#Politely demanding his hand in marriage

[theoldsports]

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

[milktei]

Hold me Tight

Kamisato Ayato x fem!wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage au, idk if it can be called a slow burn but that’s what I’m calling it, fluff, smidge of angst.

Warnings: unconventional relationship, Reader is described to have long hair that is brushed through. not edited

Requests: Open

a/n: another one out! :o Had to indulge myself a little bit before getting back to requests. arranged marriage au’s are my guilty pleasure and i just felt like writing for genshin again. Hair brushing and physical affection is also just such a big thing for me I had to write it. So if it isn’t obvious i wrote this mostly for selfish reasons and that is the reason why it may be sort of all over the place lol. I hope it’s enjoyable either way!

A hug is all you longed for really. For someone to wrap warm arms around you and let you completely melt into them.

Being married it should be an easy ask

How unfortunate it is for you that your husband wants nothing to do with you.

Although the more you thought about it, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. He did agree to the marriage hadn’t he?

He was the head of his clan, the Yashiro commissioner. Throughout the entirety of the process of arranging your marriage, Kamisato Ayato had every right, and more than enough chances to stop it from going through.

He had nothing to lose if he decided he wasn’t ready for marriage, which was an excuse many citizens of Inazuma had heard over the years.

He really had nothing to gain from it either.

It confused you from the day the elders of your clan elatedly told you that by some insane amount of luck, the Kamisato Ayato had accepted “your” marriage proposal that had been sent in as almost an obligation.

There was no harm in trying and you were now living proof of that.

Why you? out of all the suitors he definitely had, he had chosen you. While your clan was one of the head producers of tea leaves in the country, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around his acceptance, it was not like the Kamisato’s needed the tea, they could have afforded it anyways.

There was no political gain for him either as he was already a tri-commissioner, you weren’t even in line to become heir! Your uncle was the head of the clan and your cousins would follow in his footsteps.

The gossip about you flew all over inazuma like a storm cloud, and you heard it all, people weren’t always subtle in their curiosity or distaste in you after all.

Some of the talk was harsh and negative, and yet you couldn’t help but partially agree with what some people were saying about you.

You were a nobody as far as nobility went. The only reason you could think of as to why Ayato chose you, was likely to reduce the amount of mail that he got, as the marriage proposals had virtually stopped after your wedding. Aside from some particularly desperate people.

Perhaps you really were the best candidate for him. You weren’t a prominent figure in the public eye, you weren’t after the Kamisato’s fame and fortune, and you weren’t the type of person to fawn over your husband 24/7 and demand he shower you in riches and attention.

Although you almost wish that you were. Maybe then you wouldn’t be longing for a hug as badly as you currently were.

While it was true that being married to Ayato meant that you had nearly everything you could ask for at your fingertips, and that it was rare for you to be denied anything—not like you asked for much anyways—the one thing you could not ask for, was your husband’s affection. How ironic. the one person you spewed rehearsed vows to about being his rock and what not, was the one person you could not get an ounce of love or affection from.

Of course you had never really had the chance to try at this point, as despite being married for 6 months already, you can count the amount of times you had a full conversation with the man on one hand.

“I hope that you can find it in you to excuse my lord. He is a very busy man.” Thoma had told you the day you had moved in and your husband was no where to be seen. The look he gave you the mixture of empathy and a wince.

That was the day reality set in. He looked at you kindly on the day you got married. Soft smiles graced both of your features during the ceremony, and you two spoke amicably during the extravagant reception. But this was an arranged marriage, a contract more than a relationship, and you both had duties to fulfill.

A smile that had been drilled into you since your etiquette classes from your youth crossed your face “There’s no need to worry about me Thoma, I understand.”

So you had to learn to get used to being alone in an estate bustling with people. You opened your wedding gifts alone, sorted them accordingly and even sent out an astonishing amount of individual thank you cards to all the guests you had at your wedding.

You often ate alone, save for the times Ayaka and Thoma had time to accompany you. Aside from being reached out to for second opinions or approval you weren’t given a formal job on the estate. Instead you were given an allowance, and were free to spend your days doing whatever you wanted, so long as the Kamisato name was protected.

Yes that was another thing you had to get used to, “Kamisato y/n”, “My lady Kamisato.” Hearing the latter was especially hard, that title felt as if it was reserved only for your sister-in-law, she definitely represented it with more grace than you thought you were ever capable of.

The name and all the responsibilities it came with weighed down on your shoulders unlike anything you had every experienced prior, and here you pushed against it alone. Forced to go through the transition into married life without the other half of the partnership to support you.

That led you to your predicament now. You were coming to the realization that you were horribly touch starved.

It was even worse on cold windy days, or when it rained. All it did was remind you about how your late parents would use those days to curl up with you, a warm blanket, and a book to laze the day away and wish for nicer weather the next so that you could go out on a picnic.

you longed for those days of warmth and love again. Your family had been quite affectionate with one another. While Ayaka would come and spend time with you, treating you like an older sibling. Nothing could reach the craving deep within you.

You sighed to yourself as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, ignoring the whispers of people who passed and recognized who you were.

Or rather who you were married to.

“My lady Kamisato!” greeted the Yae publishing house worker. “You’ve come at a great time, the new volume of your favourite series has just released.”

The worker handed you the book in question and you couldn’t help the excitement that rose within you as you quickly flipped through “I was hoping that I’d be able to pick something up today. I’ve been needing more things to do when the weather doesn’t permit me to go outside. Any other recommendations?”

The worker smiled at you sweetly and handed you another book “Surely Lord Ayato, is able to keep you from getting too bored at the estate my lady?”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, you couldn’t let it drop in front of the worker, the last thing you wanted was for anymore rumours to spread. You pretended to read the synopsis of the book that was handed to you. “Yes of course, but there are still times where he is not available. My husband is a very busy man.”

My husband, you didn’t think you would ever get used to referring to him as that. He felt like nothing more than a stranger who’s house you happened to live in, who you shared a family name with, who would grace you with a soft smile and a nod as you passed each other at the estate each making your ways to your separate rooms.

A gust of wind blew through the streets and both you and the worker shivered. You looked at the sky and frowned at the dark clouds rolling in, you flinched as a singular rain drop landed on your cheek.

The worker also looked up “it really is rainy season isn’t it?” they looked to you “I would recommend you head home soon my lady, looks like it’s gonna come down any minute now and you’ve got a long walk back to the Kamisato estate”

You sighed, “what a shame, I was hoping to run a couple more errands today.” you payed for both books and placed them into your bag with a smile “thank you for the advice I’ll head out now.”

You walked away from the shop in the direction of the estate, waving behind you as the worker told you to stay safe.

———

Perhaps you should have stayed in town.

You come to this realization as you’re halfway to the estate. Komore tea house would have been much nicer than the weather you were experiencing currently.

The singular raindrop you had felt earlier had slowly progressed into a little more than a drizzle and you groaned to yourself as your clothing grew heavier as it absorbed more and more water.

You should have grabbed your umbrella

It was practically pouring by the time you had gotten to the estate, the trees of Chinju forest providing surprisingly little shelter against the rain.

Quickly, you rushed under the cover of the roof of the estate and sighed in relief once you weren’t being pelted by water. You looked down at you clothes and cringed at the water dripping from the fabric and your hair onto the dark wood

Wringing out what you could beforehand, you opened the front doors of the estate as quietly as you could, albeit in vain as Thoma and your husband were having a discussion right at the entrance.

Both men turned to look at you as the door closed and you could only stare back awkwardly as the sound of water dripping from you clothes and hair, along with your shivering filled the room.

Thoma was the first to break the silence and began fussing over you not unlike a mother hen.

“My lady you’re soaking wet! You’re going to get sick! I’ll have the maids draw a bath for you. Please allow me to grab your belongings. I’ll have tea ready for you once you’re done.

Before you knew it, you were standing in your bathroom with a steaming tub waiting for you. Still bewildered at what had transpired moments before.

Still, Thoma and his efforts were never unwelcome as the bath was exactly what you needed.

You took your time in the bath, taking in the scent of the flowers and oils put in by the maids, appreciating how well the water warmed your once cold body.

Once finished, you were quick to dry off and get dressed, still towel drying your hair as you entered your room.

As promised, Thoma had left a tea set on the table in your room with a container holding tea leaves, knowing you liked to brew it yourself.

The only thing out of place was an extra tea cup.

As if on cue, the door to your room was gently slid open and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of pale blue hair.

“My lord!” you greeted, the words leaving you mouth before you could even try to stop them.

Ayato paused as the two of you made eye contact, it was almost as if he was surprised himself that you were in your own room.

Ayato was the first to regain his composure after clearing his throat. “Majority of my plans for today have been cancelled due to the weather, I was hoping you could allow me to join you for a bit.”

Your head was spinning, not able to wrap itself around the fact that your husband was in your room and actively trying to spend time with you.

“Of course if that’s how you wish to spend your free time my lord.” you stammered, part of you still believing that this was some sort of dream.

A small shiver ran down your spine and you were reminded of the damp hair that ran down your back. You looked to the vanity in your room and then back at your husband.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to fix my hair situation beforehand.”

“Of course y/n there’s no need to worry, it’s just me.”

That was precisely why you were panicking on the inside at that moment. It was only the man who was so busy, that his presence in the house on a daily basis resembled that of a gust of wind.

You sat down at you vanity and picked up one of your combs, beginning the task of untangling the mess you had created both in the rain and bath.

You nearly groaned out loud to yourself, you had kept your hair long to be able to use the multitude of flamboyant hair accessories you had acquired, but brushing it had always been your least favourite part of the entire process.

A awkward cough caused you to look at the man in your room.

“if you are comfortable with it…I could help you brush your hair.”

You stared in shock at the man in front of you. His face was genuine but you could tell by the reddening of his ears that he was flustered, the most you had ever seen from him.

The combination of being a witness to such a rare site and the fact that you were still in shock that he was there in the first place, had you speaking without much thought.

“That would be very helpful my lord, thank you.”

The surprise on his face was visible You could only hope that your whirlwind of emotions wasn’t as obvious.

Still, not one to go back on his word, Ayato gently took the comb from your outstretched hand and began to work. His powerful presence behind you almost causing you to curl in on yourself.

He was gentle, his hands warm as they followed your comb, a warm feeling spread throughout you chest as he so carefully detangled your hair, taking his time.

You hoped that he wouldn’t be able notice through your reflection just how flustered you were at this moment. Your face was hot, your breathing was slightly rapid and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look up at the mirror in fear that your eyes would connect.

Yet this moment felt so intimate, so tender and domestic. You could almost believe that you two were much closer than you really were.

A soft chuckle broke you from your thoughts.

“This brings me back.” Ayato sighed wistfully, “when we were younger, Ayaka would let me do this for her. Though she seemed less than impressed when I would try different styles on her. I wonder if she would trust me with her hair again after all this time.”

You smiled down at your fidgeting hands “I’m sure she would if you promised no more experiments my lord.”

Ayato hummed in contemplation “I suppose you may be right, but at the same time maybe I won’t need to ask her if I already have yours within reach.” He leaned closer to your ear, “After all, am I wrong to assume that you are enjoying this my dear wife?”

Your face felt like it was on fire, you had never heard him call you that to your face before. You could feel the smug smile that was currently gracing his features as he leaned back and continued his actions.

“Well?” He urged after a moment

“No you are not wrong to assume that my lord.” You managed to stammer out. Your hands clenched into fists in your lap as you forced yourself to say the truth, knowing well that he would be able to see through any lie.

He sighed. “Please y/n I think we’re at a point where we can drop the formalities.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“Are we really?”

His hand that was holding the brush froze mid stroke, the room was suddenly filled with a chilled silence and you cringed at the amount of malice an anger that you managed to fit into one simple question.

This was no way to talk to the man you were married to.

“Forgive me my… Ayato. I did not mean to sound so harsh I just-“

“No no there’s no need to apologize.” ayato assured. He raked a hand through your hair and chuckled bitterly, “I supposed it is my fault that you feel this way about our…situation

You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out. What he said wasn’t a lie to make you feel better for snapping at him. It was entirely the truth and you were grateful that he understood where you were coming from.

“Finished.” He stated softly before placing the comb back on your vanity. “I hope that I haven’t worn out my welcome.”

You paused for a moment, thinking about the situation you found yourself in, while wanting to get yourself out of the awkward moment, you knew that a chance to spend time with him again would be rare.

“You haven’t, don’t worry,” you stated as you slowly rose from your seat. Still refusing to look up at him you gestured to the low table where the tea set sat, “Please have a seat, I’ll brew the tea for us.”

It was quiet as you worked, the only sounds in the room being the clink of tea set, and the crinkle of tatami mats. You thanked Thoma in your mind when you saw that he had prepared leaves that were better steeped in lower temperatures, as the water had cooled down since he first boiled it.

“We’ll have to wait a couple minutes.” You said as you closed the lid of the teapot. Ayato nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.

“I don’t want to use me being busy as an excuse.” Ayato suddenly blurted out.

You finally look up at him in surprise “Pardon?”

Ayato cleared his throat “My apologies. It’s just that I know that everyone has been using me being busy to excuse me for being absent in this relationship. While I know that lin its simplest terms, what we have between us is a contract, part of me still hoped that I would be able to get to know you well and we could be much more than strangers. There are many times where I could have put my work aside and spent more time with you, but I for some reason I never found myself taking those opportunities.”

He looked almost guilty as he continued. “Now here I am, months later knowing next to nothing about you, and on top of that I expected you to be comfortable with speaking casually around me when we have barely even spoken before.

You pondered to yourself as you poured tea into his cup “Well if it makes you feel any better,” you poured more into your own “I also know next to nothing about you.”

“Unfortunately that only seems to add salt to the wounds my dear.” Ayato grumbled.

Your eyes widened at the pet name and you quickly lifted your teacup to your face to hide your embarrassment.

Ayato followed suit and hummed in satisfaction as he drank. “Well I do know one thing now. My wife is excellent at brewing tea. It must run in your family’s genes.”

You waved him off “it’s just something that comes with experience, my uncle is the true master.”

“I also now know that my wife finds it hard to accept compliments.”

“Hey!”

Ayato smiled at you teasingly as you glared at him, though there was no anger behind it.

“Well now that’s unfair,” you stated “I should get to learn something about you now.”

Your husband raised an eyebrow, “well what would you like to know?”

You faltered for a moment, not expecting him to relent so easily, “well…” you stuttered, “what type of tea would you consider your favourite?”

“Really digging deep are we y/n?”

“I couldn’t think of something straight away!”

Despite the teasing, the questions continued, it was as if you were on a first date.

Except you were already living together and married.

One question was asked after the other. Ranging from you asking him about the daily life of a tri-commissioner, to him asking about the books you had bought earlier in the day.

It was only after Thoma had brought dinner to your room, that you had finally asked.

“So why me?”

Ayato’s chopsticks paused mid air “Why what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, he was playing dumb.

