminding Cregan of the harsh weather the guards had to bear all day. They were trained and honed for such conditions, Aelys was not.

"Yes, Lord Stark! We couldn't disobey our Lady's words." He insisted.

"You think I'd make my wife go settle business in Winter Town during a blizzard?" He growled out, standing from his seat and storming between them to his doorway, where he turned on them and saw them both flinch in shock. "Which way did she go?"

"Uhm..." they shared another glance. "She said Winter Town, Lord Stark. What other way would she have gone?"

Cursing, Cregan grabbed Ice and lifted the great sword to his shoulder. He left without another word to anybody, knowing every second counted when it came to finding her. "Bloody fools." He scoffed to himself, mind turning and thinking of places she might head to.

Clearly, not Winter Town. She had no business there, not that he knew of, and although they had not been speaking these past moons he still oversaw all of her duties as Lady. Though, her reports of dealings and responsibilities was done through the Maester rather than her own mouth. A middleman, the poor elder had become. Cregan endured the silence without complaint, knowing his own actions brought it upon him.

His actions brought her further away from him than he perhaps estimated. He knew the babe would tear a rift in their relationship, and knew it would take a long time before they could even begin to mend it—but he never wanted it to go this far.

Back to her childhood home, to the Glovers in the Motte? Or, perhaps she found a secret lover that would meet her in the storm like a destined and tragic fairytale. He would not blame her for seeking love in another, though his never faded.

His quickened pace was only interrupted by Sara. "What is the rush for, brother?" The elder woman asked, dark brows furrowed with concern. Other the past four moons she had gained her strength back, looking the picture of health now that she was back home and recovering. Cregan could barely meet her gaze, looking between her and the doors ahead.

"My wife is gone." He told her honestly, shifting impaitiently in place. "I don't know where to, but I'm going to search for her."

Sara's dark eyes saddened, face scrunching up in grief. "This is my fault. I should have—"

Cregan stopped her immediately, taking her firmly by the shoulders and dipping his neck down to level himself. "No. It is mine alone. I made the choice to do this, I shall face the consequences of my actions."

"Cregan..." she sniffed, but did not allow tears to fall so easily.

"I'll be back." He promised. "With my wife."

Was she running away?

Cregan swung open the Great Keep's door, blinking staggardly at the wind gust that slammed into him. Not bothing to close it behind him, Cregan stormed to the stables and tacked his horse up. In a matter of minutes he was off and out of Winterfell's expansive walls.

His only option was to head towards Glover territory. It was a two days ride normally, but the storm would make it double or perhaps longer. She would not be far ahead, not even two hours ahead of Cregan and unknowing of how close he might be on her trail.

There were not even hoofprints left in her wake. The snow immediately covered all tracks and left only pristine fields of white powdery frost.

He would not know where she was until he spotted her amongst the white. Cobalt, her black stallion, was sure to stand out within close enough distance.

Until he did see her, he could only wait.

And it was exactly that; a waiting game. Cregan took only three days to reach the Deepwood Motte, faster than he anticipated. He was weary and exhausted, but still pumping with adrenaline and awake off sheer will. Here, in the safe walls of Harriston Glover's keep, his mare could finally have more than a few measly hours of rest, as well as food and water.

His fingers and toes burned with the edges of frostbite. Even in his thick protective gear, he was not entirely safe. The few, small fires that he built for himself in the cold nights gave him only a semblance of warmth. Each step felt like five as his vision blurred and weaned in and out. He steadied himself on a pole, waiting for his father-in-law to come downstairs to greet him. And, if luck be on his side, his Lady wife.

He owed more than an apology.

Harriston was a stern man, though not unreasonable. He loved his children and ensured they had only the best; education, caretakers, spouses. His eldest two children married long before Aelys was even of age to be wed, both men marrying Northern girls that they'd grown up with. When it came to his youngest and only girl, the man knew Lord Stark would be a most auspicious match. The Houses had long been friends and allies, and keeping the tradition of partnership thriving through marriage was no strange thing. He'd been even happier when Aelys wrote to him weekly, describing how enchanted she had been with her new husband and thanking him profusely for giving her a blessed match.

Now, the greyed man stood in front of Cregan with a deepset frown and a fierce look in his eyes. "Lord Stark. I thought you'd be busy in Winterfell."

Cregan cleared his throat, focusing on him intently. It made sense that the man was cross with him, especially after he assumed that Aelys had sent him a few lengthy letters telling of Cregan's infidelity. "I came to see my wife, and to bring her back home."

Harriston huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You send her back home, only to come yourself first?" He gestured around with his arms up.

Cregan tensed, "first? Is Aelys not already here?"

Lord Glover matched in his seriousness. "Aelys wrote to me three days ago, informing me that you had sent her here to be away from danger."

"I did not send her anywhere."

"You mean you do not know where my daughter is?" He asked, voice low and firm as he stepped closer. Though Harriston was a fine swordsman and a battle-worn fighter, Cregan did not fear the Lord's wrath, for he could easily best him in combat.

He did, however, have the brains to fear a furious father's vengeance.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest. "And she stated that she was on her way here?"

"I think I know what she said, boy." Lord Glover hissed. "Where is Aelys?"

"She must still be out there," Cregan murmured breathlessly, turning on his heel and running out of the fort's doors and back out to the stables. Cobalt was in none of them, confirmed to him that Lord Glover was not simply lying and hiding his wife away from him.

Cregan decided to take another horse—one well rested and ready to travel in the packed snow, unlike his own weary mare. Guiding it to the doors where Lord Glover had exited and looked at Cregan with a fear unlike the learned man usually expressed, he asked: Where are the kennels?"

When Aelys left to brave the storm alone, she had not anticipated the sheer unforgivable nature of it. Living in the North her whole life, she'd long grown used to cold weather and hunting for herself. Hunts often lasted days or weeks, being times of comraderie and companionship when out in the wilderness with your people. She had not been hunting in years, much less alone.

The snow had slowed her travel significantly and clouded her navigational judgment. North became South, and East became West after so long of walking. With the skies so darkened, it was even harder to tell the time of day. With every stop she made and every fire that burnt out too quickly for her to be fully warm, Aelys had grown desperate.

She found shelter in a half-conscious act to preserve her on life. Now, curled up with only her fur-lined dress and the pelt she had brought from Winterfell, she could not help but begin to accept that she would die in this cave.

Aelys thought of her life in a few curt thoughts.

She had only lived twenty and two years. She grew up with loving parents and two elder brothers who doted on her greatly. She married Lord Stark of Winterfell, someone who took her heart quicker than she'd ever thought possible. She would die here, alone and cold because of him.

She thought of all the things she had wanted from life. Not much, for a Lord's daughter. Aelys had always wanted love and gave love in return. Trusted perhaps too much and did not gain from it. She wished for children, eventually, and could never have them now. She wished to see the warm deserts of Dorne and the lush gardens of Old Town in her retirement.

Aelys Bolton would not see anything but the North, nothing but the cold snow and frost-tippes trees around. They had grown familiar and warm.

Warm.

She was so warm, now.

Aelys closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of better days.

"You do not wish to return home to a babe in the nursery?" Aelys asked, voice low and humming as Cregan lay beneath her on their shared bed. Most men did, misliking the process of pregnacy but loving the outcome, for it could only serve to benefit them.

"We will have plenty of time for babes when I come back to you." He replied, brushing his lips over her the crown of her head. "What kind of husband would I be if I left you to deal with the struggles of pregnancy and birth all alone?"

"I won't be alone. Sara is staying, too. I will have a sister to keep me company and complain all my grievances about my missing husband to her." She said amusedly.

Cregan paused in his rhythmic stoking of her spine. "Sara has asked to come, my heart."

She paused, too, lifting her head from his chest and squinting at him. "Sara can come down to King's Landing with you, but I cannot?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "She will be staying at the Blackwood's residence at Raventree Hall, not King's Landing. I would never endanger either of you by bringing you to the capitol. She has been offered guest housing by her friend, Alysanne Blackwood, during my time down there."

She huffed, conceding to his words and dropping her head back down, listening again to his ever-steady heartbeat. "Must be nice to see the Riverlands." She said lightly. "I hear they have fields of flowers growing year-round."

"And the permanent smell of fish and mildew." Cregan added with a snort. "You're not missing anything, I swear it to you. Sara and I will be gone for a short period of time. I intend to leave as soon as things are settled and put to rest."

Aelys hummed her quiet acknowledgment. There was no argument to be had, not when Cregan was set to leave in the morning. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." She said cheekily, though there was plenty truth to the statement. Alone, she would serve as political head to Winterfell and the temporary 'Warden' while Cregan was missing in action. She had her advisors, consisting of Cregan's trusted councilmen, but the hole that she knew would sink itself into her heart already wore her into her.

Cregan laughed at her words, nodding. "Aye, my love, you will do perfectly. I'm sorry to leave you alone for so long, but I have no doubt you'll do great." He said proudly, kissing her nose. She scrunched it up at the ticklish feeling, allowing a girlish giggle to leave her throat.

"Don't be gone too long, husband. Your wife needs you here." She said, tilting her head up to meet his lips.

"I would never dream of it."

The moons passed by with no reprieve for Aelys. As Winterfell's sole head, her days were busy from dawn til dusk. Letters were exchanged sporadically with her husband while he helped Aegon iii ascend to his place on the iron throne.

Until, one day, his letters ceased. It had already been a full year without Cregan Stark, and Aelys was beginning to grow used to the lack of her husband and sister by her side. Routine had grown to be instinct for her, breezing through her duties like she'd done them all her life. The only thing missing was her lover.

Concerned, Aelys checked in with the resident Maester to ensure Cregan's wellbeing.

When he paused, lips pursed and hands clutching at his cane with a stress unlike the calm elder, he rasped out his own fears. "I, too, have received no word from Lord Stark. Though, no news has come of us death in the capitol, so he must simply be occupied."

Occupied at the end of the war? When Aegon had already been named King and all the men put to trial were either declared guilty or innocent? The brunt of the work was over and done with—told by Cregan himself.

So why was he silent for an entire moon?

It was another fortnite before the Stark wrote back to her. The letter was curt and brief.

My dearest Aelys,

Forgive my abrupt silence these past weeks. Please know that you have been on my mind throughout this entire time.

Sara has grown sick in Raventree Hall, and has not been able to travel with the host of men I have sent back home to the North. We will stay behind for another few moons while she is in recovery. I will return to you soon.

With love,

Cregan Stark.

It was shorter than his other letters by many paragraphs, pages even. Cregan left out no details when describing his miserable times in the capitol. Aelys found herself much enjoying his theatrical melodramatic retelling and was rendered bemused by this letter. Still, she continued to lead with no pause for breaks.

Three more moons later, and Cregan wrote that he was mere days away from Winterfell. Without Sara Snow, unfortunately, as she was still not entirely recovered, but his party could be postponed no longer.

Aelys rushed around Winterfell's Keep in a flurry of excitement. She ordered every room to be cleaned spotless, for rations to be saved for days until a feast could be made for their arrival, for hearths to be extra tended to, and for the courtyard to be prepared to clear the way for the host.

Finally, the days of busy bodies floating around the Great Keep came to a stop. The feast was warm and ready at all available tables. The hearths were warm and ready for sleepy heads to rest within the rooms. The tubs were filled with scalding hot water that would warm by the time they were used. Lady Stark stood for hours at the Great Keep's entry stairs in the courtyard.

She wanted to be there exactly when he walked through the archway. Despite the cold biting at her nose, the Lady stood resiliant and tall.

It was nearly in the afternoon when Cregan's party arrived. He came through first, leading as head of the host as any Lord should. A wheelhouse followed, surrounded by a small league of soliders all around it. She bounced on her heels slightly, seeing Cregan dismount from his ride. Though she found herself bemused and slightly hurt when he glanced at her and made his way towards the wheelhouse instead. Had Sara recovered enough to join and perhaps wanted to surprise her good sister? She hoped so, for she had missed her greatly. After growing up with only brothers, Aelys found a best friend and sister in Sara Snow. The whispers about Lady Stark befriending the bastard of Winterfell followed her around like a dark shadow, but she never paid them any mind.

Bastardry had never bothered Aelys before. Not even when she was a woman of noble birth and was taught that bastards were born inherently lustful, evil, and made of sin.

She waited patiently at the top of the steps for Cregan to fetch Sara.

To her surprise, he only pulled out of the carriage with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Pelts and blankets, it seemed. A plainly-dressed woman from the South stepped out after him but stayed trailing behind. A maid of some sort, though she had no clue as to why a Southern maid would need to follow Cregan back to Winterfell.

As he strided towards her, a strange and unhappy look on his face, she forced her anxiety back down her throat and raced to meet him. "Husband," she greeted with a smile. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." Reaching out to caress his face and simultaneously brush flecks of snow from his loose hair, she couldn't help but stop to admire her husband's handsome features. It had felt like an eternity that they were separated, and she had begun to forget the full details of his frame. Forgot his scent in the room and his side of the bed. Nearly forgot the warmth that he provided simply from standing nearby.

The very warmth he is giving to her now, in the chilly courtyard.

His eyes appeared to gloss, his nose and cheeks pinking even more so than they had already grown in the biting air. Glancing over Cregan, she assessed quickly for signs of fatigue or illness.

"Cregan?" she asked gently. "What is wrong?" She prayed he did not catch whatever Sara had caught, or hid a wound under his mass of leathers and pelts.

When he shiftly lifted the bundle in his arms to gesture for her to look at it, she finally spared a look to the mysterious ball of cloth. She had completely forgotten about it until now, noticing the maid still behind Cregan a few yards back, head tilted down and looking at her slippers. Peeking over a fur pelt, Aelys gasped at the sight. A babe, only a few moons old by the looks of it. Her mind raced with possibilities. Why would Cregan bring a babe back instead of leaving it in more temperate climates like the Riverlands that he stayed in on the way up North?

"Has one of your men died?" She asked in a hushed tone, assuming first that one of his soldiers perhaps fathered a bastard babe before perishing in a battle or falling to sickness. "Is the babe an orphan?" Cregan did always have a soft spot for younglings, showcased clearly by his time spent personally training young squires of Winterfell. He had lost his own younger brother in their youth, and the hole had never filled from that loss of kin.

"Aelys..." he started, meeting her eyes with a soft and sympathetic look. "This is my son." Was said loud and clear for any listeners to hear.

A jest. Cregan had seldom liked to be humorous in front of crowds, or anyone but herself and Sara, but he must have been in good spirits today. Briefly glancing at the surrounding people, she found only pitiful looks from the women and severe looks from the men. Shaking her head, Aelys forced a smile onto her face and a shaky laugh. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son." She emphasized.

He only stared at her back. No words of comfort, no sudden burst of laughter among his men to tell her that the biggest prank in the world had been pulled on her. Just shameless silence.

He had declared her second best in front of all of Winterfell. Her people and his.

"No." She said firmly, shaking her head 'no'. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to clear her blurry eyes and woozy head. Glaring down at the false babe in his arms, she found many similarities that she wished she had not. The same straight brows that Cregan had, the same scattered freckles, the same pale skin. The only difference was the hair color—black as a midnight sky or dragonglass. The mother must be beautiful.

Moving her eyes to the maid behind Cregan, she found that the girl had a mousy blonde color to her tresses. She could not have possibly bore a black-haired babe. She felt sick, like she'd throw up and choke at the same time. "Don't do this to me. You'd never do this to me." She pleaded out, voice small and hoarse.

"It was one time. I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan promised. But every word was like poison, filling her heart with a heavy black liquid and drowning her from the inside out.

"On your name?" She hissed out, uncaring of the onlookers for this one moment. She was allowed to be angry, callous, and spiteful, even. Any self-respecting woman would be. And she'd be damned if she wasn't. Any Stark woman ought to be when ruling over the entire North. Any Glover woman is.

"Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods! Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—?" Words spilled from her mouth before she can think properly. But she did not regret any of them, knowing she was in the right. Bile rose in her throat, pushing itself past the forced down emotions. She swiftly covered her mouth, stilling herself to prevent any more embarrassing. Subconsciously, she clutched at her empty stomach with her free hand, both mourning the fact that she'd have no children and thanking the Gods for not giving her any previously. A cry finally escaped her lips, watching the plain maid take the babe into her arms again as Cregan looked on helplessly to his wife.

Aelys found her voice again, though it was ragged and tired. "I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too." He was a liar, the worst kind of man. "Was it just not me you wanted a family with?"

She'd rather be struck with his hand than his deceitful mouth. It would hurt much less.

"I did, Aelys—I do!" He pleaded, stepping forward to console her. His arms looked like steel traps in her louded mind.

She took a lengthy step back. She would not share his warmth, nor his love. Or his bed, his room, his damned dining room. His children. Not when he had shared it with another woman. Given her his love, his attention, his son.

She could not bear to keep herself calm any longer. Adressing the entire courtyard, who had made themselves the Stark's own personal peanut gallery, she spoke firmly. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." Without a second glance back at the Stark, Aelys excused herself to her chambers, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the chamberpot until she could only dry-heave nothingness. These chambers had not been used since she arrived in Winterfell, instead choosing to sleep and stay in their marital ones. She would not step foot into those again unless she was dragged kicking and screaming.

Aelys awoke to strong arms lifting her from the stone floor. Groggily, she was stirred from her deep and preserving sleep. How long had she been traveling? How long had she been buried under those pelts? Time was a blur when she was in a near comatose state, dead to the world. Limbs were numbed and her body felt warm after so long in the cold weather.

"I've got you, sweet girl. We're going home." A familiar voice rung in the back of her head. Even the jolting movements of a horse trotting could not fully move her to consciousness as she fell back asleep.

When she fully gained her sense of mind, she could clearly hear the sound of two men arguing. The warmth of a hearth was next to her as she lifted heavy blankets and furs off of her body. Glancing around, Aelys found herself back right where it all started. In Cregan's room, formerly their marital chambers that she had long since moved out of. A large oil painting sat over the heart, depicting a newlywed image of her and Cregan. They both smiled brightly in the photo, much to Cregan's complaint that the painting did not make him look 'serious enough'. She only laughed and tipped the painter extra gold dragons for the accuracy.

She loved that painting more than any others they kept in the Great Keep. Now, the two faces looking down at her only served to remind her of the falsehood she lived every day while Cregan was absent. Taking care of Winterfell and the North all by herself, just to come back and be thanked by his uncouth mistakes.

Shakily standing up, she winced at the feeling coming back to her limbs. Wriggling all twenty of her toes and fingers, she ensured they still all had feeling. Miraculously, she did. The numbess still felt vaguely there, and her throat was extremely dry and achy. But at least she was alive. Even if it was back in Winterfell, she could attempt her return to the Motte as soon as the storm died down.

It had been a dreadful blizzard. Not a rare sight in the North, but usually none lasted so long. Aelys could not help but feel it was the Gods punish Cregan and Aelys for their marital spat. Something like this must be so futile and useless in their eyes and the eyes of the people of the realm, but to Aelys it was her world and her life. No one could help Aelys but herself. She'd leave these spoiled halls even if the Old Gods and the New wished otherwise. If Cregan didn't have to keep oaths, why should she?

Opening the large wooden door, Aelys found the source of the faint yelling. Her eyes widened at the sight of her father in front of Cregan, in all his gruff charm with his silver hair and beard. She hadn't seen him in nearly two years. She stayed at the archway under the door, simply listening in as the men shouted further down the hall. If either turned their heads, they would spot her eavesdropping.

"—cannot even keep her safe during Winter! Am I to expect her to stay safe during a wildling attack, or worse? Or will you be prioritizing the safety of your mistress?" Harriston shouted, veins nearly popping out from his forehead and neck in his fury. Snow still gathered on his pelt coat, meaning he had just arrived recently.

"It is my mistake that she was endangered out there—but I would never let such a thing happen again under my protection. This is her home, I cannot allow her to go back to the Dreadfort. She is a Stark." Cregan emphasized, though had a defensive raised tone.

"Was she a Stark when you bed a whore in King's Landing?"

"The situation is more complicated than that." He responded, clenching his jaw.

"Nothing could ever be more complicated than losing your wit at a brothel, Stark. There is no argument to be had. She is staying with her family, where she was intending." Harriston growled out, a tone of finality to his tone. As he swung on his feet to head down the hall, face set in a worried and seething anger, he finally spotted his daughter.

"Aelys!" He yelled in relief, rushing toward her and scooping her up into his thick arms. "We're going home immediately. We will wash our hands of the Starks once and for all."

"I will not allow that." Cregan spoke from behind. As Aelys hugged her father back just as tightly, it was a battle to keep her tears from flowing in his safe arms. She missed her father more than she knew.

Before Harristone could speak, Aelys nodded. "We will settle this." She said flatly. Her father hesitantly let her go, nodding once firmly after seeing the resolve in his daughter's eyes.

"Very well. I will wait in the dining hall for you." He sighed, walking away.

Aelys shivered in the loss of warmth again. In her bare feet and night gown, she felt the cold of the cobblestone walls and floors start to seep under her skin again. "Here," Cregan murmured, gently shifting his mass of brown wolf pelt over her shoulders and clicking the direwolf emblem into place.

She allowed it, though she did not thank him with words. She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. "I want to separate. Divorce, I mean." She said tiredly.

Cregan flinched, jaw ticking and heavily considering her words. "That is entirely my fault. It is in your right to ask that of me." He said, voice dimmed and not nearly half of his assuredness. "But please, hear me out."

"What could I possibly hear you out with?" She asked, exhaustion clear in her tone. She'd dealt with this situation long enough.

Cregan nudged the door back open, nodding for her to enter. Reluctantly, she led the way in and watched as he gently shut it behind them. "I swore an oath, nearly nine moons ago." Cregan started.

Her brows furrowed, bemused. "To whom?"

Guiltily, he looked down at her, looking much alike to a kicked pup. "My sister."

"To Sara? What ever for?" She grew frustrated, knowing he was beating around the bush.

Taking a deep breath, he told her everything. "Sara stayed with her friend Alysanne Blackwood in Raventree hall for the entire time I was aiding King Aegon. In that time—she fell pregnant."

Aelys' heart dropped to her stomach. The same sick feeling overtaking her. She did not say a word.

"Davos Blackwood and Sara had built a bond, much like we did." He said. "When she told Davos of the news, they both went to Lord Blackwood to plea to marry each other. He refused, not allowing his heir to marry a bastard."

"And you legitimized Brandon as your own in turn?" She hissed.

"Sara begged me to. She lived her life as a bastard—she did not wish the same for her own son. I swore to her that my nephew would never be allowed the same treatment. I knew Aegon would do it." He trailed.

"So you bring him home, and humiliate me instead? You didn't even tell me, your own wife! You chose Sara over me. She is your sister, I know, but she chose to be with Davos Blackwood." She could have taken a tea, or moved to Essos or Dorne where bastards were more accepted. There were other options, but neither Sara nor Cregan used them. "That is cruel, Cregan. It is heartless." She cried.

"I never wished to hurt you, I only wanted to protect her. It was my oath." Cregan pleaded, grabbing her hands in his.