“Why did Inazuma’s most desired bachelor, Yashiro commissioner, leader of the famed Shuumatsuban, and the man who brought the Kamisato Clan back to its former glory, the Kamisato Ayato. Decide that a nobody from a tea producing clan was the one you would want to spend the rest of you life with.”

Ayato looked at you in exasperation “You aren’t a nobody y/n there’s so much more to you.”

“We don’t need to get down to the specifics, don’t avoid the question!” You exclaimed, ignoring the pleased smile on his face as he took in your flustered state.

Ayato put a hand to his chin and hummed as if contemplating something grand. He took a moment to respond. “Would you believe me if I said that I found you to be a very interesting person y/n?”

You stared at him blankly.

“Don’t lie to me we didn’t even meet until the wedding.”

The smile that he sent you sent a chill down your spine “Well I suppose that’s true in a sense, but we have been in each other’s presence on multiple occasions.”

You couldn’t mask the your surprise, “we have?”

Ayato looked at you incredulously. “Surely you know how often the Yashiro commission requests supplies from your clan for the multiple events we host.”

You fiddled with your teacup “Well sure but that doesn’t mean that it was a guarantee that we bump into each other. I’m sure I would have remembered being in the presence of you of all people.”

Ayato shrugged, “Being in the public eye is much more my sisters domain. I tend to stick to the shadows during bigger festivals that I’m interested in. During one of these times… you caught my eye.”

Your eyes widened “I did?”

He looked bashful as he continued his story, you were sure that you were the first person to ever see him in this state.

“I always knew of you, as I often meet with your uncle for business. I don’t know if you know this but he often worries about you and tends to talk about you during these meetings.” Ayato hummed in contemplation. “Perhaps it was a tactic to make me say yes to the upcoming proposal”

You groaned in horror at the realization that the two men had been talking about you “I apologize for my uncles actions.”

Ayato waved dismissively “Thats not the point. At a festival is where I first saw you and was able to put a name to a face. What I didn’t expect was the fact that everything about you had fascinated me. The way you danced and had that kind of sparkle in you eyes as you wandered around in wonder. The way you kindly greeted everyone you met. I found myself looking for you at following festivals to see if that was always how you looked…it was.”

“So it was only my looks” you teased

he sighed exasperated “Of course not”

You laughed “I’m kidding. Keep going.”

“Then at one point I was due for a meeting at your estate with your uncle and I might have listened in on a deal you were striking with a business man. The confidence in your voice was obvious and the way you negotiated with grace and kindness, yet still with firmness, had me intrigued within the first couple seconds of me hearing it. My interest only grew when your meeting had concluded and I saw you step out. with an accomplished smile on your face”

You gaped at him, you very rarely took part in your family’s business deals, only helping with what your cousins or uncle were too busy to handle. For him to be there at that time on that day was truly a great coincidence.

“You really piqued my interest that day. Although it was not my first choice in ways to get closer to you, when I saw the proposal sent by your clan, everything seemed to fall into place.” Ayato laughed but his tone soon turned solemn.

“Unfortunately not everything worked out for me, because look at how things are going. I left you to fend for yourself against the public, we rarely see each other, and this is the longest we have ever spoken despite being married for months. I think I was just afraid of crossing any boundaries, after all this marriage is arranged and I had no idea as to how you felt about me.”

Without thinking you reached over the table and grabbed one of his hands in both of yours, touched by how vulnerable he was being with you, “I wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage so easily if I thought ill of you in any way, while I may not have known you, you also piqued my interest. I won’t lie I was- still am extremely shocked, but I saw nothing bad coming out of this marriage really. It started off slow but we’re talking now, and well, don’t you think we’ve made some great progress?”

He smiled endearingly at you, “yes, I am grateful for this opportunity and hope that we can continue on this path.”

You laughed, “now you’re making it sound like a business deal.”

After that, you and Ayato finished your dinner making pleasant conversation. The sun had long gone down when he made the call for the both of you to retire for the night.

He once again stood in the doorway of your room, only this time you were standing right in front of him.

“I’ll have a heavier workload tomorrow but I think I’ll be able to join you for dinner again.”

You smiled up at him “I would like that, please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with, I’m part of this clan too you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you y/n.”

There was a pause and Ayato reluctantly continued. “Well I should take my leave for the night.”

As he turned, something seemed to overcome you, and you grabbed at his wrist,

“Ayato.”

He froze and turned to look at you curiously. you shyly looked away, “before you go. May I have a hug?”

He gave you a teasing smile, “this is all happening so fast, what will everyone think?”

“Oh please we’re already married.”

He laughed and his smile softened.

Without anymore words, Ayato opened his arms.

You couldn’t hold back the giddy smile that crossed your face and without hesitation you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace for the first time in what would become many.

A scent that was uniquely his filled your nose, and as you pressed against his chest you could feel and hear his heart pounding just as hard as yours. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his waist. A need you had been suppressing for months had finally been fulfilled. His hold was strong and comforting, his hold making you feel like you again.

Ayato chuckled to himself as his grip tightened, “well now I’ve found myself in a predicament.”

Still holding onto him, you turned your head to look up at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to let go.”

[notafunkiller]

unveiled

Summary: Unable to keep the charade up, you finally confront Bucky, telling him the whole truth.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, or@l sex, fingering, protected séx, pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 4.5K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: This story will have 4 parts, this is the 3rd part.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

Avoiding Bucky for two weeks was hard, but fortunately, he didn’t try to push you at all, which made it bearable.

You miss him, though. You always enjoyed his company, and it feels like you are slowly losing a friend. But what’s your alternative?

As much as you try to be polite, William’s friends completely ignore you when you ask them how they are. So you give up quickly, spending time on your phone as you try to ignore them. You can’t go to your room because that would not fit the fake image, so you’re stuck.

You know William is not a bad guy, and he tried to get closer to you a couple of times, but he’s not the type of person you’d see yourself with. Not even as real friends. You’re just too different, and it’s not like either of you wanted to be in this situation.

Bucky has been busy all evening. From what you heard, he’s been working on an important project this week, even at home. But you are happy to see him coming downstairs, probably headed to the kitchen. At least, he’s alive.

“Hi.”

Everyone acknowledges him immediately, and he gives you a warm smile before going to the kitchen, as you thought.

A few minutes later, when he returns, he’s carrying a plate with two sandwiches and a drink in his left hand. William immediately reaches for the glass, and Bucky gives him a pointed look.

“That’s not for you.”

“Come on, you always let me try.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his tone. He acts like a kid a lot of times.

“This is for your girlfriend, punk. The one you’ve been ignoring.” You look at him surprised as he hands you the drink. How did he know?

Everyone turns to look at you, but you ignore them.

“Thank you.”

Cherries again... You blush.

“You’re welcome, hopefully you’ll drink it this time.”

For some reason, this is enough to make this whole avoiding him plan of yours go down the drain  and before you know what you’re doing, you’re in your room calling your mom and demanding her to stop this nonsense and let you come home. Because they can do it in another way. You can’t pretend to be a couple for years, can you? What about your life? What about what you want? You’ve already done so much for them, and you are sick and tired of lying.

Same goes for William. He must want the same thing as you do.

But she brushes you off, trying to make you see from their point of view. Because this is what your father wanted. And you never felt sicker.

“He wouldn’t give you the opportunity to run anything otherwise, baby. You have to do this... I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not! You’re fucking not! Otherwise, you would have left him. He controls you and me. He’s been doing it your whole marriage, and I am sick of it. I won’t let him treat me like this anymore.”

There is dead silence on the other side of the phone for a couple of seconds, and you have to forcefully bite your lip to keep the sobs down. You can almost taste the blood.

“Please, honey, there’s nothing I can do.”

You cannot take any more of her tone, so gou simply hang up and put your phone on silent just in case.

There’s nowhere you can go. Nothing you can do to escape this if you want an opportunity to do things your way. Your father uses you, and your mom doesn’t have your back.

It’s suffocating you, and it’s also terrifying how alone you can be despite not being theoretically alone.

He deserves better, too. He deserves to know.

That snaps something inside you, and before you can change your mind, you get out of your room, fixing your hair and wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

William’s friends are still downstairs, playing something based on their voices, but you ignore them. You go straight to Bucky’s door and knock desperately.

You still jump when he opens it, and you can spot the worry in his eyes right away.

He was taking a bath, you notice the water droplets running down his face and body. He probably threw his shorts and tank top on quickly, but you don’t care. He needs to know.

“What’s wrong?”

“I gotta tell you something. Right now.”

You get inside his room without waiting for an invitation, and only when you hear the door closing, you turn to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. Everyone is lying to you, including me. And I’m sorry.”

He comes closer, concerned. “What are you lying to me about, huh?”

“It’s not true. None of this is true.”

“What’s not true?” He presses again. You’re finally in his room, you’ve stopped avoiding him, yet you’re still panicking. And all he wants is to make sure you’re okay. “Take it easy. Try to speak slowly, you are running out of air.”

“About William and I… We’re not together for real. It’s all a scam.”

He's speechless for a couple of seconds, frozen on spot, before you watch him start to laugh hysterically.

“I am serious, Bucky. It’s for the merger of the companies.” You continue, thinking he doesn’t believe you. Because why would he? “Your dad wanted to make sure mine won’t back off so they used me. I swear, I can show you-”

“I believe you, I believe you.” He's surprisingly calm as he speaks, as if you didn’t relieve a huge secret. “That’s not why I laughed.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t know why they wanted to keep it away from you, but I-”

“Why did you agree to all of this? What’s in it for you besides the misery of living here?” He asks, so much closer all of a sudden.

“Nothing now.” You sigh, but you don’t care. Even if you have nothing, at least he knows. And sadly, he doesn’t seem surprised by his parents’ actions. “I was supposed to get my dad’s  support with a small business. I also wanted to run a charity organization... accepting this  was the condition so I can have what I want. It’s stupid, I know. I am twenty-”

“I sensed something was wrong with this whole relationship thing. No couple acts the way you two do, but I thought maybe I was overthinking.” His clothes are fully getting wet now, and you can’t help but stare at his chest. Shit...

“I know.”

“I should have figured out what’s going on.”

His tone seems light, as if you’re not talking about how you all made him believe in a lie for months. You fight the impulse to beg for his forgiveness. You feel like a horrible, horrible human being.

“I am so sorry, Bucky,” you cry. “I should have told you. I am not a good friend, and I am so sorry. But now you know, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I didn’t want to, you deserve so much better than all of this.”

“I know you wanted to.” His hand is on your shoulder all of a sudden, and you gasp at the contact. “On my birthday.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you a lot of times actually. But I am a coward. William and your parents-”

“You’re not his,” he interrupts you once again, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. “You’ve never been his.”

You know what he means by his, and you want to correct him and tell him you’re not an object to be someone’s. But you remembered how much you thought about the possibility of Bucky being yours in the past few weeks, so...

“No, I am not.”

“Good.” He grabs you by the back of your head. “I've wanted to kiss ever since I saw you, don’t you know that?”

You gasp. “James-”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me that, and I’m yours. I don’t care about them, I care about you.”

“But I lied to you.”

“You didn’t want to lie to me, though. Analyze the context you are in a little.” He looks drunk as he stares at you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you.

You shake your head. “I can’t do the fun thing with you, okay?”

“Fun thing?”

“I can’t be like Cherry. I can’t stay friends with you after I kiss you.” And you wouldn’t want to even if you could.

He leans in until his mouth reaches your ear. “Who said I wanted that, princess? I told you I am yours.”

“Are you playing a game?”

“Sure,” he says immediately. “I can play any game you want if that makes you want to be mine.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, feeling so many things at once. He’s seriously giving zero shits about this whole thing, and he’s touching you. Just like you touched him on his birthday. It feels forbidden and wrong, but also perfect. You can have him now. You can kiss him. And you do, bringing his head down so your lips can meet.

You moan quite loudly, but you can’t hold back. Not when he grabs your ass and pulls you closer to him. You hiss when you feel him lifting you in the air so you can wrap our legs around his hips. He’s so hard. So, so hard! And wet all over. You can feel him properly.

He groans when you deepen the kiss, but you’re so into it you could barely hear him.

“Jesus, you taste so good, baby, so good.” He continues to kiss you until you feel like you can’t breathe. You start to move your hips without realizing, chasing the friction because it just feels so good, even with your pants on.

“James, please.”

“Please, what?” He grinds back a little to tease you and you almost cry. So much desire has been bottled inside you for months. “Come on, use your big girl words, baby.”

“I need you. I’m so wet… I need to come.” So much!

“And you want me to make you come?”

You groan. “Obviously!”

“Then ask me to.”

“Come on, James!” You grab his face desperately. “Come on, make me come. Please!”

He smiles widely, and this boyish smirk only makes him look cuter. You want to eat him whole.

“Of course, baby. So polite.”

He doesn’t waste time after your back hits the bed. He starts to undress you quickly, not caring about his sheets getting wet. You help him by lifting your arms and your hips from time to time, but he manages to get everything off in record time.

You can’t believe you’re doing this, to be honest. The reality hits you when he leans in to kiss you, his wet T-shirt making your nipples harden even more. You’re naked in his bed...

“Hey, you’re okay?” His voice is so soft that you can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I’m just... I can’t believe this is real. I haven’t prepared for it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re shy.” He kisses your lips once again. “And when you’re angry.” The trail of kisses is getting lower and lower with every word. “And when you tell me what to do.”

His mouth stops right on your left breast, his hand grabbing the other one.

You moan, losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming sensation, making it hard to focus or think.

“And when you do as I tell you to.” His tongue is everywhere: from your skin to, finally, your nipple, wetting it with his tongue before he properly sucking it.

You jump from the sudden pleasure and grab his hair.

“Feels so good.”

He switches to the other breast as soon as you speak again. “Fuck, I wanted to sleep on these for a long time. I’m depraved, aren’t I? Wanting to fuck my brother’s girl and suck on her tits before passing out on them from exhaustion.”

You moan imagining him sneaking into your room and doing that, and it makes you even hornier. “Fuck, James! I would have let you... would have asked you to make me come in the morning, too.”

You don’t care if you are depraved too. You are in this together. You wanted each other for so long, and now you’re finally getting it.

“Yeah?” He starts to lower his face more after he leaves a few kisses on the valley between your breasts. “What else?”

When you feel him close to your navel, you laugh.

“I’m ticklish, please.”

He melts. Of course he melts and spreads your legs as far as you can go.

“Gonna finally get my mouth on you. I need you to come all over my face...” Based on his tone, it’s like he can’t believe it finally happening.

“Yes, sir.” You tease. “Gonna get you drenched if you want.”

Something snaps inside him, you realize quickly, as he cups your face.

“I am your sir now, princess?”

“Always been,” you gasp. “You’re in your daddification era after all.”

“Shouldn’t that make me your daddy then?”

You freeze a little, unsure what to say because you’d lie if you said you didn’t think about him like that. He’s such a daddy that it hurts. And it’s like he sensed it.

“Fuck, you’re both, okay? You’re both. Please, James. Need your mouth or fingers... anything.”

“Or?” Bucky puffs. “You’re getting both, love.”

You hear laughter coming from downstairs, and you smirk. If only they knew who you actually are with...

Bucky places your legs on his shoulders and back, and you let yourself stay still, waiting for his first move.

His fingers open your lips first, making sure to hold you open before he leans in and gets his tongue at your entrance.

“Shit, Buck!”

He intentionally breathes out all over you. “That’s not how you call me, princess.”

“What do you want then?” You snap, desperately. You need to be eaten out, not teased. “Daddy? Sir? Old man? James? Tease?”

“That tone,” he says, amused by your suffering. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Well, make me come first!”

“Always.”

He doesn’t tease you much after this, getting his tongue inside you for a while as you pull his hair, and then he switches it with his index finger as he decides to lick your clit.

“Y-you can suck on it. I like it.”

He immediately takes your suggestion and, at the same time you feel him adding another finger inside you, he sucks on your clit as if he’s nursing.

You lose control of your hips, moving them like crazy while he fucks you like this.

His free hand travels to your breast, and you groan. “I’m so close, James. Sooo close. Fuck,” you moan again when he pinches your nipple. “Add another finger, please. Another-”

He does it before you can ask again, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to come all over his face, surprising yourself and, probably him. It feels like you’re drowning in pleasure, it’s insane. 

Even after you finish, he keeps licking just as fast, and you have to pull his hair harshly so he can stop.

“It’s enough, thank you, baby.”

He smiles, getting up to kiss you without hesitation. “I’m your baby now?”

“Of course you are. My big old baby.”

He laughs. “So old.”

“Yeah, my old man, who needs to take off his clothes.”

Bucky nods, standing up.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Ihm.” You crawl to the edge of the bed so you can help him take off his shorts quicker. It’s hard not to stare at his cock. He’s quite thick, and the head is covered in precum.

“What’s that face?” He laughs, fishing. You know he fishes too, but what can you say?

“You’re a big man.”

He laughs even harder. “Do you mean all of me or a certain part?”

“Fuck you!” You take his hand, forcing him to lean toward you. You won’t stroke his ego even more.

“Let me grab a condom first.”

You nod, eagerly waiting for him to get inside you as you watch him his open his nightstand. You brush off the instinct to cover yourself and spread your legs.

“How many times did you think about it?”

“About you in my bed? Too many times. I was gonna screw it over, you know?” He snorts. “The morning after my birthday. I wanted to come and confess I like and want you to myself, but you stayed away from me.”

You watch him open the package and roll the condom on as you answer. “I think your sister sensed it.”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Not the greatest subject while I am about to fuck you, but yeah, she knew. She saw right through me, and as we left she told me to go for it and do something scandalous for once.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Why would she encourage him to do that while you were still with her other brother? “She told me not to play with both of your hearts before we left.”

Bucky shakes his head while getting on his knees between your legs. “You can play with my heart all you want, doll. It’s all yours”

“I need something else of yours right now. Your cock, sir.” You tease him, knowing the effect your words will have on him. You enjoy this so much… having this power over him. “How about that?”

“Ihm.” Bucky kisses your lips briefly. “When you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, okay?”

You nod eagerly, wanting to push him. “What if I don’t want you to stop, what should I tell you then?”

“Just beg for my cock. You seem to like that.”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you? If you want me to beg, at least give me a reason to.”

And he gives you a reason to as he pushes inside you little by little. It’s a strange feeling... getting filled like this with no lube, but it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit uncomfortable at first.

“You okay?”

“Ihm, just full.” You smile.

“You’re so tight, and wet, and perfect, you know? I feel like... shit, it feels surreal.”

You look down, and you almost moan from the sight. His cock is more than halfway inside you.

“You feel amazing too.”

He kisses you as he starts to thrust, and you don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Maybe it’s also the build up and the time that has passed since you last had sex, but you can’t think straight. With every push, it gets harder and harder to focus or to simply keep your eyes open.

“Come on, princess, talk to me!”

He leaves kisses all over your collarbone and wherever he manages between his thrusts as he waits for you to speak. But what can you say? How can you speak?

“Y-you feel so good inside me, daddy. So good.” It’s like your mind is blank.

“Jesus!” His eyes meet yours. “Say that again, come on, baby.”

“What? That you feel good or...?”

“You know what, don’t be bratty now. I know you’re close.”

“I want it a little harder, daddy.” You smirk when you see him trembling a little, and before you can say anything else, he’s starting to thrust again, but harder just like you want.

“You’re mine, aren’t you? Worrying about me... taking me so well,” he moans, and you quickly grab the sheets when you feel one of his hands getting to your clit without warning. “Gonna come for me? Gonna come while everyone is downstairs wondering what takes you so long? Gonna come for your daddy?”

You do, of course you do, silently, yet strongly. It feels like heaven, and you don’t want it to ever stop. You can taste the pleasure at this point.

“Look at you,” he moans, still thrusting. “So beautiful as you come for me. Tell me you want me to come for you, too. Tell me-”

You interrupt him immediately. “Please, James, let it go, want you to feel good.” You kiss his neck over and over again. “Want to feel your come inside me.”

You both know that’s impossible, but it still gets him over the edge, and he comes, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Was it good?” You ask amused when his head falls dramatically on top of your breasts, his beard tickling you a little.

“I’m a changed man.”

He manages to make you laugh. “Liar!”

“Don’t call an old man liar, sweetheart.”

“What happened to love or baby?” You lazily run a hand through his hair as you wait for his answer.

“You’re my love and my baby, too..”

“How are you single again?”

“I’m not. You took me.” He grins devilishly before leaving a kiss on the valley between your breasts. Again and again.

“Ah, yes, I do.” You sigh, suddenly back to earth once the after-orgasm effect fades away. “We need to talk about it.”

“I know, and we will in the morning. Tonight, your job is to relax in the bath I’ll prepare for you while I go downstairs and make the punk end the party. Then we’ll sleep, okay?”

“Ihm,” you whisper absently. suddenly really tired as he slides out of you with a kiss.

“Gonna throw this away and come back, okay? Try not to sleep.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s talking about the condom.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky’s laugh warms your heart.

*

You wake up all sweaty, with Bucky’s arms around your waist and his beard on your neck giving you extra warmth. If you attempted to move him, he’s too heavy; therefore, you’d have to wake him up.

You sigh. “Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you move? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Say the magic word,” he whispers with the raspiest voice ever.

“Now. Or is it daddy?”

He laughs. “Gimmie a kiss then.”

“Let me brush my teeth first.”

“Nonsense!” He leans in to kiss your without  warning, tilting your head with his right hand.

You don’t deepen the kiss, though, using this as an opportunity to sneak out of the bed.

“Hey, come here!  I don’t care about your-”

“I stink. You might not care, but I do. Gonna be right back, okay?”

You’re not fast enough, though, since you hit him with the bathroom door when you open it. “Bucky!” You jump, touching your chest.

“Took too long.”

“Such a baby.” You snort, wrapping your arms around his neck, and get on your tip toes so you can properly kiss him this time.

“Now this is a good morning.”

You nod. “Yep. Good morning.”

“Good morning, little liar.”

You frown instantly, your heart starting to race. Shit!

“I am really sorry, Bucky. I really didn’t mean to...” You try to explain, but you sound like a broken record.

“I don’t mean that, love. I am talking about what your principles.”

You feel like your whole body is on fire. This can’t be real...

“Was all a game?” You slam your hands onto his chest. “Is this a game for you?”

“What? I mean your not sleeping or having sex policy, woman. Calm down! What games? I came after you cause you were taking too long, and you think this can be a game?”

“I don’t know... I just panicked.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “It sounded like you were gonna say it was all a game because I lied to you.”

Bucky shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“I would never do that. I am not a kid and I know what I want. I know why you accepted this, and you didn’t lie to me, you were hiding the truth from a stranger. They are the ones who should have said something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

You kiss his upper arm in return, and he smiles.

“So tell me... what happened to not sleeping in the same room? Not having sex...”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“It’s my job as your man to do that.”

You let go of him and smile. “My man… I’m not intending to return you.”

“Return me?” He giggles, suddenly amused. “Now that we’re here, I have a question.”

“What?”

“How jealous you were of Cherry on a scale from 1 to 10?”

You gasp. “Are you going to ask everything this morning or what?”

“Do you want me to do it at lunch?” He teases you. “You don’t have to be jealous. We aren’t even close friends anymore, so...”

“I don’t care about Cherry! She’s nice...”

He brings your hands to his lips and slowly leaves a kiss on each finger.

“Then why was my mocktail left there? It was crying for you to drink it.”

You snap, taking him aback as you grab him by the chin. “You’re mine, do you understand? No Cherry, no Berry, no Watermelon!”

He laughs as much as he can since you’re holding his chin, but then something glows in his eyes. “What about Strawberry?”

“No. One. No fruit, no vegetable, no one.”

“Done,” he answers immediately. “But same goes for you. No William, Will, Bill and so on.”

“He’s not my type, obviously.” You touch his bottom lip with your index finger. “I like them old, savage, and huge like trees.”

Bucky immediately bites the tip of your finger before licking it. “We need to tell everyone. How do we do it?”

You freeze, dropping your hand.

What will you do? If this blows up, and you know it will, where will you go? Where will you work? Your mom would try to fight for you, but you know your dad would immediately cut you off and make sure you’ll regret it. He’d want you to beg for forgiveness, so he will make sure no one hires you.

Bucky must have sensed your panic and immediately grabs your face.

“Hey, I can see you making a hundred of scenarios in your head, talk to me.”

“In the bathroom?” You ask, trying to lighten up the mood for some reason.

“Don’t you want them to know?” He asks confused.

“Of course I do, don’t get me wrong. It’s just...”

“Complicated?” He completes the sentence for you.

“A little.”

“We have time, I’m all ears.”

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Reconciliation: knight!price x Princess!reader

It felt odd walking to the barracks in the middle of the night but you wanted to do things right this time.

Usually when you snuck out in the middle of the night you never told anyone or had anyone come with you. No one would let you go to the fields at such an hour and sometimes you needed to clear your mind outside the stone walls of your bedchamber.

There was a lot on your mind and after everything that happened yesterday, you didn't want to be alone.

You were silent as you snuck in to the barracks. You made sure to step around the other knights before you came to Sir John Price, who was deep in sleep.

You hesitated to wake him only for a moment, a strange desire to feel his warmth against your fingertips spurring you forward as you shook him gently.

Price awoke immediately but disoriented. It took him just a few moments to recognize you before he gave you an incredulous look, opening his mouth to say something before you quietly shushed him.

You scurried out of the barracks and waited for him at the door, being joined by him just a few moments later. You pointedly ignored the soft look of his tousled hair and the sleep still in his eyes.

"Why are you awake at this hour?" He asked almost too loudly for your liking.

You shushed him again and quickly told him to be quiet while you looked around to see if anyone heard. Once you realized it was safe you turned to him and gave him a serious look.

"I wanted to watch the stars." You whispered and he looked at you with disbelief. "We'll both be caught if you don't be quiet."

"You couldn't watch them from your window?" He groaned barely above a whisper and you rolled your eyes.

"I could've very well gone out by myself like all the other times-"

"Other times?"

You sighed heavily and began to make your way to the fields. You should've just gone on your own, you hadn't been attacked any of the other times so you shouldn't feel any different...yet having him with you made you feel safer.

It was strange, you went from not wanting him around to waking him up so he could be by your side.

"How many times?" He demanded but you shrugged.

"Do you think I count?" You said and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You'll be the death of me, your highness."

You made it out into the field and every step you took disturbed the fireflies that hide in the grass. Already you felt like you had a clearer mind as you sat down.

"Sit." You beckoned him beside you. "I don't have the patience for your hovering right now."

Price kept some space between the two of you as he sat down with a grunt. He said nothing else and soon it was just the night, you both, and the stars.

You were in deep thought. You couldn't quite believe that your mother had called off your marriage because you never expected the king to have lied to you and her. You didn't like him but you certainly never thought he'd try to pull your kingdom in a war you had no reason to be in just because he had no money.

If the information hadn't been found, you would've been married off and stuck in a war, your kingdom would've suffered just as much and you might've died, your knights might have died.

You know that your mother mainly did it for political reasons; there wasn't proper time to prepare for a war and it would look bad on her and you if you plunged the kingdom into war.

But you didn't know why Sir John Price had done it?

You weren't stupid, you knew the only way this information was found was because of him yet you didn't know if he had told your mother for the reason she had to break off the marriage or for something else.

You wanted it to be for a different reason.

"How's your arm?" Price kept his voice low but didn't whisper.

"It itches." You frowned when you placed you hand over the wrappings.

"Good. It's healing."

You turned to him and he raised an eyebrow. You hesitated for a moment when you remembered the way he hadn't even hesitate save you even after all of the hell you put him through. He had dressed your wound without protest, he even apologized when he thought he hurt you.

It confused you. How could a man who you thought hated you treat you in such a way?

"I didn't properly thank you for saving me." You said and his face fell.

"You don't have to-"

"I do. Who knows what would've happened if you hadn't shown up...so thank you."

Price blinked a few times and sucked in his lips. He nodded and looked away from you as he shifted in his spot, almost like he was uncertain.

"Of course, your highness."

You wished he'd say something else, you wished he'd tell you why he had been so quick and why he had done it without a second thought. You wished he'd tell you what he really thought, if maybe he felt that strange fuzziness in his chest the same way you did.

"Why did you break off my marriage?" You asked and he tensed up.

"As I said before it's my duty to protect you." He said and you couldn't help but feel disheartened.

"Is that all?"

You hoped that your disappointment wasn't noticeable especially when he looked at you with slight confusion.

Price went quiet and he sucked in his lips again. He looked deep in thought as if he had think about what he was going to say. When his eyes met yours they were softer with a strange look in them as he took a moment before he spoke.

"You wished to not marry him."

You blinked with surprise, you chest going warm as you stared at him incredulously. That's all it took? You saying no? You're honestly not sure if you believed it, especially when it was Sir John Price who had fulfilled your request.

No man who hated a woman would do such a thing.

"And I thought it was rather rash that the Queen have you married so swiftly without any proper precautions." He quickly added on but you didn't really catch it.

He broke off your marriage because you didn't want it.

"Oh." That was all you could say.

"If it was an overstep-"

"It wasn't...just surprising is all."

It did make things more complicated, your mother had told you that she will have to find someone else but the search had seemed to slow down just a little, which meant you would have more time figure out what you truly wanted.

You weren't sure what to do but you didn't have the energy to think about all of that right now. Instead, you'd rather focus on the man who sat next to you.

As much as it was annoying to have him follow you everywhere it could be worse and after him saving you, you thought it would be best if things changed.

"Do you think we could be friends?" You wondered and it was his turn to look at you wish disbelief.

It would an inappropriate friendship, one you knew your mother would frown upon but no one had to know. You had kept your hatred for each other a secret, a friendship would be the same.

"If that's what you want-" He said but you sent him a look.

"I asked what you think, what you want." You said firmly. "I won't have you pretending. If you don't think we could be friends or at least more polite with each other then forget I said anything."