She shivered again, though unknowing if it was in chill or her own anger. Part of her was happy that he never truly took another woman to bed—never picked another other her. Though he still hid the biggest secret in the world from her for moons. Allowed her to suffer in their shared home and withstand the pitious looks of the people and court.

"I can't trust you. Not ever again. You could not trust me with your own kin's truth, and punished me for it." She stated. She could not allow herself to cave in so easily, to fall back into his arms.

"I understand, sweet girl." He muttered, softly stroking the apple of her cheek almost mindlessly. "I will sign whatever the Maester's conjure up. You will be free to marry whoever you wish—someone who will not lie to you."

The Starks were known for their loyalty and devotedness to their oaths. If Cregan Stark had lied to his wife so easily, no lesser man could ever make her happy with faithfulness and loyalty. Aelys had accepted her life to be one of loneliness from the day Brandon was allowed into the home.

"I will stay in Deepwood Motte for the time being. From there, I will see where my path leads." She said vaguely, unknowing now of what her heart desired. "Wish Sara well for me." Aelys asked of him, leaving him behind as she wiped any straying tears from her face.

"I love you, Aelys." He said, calling softly after her.

"I know." She whispered to herself.

In the dining hall, Harriston awaited her arrival. Perking up when she entered, he knowingly took her into his arms. "I'm tired, father."

"Let's go home. Your mother has missed you dearly." He said, planting a fatherly kiss to her temple.

Aelys would not yet send word for a formal separation to the Citadel or to the King. For now, time apart was what she declared best for herself.

divider by - @issysh3ll

tags - @palomavz @emithefrog @karinalight @johnshelbywife @tojisrealwifey @baddielizzy @pearldaisy @brookiecookie @jessicar401 @hardkiddonut @littlelilly27-blog @nayaniasworld @just-mj-or-not @flaneurpastel @unsweetenedpeatea @blucesita09 @maxmegara @deeeeexx @masschotch @janniepark1997 @spongelistener @margaaaa30 @paracii @lovebabe18 @rey26 @damneddamsy @yunnifer @kenzcarson @glqmmywhqmmy @arizonadesert @blumin8 @its-your-girl-savy @dreamygirli3 @aemondloverr @zaranobiyuyu @nsr-15 @oxymakestheworldgoround @isansstuff @high-speed-r

so many tags dont work 🥲 will try to tell in comment sec

ending is ambiguous. Will she decide to divorce or eventually mend their relationship? Up to you!

might make an alt ending where he really is just a shitty guy but this had been my idea from the start (many guessed it and i could not reply to them because of it lmao)

sorry if those two scenes got repetitive, but I wanted to show the 'cregan bringing brandon home' from both of their more detailed perspectives. Cregan's shame and guilt and her humiliation and heartbreak.

so many people guessed so close (to the sara part at least) only saw Jace thoughts tho, but he's already dead long before Cregan's walk down to the South. Would have been much more dramatic, but I think Jace would never allow a child of his to be apart from him. Many people swayed me to lead them to separate instead of stick together, and it does make more sense to have her leave him in the end. Although he did not cheat he still lied and publicly humiliated her, even unintentionally, but he's a grown man who is smart enough to know consequences.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfiction #cregan fanfiction #fancition #writing

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lionneee · 3 months ago

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Cherry Lips

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English is not my first language, please be kind

BestFriend!Mordern!Aemond x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

•Warnings: smut, taking of sexual themes, loss of virginity, piv, fingering, kissing.•

“You’re kidding!” She laughed as she looked at her best friend.

It was night, and they were sitting on the sand, looking at the ocean with a bowl of cherries between them.

“I’m not kidding! I bring one every time I get out, you never know!” Aemond chuckled as he threw another cherry in his mouth.

“How exactly do you expect to love your virginity that you think about putting a fresh condom in your pocket every time you get out?” She laughed as she watched him raise his shoulders with an amused smirk and throw another cherry in his mouth.

“You’ll choke on it if you keep throwing them in your mouth like that.” She scoffed but was still smiling.

“Sorry, mom.” He smirked as she jokingly pushed her shoulder.

“Seriously though, I can’t wait to have a boyfriend. I want to have sex so much.” She whined as she grabbed a cherry and put it in her mouth. Aemond hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, if I don’t have sex in a while, I’ll suck at it forever. Girls want guys who know what they’re doing. It’s easier for you.” He looked at her with an amused smile, even if he was actually speaking his mind.

“I don’t think it’s about what guys can do.” She said as she leaned back on her hands. “It’s about feeling safe, I guess.” She looked at her feet as she dug under the sand with them.

“It’s frustrating! Every guy I’ve been with wanted to have sex so soon, and… I never felt like it. How am I supposed to have sex with my hypothetical boyfriend if I’m always nervous around them?” She sighed.

“I know.” He laid back, looking at the dark sky and the visible stars. “Maybe we still haven’t found the right person yet.” He hummed. She groaned and let herself fall back to lay beside him.

“It’s shitty.” She commented. Aemond smiled and nodded in agreement. “I just want someone that… I know I’ll be comfortable with, even after the act. That if I mess up because I don’t know anything it will not cringe away but make me feel okay, not embarrassed.”

“I’m sick and tired of being a virgin.” Aemond broke the serious moment with a groan. They both chuckled.

She turned her head to look at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Yeah? You gonna put that condom in your pocket to good use anytime soon?”

Aemond smirked, tilting his head toward her. “You never know. Maybe the opportunity will present itself when I least expect it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Well, I hope whoever it is makes you feel comfortable too.”

Aemond turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand as he studied her face. “What if it’s someone you already feel comfortable with?”

She frowned slightly, not immediately understanding what he meant. “Like a friend?”

“Yeah." He said, his voice casual, but there was something beneath it, something hesitant, something testing. “Someone you already trust. No awkwardness, no pressure. Just… figuring it out together.”

She blinked, processing his words. The thought had never crossed her mind before, not really. But as she looked at Aemond, his familiar face, the way he could make her laugh even in frustrating moments, it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You mean like… us?" She asked cautiously.

Aemond shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, we both want to get it over with, right?” He hesitated, watching her reaction. “And we both want to feel safe.”

She bit her lip, looking up at the sky as her heart beat just a little faster. “That’s… not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

He let out a chuckle, but it was softer this time, almost nervous. “No pressure. Just a thought.”

She turned her head to look at him again, searching his face. “Would it ruin things between us?”

Aemond’s smirk faded, and his expression grew serious. “I don’t think so. You’re my best friend. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

She swallowed, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words as he laid back on the sand.. “Same. And we'll stay friends after we…”

“Of course.” He agreed, looking up at the sky.

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at the stars, the sound of the waves filling the silence. Then she exhaled, shaking her head with a chuckle.

“Well, at least we know one thing for sure." She said, reaching for another cherry.

Aemond arched his brow, turning to look at her. “What’s that?”

She popped the cherry into her mouth and grinned. “You’ll definitely have a condom ready.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back as she laughed beside him.

Once their laughs dissipated, they were left in a strange silence. Despite her agreeing to Aemond’s proposal, none of them made a move.

She chewed on her lip, staring up at the stars, her mind whirling. The idea had seemed so simple when they were joking about it. But now that it was hanging between them like an unanswered question, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

Aemond exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

She turned her head to look at him, and when she saw the faint nervousness in his expression, she felt a little relieved. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. “A little." She admitted with a soft laugh.

He hummed, folding his arms behind his head. “I mean, we don’t have to do anything. It was just a thought.”

She hesitated, considering his words. “But… Do you want to?”

His jaw tensed for a second, as if he was debating something internally. Then he turned his head to meet her gaze. “Yeah." He said honestly. “But only if you do too.”

There was something about the way he said it, no teasing, no smirking, just simple sincerity, that made her heart flutter.

She swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were. The warm night air wrapped around them, the ocean waves whispering in the background. It was just them, alone on the sand, like always. But somehow, it felt different now.

“I don’t want it to be weird after." She murmured.

“It won’t be, I guess." He assured her. “Not unless we make it weird.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like something someone would say right before it gets weird.”

Aemond chuckled. “I mean it." He said softly. “We’ll still be us.”

She studied him for a long moment, then she turned back to look at the stars.

“Okay.” She said suddenly.

His eyes flickered to her lips for a brief second before meeting her gaze again. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Again, no one moved, and they fell right back into their previous silence.

She couldn’t stop thinking, whether she should make a move, or say something, or kiss him.

But her body refused to move.

“Should we start with a kiss?” He asked carefully, stealing a glance at her.

She swallowed, nodding slowly. That seemed… reasonable. A low-risk way to ease into whatever this was.

“Yeah." She agreed as she laid on her side to face him.

He turned towards her, his gaze flickered to her lips before meeting her eyes again. He didn’t move right away, giving her the chance to change her mind. But when she didn’t, he leaned in, slow, deliberate.

The moment his lips brushed against hers, she felt her breath catch. It was soft, barely there, but enough to make her stomach flip.

Aemond pulled back an inch, searching her face. “Still okay?”

She blinked, licking her lips as if trying to process the feeling. “Yeah.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smiles before he leaned in again, this time pressing a little firmer, letting it last just a second longer.

Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… nice.

When they pulled apart, she exhaled, opening her eyes to meet his, licking her lips.

His lips tasted like cherry.

“Still not weird?" He asked, hesitation in his gaze.

She shook her head. “Not weird.”

Aemond nodded. “Good.”

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at each other, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them.

Aemond leaned over again, this time when he kissed her, his tongue pushed gently, hesitantly against her lips, as if asking her to part them.

The sensation was strange, having his tongue in her mouth, or pushing hers in his, teeth clashing against teeth, the way he tasted, the exchange of saliva, was something she had never thought it would feel like.

But she liked it.

She put her hand on his cheek as she slowly raised herself on her elbow to deepen the kiss, their noses pressed against each other’s cheeks. Aemond let out a moan, a sound she never heard from him before, but that made her stomach clench in a strange way, and her thighs close tightly.

Aemond’s hand moved to her hip, slowly moving on her back as she pressed her against him. His other hand slipped in her hair, pulling her face closer from the back of her head, his tongue moving restless in her mouth.

Aemond’s fingers tightened slightly against her hip, his body pressing subtly into hers. The heat between them was building, slow but undeniable. She could feel his breath against her skin, the weight of his touch, the way his lips moved against hers like he was savoring the moment.

Her heart pounded as she let herself lean into him more, her own hands hesitantly exploring, fingertips ghosting over his jaw, then trailing down to the fabric of his shirt. He was warm, solid. Familiar and yet suddenly something else entirely.

Aemond pulled back just enough to look at her, his forehead nearly touching hers. His breathing was heavier now, his pupils slightly blown. “Still okay?" He murmured, voice low.

She nodded, her own breath shaky. “Yeah.”

He exhaled sharply, like he had been holding something back. “We can stop whenever, you know that, right?”

She swallowed, nodding again. She did know that. And yet, she didn’t want to stop.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she pulled him back down to her. This time, the kiss was different, deeper, more certain.

“You taste like cherry-“ He moaned in her mouth.

“You too…” She answered, slipping her hands in her hair, pulling him closer.

Aemond responded instantly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, resting lightly against her bare skin. The contrast of the cool night air and his warm touch sent a shiver up her spine.

His lips moved to her jaw, then down to her neck. She gasped when he lingered there, his tongue tracing lightly against her skin.

Her back arched on its own, her legs spreaded, and Aemond wasted no time.

“Can I touch you?” He asked as he kept kissing the skin of her neck. She bit her lip at his question, nodding almost immediately.

Aemond groaned and slipped his hand under her pants and panties, searching desperately for her clit.

“Tell me where –” He looked up at her, his eye shadowed by a veil of pure desire.

“A bit lower- Ah!” She moaned as he found it, his fingers flicking it roughly. Aemond immediately looked back up at her from his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, stopping his hand for a moment.

“I’m fine…” She panted. “That felt good. P-press there-” She gasped as he applied the right amount of pressure. “Nor rub, not too fast.”

Aemond nodded, looking back down at his hand as he did as she instructed, rubbing his fingers on her pearl. After he took the pace, he looked up at her, finding her with her head thrown back, silent cries escaping her lips, her back arched and her brows furrowed in pleasure.

He never expected that a sight like that could turn him on that much.

His cock was straining against his pants, begging for attention, so he slowly rubbed it against her tight, to alleviate a bit of lust.

“Can I slip them inside?” He didn’t realize it until he spoke, but he was breathing harder. He watched her closely, and when she nodded, he trailed two of his fingers lower, until he met her entrance. “Are two okay?” He asked, restraining himself to just fuck her with her fingers until she would crate a whole different ocean under them.

“Yes-” She panted, and let out a moan as he slipped his two thick fingers inside her. Aemond groaned at her beautiful sound, leaning his forehead against hers, as he crooked his fingers, rubbing her inner walls, searching desperately for that spot he knew women had.

His head fell on her shoulder as he imagined how her tight walls could feel around his cock, squeezing him from every side, massaging him, warming him.

“Where is it?” He growled to himself, against her ear, making a shiver run through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers digging on his back as she kept moaning.

Aemond smiled satisfied only when he heard her gasp, and moan louder, knowing he had found that spot. He kept rubbing it continuously, and when he felt her walls clenched around his fingers, his eye nearly rolled back.

He couldn’t wait to feel her, to know what her walls squeezing around him would feel.

“A-Aemond-” She panted, knowing she was close to the edge. She could feel herself tensing, and she knew she was going to experience one of her best orgasms ever.

His fingers moved faster inside her, and she had to cover her mouth to not moan too loud.

“I-I’m gonna- c-come —” She closed her eyes shut, wrapped her arm tighter around him, bringing him closer as her hips started to squirm, her legs trembling, and then, she let go, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body, her back arching as Aemond slowed down his fingers and slowly slipped them out.

Once she was relaxed, she slowly let go of Aemond and unwrapped her arm from his neck, slowly opening her eyes and moving her hand away from her mouth.

She could see that Aemond was restraining himself. He kneeled between her legs, looking down at her as he opened his belt.

“I… I need to-” He panted heavily, his brows slightly arched in pain.

“I know.” She nodded and sat up, helping him lower his pants. He lowered them just enough to let his cock spring out, then he grabbed his condom from his pockets, opening the package and rolling it down his hard cock.

She tried not to look too much, but it felt almost impossible. The only dicks she had ever seen were in porns, but she swore that it was the biggest one she had ever seen, and she didn’t know if she should have been more agitated or excited.

Aemond placed his hand under her chin and kissed her gently, in a way that felt more like a promise that he wouldn't have hurt her rather than driven by simple desire.

He leaned back over her, forcing her to lay back on the sand, then he placed one hand beside her head, the other tugging her pants down impatiently. She helped him remove them, the slight breeze of the night making her shiver slightly, when in fact, she was hot all over.

“I’ll be gentle, just-” He fisted his cock a couple of times before rubbing his tip against her clit, finding it again with ease. She moaned softly and looked up at him, even if his eye was concentrated on looking at his cock so close to her cunt.

“Please, can I-” He groaned as he kept rubbing his tip against her. “Just the tip now, but–”

“Yes.” She said before he could even finish his sentence, she had never, ever felt more turned on than in that moment, and she too, couldn’t wait any longer.

Aemond bent his arm and rested on his elbow on top of her and kissed her as he gently pushed against her entrance. The stretch stung, but it wasn’t as painful as she imagined, or as she had been told. There was a strange edge of pleasure along with the pain that made her crave more.

She widened her legs as Aemond lift back just enough to look at her.

“More.” She panted, her hands moving to his hips to gently move him lower, his cock slipping deeper inside her. Her mouth opened and she arched her brows, taking a deep breath, her head falling back and she bent her legs as Aemond bottomed out inside her.

“Y-you’re so tight—“ He groaned, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Her walls were enveloping everywhere, squeezing him, clenching as they adapted to the intrusion of his cock. He had to close his eye and try hard to not move, or even worse, come, but hell if it was hard when she felt so fucking good.

“It feels so fucking amazing—“ He dipped his head under her face, kissing her neck, trying to distract her from her discomfort.

“You feel good too…” She panted, her arms wrapped around his back, hugging him tightly. Aemond’s hand moved to her thigh, caressing it softly, raising his head to look at her.

They did it.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at her in her eyes. She nodded.

“Yeah. Y-you can move…” She blushed as she said that and Aemond never loved an order more than that one.

He started pulling out, until only his tip would be inside her, then gently thrust forward, trying to caress her walls as carefully as possible, hoping she would quickly feel good enough to let him go faster.

She moaned, her face showing still a bit of pain, but it faded away as he kept rolling his hips slowly and gently.

It felt good, foreign, but wonderfully good. She felt extremely full, and she found herself getting addicted to the feeling.

“Aemond-“ She looked up at him. “Move faster…” She asked.

Aemond immediately sat up and complied, grabbing her waist tightly from under her sweater.

“Please tell me you’re okay—“ He growled as he tried to not go too fast for her. “You feel so fucking good-“ He growled, as he looked down at how his cock kept entering her again and again. He moved his hand to her clit, finding it immediately to her surprise, and he started rubbing it again just as she told him before, making her pleasure overpower the pain.

“Does it still hurt?” He panted as he looked up at her. She shook her head as her back arched, her hips rolling along with his thrust.

“Let me move faster—“ He panted. “Please- This feels so fucking good.” He growled.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay, I’m fine-“ She couldn’t finish her sentence as he bent over her, starting to thrust harder as his arm wrapped around her head, his hand moved on top of it, keeping her against his shoulder as he kept rolling his hips, picking up the pace.

“Keep going, Aem-“ She moaned, her hands clenching on his shirt. “I love it—“ She cried out as she felt her orgasm growing.

“Yes. I fucking love it too.” He growled. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” He panted.

“Me neither.” She moaned as her back arched, her cunt clenched tightly as she felt the tension building inside her, ready to snap.

Aemond moaned loudly as he felt her clenching, the pleasure taking his body.

“Y-you’re tighter—“ He gasped and pressed her closer, thrusting faster, harder, more intensely. He was completely out of control of his body, he was letting himself get driven by the pleasure, the ecstasy that he was feeling, that she was making him feel.

“Fuck!” He tried to keep his pace steady with his fingers on her clit, hoping she would come soon because he didn’t know if he would last much longer.

“Oh, Aemond-“ She moaned as she hid her face in his neck. His cock was brushing repeatedly on the same spot his fingers rubbed before, but along with the stretch, the knowledge that they were having sex, that he was inside her, made it all more intense.

“I-I’m gonna-“ She cried out.

“Me too.” Just as he said that, she exploded around him, clenching tighter around him as she moaned and jerked her hips. “Yes, fuck yes—“ He moaned as he came, his balls releasing the hot cum inside the condom, his cock getting massaged repeatedly by her walls, that were still spasming.

They stayed still for a long time, hugging each other until their breaths returned to normal. Then, he slowly, gently pulled out, noticing her wincing when she did.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping his movements and looking at her, worried.

She nodded.

“Yeah, just… a strange feeling.” She said, Aemond nodded and laid back beside her.

They laid in silence, their brains registering what just happened.

“Sex… sex is amazing.” She smiled, happy. Aemond chuckled beside her.

“It really is.” He laughed with her.

They quickly dressed back up and stood up, walking back to his car.

“Your condom really was useful in the end!” She laughed as she walked beside him.

“Told you.” He smiled and looked. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and he offered her the last cheery with his other hand. She smiled at it and took it, throwing it in her mouth.

“Careful. You might choke on it if you throw it in your mouth like that.”

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the-fiction-witch · 11 months ago

Text

Our Secret

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader (Uncle x Niece) Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Daughter of Alicent and Viserys) Rating - 18+ nudity/ stripping/ incest / c tasting / licking / finger fucking / fingering / Word Count - 1863

Requested-

oh, btw, would you consider writing some smut for Ser Gwayne Hightower, or isn't a character that you fancy enough for that? your writing is so good!

Y/n had waited in the courtyard as soon as word reached her of his arrival in the city, she watched as his men made their way in, horses galloping across the stone. She softly smiled when she met eyes with her uncle Gwayne Hightower as he climbed from his horse and fixed his hair. She adjusted her long green gown holding it in hand as she made her way over and bowed as she reached him "My lord,"

Gwayne chuckled, watching Y/n come over to him, waving his hand in dismissal at her bow. “No need to be so formal, my little bird."

"Forgive me, so much has changed these last few months. I find myself meery bowing to everyone just for simplicity's sake," she answered her tone shy and sheepish,

"I'm afraid if you continue that habit I'll have to give you a few extra lessons on how not to be so proper. Your face may get stuck in a permanent state of bowing."

"Perhaps," she blushed, "Shall I show you to your chambers uncle? I can have them bring you supper? Or would you rather attend to a visit with the queen regent?"

"I can imagine that Alicent will busy at this moment with all her duties. I shall see her after supper, a good meal after a long ride always has a way of making things more bearable."

Y/n nodded and turned to lead the way inside the keep, she led him through the corridors before finally to his chambers. Gwayne nodded as he stepped into his temporary chambers, following Y/n inside. He sat on the bed, taking off his riding boots and stretching out with a soft groan, the bed beneath him being far more comfortable than the leather of his seat that he just spent gods knows how long riding on.

"Last I had heard my mother was taken to prayer, she does so at this hour daily accompanied by none other than her sworn sword."

Gwayne raised a brow at the mention of Alicent's sworn sword, "Ser Criston, I presume. They are practically tied at the hip, that's for sure..."

"she insists, for her protection in these tender days,"

Gwayne leaned back on his bed, arms behind his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if she has more than just protection on her mind whenever she is with her sworn shield."

“Perhaps…”

Gwayne lifted a brow, smirking at her. He rolled over onto his side, leaning on his elbow as he looked at her. One could imagine it was similar to the look a cat might give a mouse, a little bit of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Does my little niece have something going on in that head of hers? Some juicy gossip to tell her old uncle perhaps?"

“No, No… she is simply very busy, I hardly much see her these days.”

Gwayne sat up on his bed, patting the blanket next to him with a sympathetic smile on his face. "She's the queen regent now, she's going to be busy, especially in these times. But she's your mother, don't be afraid to knock on her door and demand her company."

"I so often find her in the company of my siblings..." Y/n said as she came sitting beside him smoothing her dress as she sat, "It is sinful of me? to be envious?"

Gwayne wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He squeezed tightly, letting his smile grow once more. "Of course, it isn't. I may be a knight, but I'm not so virtuous to deny that I have sinful thoughts now and then. It would be natural for you to want your mother's alone attention after she's spent years focusing it on your other siblings." Gwayne paused for a moment, squeezing her one more time before continuing to speak, eyes studying her face carefully. “Though, my little bird… I must ask. Do these envious thoughts extend past your mother when it comes to those siblings of yours?”

"How so?"

"Well, sometimes one can’t help but compare themselves to their siblings. Do you? Perhaps even envy them for anything that they may have and you do not?"

"No uncle, I am content. Merely lonely I expect,"

Gwayne hummed, watching her carefully, expression thoughtful for a moment. He nodded in understanding of her words before smiling once more, “Well, you won’t be lonely now that I’m here.”