Price scoffed, a small smile pulling at his lips before he shook his head.

"I think we could be." He said softly. "If you stop sneaking out without me."

"Then you should be ready for me to wake you up at times like this." You retorted and he sighed heavily.

"You run me around, what's lack of sleep on top of that?"

You rolled your eyes and laid back to look at the stars. You watched them twinkle and imagined a life where you didn't have to worry about the kingdom and the politics, you didn't have to worry about whether or not someone was trying to exploit you or not. A time where you could marry someone you loved.

Out here you could relax. Under the stars you were just yourself.

"Are you really going to complain about this?" You gestured to the sky.

"No." He said softly as he watched you. "I supposed I shouldn't."

A/N: just because they're friends doesn't mean they won't bicker it's their love language

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @alilstressyandlotdepressy

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hey :) Hope you're doing well, I read some of your Aemond fanfics, and they were great. I was hoping you could write a Jacaerys x Alicent daughter fanfic. Something about an arranged marriage, you can take it anyway you wish, but could there be some angst in there. with the prompts 1. ‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’ and 14. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

Thank you :)

Request: Alicent’s second daughter to marry Jacaerys to unite the houses

Thank you for the compliment on my Aemond fics <3 More will be coming soon. Also, I was not able to use the first prompt as it doesn’t work with the characters. Alicent’s daughter’s blood is more noble than Jacaerys since her father is king and his mother is princess. I hope you still enjoy what I wrote for you <3

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Twenty years ago, when Viserys made Rhaenyra his heir, the knights and houses who swore allegiance to him had no choice but to accept her as their future queen. She was the king’s only child. But now that the king had a male heir — and a spare —, there were possibilities that people would oppose her claim to the throne and demand Aegon to wear the crown. 

To prevent the situation from happening, the king and queen, along with Rhaenyra, made an accord that Rhaenyra would ascend the throne following the king’s death, but to unite the houses, the princess’s firstborn son — and heir — would marry Alicent’s second daughter and, one day, inherit the throne together. 

Like any political marriage, you nor Jacaerys had a choice or say. At least he wasn’t an older lord you had met once or twice. You knew Jacaerys — a little. He was kind, loyal and protective. He was a good man. 

Prior to that arrangement, your grandsire, Otto, had been talking to you about having a tourney to meet suitors, but your mother had been quick to oppose to the idea. She didn't want you to be the victim of his scheming like she had been at your age. 

You were drawing under the weirwood tree when Jacaerys stepped into the yard, having just arrived in King’s Landing. Its red leaves matched the color of your dress, making him smile. He liked you in red. 

‘’I was told by the servants that my wife was out here.’’ 

Immersed in your drawing, you didn’t hear the prince approaching. You only glanced up when you heard your new title, the sound of his voice almost making you drop your charcoal onto your dress. Your mother would have been furious.

A soft laugh left your lips. Moons have passed since the wedding, yet being called a wife still felt strange. ‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife.’’

‘’Me either,’’ Jacaerys admitted. ‘’What are you drawing, Princess?’’ 

You reflected his smile as he approached. ‘’Just some birds.’’

Jacaerys walked up to the tree and sat beside you. He had a bit of dirt on his jacket from sparring with Ser Criston in the training yard. 

‘’How was your training session with Ser Criston?’’ you asked, raising a hand to run through the front of his hair, fixing an unruly curl that was on the wrong side. 

The older he got, the more he looked like Ser Harwin Strong. He had the same dark brown curls. But you would never dare saying that out loud. Although you meant it as a compliment, the mere insinuation of his illegitimacy was a vile insult to the crown — to the princess. 

‘’I disarmed him twice…and I ate some dirt.’’ The brunet grimaced, the earthy taste still lingering on his tongue. ‘’It was a blessing that no one was watching.’’  

‘’Mayhaps you need an opponent that is closest to your age?’’ you suggested, not finding it fair that he was sparring against a grown man who had years of practice as a knight. ‘’You could ask Aemond to train with you? He is training for the upcoming tourney, but I’m sure he would a accept to help you.’’

Jacaerys hummed, then leaned back against the weirwood tree, taking a moment of rest. He watched with quiet admiration as you continued your drawing, fascinated by the way you could, with a few strokes of charcoal, illustrate pretty much anything. Birds, flowers, dragons, or portraits of your family. 

Much like your twin brother, you favored solitude over socializing. When the betrothal was announced to you, you assumed that this tranquility would be disrupted, but it turned out that Jacaerys enjoyed it too. Partially. While he often thrived on the excitement and duty that came with his heir title, he found it relieving that he could find peace and comfort in your silent company. 

‘’I’m going back to Dragonstone in the morrow,’’ the prince announced, breaking the serenity of the quiet.

‘’How long for?’’

Jacaerys shifted, fearing the conversation that was to come. ‘’No. I’m going back to Dragonstone…permanently.’’

You stopped drawing, a sudden knot forming in your stomach. ‘’And what of me?’’ 

‘’You can join. Or not. That is up to you.’’ 

‘’And what of us? What of our marriage, Jace?’’ you asked, turning your head toward him. 

When you got wed in the tradition of Old Valyria, you pledged to one another that you were one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Jacaerys returning to Dragonstone would break your duties to your House. 

‘’Dragonstone is easy to travel from and back on dragonback.’’ You began picking at your fingers, and Jacaerys noticed, taking your hand in his to stop you. ‘’I tried, but King’s Landing is not my home. I don’t belong here.’’

‘’I can’t leave my family.’’ 

‘’I left mine for you.’’ 

You pulled your hand from his hold and narrowed your eyes at him. Jacaerys moving to King’s Landing after the wedding ceremony was your father’s idea, not yours. How dared he blame you for a decision you didn't make?

—

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[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (2)

MASTERLIST

Summary: The trials begin

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, death, I think is considered genocide because is a bunch of people, DRAGONFIREEEE. SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

MINORS DNI +18

Wordcount: 3.7 k 

Notes: Reader has purple eyes and silver hair!

They opened the door to your chambers slowly, to not scare you, to let you know of their arrival

“Lord Cregan Stark”, muttered the guard posted at her door

You didn’t even looked at him, you didn't care, you just looked over at Blackwater Bay, where hundreds of ships were making port, the banner of the House Arryn was waving in the highest masts

Too late

You thought

The Arryns, The Starks, the Tullys, all your mother’s bannermen had come to the capital, to you

Important, unprecedented, powerful

And yet

it meant nothing

it was too late 

Your mother, your father figures, your siblings, they were all dead, gone, killed, betrayed, slain, devoured, sunk

“Your grace”, the wolf called, “I have taken the city in your mother’s name”, he said firmly, “in your name”, he continued, “and if you allow me, I will bring justice to her”, you looked at him then, and only nodded.

“I need your words, your grace”, he was not asking, he was demanding, he was at your service, and yet, you immediately felt like you had to give him something in return.

He got to look at you then.

Like all the women in your family, and even some men, your beauty was beyond what words could describe, you were there, emaciated from years of trauma, death and war, and yet, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your beauty did not belong to this world, he thought, you were a goddess in human form, with those silvery strands and purple eyes

And he was the most imposing man you had seen in return, he felt like this… God, a god of war and justice, wisdom and prowess, like the colossus of Braavos, nothing could tumble him down, he had been here for hundreds of years, and he was going to continue there for hundreds more. it felt like with him by your side, nobody could hurt you, with him by your side, you were safe. Invincible 

Nobody needed to tell you who he was, just by looking at him you would have known, even though you had never seen him before 

“... And I need it in writing”, he said slowly and calmly, “do you trust me to seek justice in your name?”, did you? your brother befriended the man and after he came back, having promised your hand to him in marriage, he had say he was his best friend, and the most honorable men he had met, and that you were going to be happy and safe by his side

There was no one better than him

You went to the small desk in the corner of the room, parchment and quill in hand, you had no clue what you were doing, but you scribbled on the paper that you gave Cregan Stark the authority to act in your name, with long, pompous and unnecessary words of politics, those you knew well, your mother had make sure of it

“Cregan Stark”, you called, turning to him, your decree in hand, he stood still, raising his head and straightening his posture, “I command you to seek justice for my mother, the late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen” you said, your voice sounds strained, just because you hadn't spoken in so long, “I command you to imprison the ones who conspired and usurped her, and to punish them in my name”, you said then, giving him the paper

“I will be the hand that brings justice, my queen”, he sentenced, reading your words, he nodded approvingly. And you could not hide your surprise

“They named… me?”, you asked

“We did”, he said, “The Tullys, the Arryns, the Starks, the Tarlys, Tyrells…”, you only nodded

“I will come after, to make the announcement of the trials and those who will be put to them”

“Should I go?”, you asked

“A queen should not concern herself with such matters of justice”, he said

“Very well”, he nodded, and just like that, he exited your chambers

With him on the helm, you would be safe

Queen

You were a Queen know

Rhaenys, the Queen that never was, and then your mother The Black Queen

They had failed

And now, here you stood

Were you going to fail too?

Cregan walked slowly, the people that came across him would move away from him, letting him passed uninterrupted, bowing their heads

It was a good sign

The castle that had looked like it was abandoned, was slowly returning to life, people from all the most important families were here, and the first thing he needed to do was to send even more ravens, to all corners of the realms.

There was a New Queen, and all the most important families and their banner men had to be here for her coronation

The staff, maids, servants, soldiers, they did not had armies to fight of gold to use, but they had access to places and that access could be bought by enemies still lurking in the shadows

He had to make sure everyone who was to inhabit the Red Keep was completely loyal to their new Queen. A queen who just turned into a woman, if barely, a broken young woman, who had seen the death of everyone in her family but her baby brother. He had more work than he thought. He came with the purpose of installing the princess on the throne, make her Queen, and then pursue those traitors and turncloaks with his army, lead them to the gates of the citadel itself

But he was starting to think that this was going to be more politics and ink that swords and blood

Cregan Stark needed to relegate, and for that, he needed trusted men, loyal men to the cause of the late Queen and the new one now

And this is how he was going to accomplish that

When he walked into the throne room 

The small council, and their families where inside

It was to his knowledge that Baela Targaryen was also in attendance. The betrothed of the deceased Crown Prince Jacaerys. He basically know the girl, because of how much Jace would talk about her

As he made his way to the throne, he opened the decree and show it to everyone

“I have in my hand a royal decree from the Queen”, he said loudly, “In it, she declared me as her hand to seek justice for the late Queen Rhaenyra”

“Seek justice?”, of course Corlys Velaryon was the first to contradict him

“I will hold trials for the traitors and turncloaks”, he said, and everyone in the throne room began to either whisper nervously, gasp audibly, or said lowly words of disapproval.

His men entered the room, alongside the three of the seven remaining white cloaks he had send for, loyal to Queen Rhaenyra

“Ser Erryk Cargill”, he called, the man stood in front of him with his brothers, “Ser Adrian Redfort and Ser Loreth Lansdale”, the three of them bowed his heads, “do you recognize the true line of succession?”, he asked out loud

“Yes M’lord”, answered Erryk

“Do you recognize Queen Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter as Queen of the seven Kingdoms?”, he asked

“Yes my lord!”, they chanted at the same time, “we swore towards the Queen!”

“Great, do you recognize me, by this decree, hand of the Queen?”, he asked showing them your words, they look amongst themselves and nodded

“Yes my Lord”

“Very well, today, as my first act as hand, I will hold trials, to apprehend traitors who conspired against the true heir, resulting in a bloodied civil war and the death of thousands, do you stand by me?”, he asked

“YES MY LORD!”

“Then apprehend Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Tyland Lannister, Larys Strong…. for starters”, he muttered

The court was submerged in chaos 

And he didn’t stop there

He arrested twenty men, including Alard Baratheon, who was new to court and also Gyles Belgrave, former king’s guard to the usurper 

On charges of treachery, conspiracy against the rightful Queen, and other charges.

To every man he placed in chains, he held trails for.

Those on trial had the chance to defend themselves, justify their treachery, present witnesses and evidence of what they had done and why, and ultimately, offer their repentance.

It felt to Cregan to stand as judge, and sentence to death those who were found guilty 

The first day was slow, mostly sentencing, and organizing the witnesses and defenses. The night fell over the Keep rather quickly, soon all servants lit up the torches, as Cregan dismissed them all

He wanted to see you

Rather, he needed to see you

“Ser Erryk, it is to my knowledge that you had been a part of the Queen’s Guard the longest”

“Yes my lord”

“You are the new Commander of the Queensguard, when all of this is over, you alongside the Queen will choose another four to complete the brotherhood”

“It will be my honor, Lord”, he said firmly

“Good”, he said shortly, “one of your brothers will be posted with the Queen at all times, another with the prince Aegon”, he continued

The guard posted at your rooms nodded at his sight, and announced him, entering in your chambers

He found you with your baby brother, having supper.

It was the first time he got to see the young boy in detail, he was small for someone his age, but his ghostly eyes had seen things no child nor adult should ever seen, and he could tell just by looking at them, the pain and sorrow he suffered

“My Lord Cregan, please join us”, you invited him

You and your little brother, all that was left of the greatest dynasty of Westeros

He accepted your offer, sitting across from you. The small boy didn’t meet his eye, he was just playing with his food in front of him, he noticed than when he spoke, he shook like a leaf in the wind

“I made twenty arrests”, he said firmly, “Including Corlys Velaryon, Tyland Lannister and Larys Strong…”, you nodded, “not sure yet, but many are already too guilty, like Larys, or a former while cloak of the usurper…”

“Any hightower?”, you asked. Prince Aegon rose from his seat then, and walk silently to a small door in the other side of the chamber, disappearing from sight 

“Sorry about that”, you said, “he barely speaks to me, and I’m the only one who he talks with”

“He will heal, so will you”, he said, you nodded

“So what about the hIghtowers?”, you asked again

“Those who led armies… are dead… Otto Hightower, his sons, his brother and his oldest son as well…”, he continued, you took a sip of wine, trying to gain some courage 

“What about Alicent?”, you asked, he looked at you

“The Dowager Queen is in lockdown, in the Tower of the Hand your grace”, he said gently. You took a long breath

“I want her dead”, you said brokenly

“You want your first command as Queen to be the death of the former one?”, Cregan asked severely

“She is the cause of everything that happened”, you said, finally looking at him, “she hated my mother, she made her life miserable while we lived here as children, she filled my uncles with poisonous hate for me and my brothers, she turned the entire court against us, she called us bastards and made everyone else say it too, she manipulated her children to usurp my mother’s throne, she was the cause, of everything, I want her dead”, you said, and he looked back at you with warning

“Many would argue, that she herself was manipulated by her father, besides, your mother forgave her”

“I won’t”, you said, “and because she was a cunt and a fool everything should be forgiven? Ignorance is not a crime, but perhaps it should be, why should she draw breath while my entire family doesn’t?”