"I suppose not, may I ask of your travels? and of my little brother Daeron?"

Gwayne let his smile grow at the mention of Daeron, the boy was a favorite of his, after all. He sat up a little straighter, "He’s growing up quickly. Very sharp with a blade already, I don’t have a doubt in my mind that he will surpass me in skill one day. I also wouldn’t be surprised if he manages to get even taller than me as well, gods know that the boy will shoot up like a weed." Gwayne chuckled, rubbing his chin as he continued in thought. He turned to look down at Y/n, taking in her own appearance before speaking once more, voice amused. "He definitely got the good look, too, I’d say. Much better than what I myself was cursed with. And he certainly got that Targaryen look to him, you can’t deny that. He's going to be quite the catch to any young lady that catches his eye..."

“Sometimes… I wish…”

Gwayne’s smile faded once he heard the tone in her voice, a frown starting to form on his face. He furrowed his brows, studying her expression closely. "Wish what, little bird?"

"sometimes I wish mother had sent me away, instead of daeron. or as well as. There are days I ponder over what joys I may have if I was at Oldtown with you,"

A look of surprise flashed across Gwayne’s face. He let out a quiet sigh as he pulled Y/n close, wrapping both arms around her and resting his chin gently on top of her head. They were silent for a moment before he spoke, voice quiet but still with a hint of concern. “I didn’t know you felt like that, little bird… Have you ever asked her why she sent Daeron and not you?”

"No, but I can assume,"

“And would you care to share your assumption?”

"Aegon is king. Heleana his queen. Mother would never send Aemond away she worries to much for him. So she sends away Daeron her little boy she has hopes and ambitions for."

Gwayne hummed, considering the validity of her words. He couldn’t help himself from reaching out and ruffling her hair again, “And there’s no hope and ambition for you, my little bird? Your mother has placed no expectations for you?”

"My mother plans to sell me off, to whatever lord bids highest when the war begins." Y/n answered, “Whichever lord offers the most men,”

Gwayne’s eyes widened slightly as she spoke. He paused for a moment, processing the words that she just spoke., his eyes hardening as anger began to bubble inside him. “Surely it can’t be that bad. Has Alicent actually spoken of that in front of you?”

"she says as her unmarried daughter... it is my duty,"

Gwayne didn’t say anything at first, clenching his jaw as he ground his teeth in anger. After a few moments passed, he spoke up again, voice somewhat quiet but with a clear hint of anger. “Alicent shouldn’t send you to some lord to be sold to, like she’s sending a piece of furniture. You are a Hightower, little bird. One of us. She has no right to treat you like some kind of cattle that she can barter and trade as she pleases.” Gwayne took a breath before continuing to speak, forcing himself to calm down some. He reached over and grabbed Y/n’s chin, gently tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. His voice was softer now, but there was still a slight trace of anger in his tone. “She has no right… I won’t let anyone treat you like that. I won’t let Alicent sell you off to any lord that bids high. I’ll fight tooth and nail to make sure Alicent doesn’t do that to you, little bird.”

"Thank you, uncle," she briefly smiled, the first real smile he had seen since his arrival

Seeing her smile seemed to calm Gwayne a bit more, his shoulders relaxing and his jaw unclenching as a small smile formed on his face as well. He let go of her chin, gently ruffling her hair once more. “There we go, much better than that pitiful frown I saw earlier. No more talk about Alicent intending to sell you off to some lord. I won’t have it.”

After a while of the sweet embrace Y/n spoke once more, “Uncle?”

Another hum left Gwayne’s mouth, looking down at her with an eyebrow raised. “Yes, little bird?”

“You… have been gone so long,”

Gwayne let his smile grow after her words, nodding his head. “You’re right… I can’t believe it’s been this long. My, hasn’t it been almost four years now?”

"Do you think... I am too old now for 'secrets'?" she whispered

“Too old for secrets? Never.” he smiled,, “Why do you ask that, little bird?”

"One of... our little secrets?" she hinted

Gwayne’s lip twitched upward in a mixture of amusement and curiosity. His smile turned a little wicked, “One of… our little secrets?”

she nodded blushing a little

“Never my little bird,” He cooed, “Would you perhaps like to-”

“Yes please,” she softly giggled and checked the door to make sure no one was around to see them before she closed the gap and pressed her lips to his as they had so many times throughout her life

He let a soft laugh escape his mouth when her lips made contact with his, one of his hands finding purchase on the back of her head and he leaned into the kiss.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds, Gwayne wrapping one of his arms around her and pulling her a bit closer to him as the kiss continued for a bit before he pulled away just enough that their lips were still millimetres apart, but there was just enough there that he could look into her eyes. “… we can’t have anyone finding out about this, now can we, my little bird?”

she shook her head "No..."

A soft chuckle left his mouth as he studied her face once again, that smirk never leaving his face as he spoke. “No, we cannot have anyone finding out. It is a secret that we have to keep. You got that, little bird? This is just between us, okay?”

"If I promise... do I get more?"

The smirk on Gwayne’s face deepened, his eyes flashing with amusement as he chuckled softly and nodded his head. “If you promise, then I’ll give you more.”

"I promise," she nodded excitedly

A soft chuckle left his mouth at her excitement, a brief moment of silence passing before he spoke once more. “Good girl…” He smirked one of his hands gently tilting her chin up some before he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips once more, the kiss grew deeper and more intense until he pushed her down on his bed, "You remember little bird? Our secret?"

She nodded giggling softly in excitement,

He scoffed a chuckle and bit his bottom lip, He grasped the hem of her gown and swiftly pushed it up around her waist, revealing her underdress and stockings, "So sweet and proper," he cooed as he pushed the underdress up to her thighs to the top of her stockings, grabbing under her thighs and forcing them up until her knees where completely up, "Always have been, haven't you. You're really growing into the title... of princess," he smirked, running his nose over the tender skin at the top of her stockings,

"You think so?"

"I know so," he smirked, "But... you'll always be my little bird," he growled, his eyes meeting hers before he pealed her stocking down her leg and tossed it onto the floor, the other soon followed and he peppered kisses from her ankle all the way to her thighs, "You know y/n, I have been travelling for so long, I think I need a good meal." He growled, before she even had a chance to respond he forced her to dress and underdress up to her waist,

She softly and playfully squealed as he exposed her already trembling cunt,

"Shhh." He reminds her as he sits up with a predatory smile as he looks down at her, laid on his bed her hair cascading around her, her dress up around her waist and her legs up and apart offering herself to him so willingly, "Wouldn't you agree? that your old uncle needs something delicious?" He growled as his hand moved to rub across her tender lips, gliding his fingers over her wetness, he rubbed her clit with a sly clockwise circle before sliding his fingers down to push his index and middle finger inside her,

"Ah!" She gasped her hips bucking upwards, her feet attempting to squirm against the sheets as hie fingers so delicately fucked her, as Gwayne loomed over her with a sly sadistic smile, she tried to be quiet but the moans fell from her lips like a waterfall,

Gwanye pulled his hand back and licked his fingers clean, "Ummm just as delicious as I remember," He growled, pinning her hips down to the bed and grabbing her thighs holding them apart as he moved closer and blew across her arching clit, "Now... I am so very hungry from my ride, that little taste has only made me feel worse." He smirked, "So you know what that means?"

"you... you must..." She trembled with excitement,

"Humm I must feast little bird," He purred before burning his head between her legs...

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sideysvault · 8 months ago

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۶ৎ Virtuous initiation ۶ৎ

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Wc: 1,500k

Tags: [sfw] Mature themes, canon typical violence, newly weds, vulnerable Aemond, arranged marriage, both are afraid of sex, domestic bliss.

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Prince Aemond is known to be practical to the extreme, he seems to have no patience for the incompetence of his brother or his mother’s hidden sentimentalism, often feeling horror towards failure, and openly frowning at any suggestion of true romantic felicity.

The Prince frequently ignores you, of course, but that is to be expected in political betrothal. Although you personally are of the belief that a little excitement, conversation and respect would do you some good. But what is one to do?

Often fancying beyond the realms of your condition, your mind keeps itself occupied with thoughts of what may become of you with less social opposition and more personal stimulus. You dream of being a scholar, a master, to finally visit The Citadel, and that you may finally make a home out of the Red Keep. That perhaps, even in between the most interrelated webs of political opposition, inherited resentments, and southeastern superstitions one may find peace and harmony and knowledge. These desires seemed to be equally improbable, and you had begun to come to terms with it. Childhood dreams. Nothing more.

He slightly frightens you, but not nearly enough as everyone assumes he should have. For a reason that you truly couldn’t comprehend, all the residents of Kings Landing find him rather physically odd. Why is that? If, after all, he still looks like a proper Targaryen Prince, even with one functioning eye. His childhood wound could never deny his long straight silver hair that reminded you of the most fine jewelry on your mothers dressing table. His blue eyes told stories that loosely resembled the songs that sirens chanted by the East Coast: Dangerous, calculating, and yet, they invited fascination and curiosity. His handsome features, delicate, sharp, and firm, gave his face an undeniably royal quality. And if you knew no better, you would probably be at his feet, wanting to gain his unobtainable affections.

Receiving condolences and concern from members of the court upon the news of your betrothal puzzled you. From your understanding, the youngest brother was quieter, smarter, patient, and more honorable than the King.

You felt a bit of shame, but you did recognize that you felt incredibly grateful that His Grace, the King, was already married. It saddened you that the cross was for his sister to bear, but you’ve heard the violent stories:whispered to you by maidens, servants, and members of the court. The veracity of those stories had quickly been made evident by the poorly contained, worried reactions of the Queen Dowager whenever her son was alone and near a female servant.

Prince Aemond’s chambers were as queer as his personality. Spotless, in an obsessive manner that goes far beyond the traditional efficiency of cleaning servants. The extensive library was the only thing that filled the space with character of its own, the books seemed to rebel and demand disorderly presence by their own right. His private library exploited the fragility of your curious mind and your predisposition for literature. Your greatest sin was to often sneak into the Prince’s room to borrow books from his collection, which was far more delectable and interesting than the Castle’s general library.

A stupid, brash decision. Especially considering Aemond’s serious disposition and angsty, hostile character. But you couldn’t help yourself when you saw the chambers unattended. Wanting to see the whispered wonders of his personal collection. The prince knew of your intrusion, of course. As when you came back to return your theft, you realized with horror that he had left a single stone where the book you had borrowed was. Feeling ashamed, you had returned it to its place and accommodated the fatal stone on the left side to the candle of his bureau.

The Gods are sometimes merciful, and apparently so is the Targaryen Prince. The chambers often remained unlocked, and by his instruction, the guards left the entrance unattended around the same time of your earlier visits. You would take a book from his collection, and he would place the rock marking the missing spot. Whenever you finished your reading, you would put it back in place, and the stone was to be accommodated at the left of the candle. A childish game, perhaps. But it was all it really took for you to discard the warnings of your peers and for romantic apparitions to plague your mind at night.

You wanted him. Truly. There was no room in your heart for power, or titles. But you wanted to comfort the soul of the disgraced Prince, hear him laugh, to thank him for his kindness, for extending his knowledge to you instead of punishing your intrusion of privacy, the defiance of your role. It did exhaust you a good deal, the uncertainty of your stay within the walls of The Red Keep. Having to be sly and poise about how you managed yourself, or to be met with heavy words of disapproval. Targaryen folk, closer to Gods than to men, were not to be played with, even if you were promised to one of them.