“I am your hand, your Grace, you wanted it so, so as your hand, my job, is to advice you”, he said gently, “and my advice is to imprison her, yes, but not execute her”, you looked at him with eyes filled with tears and he looked back at you, worried, “The Hightowers are decimated, yes, but they still remain a powerful family… one of the most powerful”

“That could be easily fixed”, you retorted, he frowned

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly, you kept quiet

“You said you wanted to bring justice to the realm, I want the HIghtowers dead, all of them”, you sentenced, “Lannisters, Velaryons… Baratheon… they all riled to Aegon’s side because of them”

Cregan looked at you, and you broke down crying in front of him

You tried to wipe your tears quickly, you held so strongly, but to no avail, you were crying in front of Cregan Stark

“I’m sorry”, you cried, wiping the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling

“I understand your anger, your rage”, he said softly

“My entire family is dead!”, you cried, broken, weeping, you had been holding onto your emotions for so long that now, that you felt safe, the fake wall you had sustained for all these tumultuous months as a hostage in the Keep finally broke down. You cried for long minutes, taking it all out of your chest, freeing yourself, even if just a little, of the sorrow of loss.

When you finally calmed down, reduced to only sniffles, Cregan dared to speak again

“My own uncle betrayed me and took my lands from me”, he confessed, you looked at him, barely able to see him

“What?”

‘I was very young when my father died, he was supposed to act as Lord regent, but he usurped me as Lord of Winterfell”, he told you, “my cousins supported him”

“What did you do?”, you asked, more calm

“I gathered the great houses of the North everyone supported me, I stormed my home, took him prisoner, him and my cousins”, he looked at you softly, gently, “I decreed them traitors, and took their heads with the millennial sword of my house”

“You did?”, you asked

“He who passes the sentence must swing the sword, my queen”, he said gently, “but that applies only to Lords I’m afraid”, you smiled

“I don’t want them dead”, you continued, “I mean, I do, but, I understand why I shouldn't’...”, he smiled softly

“Good”, he said

“But I want them to think that I do, I want them to beg, I want them to empty their coffers to please me, to reinstate the treasury”

“That we can do”, he said firmly, “we will use them as examples, of what happens when you mess with the dragon”, you nodded, “I will call them to court”

Cregan wondered what you meant by “that can be easily arranged”, he also thought about his army, it was great, yes, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to fight the might of the hIghtowers, it had to be, he did plan on marching to Old Town

“Tomorrow you will tell me, how much time passed between now, and when she went to sleep alright?”, he asked your Queenguard on the door

His second in command Jon Dustin was waiting for him

“Tomorrow before the trials but after the young Queen is tended to, you will gather all the servants and maids, everyone who works in this castle, and you will bring them to me”

“Very well my lord”, he nodded 

You were worse than he thought, you were angry, understandably so, but he needed to find a middle ground, punishments hard enough to please your rage, but not that extreme that the Kingdoms start to rebel themselves against their New Queen

The next day, the second day at court, Lady Baela presented herself in front of the Wolf of Winterfell, to plead for her grandfather

“Your grandfather is being charged of Regicide, he is the main suspect of poisoning the Usurper”, he said firmly, “Even though we repudiate his reign, the murder of a monarch cannot stand unpunished”

“He did it to prevent the death of a thousand more my Lord! he did it to protect the Queen, the prince, and me”, she fought

Corlys Velaryon was pardoned after that day, thanks to Baela, and then you, who approved of such forgiveness. Even though you did not wish to see your named grandfather and cousin

Tyland Lannister came then, and the Lion knelt before the wolf. Rhaenyra had him severely tortured, and some words scape him, but he had returned the treasury in his entirety, and pleaded for a space in the small council

He had been good to you and your brother, and Aegon made you forgive him, and you did

In the fourth day of the trial, Alard Baratheon was forgiven too, he belonged to a lesser branch of his house, now the main thanks to the death of Lord Borros, he had no part in the Dance, and as such, he bend the knee to the New Queen’s rule 

The other eighteen men were not so lucky, they were all found guilty of treason,  on the fifth, sixth and seventh and final, including and especially Larys Strong, the maester, and others. 

And in all those days, you were receiving updates by Cregan himself, and you were… meditating

People were being trialed and sentenced to death, they were going to pay for what they had done, this was your comfort, justice, simple and pure justice, for your mother, for your family.

You had promised yourself that this was going to be enough

If you kept punishing these lords, the people was going to reject you as their Queen

And you couldn’t fail

Never

You had seen what happens when you failed

So the sentence of these Lords, and then the Hightowers, and then, you had to calm yourself.

Wanting it or not, the crown had fallen on your head, against all odds, for better or worse.

But here is the catch, the crown was now attached to your head, loose one is loose both

And you owed it to your mother, Daemon, your father, whoever it is, to Jace, Luke, Rhaenys… you owed it to your family to keep your crown over your head, and your head over your shoulders.

So as the days turned long, you were preparing yourself too

You only appeared in court the seventh and last day of the trial

You wore black, you were still in mourning, it was a fearsome dress, you too it from your mother’s coffers, and a magnificent crimson red cape dances behind you as your walked

Your hair was braided with magnificent braids, instead of the crown

You entered the throne room, for the first time as Queen, everyone there bowed to you, everyone except those on trial

Cregan wanted you to take the oaths of House Lannister and Baratheon.

And both lords, Tyland and Alard bowed to you, kneeled in front of you, sincerely, atoning 

You gave him the pardon yourself 

The eighth and last day, you demanded those found guilty to be brought to the cliffs on the outside of King’s Landing

Ser Erryk was holding Blackfyre, right by your left side, and Cregan with his sword Ice, was standing in your right, soldiers, all of them wearing your colors, black and red, brought forth the eighteen men who had been sentenced to death

You could see in the small crowd those who had been pardoned as well, along all the great Lords and Ladies of your households who had sailed to the Capital from Dragonstone in the week after Cregan summoned them

“Pass me the sword Ser Erryk”, you commanded, he nodded, and passed you the sword of your family, it was heavy, you couldn’t raise it above your head to strike even if you wanted to

“My Queen, I can…” Cregan murmured

“He who passes the sentence should swing the sword”, you said firmly, looking at him, the exchange was only heard by you three, not loud enough for the others.

It was a windy day, and you could barely hear the voice above the whistling

“My Queen, I did not mean…”, with one look, he kept quiet, you grabbed the sword of the Conqueror in your hand. You turned to the men in front of you, Cregan moved away, just like Erryk to stand by the side. 

“You had all be found guilty of treason against the legitimate heir of the seven Kingdoms, you conspired against her ascent and work to usurp her”, you said loudly

“Aegon was the true heir!”, screamed Gyles Belgrave, “I'd rather die than serve a bastard! daughter of a whore! you are no true Targaryen!”, those screams and accusations didn’t even bothered you, not anymore

“Oh I am not a true Targaryen?”, you asked

The whistle of the wind was dimmed by a way more stronger, menacing sound

You saw, with pleasure, everybody shake in their places when they heard your dragon roar

“All the dragons were dead!”, cried that small man you didn’t even want to learn the name of. Even Cregan was surprised 

Vhaelar growled in the air, you heard the flap of her wings, and she landed heavily by your side. She roared loudly, menacingly. You felt her anger, or perhaps, what you were feeling was the mirror of your own emotions. 

You caressed the side of her face softly, Vhaelar purred

You saw how the former King’s guard peed his pants, shaking uncontrollably. Larys Strong, you alleged uncle, was only looking at you and smiling sickenly, 

“I Queen (y/n) Targaryen, Queen of the Rhoynar the Andals and the first men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm, sentence you all to die by dragon fire”, you sentenced, grabbing the pommel of Blackfyre tightly, you were nervous, but this was nothing you haven't seen before

This was it, this single act had to be the outlet of your rage.

Soon when you look at those men kneeled in front of you, they all took the faces of everyone you hated, Alicent, Aegon, Criston Cole, they were all there, dressed in green, looking at you in fear and reverence, kneeling on the ground 

“Dracarys”, you said firmly

You felt the joy of Vhaelar who set them on fire, you felt your skin getting warm by the heat of the flames

You saw the men turn to inhumane forms and then to dust

You saw it like that day in Dragonstone, and yet… now you felt nothing.

Only relief

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[targaryen-dynasty]

OBJECT OF DESIRE (4/?)

Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

Are you just a political ploy to Aemond? Or is there more to him rushing your wedding?

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, table sex, handjob, fingering, slight humiliation, praise kink, breeding kink, somewhat darkish and possessive Aemond (?), he might be an asshole and the king of gaslighting in this, Valyrian wedding, mentions of blood

WORDS: 5.5 K

NOTES: part 4 is finally here! Ty @zaldritzosrose 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! ✨ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ���𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The way from the outer yard into the castle passes in a blurr with your heart thrumming in your chest, drowning out the sounds of your footsteps. It’s so deep in the night that the castle is mostly deserted, but a few guards and servants cross your path from time to time, some giving you a curious glance, others not bothering much. 

Aemond’s movements are swift and quick as he guides you through the eerily silence of the castle of Dragonstone, leading you through a labyrinth of passageways that comes close to the one you’ve conquered not many hours before. 

You try to marvel at the architecture of the ancient seat, but the dim light of sparsely placed torches and candles doesn’t allow you to indulge in it too much. 

The man in front of you is determined, and your presence seems to be not more than an accessory to him with his attention fixed on something entirely different. 

“Where do you take me?” your voice is low as you speak, the hesitance palpable.

Aemond chuckles. “Patience.” His voice is soft, but not low enough to whisper, and still manages to make you aware of how eager you probably have to sound. “We are nearly there.” 

From what you gather, the chambers he brings you to are located deep within the bowels of the castle, requiring some time and knowledge of the place to reach it. You tackle another set of corridors and narrow staircases until you eventually arrive and stand in front of a thick, wooden door. 

Knocking raptly at the door, it takes a few seconds for an older man to open it, woken from his slumber. When your eyes dart to the collar he wears, you grow aware that he led you to the maester’s study. 

The man squints his eyes in the dim light, assessing who disturbs him at this hour. “Prince Aemond,” he eventually says, more surprised than matter-of-factly, and opens his door a little further. “How may I help you?”

“Maester Gerardys,” Aemond says, a firm tone underlying his words, despite keeping his voice at a low volume. “I require your assistance in officiating a marriage ceremony.” 

Gerardys now gazes at the two of you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly and his brow furrowing as he realizes the unusual nature of the request. “You intend to wed?” he questions. 

Nervousness flutters in your belly, more so as you process the skeptical tone laced within his voice, and you expect it all to fail miserably. But you didn’t count on Aemond’s stubbornness. 

“Yes, I do,” he affirms, his determination not faltering at the maester’s tone and gaze. “My wife-to-be and I ask you to officiate a ceremony that should take place immediately… in the traditions of our House.”

“You mean to marry at this hour, my prince?” Gerardys questions. “Well, I am no septon, and a marriage ceremony is not something that you do just on a whim. There are certain rituals involved that have to be observed. I am afraid that I cannot simply officiate a wedding on demand just because the prince asks me to…”

You tug at Aemond’s hand, mumbling a ‘perhaps ‘tis not meant to be’ but he doesn’t even turn to look at you. 

“I understand that, Maester Gerardys, I do. However, this matter is of utmost urgency. It has to be fulfilled tonight, as it can’t wait until daylight.” Aemond explains it calmly but assertively, his patience clearly running thin. There is a lilt of desperation in his voice, as if something bad will happen if the marriage ceremony is not performed at once. “We both wish for this to be done tonight. I am well-aware of the rituals involved in the tradition, and we are ready to complete them.”

It should concern you just how pressed he is on the matter, but all you can focus on is the fact that you will be a married woman in no less than two hours at last. 

Gerardys seems to be torn by the prince’s request, his brow furrowing again as he thinks over the situation. This clearly is no usual business for him, yet he does not feel as though he can refuse Aemond who insists on seeing the ceremony performed immediately. “Very well, Prince Aemond,” the old man sighs, “I will see to the arrangements.”

Despite the maester’s agreement, Aemond doesn‘t release a sigh of relief. He stands as still and composed as before, although you can spot his shoulders drop slightly. “We shall meet in the Chamber of the Painted Table,” his voice remains firm and serious. “Do not let us wait for too long.”

You briefly hear Gerardys starting to scramble to gather the items necessary for the ceremony before you’re led back the same path you’ve come. Suddenly, it feels all too serious, and your belly starts to flutter, more so as Aemond squeezes your hand. 

“I-I am not aware of the rituals involved?” you question, looking at the ground to watch your steps. 

As he notices the nervousness in your voice, Aemond turns around and smiles in a reassuring manner, his eye twinkling. “There is nothing to be concerned about,” he says. “I assume you are confident in the tongue of our ancestors?” 

You almost bump into him as he stops so abruptly, craning your neck to meet his eye. “I-yes, probably not as confident as you are, but my scholar has taught me everything within his capabilities.” 

“Very well. I shall tell you what to do, but you must trust me, my lady.” 

“Very well,” you echo his words, accompanied by a gulp. As you set up towards the spacious and opulent Chamber of the Painted Table, the room is dimly lit by several torches and candles. Servants scurry around the place, more than you’ve seen on your whole way through the dark pathways, and seem to take care of everything around you. 

Aemond’s steps bounce off the wall as he approaches a servant, and the ‘see to the table’ he commands is hardly audible to you. 

You walk around the chamber, taking in the decor, and drag your fingers over the large table standing in the center of it, following its carvings. The shadows of carved mountains and rivers dance in the dim light of the few candles standing on it, capturing all your attention. You marvel at the intricate design, but are quick to pull your fingers away when it suddenly lits up, the carvings glowing like lava running through molten rock. 

With wide eyes, you look towards the head of the table, and spot Aemond standing there with a smirk on his lips as servants emerge from under it. He leans against it with one hand splayed out on its surface, indicating that there’s no threatening heat radiating off of it. And indeed, when your fingers trail over the Vale of Arryn, you don’t burn them. 

“Are you sure this all is not going a little too fast? That we should not wait just a few more days?” you eventually ask, your doubts knocking the smirk right off of his face. 

Aemond walks around the table, coming closer to you, but keeps a fair distance. “There is no need to wait,” he retorts. “I see no reason to drag this out, unless you want to wed one of the men ordered by your father?” 

You flinch at his words, remembering the queue of men presented to you by your father. A few moments pass as you hesitantly raise your head, locking your eyes with Aemond’s good one. “Do you wish that I did?”

“No,” he replies, sternness lingering in his voice. “I do not wish that at all. I wish for the privilege of having you all to myself.”

While his words cause the hairs on the back of your neck to stand, a shiver following in their wake, you can’t suppress the doubts. ”Then why hurry?”

“Why wait?” Aemond retorts. "I have helped you obtain your dragon, your bloodright, and now it is your turn to see through on the promise made." 

"Am I a political ploy and nothing else?"

His expression darkens with your words. For the first time, the veneer of his composure and politeness towards you begins to slip slightly, his patience running thin. “I did not say that.”

Not giving him a reply, your eyes dart down to the table. You know you’re getting too bold, that you should not have said it, but you can’t help but feel as though the marriage being rushed is simply another political gambit. As your eyes flicker back up to meet his, a faint twinkle of anger and fire can be seen within them. “Do not pretend as though you are not getting anything out of this.”

“Now why are you so concerned with what I am getting out of this?” Aemond asks bluntly, voice as sharp as the edge of a knife. “Do you not trust my intentions? Or is it that you are not happy with the arrangements seeing that you’ve finally got your dragon?”

The change of tone prompts you to take a step back from him, a faint pout appearing on your lips as you feel your anger and defiance slipping away, replaced by a certain amount of apprehension. 

“Please, do not misunderstand me,” you say swiftly, softening your tone and lowering your voice to calm the situation. “I simply… I feel a little unsure of rushing into this. It is only… I have heard many tales, both from court and from my own father. Men are not known to be the most trustworthy, and I have no idea what to make out of someone so eager to wed me when I do not know his thoughts behind it.”

"You silly girl, do you not yet understand your role goes beyond the political agenda of the seven realms?" He reaches to grab you, holding your attention. "It goes beyond what your father or my father says. The gods made you for me, you have always been fated for me and me alone."

Your heart feels as though it might leap from your chest at his words. You’ve never been looked at the way he does now, never been treated that way. Your nerves and anxiety don’t vanish completely, but a part of you starts to calm down; he easily manages to put you at ease with just a few words. 

You lower your head, melting under his touch and words. “I–That is…” you trail off. 

The footsteps of Maester Gerardys approaching fill the large chamber, catching you off guard and causing you to pull away from Aemond. He’s unfazed, despite Gerardys staring at you and taking in the scene. 

Clearing his throat, he steps further into the chamber, carrying a great deal of utensils with him. “We shall commence, then?”

Aemond’s shoulders drop slightly with relief as the maester finally joins you. “By the blessings of the Gods, we shall indeed,” he says, walking around the table to the end that faces the hearth. You follow silently, and watch the older man prepare everything. 

“You stay here,” Aemond barks at two servants just shy of your age as they make their way towards the door. “We shall need every witness to our union we can get.” Both women nod their heads once, and stand rooted to the spot. 

Turning around, Aemond faces you now with Gerardys standing in front of the pair of you. The maester smiles warmly, albeit it also seems a bit forced, and glances at you as he begins with the most important question of it all. “Do you two come to this union free and willing, without prior coercion or undue influence?”

While Aemond’s answer comes quick and determined, a brief moment of silence passes as you process the question. “Yes, I do,” you speak softly yet hesitant. 

Maester Gerardys nods silently at both your confirmations, and hands Aemond what appears to be a shard of dragonglass. Your eyes widen when he brings it up to your lips, and the ‘let me just…’ he mumbles is little comfort as the sharp knife pierces your lip. You wince at the stinging pain and taste of copper that soon fills your mouth, clearly coming with the cut, but a part of you is grateful he’s done it without so much preparation. 

“Now ‘tis your turn,” he says, handing you the shard. You briefly glance down to where your hands meet, before your gaze is fixed with his again. 

The shard is lighter than anticipated, which makes the trembling of your hands more apparent. You’re skilled with a bow and arrow, but have yet to hurt anyone seriously. Bringing the shard up to Aemond’s mouth, the tremors don’t ease with you dragging it over his bottom lip. 

Blood amasses at the cut, and you mirror his gesture as he gathers yours with the pad of his thumb. The touch is so intimate, heat crawls up your spine, making you almost miss out on his next instructions. “I shall draw the glyph for blood over your forehead, and you do the same with the one for fire. Are you familiar with how to draw it?”

You nod. It’s one of the few glyphs you’re more than familiar with as Maester Lomys has always insisted for you to learn how to spell your House’s words; even though you’re only half Targaryen. 

Aemond uses your blood to draw said glyph on your forehead, and you’re quick to follow his instructions with the supplementary glyph. 

But that moment of peace doesn’t last long, not when Aemond takes the shard from your hand to cut the palm of his own without any sign of pain or discomfort to cross his features. 

You have hurt yourself plenty of times before, merely counting how often you fell off your horses as you learnt how to ride, but it has rarely happened on purpose and most definitely not with something as sharp as the dragonglass. And that is the moment you find yourself unable to move, unable to take it from his hand. 

“The pain disappears quickly,” Aemond tries to reassure you, sensing your hesitation; a stark contrast to how stern and annoyed he was mere moments ago. 

The coldness of the fragment nestles into your open palm as he places it into it, and Aemond bows his head once in a way to encourage you. 

His words bring you not much comfort, but the prospect of your future does. You have claimed a dragon, you’re meant to be the future Lady of Runestone and close to be married to the man that’s riding the largest dragon alive; there’s no place for you to think of the things that could possibly cause your downfall. 

A deep breath is exhaled the moment the dragonglass pierces the palm of your hand, opening your skin with a clean cut. The pain is delayed, and for a brief moment all that clouds your mind is the rush of your warm blood, and the sight of it so quickly filling the hollow of your palm. 

“Hen lantoti… ānogar,” Maester Gerardys cites, a thick accent and hesitance weaving itself through the otherwise smooth tongue. It makes it difficult for you to fully understand what’s being said. “Va s ȳndroti v āedroma.” Blood of two, joined as one. 

As Aemond unites your hands in a firm grip, you tilt your head up to look at him, taking him in wholly as the worst part has passed. You don’t dare to break the intense eye contact to look at where your hands meet.

The sensation of your blood trickling out of the cut has already been very adamant, but with Aemond’s blood combined, several droplets all but seep out from your joined hands, gathered in a goblet he holds underneath. 

Aemond squeezes your hand gently as the maester ties a red ribbon around them, binding you to one another and sealing the pact. 

“Mēro perzot g īhoti, el ēdroma iārza s īr. Izulī amp ā perzī, pr ūm ī lanti s ēteksi,” Gerardys mumbles in the background, but your attention is captured by Aemond bringing the goblet full of your blood up to his lips. Ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. 

He does not hesitate one moment and takes a generous sip of the goblet, crimson tinting his chiseled lips as he lowers it again and hands it to you. You capture it between your fingers, raising it to your lips and following suit. The very adamant taste of copper lingers on your tongue, and it’s hard to swallow without grimacing. A smirk tugs on the corners of Aemond’s lips at that, making you blush and mouthing ‘my apologies’ at him. 

Although the goblet is lowered by you, you two do not move otherwise. There’s a thick tension between you, fueled by you gazing longingly into each other's eyes. Neither of you smiles or grins, just taking in the moment and its significance. 

“Hen jenȳ māz īlarion, q ēlossa oz ūndesi.” A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. 

Both of Aemond’s hands come up to cup your face, the pad of his thumb dragging gently over your nicked bottom lip. You stare at him with wide eyes and heavy breaths falling past your parted lips, every fiber of your body filled with heat that makes the waiting unbearable. And with his hands holding you, you can’t even bring your face even closer to his. 

“S ȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳk k īvia mazvestraksi.” The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.

Time stretches on as Aemond slowly dips his head toward yours, finally, holding it firmly in place as his lips collide with yours. The taste of blood on your tongues and lips doesn’t seem to subside at all, very much prominent and bringing a certain tint to it all. There is no gentleness in this kiss, the passion underlined by hunger and longing for more. 

Maester Gerardys clears his throat and inevitably catches your attention again, causing you to pull back from each other. “The marriage is now complete,” he states matter-of-factly. “If you’ll excuse me now, Prince Aemond,” he bows his head once before turning to you. “Princess. I shall retire to my chambers once more.”

“You may leave, too,” Aemond commands the servants, who quickly make a beeline for the doors. Watching the master depart after that, a faint sense of relief washes over the both of you. 

As soon as the doors shut behind him, Aemond’s eye flickers back to yours. He steps toward you, closing the distance between you until you can feel the warmth of his breath fan over your skin. “Well now, little princess,” he teases. “Are you familiar with the privileges a husband expects from his wife?” 

The blood rushes to your face as you realize what he implies, your heart starting to beat faster, though you cannot deny that it has piqued your interest. Your face remains neutral, however. “Oh, what are they?” you ask, deciding upon acting more innocent than you truly are just to mess with him. 

Aemond’s lips quirk up into a slight smirk as he notices your feigned innocence. It’s obvious that you’re aware of the true nature of a marriage, but he decides upon playing this game, at least for just a bit longer. “There are many,” he says teasingly, bringing his hand to the small of your back to draw your body closer to his. “And I am certain that you’re well aware of what some of those expectations might be.”

“Hm… some,” you whisper in reply, your tone getting flustered. A smile tugs at your lips as you try to hide the growing excitement his proximity is causing inside of you. 

He’s amused by you trying to act as though you’re not tempted, as though you both don‘t desire the same thing. “Shall I tell you or show you?”

You try to keep your composure at his words, but it’s obvious they are starting to have an effect on you. “Show me,” you whisper, the words slipping out between your trembling lips. 

While one of his hands comes up to rest at the back of your neck, the other grazes over your side down to grasp at your hip, and your body melts into his touch as his lips find yours once again. The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as you tilt your head in response to his tongue dragging over the curve of your lips, silently asking you to part them for him. And you do, prompting him to deepen the kiss. 

Aemond deliberately backs you up against the Painted Table, its edge pressing firmly against your rear, and splays his hand over the small of your back. He gives you no chance to escape his lips to catch your breath; when you pull away, his lips chase yours, eager to capture them again. 

A spark of something familiar ignites in the pit of your belly, something that has you pulling back just slightly to gasp against his kiss-swollen lips. You were so lost in the kiss, that you haven’t paid any mind to him herding you like a sheep, keening at the proximity and attention.  

But Aemond doesn’t stop at that. 

The laces of your breeches are undone swiftly by him merely using one hand, clearly experienced with it being his everyday attire. He pushes the thick fabric and your undergarments down to pool around your knees, exposing your soaked cunt to the chill air of the chamber. 

You, however, don’t give his fingers time to drag through your swollen folds. Catching him off guard and coaxing a grunt to escape his throat, your hand trails over the hardness in the front of his breeches, cupping it over the fabric and squeezing it slightly, before your fingers unravel the laces just as skilled as his did yours before. 

You can tell by the way he finally breaks the kiss as your hand slips inside of his breeches, wrapping around his hard, throbbing cock, that he’s taken by surprise. He instinctively bucks his hips against your hand, and releases a gasp as the cold air hits him with you freeing his length from its confines, pulling it out and stroking it deliberately slowly. 

Aemond’s fingers dig into your hip as a means to steady himself, a breathy ‘fuck’ spilling past his lips. 

“Is this one of these… privileges?” you tease, although it’s more of a whine with two of his nimble fingers easing into your cunt without a warning, pumping in and out of you in the rhythm of your hand tugging on him. It encourages you to move your hand quicker along his shaft in hopes of him doing the same, but when that doesn’t happen, you start rocking your hips against his hand to which he just tsks in disapproval. 

His lips find the side of your neck, and you’re quick to tilt your head to the side to grant him even more access. When his hot breath fans over your skin as he speaks, words laced thickly with arousal, a shiver runs through you. “It certainly is,” he groans. There’s a wry smile on his lips as he pulls back, meeting your half-lidded gaze. “But that is not all.”

The implication of his words causes your heartbeat to quicken, your walls tightening around his fingers in response. He draws in a sharp breath at that. “And… what else is there?” you ask, breathily. “Are you just talking or will you show me?”

“My my, what an eager, little wife I got myself here,” he taunts with a scoff, bucking his hips into your hand once. Your cheeks lit up at his words and the tone of his voice, but there’s no chance for you to cower under his piercing gaze when he peels your hand off of him and turns you around; his patience seemingly not infinite.  

He pushes you flatly onto the table, the warmth radiating off of it seeping into your cheek. Towering over you with one hand buried in your hair, the length of his hard cock presses into the crevice of your arse and makes you whimper; your body aching for more. “Are you not satisfied with what I’ve shown you so far?” he mocks, his slick coated fingers trailing over your hip. 

Pushing your lips into a pout, you try to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, but not without shoving your hips back against him to rile him up even more. “I just… I just wish to indulge in what my husband has to offer,” you whimper. Using that term of endearment feels unfamiliar, yet it just manages to spark more desire inside of you. 

“Oh, is that so?” he drawls. “What luck that it’s an option which lies open to you.”

He rises back to his full height, and grabs both of your hands to pin them behind your back, locking the wrists with one of his large hand and rendering you immobile. There’s no need for him to tug himself to full hardness, as just the sight of your cunt slick with your arousal is enough to get him rock hard. 

“That perfect cunt of yours is weeping for me.” You don’t have to look at him to see the smirk draped across his lips, the smugness very much prominent in the raspy drawl of his voice. 

Aligning the tip with your entrance, he’s met with little resistance, your soaked and swollen folds embracing him in one, swift thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. You moan in unison at the intrusion, your walls fluttering and clenching around him to fully accommodate his size. 

He pulls out of you almost completely with merely the tip of his cock remaining buried inside, the lack of his fullness already driving you insane. With his hand around your wrists, he proceeds to pull you back onto his cock while he thrusts his hips forward, meeting you halfway and resulting in his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive pearl. 

He pounds into you with reckless abandon in the following, the tip of his cock brushing the spot inside of you that has your vision grow blurry over and over again. 

With your face pressed against the table, you aren’t able to spot the desire blazing in his eye. The only thing that makes you aware of the excitement he finds in your unison is the tone of his husky voice. “When I am done with you,” he rasps, bowing forward to put more of his weight onto your small frame beneath his. “You will never desire another cock but mine.” 

Being in a stupor because of his cock, you’re not able to whine and whimper more than a string of yesses, the last one interrupted with a hard, percussive thrust. Then follows another, and another, until you can’t focus on anything else but the delicious pressure inside your cunt. 

You push your hips back against him, and he rears up to pull you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfway which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin bouncing off the walls.

The ‘gods’ he mumbles is hardly audible over both your moans and pants, but still doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You find it extremely pleasing to know that you’re able to coax him out of his composure more easily than you’ve first assumed; the highest praise he could ever give you. 

With one hand on your hip, he hoists you further onto the table, your feet leaving the cold ground beneath and dangling in the air. The edge of the table cuts into your hips in a way that slowly but surely becomes uncomfortable with the force of his thrusts, but it also ruts so perfectly against your pearl each time; juxtaposing pain and pleasure, making your mind hazy and your body go limp. 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your peak builds in the pit of your stomach with the right stimulation, taking over your body and rippling through you with soaring pleasure. 

Each time the sac of his stones slaps your little bud, your body tries to jerk away from him – but to no avail with your hands still pinned behind your back. Your body trembles in his grasp, and the tremors grow more and more apparent with each second he doesn’t pull out of you, prolonging your peak. 

“I shall breed you until you’re round with my seed,” Aemond rambles behind you, his own mind scrambling from pleasure. “To show everyone that you’re mine.” 

“S-Seven hells, yes!” It’s the overstimulation making yourself more desperate for his release, begging for his seed. “Please, please… please.”

Your walls tremble around him, choking him so tightly your husband has to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort is fruitless when his pulsing cock spends itself inside of your quivering walls. His grunts and groans fan into the chilly air of the chamber, and you’d love nothing more than to feel them fanning over your lips instead. 