Still, when the state of affairs was concluded, and your place -and life-in the Red Keep was safeguarded, a new sorrow visited your soul. Consummating the marriage terrified you. You had attentively heard the warning stories of your mother, that even the most honorable and prestigious of men were to be deviant tyrants in bed, that pain went hand in hand with obedience, and the dangers of childbirth were not to be ignored. Suddenly scared, vulnerable, and not so certain of your newlywed husband’s kind character, you dreaded the day he finally came in to claim his bride’s virtue. You would make a point of visiting Helena in the dark hours of dawn, of avoiding being alone in a room with your husband, of taking walks through the gardens at night, sleeping in benches and waking just before the sun rose to return to the Prince’s chambers before being seen by members of the court.

Tired of this new-found routine, and wanting to sleep in the depths of a bed and its soft sheets, you decided that the occurrence was unavoidable, and the reasonable cost of your sexual condition.

If Aemond was surprised see you laying in bed when he walked into the chambers, he did not show proof of it on his face. You instantly regretted the color of the white cotton nightgown, translucent enough to showcase your hardened nipples. It wasn’t your intention to provoke the Prince, but the cold, humid weather of the Capital was at odds with your intent. The air was invited to come inside by the wide window, which offered a beautiful sight of all the candles burning in the distant homes of Westeros. You tried to distract yourself with the view.

Your husband took off his clothes. He looked tired, even under the dim, warm yellow lights of the room. He wore his silver hair in a queue, and as he quietly sat on the marital bed, you made a decision. Mustering all the courage on your heart, you decided to show him kindness for not questioning your nightly disappearances.

Restricting your movements, trying to tame your hands to be as tender and calm as they could be, as one would act in front of an unpredictable animal, you untied his hair. Slowly brushing the silver strings, untangling them after what seemed to be a tedious day. It was silly of you to feel scared of even this slight contact, but as the Prince slightly groaned upon your touch, you felt your heart beating rapidly in the outset of your neck. Controlling your fear of consummation, you continued to brush his hair, adding a small massage to his shoulders and broad neck. When it was finished, you tried to take a hold of yourself.

Yes, men could be cruel, but Aemond had shown a considerable amount of restraint and compassion.

Laying down in an uncomfortable synchrony, you both occupied the time by silently looking at the baroque decoration on the ceiling. After some time, the prince whispered to you “Are you disappointed with the exchange?” His voice sounded foreign to his character. Soft, vulnerable. You assumed he meant of your marital arrangement, and when you turned to face him, wanting to see the Prince in the eye while he spoke to you, his bared faced caught you by surprise.

His left eye, which was man crafted, was as blue as the real one. You did not know the name of the stone that filled his empty socket, but it was beautiful, and it reflected a much brighter light that the one available in the chamber. He shifted slightly, embarrassed upon your transfixed gaze, but he said nothing upon the matter.

Pretending to consider your answer for a moment, you murmured a no. You meant it. Seemingly relieved, your husband slowly nodded and laid down your legs, throwing a protective arm over them, drawing circles over your nightgown. Your hands instinctively moved to rest on his head, and you began to brush his silver moon with your fingers, tracing unmarked paths on the left side of his face. You could feel his warm breath against your skin, and you would have sworn that all the small muscles at the base of each hair of your leg contracted and burned with his touch. After a while, you felt something else. A soft smile against your skin. Your bodies could finally rest, releasing all of their contained fear.

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Notes: I was inspired by the yellow wallpaper for this one. I’ve been thinking about him all month. Pleaseeee I need him so bad. Hope you enjoyed this one! Have fun and take care of one another

- Sidey xooo

Pd: Some parts of this fic will be re used and rewritten for a new series featuring Aemond!

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cheryroseart · 6 days ago

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Trying different techniques in this portrait of Sansa Stark and the difference with my first drawing of her ⋆❆⋆

Please don’t repost without credit❕

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mlejulie · 8 months ago

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☀️🌙

#aegon ii x helaena #helaegon #tomphia #helaena x aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon x helaena #aegon fanart #digital art #illustration #art on tumblr #asoiaf #hotd greens #hotd fandom #hotd fanart #artists on tumblr #sundream

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romanteacism · 7 months ago

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Scarlet Heart

Synopsis: Ser Aemond was consumed with guilt after his argument with his princess, and it only furthered as she was taken by sickness. Warnings: None (yet), Concerned Aemond, Princess and Aemond's (not so) Secret Relationship, Revelations PREVIOUS PART A/N: I think it's safe to say we're like 2/3's done with the story :,( ... unless

Aemond was ill at ease the entire night. Guilt was consuming him as he made the girl he loved cry. Until the hour of the ghost, Aemond listened to her as she stifled her quiet sobs and her sniffling until she had eventually cried herself to sleep all because of him. He did not mean anything he had said. It was beneath him to insinuate that she wanted the attention of any of the lords when she had proven to him who exactly she wanted. You want him. And Aemond could only pray to each god that his transgression would not detter your want and love for him.

When the first light shone through the gloomy and overcast northern wastelands, Aemond waited impatiently for you to wake so he could offer his apologies. He had no wish to retrace old patterns of the two of you ignoring the other as a somewhat punishment. Aemond could no longer bear your silence and indifference as he had fully accustomed himself to you clinging to his side.

As another hour passed, Aemond did not hear you wake. He looked out the window, the sun halfway to its peak, the usual time when you would wake and lovingly wake your pet cats as well. Anxiousness was starting to fill him. What if you truly froze in your bed? The coldness he had shown you and the coldness of the north gnawing away at your warmth. Aemond felt his hand grow cold at the thought. He could not bear it any longer as he forced his way into your chambers, shivering at how cold it was inside than outside.

Aemond’s eye frantically sought out the feathered bed, but the covers were gone, and you were not lying upon it. He then turned to the sitting area and saw you lying on the cold ground, huddled by the hearth whose embers had died. Fur upon fur atop your body to find warmth, and your two pets nuzzled into your chest as your teeth chattered whilst asleep. “Oh… my heart,” Aemond said delicately as he kneeled before you. Taking your cold hands upon his cold ones as a futile hope to warm them.

You said not a word; you did not even open your eyes. Aemond sighed and moved to caress your cheek, but he felt the scorching heat of your skin. He frowned and moved his hands upon your forehead and realized you had run a fever. “Oh gods,” He said in dread and hurriedly bundled you into his arms and ran you to the maester. Your cats were still resting atop your body, as well as the fur you had used to cover yourself.

He ran through the halls of the unknown keep, trying to find directions, but it seemed that none were awake, too tired by last night’s festivities. Luckily, as he passed through the various doors, he passed the King, who had just exited his chambers. “Good morrow, Ser Ae—“

“My king, where is the maester’s tower?” The knight abruptly interrupted the highest ruler of the land as he feared for your state. The king frowned, not noticing you in the arms of your knight as he took what Ser Aemond carried was a bundle of fur coats, finding the tone of urgency in your usually stoic knight odd. “The princess has run a fever during the night— she needs a maester. She is unresponsive— she usually wakes with just the slightest sound, but she has not peeled her eyes open!” The knight explained and watched as the confusion on the King’s face turned to concern as he now realized you were unconscious in your knight’s arms.

Your father placed his warm hand atop your forehead and felt the scorching heat of your skin; the franticness of your knight now understood and was seeping into your father. “Return her to her chambers; I shall get the maesters myself.” The king said, and Aemond wasted no time doing what your father said. He ran to your chambers once more, placing you atop the feathered bend, and took off his cloak and placed it atop your frame in an effort to warm you further. Aemond then turned to died out fire of the hearth and quickly remade one.

He could still hear your teeth chattering through your unconscious state, and Aemond looked upon the large room, which would take a while to warm. He had naught a choice but to pull with all his might the solid mahogany bed closer to the hearth. Not even the sound of the ruckus he made had woken you, who would wake by just the distant sound of your knight’s armor clinking as he shifted his weight during the night.

Aemond panted as he directly placed your bed across the hearth; the chambers were now a mess, but he had no care as he was only focused on your recovery. Aemond leaned closer to you; every part of your body was bundled in fur and his cloak except your face, which was flushed and scarlet. He leaned closer to make certain you were still breathing. You did, but there were wheezes, and it would seem you had trouble in doing so.

Aemond abruptly stood straighter as he heard your father’s voice approaching. The door opened, and the king, along with your brother and a flock of maesters, came. Aemond stood by the side, watching as you were inspected by each maester. Quiet murmurings enveloped the room as he, your father, and your brother waited on bated breath.

“Had she mentioned anything about feeling unwell?” The prince asked as he watched the maesters remove the bundle of fur that covered you to inspect you further. Your pets were gently placed on the ground, and Sapphira quickly marched her way to the foot of Ser Aemond. The men glancing towards the feline that rested her head atop the boot of your knight. “She said she felt an itch on her throat on our way here, but besides that, none, my prince.” Ser Aemond replied.

“Has the princess had scarlet fever when she was a child?” The maester questioned. And Aemond expectedly turned to the members of your family. “Yes, twice. Once, when she was a babe and then again when she was seven.” The king answered, dipping down to take hold of Theodore, who peered upon him. Taking your beloved pet into his hold to somewhat comfort your father.

The maester hummed as he returned to his observation, but Aemond sensed alarm in your brother. “Father… it cannot be scarlet fever again, can it? The last time she…” Your brother trailed, unable to speak of what occurred. But Aemond was curious. How grave was this situation? “The last time?” Aemond asked, a risk as he spoke out of turn—a risk as he let his concern shine through and be known.

Your brother turned to him, apprehensive to utter the words. “The last time… none of us thought she would make it. Her pulse was so faint that we had to place a maester by her side at all hours just to check her pulse constantly. Mother was already planning the funeral… had her dress readied and all.” The king quickly called upon the attention of your brother, chastising him as he recalled such bleak memories.

By gods! Aemond was harboring dislike for your mother these past moons, but at your brother’s words— how the queen was wholly ready to accept your demise and planned the ordeal before it actually… Aemond’s mind was made. He loathed your mother. How cruel can one be?

“Do not think a such— your sister is fine… it’s not scarlet fever… it’s just because of the weather! Isn’t that right, maester?” Your father said, trying to convince himself that nothing dire befell his most precious daughter. But as the maesters turned to your father, all had a solemn look upon their face. “I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever again, my king. Thrice in one lifetime… I must be honest, your Majesty; none of us has come across this predicament before.”

Aemond paled at the words, turning to your father and brother, who paled as well. “What must we do, maester?” Aemond questioned; your father and brother were too shocked to speak. “We already gave her the necessary elixir of herbs for the fever. Let us wait and hope it will take. If not… we must let out her blood,” The maester explained.

“Write to your br— cousin, tell him what has happened. Perhaps they have developed a new cure for scarlet fever.” The king stuttered as he turned to his son. “Yes, father.” The prince nodded and ran out of the room to write to his half-brother that their sister was once again plagued. The princess is one of the main reasons why her eldest brother became a maester, to finally find a lasting cure for her ailments.

“We must isolate the princess. There are children in the keep who can easily be infected.” The maester warned, and the king nodded mindlessly, with Aemond standing idly by the side as he could not approach you without them suspecting anything. “Isolate? Leave my daughter alone?” The king then asked. “One of us could check upon the princess every hour, but we cannot be in her presence constantly at the risk of the fever spreading.” Aemond’s fist clenched at the maester’s words. Is that their solution? To leave you alone? To have you bear your ailment in solitary?

“I can stay with the princess, my king.” Aemond then spoke. There was no hesitancy in him; he could not bear to leave you alone. Never.

“Are you certain, Ser Aemond?” The king questioned, “I am, my king. It is still my duty to look over the princess.” He replied, but the maester voiced his reluctance, fearing that the knight would also be infected. Aemond did not care. He’d rather be by your side, in sickness and in health, as they say. “I will be fine. I have a rather great immune system; I rarely get sick.” He insisted.