Out of instinct, you start to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milk him for every drop of his seed. Aemond is out of breath by the time his movements come to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he means to make sure his efforts bear fruit after the first try. And you relish in it, despite the vulnerable position it brings you in.

Releasing your wrists, his hands proceed to grope at your arse while he considers your trembling, satisfied frame. He can’t help but feel somewhat proud of himself. 

Being the first one to break the silence, you flush as you hear his raspy voice ring out. “Well, I see you were certainly eager to engage in those privileges,” he says, his voice laced with mischief. “Very eager.”

You chuckle softly, and when you move to push yourself off the table, Aemond takes that as his cue to pull out of you. Marveling at the sight of his seed slowly oozing out of your swollen cunt, he’s quick to stuff it back inside using his thumb. The gesture brings another wave of heat to your cheeks, more so when you feel his chest press flush against your back and the warmth radiating off of him with his finger still inside of you. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hold onto the table for support. “You certainly did not waste any time in… indulging either,” you reply. Not just your body is trembling with the after-effects of your intimacy, but also your voice still shakes. 

With a chuckle, Aemond dips his head down and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “We only have a few more hours before our absence is called into question by the court. We must return promptly.”

Your husband is the one fixing your attire, pulling up your smallclothes and breeches before he tugs himself back into his own. And it makes you well aware that the semblance of calm and freedom is very much over now. “They will realize where we have been anyways once they see me arriving on dragon back,” you counter with a pout on your lips. Perhaps that would coax him into staying just a little longer. 

He brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging on your bottom lip to free it from its position. “Yes, they may very well come to such a conclusion, but at least we shall preserve some of our dignity if we do return after a reasonable time. The last thing we need now is the whole court speculating on our whereabouts. It is already scandalous enough as it is.”

At his words, you let out a soft, grumbled noise of frustration, although you can’t deny that he has a point. “And what do we do then? We cannot just return to court and pretend as if nothing has happened.”

“No, I suppose not,” he replies. “We shall confront our fathers.”

Though you know your own father won’t take kindly to the news, you’re certain that your uncle won’t bat an eye upon hearing of it. Still, your demeanor shifts at hearing the notion that you’ll be facing your father, your eyes flickering with a hint of worry. “That will be just as bad as not returning to court at all.” 

Truth is, you haven’t spent a second thinking of the consequences, always pushing the thoughts aside for a later time. And with that time being now, a tiny amount of sweat appears at the back of your neck. 

“It won’t,” Aemond says firmly, his tone taking over a sudden sharpness. “At least then we shall be the ones defining our own fate. They will have no chance than to listen to us, rather than making an assumption based on hearsay.”

You exhale a deep breath. “Back to King’s Landing, then.”

[ystrike1]

My Happy Marriage - By Agitogi Akumi (9/10)

The anime adaptation of this is also good. Go watch it.

Redemption and trauma don't go together often. Most of the time it's easier to kill off evil characters, and rush into a happy ending. This happy ending is slow and painful, and our heroine has to fight for every single shred of happiness she gets.

Miyo is from the Saimori family. She was born for entirely political reasons. Her father had a beloved lover, who he had to abandon to marry her mother. He did his duty, but then his political bride died young.

He immediately brought his lover back into his life. He officially married her, and he gave her complete power out of guilt.

Miyo loses her right to...everything. Her new mother sees her as an obstacle who almost ruined her true love. When they have a daughter that new daughter is superior in every single way.

Kaya Saimori is beautiful. Smart. She also has supernatural powers, as a daughter of the Saimori family should.

Miyo didn't manifest, so the abuse her "mother" puts her through gets worse...until finally Miyo is completely degraded.

At 19 she is a soulless husk who only apologizes.

She also loses her only friend. Kaya gets to marry him instead of her. Kaya gets the family home. Kaya gets the spirit power. Kaya gets the love. Kaya gets the respect.

Miyo can't even be jealous.

She is so drained.

So tried of being ignored.

She "turns off" when her "mother" abuses her. She dreams of the mother who loved her. Of the love and future she cannot have because she is a useless...

Her father marries her off to a powerful stranger. The head of the Kudo family. He has burned through a half dozen fiances. He doesn't like rude, prideful, rich women. He lives on a small estate despite his wealth, and he protects the world from supernatural monsters that rarely appear. He believes his work is important, even if said monsters only attack once or twice a generation.

He is a VERY serious man.

Miyo wins him over by being serious too.

She does not look down on him for living a quiet life.

She thinks his job is cool as hell.

She doesn't think he's a boring, stiff man.

She thinks he will abandon her when he notices she has no powers.

He could not care less.

He thinks her cooking is delicious, and when she makes a hair ornament for him he wears it right away. They are both stiff and awkward, together.

They are a great couple.

When we see Kouji again he is miserable. He misses his only love. Here we see the illusion break. Miyo thinks Kaya is beautiful, irresistible and charming. She only thinks that way because of her isolated and awful upbringing. Kaya is actually an unbearable brat. Kouji isn't moved by her beauty or good breeding in the slightest.

In fact, he goes a little crazy.

He decides to pretend to like Kaya, so he can protect Miyo from her family. You see, they're all idiots. Miyo doesn't have powers, but she is her mothers daughter. Her real mother was from a family that can control dreams and minds. The most terrifying family. Her father realizes he gave away a very valuable bride for a low price, and now he wants her back.

Kouji has her back though. He is her shadow ally, even during his most crazy moments.

Kaya falls in love with Kudo because she's a superficial moron. She also knew Kouji is in love with Miyo. She just took him to make Miyo miserable.

....bitch...

Kouji resists her bullcrap, because he knows she's a liar.

Kaya's jealousy festers and explodes when she sees Miyo happy with her handsome husband. Her happy ending is at hand at last. Kudo storms to Saimori house. He demands an apology for Miyo before the marriage. He says she will be treated with respect from now on, or he will never use his considerable army influence to help them. He doesn't care if Miyo was given to him for political reasons. She is his now, and he has no real use for her family. He's strong enough on his own. Funnily enough he only accepted the proposal because he was tried of being nagged about marriage.

Now, he is a happy man who will protect his happy marriage.

Miyo, sadly, gets kidnapped. Kaya spews toxic crap. She says she is more suitable for the handsome and powerful Kudo. Her horrible mother beats the shit out of Miyo the whole time. Miyo does not apologize. She knows happiness is within her reach.

The Saimori family isn't that great.

Turns out their power is on the decline. Kaya has excellent supernatural sight, but no combat abilities. She's middle of the pack. She was never special.

Miyo doesn't want to be special.

She wants to be happy.

She doesn't apologize. She defys her "mother". She looks down on Kaya, and she says nobody deserves Kudo except her.

Kudo storms the house for real. He burns the gates with lightning. Kouji alerted him about the kidnapping. His plan to be a shadow actually worked great. He never once hesitated to be there for Miyo, even though he wasn't powerful enough to actually save her.

He stands back, and he watches Kudo crush the Saimori house. The awful house that abused his bride.

Miyo smiles.

She is proud of herself, because she didn’t even think of giving up her husband. The voices in her head didn’t win.

My Happy Marriage is very...complicated.

Miyo struggles. Her mothers powers do manifest. The darkness makes her depression worse. The abuse she went through doesn't go away. She still believes she is stupid, and unworthy. Kudo has to slowly help her heal. He says he will kill anyone that gets in the way of her happiness (basically)...and the story moves on.

Kaya becomes a servant in a strict house, but she's still heir. She's still going to marry Kouji. Kouji has decided to better himself. He was thinking about killing Miyo, and then himself, so they could escape their hellish lives together. Now that she's happy he plans to move to the city. He's actually going to be with Kaya and rebuild the Saimori house into a respectable one, from the ground up. No execution. No gratuitous revenge.

Life goes on.

It's frighteningly mature.

Killing Kaya wouldn't solve a damn thing, because she's an immature idiot. Technically her mom was abusing her too. Kaya was pushed to be perfect and powerful. Her mother used to threaten her and say she would end up like Miyo if she didn't do well. So, in the end nobody in the Saimori family was happy.

Miyo still isn't completely happy, but she's trying.

[emry-stars-art]

Children of the Moriyama-Day thrones ✨

I’ve been putting off an explanation for the kingdom Evermore for FOREVER and honestly a lot of it is directly pulled from this post and some more chats with @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of (thank you ily you’re so smart)

So if you wanna know like 80% of the pre-timeline Moriyama-Day story, read on:

SO. In Evermore, at least amongst nobility, all importance is placed on direct descendants of family lines. Spouses to the royal family can claim titles if they so choose - the equivalent titles are reserved for that eventuality - but their children will always have higher titles than them (ex: the husbands of the Day line queens are not princes but instead something closer to dukes, while their children will be Day princes and princesses, as well as the reverse for the Moriyama wives). This means that every once in a while, if a spouse would prefer to live privately rather than subject themselves to the more stressful aspects of noble life, they remain only vaguely known by the public. This doesn’t happen often by any means, but it does give the royal family an excuse for why the father of Kevin Day has not made himself known.

Each generation has a shared title - the most fit and capable to rule will take the titles of kings and queens*, while their children are princes and princesses. The eldest of each family in the generation adds “high ___” to their title once a younger sibling is born. This is why even though Kevin is the younger between him and Natalie - the next Day generation - he is the heir to the Day throne because his mother was the elder sister. The names in pink are the highest ranking royalty of their generation, whom the throne is passed to.

*(Maybe Evermore retires their monarchs once they’re unfit to rule, or maybe the younger generations take them by force, thus proving they are fit for the throne. I could see it going either way tbh)

The Moriyama line here is continuing essentially as is usual and expected. There’s family members among each generation and the procession of power is in place. The Day family, on the other hand, has almost entirely crumbled.

Queen Shields left the throne of her own volition, taking her daughter Natalie with her. She left the throne and renounced her Evermore citizenship for reasons unknown to the public, though the Moriyama family brushed it aside as the whims of a young woman that clearly couldn’t handle the lifestyle. For this reason, even if she was to come back to Evermore, she would no longer be able to claim her place among the Day family. Her daughter Natalie Shields, on the other hand, was hardly more than an infant when she was taken, and so the Evermore nobility could not say she renounced her throne or her citizenship by choice. If Princess Natalie ever returned to Evermore and demanded her throne, she would have it.

High Queen Kayleigh, as we all know, has passed away. Her son Prince Kevin was raised beside Ichirou and Riko by the Moriyama family as the sole remaining member of the royal Day line. Though he and Prince Riko had always been close because of their age (High Prince Ichirou was at that age range and just older enough that he found littler kids and especially siblings to be “annoying”, the way kids do), as they grew up, Kevin realized that even if Riko was his best friend and brother, he himself had started agreeing more with Ichirou’s political views and ideas. Riko swallowed the Evermore ideals of “conquer and prosper” as any younger brother might. Kevin and Ichirou never had to fight for the power handed to them - they were beginning to see that those traditions were becoming obsolete, and there were better ways to expand and run a country.

Riko did not like the attention Kevin was suddenly getting from Ichirou.

So when Kevin said, suddenly and surprisingly, that he was going to travel before marriage - see what and who around them might benefit Evermore - no one could really stop him. He was by that point the Day crown. High King Kengo allowed it. (He wouldn’t have, had Ichirou not so strongly championed for the idea.)

Young king Kevin is not technically an Evermore deserter or traitor. The Moriyamas cannot prove that he is. But the longer he stays in Palmetto, the more suspicions arise that he isn’t there only on business, or even that he might never intend to return at all. The only way to take the throne from Kevin - destroying the Day line in Evermore for good - is for him to renounce his throne, or for war to break out between the two countries so that Kevin will be forced to pick a side.

(We know what side he’d pick, of course. His adopted brothers as well. The rest of the Moriyamas are fairly certain they know, and are growing severely impatient for the chance to label him a traitor.)

(This also leads to the idea that perhaps, if she found her way back to Evemore on an errand, all the lost princess Natalie would have to do is exchange her claim to the throne for a certain foreign prisoner’s freedom. Ichirou is always looking for ways to get rid of competition, and Riko’s lost plaything is not his to worry about. Kengo’s declining health makes it easy for Ichirou to pass off his word as the High King’s.

So the ex-princess is free to take Jean Moreau wherever he’d like to go. Or, when he says he doesn’t know, wherever she thinks is suitable.)

[bunny-yan]

Hero!Yandere x Reincarnated GN!Reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of violence, mentions of death, infantalization, no minors plz

—

You smiled brightly, following the arch with your eyes. This was it. You were finally going to leave here. You’d lived in this small town all of your life and you were finally moving on to bigger and better things. There was nothing holding you back anymore. 

You took one step and froze when your eyes met his. 

Tasman. 

He was waiting in the archway. You hated to admit it, but it was as if he was expecting it. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be off, defeating the demon king with his merry band of fellow heroes. 

Smiling, Tasman walked closer before kissing you on the cheek. 

“Hi lover, how have you been?” 

“Tasman, what are you doing here?”

He smiled, taking your hand in his as he lead you further into the village. 

“We need to talk.”

~*~

“What was I supposed to do‽” you demanded, breathing hard as you clenched your fist. It’d become obvious that Tasman had placed a tracking spell on you before he left. It alerted him when you were nearing the edge of the village and he’d only appeared so quickly because you’d never been outside the village before. 

In none of your lives. 

“Was I supposed to wait for you to come back?” You laughed bitterly. It was impossible to cover up you disdain. “I’d be old and wrinkled, in love and stupid because I believed that you would actually come back for me.”

“Don’t say it like that.” He tried to come forward, placing a hand on your arm, but you slapped it away. 

“No!” You moved away from him, crossing your arms as you looked at the luggage he had been so kind to bring back to your house. “I’m not interested in hearing your excuses! I don’t care if you still loved me or love me! I loved you and it broke my heart to hear how you eventually ended up getting married to anything with a skirt.”

“You don’t understand.”

Your laugh was almost hysterical as you cut him off. “The princess? A political marriage encouraged by the king. How could the honorable hero say no?”

He shook his head, but you didn’t acknowledge it. You gathered your things as you continued your rant. “But then there was the priestess acting as a saint of the kingdom and even though in ever other timeline she was forbidden to marry, what are the odds that you beat them? Pretty fucking great apparently. Nothing is too hard for the hero.”

Disgust and anger was obvious in your tone but what Tasman felt most was hurt, oozing from every word you said. 

“The mermaid in one of your little side adventures, the Fae queen who was mysteriously drawn out of hiding. Even the demon lord got a chance! But me?” You shook your head as you glared at him. “The childhood best friend, forever to only be an afterthought in your story.”

Tasman was quiet. He couldn’t deny that there was an immense truth to your words, but he didn’t want to accept what you were trying to say. 

You understood the feeling of fading hope too well. You’d grown old time and time again, believing in the lie called true love. Your heart grew colder with each life you spent waiting for a future that you never got to have. 