“Very well then, if no one else shall watch over my daughter, it shall be you.” The king said, clapping the shoulder of the knight as his words held a slight to the maesters who were too cowardly to watch over the princess. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” The king said and Aemond only gave a nod.

He watched as the king placed Theodore by his daughter’s side, the princess still not opening her eyes even as the king placed a chaste kiss atop her head. “You can do this, my darling… you have fought it before, you shall do it again,” The king whispered softly at his daughter, who made no indication that she heard her father’s pleading words.

When your father and maesters left the room, Aemond was finally alone with you, just like how he preferred it. But even your presence he could not feel. Aemond sighed and carried a chair to the side of your bed. Sitting upon it, he took hold of Sapphira, who he placed by your side, huddling with her brother as both of your pets seemed to understand what had happened to you.

Aemond took your hand into his hand, still cold. He slowly placed it against his cheek, hoping his warmth would transfer to you, bearing the coldness as he could not help but feel guilty at your state. If he had not accused you of enjoying the lord’s company the other night— if he had not argued with you… you would have told him immediately that you felt poorly. That you would insist him to stand in his post inside your chambers when he could watch over you.

“Please, my heart, I’m so sorry. Do not punish me like this… yell at me, hit me, I’ll bear it all. Just… please…” Aemond pleaded as he tucked away a stray lock of your hair. It was strange for him to ask you of such. To plead with you to show him anything but kindness, but he’d prefer your rage rather than your silence.

For the rest of the day, Aemond stayed by his princess’ side. Taking turns in holding her cold hands, hoping it would warm her. He constantly checked her temperature and pulse, fearing the worst. Never had he felt so helpless. He could do nothing as your body was partly cold and partly hot, but the whole of it was scarlet.

Aemond shut his eye tightly as he heard a faint knock on your door, having to remove your hand on his cheek as you two could not be caught in such a state. “Your meal, Ser,” a servant uttered and placed a tray by a table near Aemond. He inspected what the servant had brought and narrowed his eyes. “Where is the princess’ meal?” He sharply questioned, but the servant only looked confused. “I—I thought the princess was unconscious and— and she would not be able to eat.” The servant stuttered as they were met with the harsh look on your sworn protector’s face.

“Just— just bring her custard tarts. She would wake soon; she would want her custard tarts.” Aemond gritted and watched as the servant scurried off. The knight filled with hope that your unconscious state would not last. When the knight was given a platter of custard tarts, he waited for the door to shut fully before focusing all of his attention on his princess again.

“Look, my heart, your favorite. Come now, wake up… please. You can eat it all… you don’t even have to share with me, please, my heart.” Aemond pleaded again, hoping that you would smell the scent of your favorite sweet and it would wake you. You were like a bloodhound when it came to your favorite desserts. You would just take a deep breath when in the halls of your home, and you could already guess what pastry they were making, exciting you for tea time.

Aemond sighed once more. Perhaps you were exhausted. That you desperately needed rest, that you would wake in a few hours if Aemond only stopped pestering and pleading for you to wake. Perhaps it was that. The knight convinced himself. So, he pushed away the tray of custard tarts and held your hand once more, letting you acquire rest.

As night came, Aemond abruptly sat up as he realized he had drifted off to sleep as he watched over you. His eyes were wide as he looked around the dark room, the fire dying once again. His hand was still holding yours, and he quickly moved his hold to feel your pulse. It was faint, but it was there. He hurriedly stood and remade the fire, cursing himself as he let himself drift off to sleep. He returned to his seat and leaned forward to feel your temperature; it seemed to lessen, making Aemond breathe out in relief. However, you still had not opened your eyes.

Aemond looked around the room. It was dark except of the light of the hearth. He reluctantly stood and lit the various candles and lamps. You hated the dark; your room was always lit in one form or the other. “I’m sorry I drifted off to sleep, my heart. But you’re fine, yes? You’re fever is lowering… come now, open your eyes. I think the cooks made your favorite supper… it’d be a waste if you did not have some,” Aemond murmured as he returned to your side. He somewhat felt pathetic. Speaking so softly to the wind. Aemond shook his head and readjusted the furs that kept you warm.

Aemond licked his lips as you still did not open your eyes. He and all of his siblings had scarlet fever before, but none of them grew unconscious because of it. The knight straightened his back as he heard a knock at the door, moving his hold from your hand to your pulse again.

“My prince,” Aemond stood and bowed his head. “Good evening, Ser Aemond… how is— how are you both fairing?” Your brother asked quietly as if fearing he would wake you. “The princess’ fever had lessened, but she still had not wakened,” Aemond answered, your brother moving to stand by the foot of your bed to inspect you. “You had not eaten, Ser.” The prince remarked as his eyes shifted to the table. “And… are those custard tarts?”

“I am not hungry, my prince, and yes… I had the servant bring them— I thought it could convince the princess to wake up,” Aemond admitted, a part of him thought he might be seen as ridiculous. The prince only let out a breath of a laugh. “I’ve tried that before, surrounded her with all her favorite desserts the last time she grew unconscious, hoping the scent of it would wake her.”

“Did it?” Aemond asked in hope. “No…” The prince admitted solemnly.

“My prince, I do not think it’s scarlet fever,” Aemond suddenly said. “Unconsciousness is not a symptom of scarlet fever— I should know, when I was three and ten, half of my house was infected, but none of them grew unconscious,” Aemond explained as he moved closer to you. He lifted the fur covering to reveal a part of your arm “And she has none of those red bumps,”

The prince frowned, wondering what led the maesters to conclude that it was once again scarlet fever. “But why would the maesters think it’d be scarlet fever?” The prince asked. “I do not know… perhaps they only saw her flushed face and felt her temperature and concluded that it was scarlet fever because, as you had said, she had it twice. It is easy to conclude that it could happen to her again.” Aemond observed.

“I shall write to our brother again,” The prince muttered and moved to leave the room, but before he could reach the door, it opened to reveal your eldest brother and your newly wedded cousin, Eliza. “I was already on my way to the north when I stumbled upon the messenger you sent— how is she?”

“Eliza, you shouldn’t be here,” the prince said and tried to nudge away his cousin. “How is she? She’ll be fine, yes? Oh gods! I knew we should have just held the ceremony in Father’s castle!” She exclaimed in guilt, resisting as your brother tried to push her out of the room. “She’ll be fine, Eliza. Now go, enjoy your honeymoon.” The prince sighed, but Eliza resisted, “I want hourly updates! I swear to the gods, if you keep me in the dark, I’ll bury you in the snow, cousin.” Eliza threatened, a small, amused smile coming to the prince’s lips through these trying times. “Very well then, now go.”

When Lady Eliza had finally gone, your eldest brother finally spoke. “It’s not scarlet fever,” He remarked, placing a damp towel on your forehead, a measure that they seem to forget amidst the panic. “Thank gods,” the prince sighed. “Thank gods indeed, I do not think her heart can handle it— it’s already weaker than the others.” Your eldest brother muttered, glancing toward Ser Aemond whose concerned expression never faded.

Aemond licked his lips and avoided the gaze of your older brother. You had told him that your eldest brother came to know of understanding, and he could only hope he truly understood and did not utter a word of it.

“If not scarlet fever, what then?” The prince questioned, “Just a very high fever, which would explain her unconscious state— once her temperature lessens, I’m certain she would wake.” Your brother explained, and Aemond finally let out a breath of relief. “Where’s father?” Your elder brother asked your eldest brother. “Praying,” He answered, and the prince was quick to frown. “What?” He asked in disbelief. The king was not a devout man, he only kept up appearances in the sept for the sake of the crown, but to hear him pray not out of duty but of necessity was quite shocking.

“I shall find him and tell him what you had said,” The prince muttered. “Better find him fast, lest his knees freeze— they’re already stiff as it is,” Aemond chewed on his cheeks as your eldest brother somehow lightened the tenseness they had since the morning.

“So… you’re looking after my sister,” Your eldest brother said slowly, tense as it was his first conversation with the knight. “Yes, my pr— lo—“ Aemond once again stuttered as he did not know how to address your brother. “Lord,” He corrected, and Aemond nodded. “Well, I suppose it best that it is you who watches over her instead of the maesters who misdiagnosed her ailment.”

“My sister has always been a sickly child,” The lord remarked. “They believe it is because she came earlier than expected or because of the amount of wine the queen drank while she was pregnant,” he sighed as both men sat across each other. Your brother by your right, and Aemond by your left.

“Might I ask you something, my lord?” Your brother nodded, and Aemond took a moment to articulate his question properly. “It is just… I had noticed that the queen is not particularly fond of the princess,” Aemond said lowly. “You can say it plainly: she hates her.” Your eldest brother said heavily. “But why?” Aemond waited as your brother hummed. “How do I say this delicately… I’m certain my sister shared with you the true manner of our father’s and her mother’s marriage?” Aemond nodded.

“Well, father had little affection for the queen. There is some, but it is a minuscule amount. The only intimacy they shared was for the sake of procreation, and I suppose the queen thought she could make father fall in love with her, but the only thing father truly loves are his children… and when the queen gave birth to a girl, she saw my sister as competition.” Aemond frowned severely at your eldest brother’s words. “Father had always only wanted a daughter. So, when my sister was born, he no longer saw reason to be in the queen’s presence except for appearances and familial dinners.”

“I honestly do not know how she bears it— our brother had always tried to protect her from the Queen’s wrath, but even he could not sway their mother’s hatred for her.” The lord sighed and settled further into his seat, tired as he had journeyed through the cold just to reach his sister. “You could go and find rest, Ser Aemond. I can look over my sister,” The lord said as he tried to stifle a yawn, and Aemond was quick to shake his head.

“It is fine, my lord. I can watch over her. It is my duty, after all,” The lord hummed and did not have the energy to disagree with Ser Aemond. “Very well, I’ll just be in the other room. Summon me if my sister is in distress— such high fevers do come with the risk of convulsions,” The lord informed as he stood. “And if you could change the towel atop her forehead before the hour of the nightingale, it would be best…” The lord trailed, distracted as he looked upon his sister concerning Aemond. “Why? What is the matter?” He asked, alarmed.

“Nothing, I just noticed the furs… she looks like a baby bear,” Your brother breathed out a laugh, and Aemond felt a smirk inching to his lips. Your eldest brother seemed to have a gift for finding a light in dark situations. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” The lord said as he exited the door, leaving Aemond to be alone in your presence once more.

Aemond did not sleep that night. He spent the silent hours reading to you one of the books you had bought for the trip, changing the damp towel on your forehead, and brushing your pets' fur as you would always do before you went to sleep.

When morning approached, Aemond's hold on your hand never tired. He rechecked your temperature, which had subsided, but your skin was still warmer than usual. Earlier, you had stirred during your sleep, your small action bringing hope and fear to Aemond because he thought it might be the convulsions your brother had warned him about, but at least you were showing signs of consciousness.

When the sun rose and bathed your chambers in its golden hue, Aemond again brought your hand to his cheek. “Please, my heart, open your eyes… please,” Aemond said softly, begging his princess to bless him once again with her gaze. Aemond lowered his eye as he was just met with silence. But he quickly raised his gaze as he felt your finger move against his skin, “My heart?” He called as he looked upon your face, your eyelids twitching, and a low hum left your lips.

“Oh, thank gods,” He breathed out as he leaned forward to asses you further. “You’re fine… you didn’t leave me,” He breathed out in relief as he cupped your cheek, your mind still hazy and muddled from your fever. “Leave…? Why— why would I leave you? Where would I even go?” You asked, disoriented as Aemond’s face hovered above yours. Through your impaired vision, you see the concern in Aemond’s eye as if he were ready to weep. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love? Had something happened?” You asked in concern, forcing yourself to open your eyes to see Aemond more clearly and thoroughly.

“Nothing… it’s nothing,” Aemond breathed in relief as he looked into your eyes, tiredness still evident but finally opened. That was all he could ask for. You gave him a weak smile as your finger still caressed his cheek, a low moan leaving your lips. “Do I smell custard tarts?” You then asked, making Aemond let out a low chuckle at your words. “Yes, you can have all the custard tarts you want, my heart,” Aemond said and placed a kiss atop your head before turning to a table to acquire your sweet treats.

“Did someone call me a baby bear again while I was asleep?” You then asked making Aemond chuckle as he returned to his seat with a platter of custard tart, taking your hand in his and giving the back of it another kiss. “No, my heart, that must have been a dream,” he fibbed, all the heaviness he felt subsiding the moment you woke and spoke to him.

Unbeknownst to you both, your father stood and watched the whole scene through the ajar door. A witness to how you ever stoic knight turned soft just for you, who looked at him with your tired, love-filled eyes. The king witnessed as his beloved daughter retold the story of his grandmother.

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artgremlinart · 7 months ago

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season 3 spoilers..

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venusbyline · 13 hours ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY (25.06.2025)

Corruption kink, loss of virginity, smut

Gwayne Hightower x innocent niece!reader

"Hello, sweetheart," Gwayne smiled as he saw his favorite niece sneaking into his private chambers. As always, the sweet girl acted like a needy little mouse coming to him, looking for love. Gwayne's smile immediately disappeared when he saw your big, teary eyes. He did not even have time to prepare himself for whatever was happening before you practically threw yourself into his arms, hugging his waist and pressing your face against his bare chest. One of his hands hugged you back while the other stroked your long silver hair. "Hey, hey now. What happened? Who broke my pretty princess's heart?" Still with the face hidden there, you managed to muffle. "It was you, uncle." "Me?" he asked, incredulous and pushing you away a little bit so he could gently grab your chin and look at you more seriously. "Me?" repeating the word and raising an eyebrow. "Care to explain that better?" Breaking free from his embrace, you held his forearms, caressing the warm skin as he kept his grip. "You are going to the battle and leave me alone here for so many days." Gwayne chuckled at the explanation, realising the grip on your face and then caressing your rosy cheeks. The reason for your sadness was the same thing that caused his previous bad mood during that afternoon. Having to go to battle was already stressful enough... But abandoning you at the Red Keep felt much worse.

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houseofthedragonn · 20 days ago

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idk if your requests are still open or not...

But if they are, could you please write a Cregan Stark x Velaryon! reader where they're married and are very much in love. But they often disagree on some customs and stuff because they're from very different places. So they have an argument, a serious one, over something and they don't talk to each other for sometime. Make it ANGSTY

(***REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN !!***)

DON’T WANNA FIGHT,

cregan stark x velaryon!reader

“why can’t we both be right?”

SYNOPSIS rhaenyra arranges a marriage between her headstrong velaryon niece-turned-stepdaughter, baela and rhaena’s elder sister. still, stark and she find love—despite disagreeing on customs. but he knows how to change her mind…

WARNINGS angst, angry sex smut someone take this app away from me

WORKS

“WHY CAN’T WE BOTH BE RIGHT?” I YELLED at my stubborn lord husband, whom I loved as he loved me.

But neither of us loved when we were going at it—in terms of arguing at each other’s throats.

Instead of leaving love bites all over one another’s neck.

In fact it had been some time since we had done so, let alone kissed. Not even a quick peck on cheek. As we both refused to break first, too angry at each other to even speak. So sleeping in the same chambers was out of the question. Longing to lay with one another, but we were both too proud to admit it. After a fortnight of fighting and withholding any sort of affection from the other, Winterfell grew even colder. Our household could feel it, servants seeing how we kept our distance, when we were usually so loving. Leaving at once after a dead serious stare from a silent, seething Stark, the servant girl shut the door behind her.

“I asked you a question, husband.” I irately demanded an answer from him, his broad shoulders rising and falling with short, stern breaths.

If looks could kill, I would be as dead as the men he had slain.

Cregan, however, just fell deadly quiet. Like the North right before a big snowstorm tore through the land.

After ages, he finally seethed, sardonically mocking me, “Why can’t we both be right?”

Very cross and cross-armed he stood, staring me down in my white nightgown. Hating how his body longed for the angel I looked like in white, while his mind was vexed by the demoness I behaved like. Refusing to bend to his will and agree with him just because he was my husband. I was Daemon’s daughter after all. And as his firstborn, had his headstrong attitude. And with Rhaenyra as my aunt-turned-stepmother, was used to women speaking their mind. I was no different. Which was why Stark fell in love with me in the first place, even if it caused lovers quarrels. But none as serious as the one we had now.

“Such Southern nonsense… agreeing to disagree! Ha! But you are right in that I am your husband, wife. So you best heed me: when I say speak plainly, or do not speak at all!” Cregan spat back, slamming his large hands down on the wooden table in our chambers I forbade him from sleeping in for weeks.

My dragon always right outside our window kept watch from the snowy courtyard was enough to keep him out.

She sensed my anger at the man she knew I still loved, and so Vhagar also was angry with him. Not letting him get near her how she normally did, as neither did I. But I caved after weeks of not speaking, agreeing to talk things out after letting him in finally. But things quickly went south.

“Or what, Stark? Ha! Tell me, what will you do, big, bad Wolf of the North?” I sarcastically shouted, sparing him not even a glance anymore, turning my back to him and facing the roaring hearth instead. Fire burning as hot as both our blood.

Burning out of anger. And angst after weeks of pent up sexual frustration that tensely filled the room. Hating how he turned up to our chambers to talk in just his trousers and tunic, that he let fall completely open, unlaced. His strong, muscled chest on full display. Shining with sweat after hours of arguing by the fireside. Finally getting my handmaiden to leave after I insisted she stay as Lady Stark of Winterfell. But alas, in the end his word outweighed mine, and one look was all it took for her to leave. And now I was alone with him again in our chambers for the first time in a fortnight. Wishing she stayed so I did not break. My eyes glazed over as I gazed into the fire.

Remembering the last time he took me on the wolf’s fur rug on the floor in front of the hearth.

How every inch of my body ached for his touch. Though my words were what got him to break and I was proud I was not the first to. Knowing how to elicit a reaction out of him after a year of marriage. But this sort of reaction I had not expected. It was new, different. Driven by a mix of desire and anger.

“Oh, I won’t tell you. I’ll show you, Princess…” Patronizingly, he mocked me with my title. Before I felt strong arms suddenly snake around me like an inescapable vice. Caught like a defenseless doe in the jaws of a wolf.

Immediately, I felt his hard cock straining against me through his trousers. And I knew what he meant. Cregan would take me as he was my husband. Who had enough of me not spreading my legs for him, and so had I, even if I refused to admit it. Still, I would not give him the satisfaction, acted as if I refused.

“You animal! You mean to take me by force?” I hissed, fighting against him, but not very hard. My body already reacting to his as wetness quickly pooled in between my thighs.

“You liar! You mean to tell me you don’t wish for me to take you how I did a fortnight ago? On the floor like a whore, whining for more…” Stark snarled in my ear, his teeth biting at the sensitive flesh he dragged between his teeth hungrily.

Against my better senses, a sigh slipped past my lips, escaping along with his name as I quickly bit my lip to muffle it. Not able to help the memories of that night flooding my mind and how I longed for him to take me like that again. Though that time it was slow, tender, loving. Something told me this time would be the antithesis, nothing like that night, except for the part about me being his whore on the floor.

“I knew it…” Cregan’s wolfish grin I could hear in his voice. His hands tearing my nightgown in two down the middle, without warning.

Cold air stormed my skin, nipples hardening, and goosebumps washing over me despite the heat that washed over me inside. At once, Stark tossed me over his back easily. Before throwing me down on the floor. Not hard enough to do any real harm like broken bones a maester would have to set, but hard enough that there would likely be some light bruising. But the wolf’s fur rug and pillows cushioned my fall. Falling to the floor in front of the crackling fire.

Stark stripped me completely bare, but not himself.

He stayed semi-clothed, save for pulling his trousers down just enough for his hard, thick, throbbing cock to spring free. He spent no time stretching me out with his long fingers how he usually did to prepare my cunt to take in all of his size. Still, somewhat slick from my secret longing, Cregan forced his way past my wet folds. Holding my hips down with both of his large hands as he did so. It burned, but in the best way possible.

Pleasure and pain mixing in a swirling heat inside me.

“Fucking hells, Stark!” I involuntarily cried as he bottomed out inside me, his hand pressing down hard on my belly to feel just how deep he reached.

“See... you even sound like my whore, whining for me on the floor… knew you could be my good girl again…” Cregan cooed albeit slurring his words a bit from all the cups of wine we drained over our earlier argument, now forgotten.

Flipping me over on my stomach, I was face down the rug with him still snugly buried deep inside. I had not time to adjust as he made me bend and contort to his will, but I loved it. Loved this new side of him, as he rarely ever got angry at me like this before. Before it was just tears from fighting, not fucking. As I felt water prick at my eyes from how much he stretched out my cunt with no preparation from my pussy he plowed into like a man starved. I could only lie there under the weight of his muscles slick with sweat, sticking to me through the thin layer of his tunic. As he took me like a limp rag doll, his whore on the floor, wordlessly.

Only his satisfied grunts and moans filled our chambers, like a rabid dog taking a bitch in heat.

Which we may as well have been from how animalistic and primally feral he took me. My mind turned to mush, my head on its side staring at the fire. Feeling my insides burning as hot as the flames as my gushing cunt stretched to fit every inch of his cock fucking me fast and hard. His hips snapping in and out of me at a punishing pace. I pulsed around his twitching length and we both knew we were close very soon, after two weeks of not touching one another. I felt his teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder, muffling his moaning of my name. That was enough to drive me over the edge.

“Oh, Cregan, fuck!” I only spoke monosyllabically. Only able to form few words. Mainly moans, his name, and cursing my new gods, and his old ones, “Good gods, I’ll be your good girl again, Stark!”

I clenched tight around him, facedown on the fur rug as my cunt gushed while I came around Cregan’s cock. Chasing his own high after helping me reach mine, he rode it out as I squeezed the life out of him. Draining him of every drop of come as he came, painting my walls white with his seed I felt spray hot inside me. Every inch and vein became even more pronounced, and I was a teary eyed moaning mess, too overstimulated with pleasure and pain.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, gorgeous… gods, it was killing me with each passing day I did not get to touch you… you’ve no idea what you do to me… no idea how much I love you—how I need you…” Stark rambled as he left sloppy wet kissing on the back of my neck. Before pulling my hair to crane my head around to face him, “Can’t stay mad at you any longer…”

His lips crashed onto mine with such hunger as we rode out our highs together. Taste of my salty tears mixing with the fire from our open mouthed, wet, messy kiss filled with such passion and desire. His teeth caught my bottom lip, dragging it between his jaws as he pulled away after ages. Leaving my lips and body bruised from his iron grip on my hips, but it was well worth it.

“I can’t even remember what we were fighting about…” Sighing, my mind blanked, as did his.

“I can’t recall either… but if we must fight, let us do it like this more often…” Stark smiled, stray strands of his long hair falling in his handsome face after I rolled back over to face him.

He wrapped me up in his strong arms again, and I hummed in agreement as we watched the fire burn together as we caught our breaths.

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