“I’m tired of living for you, Tasman. I’m tired of waiting and passing up on the opportunities to escape this lonely, shitty life of mine. I’m not doing it anymore.”

You walked to the door, but his hand easily held it closed. 

“Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”

You turned, pushing him away in anger but he didn’t budge. 

“I don’t want to talk. I want to leave. I want to get on with my life without you in it.”

“Don’t say that.” Tasman begged. He pulled the bag off of your shoulders despite your protests, pulling you further into the house. 

“I want you to exist safely. I understand that it’s hard being away from me, but can’t you see that I can’t be with you as long as the demon lord exists? I’m just asking you to wait.”

“I’ve waited!” you exploded. “For eight of my fucking lives I waited for you. In each one you completed your mission and didn’t come back for me.” It hurt to say, but it was the truth. You continued to remind yourself of it so you’d never go back. No matter how many times you fell in love with him, you couldn’t forget the many versions of broken hearts you experienced, each more painful than the last. You felt foolish to fall for the same person, time and time again, but you finally decided that enough was enough. 

You’d let him go. You had to.

~*~

Tasman walked into the messy room; it looked like a hurricane passed through before he got there. 

He stepped over the scattered debris, pretending as if they weren’t even there as he sat next to the glaring you. If he noticed your heated gaze, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

He continued to smile, uncovering an appetizing platter of fruit.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. The chef said fruit shouldn’t be too hard on your stomach.”

He stabbed a strawberry with a fork before holding it near your mouth. “Your favorite.”

You slapped the fork out of his hand, hearing it clatter onto the ground before the strawberry rolled away. You crossed your arms, looking away from him.

The smile didn’t leave his face as he went to pick up the fork. Setting it down slowly, you jumped in alarm when the table suddenly cracked. He pulled his hand away, the place where his fingers had been crumbling into dust. 

“Luckily, I brought another fork.” He said in a quiet voice. He picked up another strawberry, the smile on his face morphing as he brought it close to you once again. “Open wide!” He said in a sickly sweet tone. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were afraid of him.

He’d whisked you away, deciding that you were throwing a tantrum because you hadn’t seen him in so long. He could’ve left you in the village, forcing you to stay by placing a barrier around you, but he decided he wanted to mend your relationship. It didn’t matter that you complained, that you screamed when he grabbed you around the waist before carrying you like luggage out of the village. The locals watched the spectacle, women covering their mouths in shock as others looked on. No one would stand in the way of the hero after all. 

His party looked shocked when he brought you back to their base, unafraid to ask questions until a piercing look shut them all up. He wouldn’t be questioned about the mysterious stranger he was locking in his bedroom. 

You never expected violence from Tasman, but you should’ve assumed that it was natural for him considering the number of people he killed in the name of justice. He was the hero and the hero always put the people’s needs before his own. 

But only if it meant keeping you by his side. 

You’d try to talk to the other members of his party, begging them to help you, to allow you a chance to escape if they didn’t want to get directly involved, but you were promptly informed of the treaty that Tasman had made with the king of your country. 

The country would turn a blind eye to one citizen being held against their will and in return their hero would defeat the demon king. You could’ve appealed. You wanted to. But that would never happen. Tasman refused to let you leave his room until you proved to him that you could behave and the country would never choose a citizen over their beloved hero. You could imagine the looks you’d receive for even suggesting that they choose you over their savior.

It was for the greater good. 

You should’ve been happy. There were people falling over their feet just to get a glimpse at the hero and yet you were sitting here, ungrateful to be blessed with his pampering. He would take over the world for you if you asked, but you would rather the world be destroyed for a taste of freedom?

It was selfish. 

You were selfish. It was his favorite words to say whenever you begged him to let you go. He was out, risking his life for the sake of the world, fighting as hard as he could for a chance to come back to you, and you wanted to leave him. 

“Don’t do this.” he said, when you continued to ignore his prodding. “How am I supposed to fight if I’m constantly worrying over your health? You have to eat.” When you continued to refuse him, you felt the words come before he even said them. 

“You’re being selfish.”

You knew by now that there was no point in arguing with him. No matter how much truth existed in your words, they’d immediately be brushed away as he shushed you. Cooing about how wrong you were. He told you time and time again that he just wanted to protect you. About how there were big, bad things out there in the big, bad world you lived in and how this was the only way he could keep you safe. 

It didn’t matter how many times you lived to see death knocking at your door, hands withered from the experience of  life. He knew best. He knew what was right for you. You would be happy if you just listened to him. 

If you just gave in. 

It didn’t matter that he was essentially threatening to let the world burn if it meant that he couldn’t have you. He’d told you time and time again how important you were to him. He’d threaten you, yell at you, call you selfish. 

It was your fault that people were dying. He could save them if only you would listen to him. If only you would eat or let him hold you. Little concessions on your part meant the preservation of mankind. How inconsiderate could you be to think you mattered more than that? 

His selfishness didn’t matter because he was the greater good. If you didn’t give into what he wanted, he was willing to show you just how selfish he could be. 

[kckt88]

Closer II

Summary:

Both Aemond and Lucaela deal with the concequences of their mating as certain revelations come to light.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Knotting, Marriage, Pregnancy, Child Birth, Character Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C LUCAELA VELARYON

INSPIRED BY - 'NINE INCH NAILS - CLOSER'

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 6623

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"You fool!" Otto roared, his voice echoing off the walls of his chambers. "You can't keep your damn knot in your breeches, can you? Irreversibly tying yourself to Rhaenyra's daughter, of all people!"

Aemond's jaw tensed, his own frustration mounting as he bore the brunt of his grandfather's wrath. "I never intended for this to happen, grandfather," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "But Lucaela-she's my mate. I couldn't deny our bond any longer."

"Your mate be damned!" Otto spat, his fists clenching at his sides. "Do you realize what you've done? You've single-handedly destroyed any chance we had of securing the throne for your brother. All because you couldn't control your urges, I thought I had to worry about your brother, not you”.

"Grandsire-“ muttered Aemond.

Otto's mind raced as he tried to salvage the remnants of his meticulously laid plans, the very foundations of which now seemed to crumble beneath his feet. With Rhaenyra and Daemon demanding that Aemond marry Lucaela, Otto saw a sliver of opportunity amidst the chaos.

"If we can't control the situation," he mused aloud, his voice heavy with frustration, "Perhaps we can manipulate it to our advantage."

Rhaenyra's attachment to her daughter was well-known, a weakness that could be exploited if handled with care. If Lucaela became a pawn in their political game, they might be able to force Rhaenyra to come to terms and bend to their will.

"Force her hand," Otto murmured to himself, his mind churning with possibilities. "Use Lucaela as leverage to ensure Rhaenyra's compliance."

The Alpha within Aemond roared in protest as he listened to his grandfather's plans for Lucaela. Deep within him, a primal instinct surged, rejecting Otto's manipulative schemes with a ferocity that matched the flames of a dragon.

"No," Aemond growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I will not allow Lucaela to be used as a pawn in your games”.

Otto's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with Aemond, his own resolve unyielding in the face of his grandson's defiance. "You are willing to risk everything," he countered, his voice laced with frustration, "Your own life, the lives of your brothers and sister, the life of your mother, all for the sake of this bond?"

Aemond squared his shoulders and shook his head, his grandsire’s words playing on a loop in his mind.

But the Alpha inside him was furious, demanding that he protect his mate.

"If Rhaenyra is crowned queen, we will all be in danger. She will see us as threats to her rule, and she will stop at nothing to eliminate us."

“Grandsire-there has to be another way“ muttered Aemond.

Otto shook his head, his expression grim. "What of the realm?" he challenged. "Do you not care about the stability of the Seven Kingdoms? Aegon is the King’s firstborn son, the crown is his by right”.

"But at what cost?" Aemond shot back, his tone fierce. "Do we sacrifice everything we hold dear in the name of political expediency? I refuse to let Lucaela suffer for our ambitions, to see her used as a pawn in a game of thrones."

“I implore you to see reason Aemond-a living contender invites challenge. We must work together to secure your brother’s succession,” said Otto.

“Not at the cost of Lucy-“

"You're being used, Aemond," declared Otto, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Can't you see? Lucaela deliberately placed herself in front of you, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to resist her scent."

Aemond's jaw clenched at the accusation, his Alpha instincts bristling with indignation. "You speak as if Lucaela is some kind of manipulative pawn," he countered, his voice sharp with defiance. "But she is my mate. Our bond is stronger than any scheme Rhaenyra could concoct."

Otto shook his head, his expression incredulous. "You only lost one eye how could you be so blind" he scoffed. "Do you honestly believe Lucaela's actions are purely out of love? She is her mother’s daughter, and she’s been raised by Daemon. You think it's a coincidence that she presented herself to you on the day of the Driftmark petition?"

Aemond's chest tightened at the implication, his mind reeling with the possibility that he had been deceived. But even as doubt crept into his thoughts, he refused to entertain the notion that Lucaela's feelings for him were anything less than genuine.

"You don't understand” he asserted, his tone firm and resolute. "Through our bond, I can feel her emotions, her feelings for me. They are genuine, I would know if they were false."

“A fools notion” scoffed Otto.

His Alpha instincts surged within him, reinforcing his conviction with a primal certainty that Otto could not hope to comprehend. "You speak of manipulation and deceit, but you underestimate the power of our connection," Aemond continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I can feel her love for me. No scheme or plot could fabricate such emotion."

Otto's scepticism faltered slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he regarded his grandson. But he quickly regained his composure, his resolve unyielding in the face of Aemond's protestations.

"Feelings can be fickle, Aemond," he cautioned, his voice tinged with warning. "Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment”.

But Aemond remained steadfast, his faith in Lucaela unwavering despite the doubts cast upon their relationship. "I trust in our bond, grandsire," he declared, his voice ringing with determination. "No matter the challenges we face, I will stand by Lucaela's side”.

Otto's voice carried a solemn warning as he fixed Aemond with a steely gaze. "When the time comes, Aemond," he said, his tone grave, "You had better pray to the Seven that your bond with Lucaela will be enough to save not only your life but the lives of your siblings as well."

As he rounded a corner, Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the sight that greeted him. There she was, Lucaela, radiant and alluring as ever, standing in the company of her stepfather, Daemon. His presence sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through Aemond, the Alpha within him bristling at the sight of another Alpha in such close proximity to his mate.

For a moment, Aemond stood rooted to the spot, torn between the conflicting urges warring within him. On one hand, the desire to assert his claim over Lucaela burned fiercely within him, driving him to emphasise his dominance over any who would dare to encroach upon their bond.

But on the other hand, a voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the consequences of giving in to his primal instincts.

With a deep breath, Aemond forced himself to calm, the turmoil within him subsiding slightly as he approached Lucaela and Daemon. "Lucaela," he greeted her, his voice husky with desire yet tempered with restraint. "I was hoping to find you."

Lucaela turned to him, her eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. "Aemond," she replied, a smile gracing her lips.

" I was wandering when you’d have the courage to show your face after defiling my stepdaughter” said Daemon, his hand wrapping around the pommel of Dark Sister.

Aemond's jaw clenched at the barb, his Alpha instincts bristling at the insult. "Things will be set right by our marriage," he retorted, his voice sharp with indignation.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. "Of course, of course," he replied, his tone oozing with insincerity. "Nothing like a hasty ceremony to make up for your indiscretions, eh?"

But before Aemond could respond, Daemon continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "I do hope your grandsire hasn’t taken the news too hard, now that you can’t be sold off to forge alliances" he taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I suppose his carefully laid plans will have to be put on hold now that you've tied yourself to my stepdaughter."

Aemond's fists clenched at his sides, the Alpha within him roaring with fury at Daemon's jibes.

Just as he was about to respond, Aemond felt a surge of panic course through him, a jolt of raw emotion that cut through the haze of his thoughts like a knife. It was Lucaela, her distress echoing through their bond with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

His mind raced back to his grandfather's words, the insinuation that Lucaela had deliberately placed herself in his path, tempting him with her presence.

Could it be true? Had she orchestrated their meeting, knowing full well the effect she would have on him?

The doubt gnawed at him, a relentless whisper in the back of his mind as he struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him.

“L-Lucaela” exclaimed Aemond, his hand reaching up to his mating mark that had now started to sting.

Lucaela stared at Aemond for a moment before she turned and fled, her steps quick and determined as she disappeared back inside the Red Keep. Without a moment's hesitation, he followed, his instincts driving him forward with a single-minded purpose.

"Lucaela, wait!" he called after her, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the keep. But she did not stop, her form disappearing around a corner as she continued to flee from him.

With a surge of determination, Aemond quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridors as he chased after her.

Finally, he caught up to her just outside her chambers, his chest heaving as he reached out to gently grasp her arm, turning her to face him. "Lucy, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with urgency. "Tell me what's wrong. Why did you run?"

Lucaela's eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty as she looked up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I-I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

But Aemond refused to let her push him away. "You can't or you won't?" he pressed, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation.

As Aemond searched her eyes for answers, Lucaela's resolve crumbled under the weight of his gaze. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself to confess the truth that had been weighing on her.

"Aemond," she began, her voice trembling with emotion. "Daemon found out about Otto's scheming-about your family's plans to usurp the throne and have Aegon crowned instead of my mother."

Aemond's eye widened in shock at the revelation, the implications of Daemon's discovery sinking in with a sickening sense of dread. "How?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucaela swallowed hard, her hands trembling at her sides. "Someone overheard a conversation between Otto and one of his advisors and word got back to Daemon," she confessed, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

“What does that have to do with me?” asked Aemond.

"After Daemon found out about Otto's plans, he knows that you and Vhagar are Otto’s biggest asset.  He-he told me to place myself in front of you, to allow nature to take its course."

Aemond's eyes widened in shock, his mind reeling at the implications of her words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Lucaela swallowed hard, the truth spilling from her lips like poison. "He knew that as a newly presented Omega, no unmated Alpha could resist me," she confessed, her voice shaking with shame. "He told me to use that to my advantage, to tempt you into-into succumbing to your desires."

A wave of anger surged through Aemond, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he struggled to process the betrayal that lay before him. "And you-you went along with it?" he demanded; his voice laced with accusation.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she met his gaze, her own heart breaking at the pain she had caused him. "I-I didn't know what else to do," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. "I thought-I thought I was helping, that I was ensuring my mother’s claim”

How could you?" he demanded; his voice thick with emotion. "How could you deceive me like this, Lucy? To use our bond for your own gain, to manipulate me-“

But before he could finish his tirade, Lucaela scoffed, her own frustration boiling over at his accusations. "And what about Otto's scheming to usurp the throne?" she shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Did you really think that Daemon would stand idly by while your grandsire plotted to undermine my mother’s claim?"

Aemond recoiled at the venom in her words, the truth of her accusations striking him like a blow to the chest.

"Lucaela, I-" he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the right words.

But she held up a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "I'm not excusing what I did, Aemond," she admitted, her voice softening slightly. "But usurping the throne from the named heir, it’s wrong”.

"In order for your mother to secure her reign, she would have to eliminate any potential threats to her power. Aegon, Me even Daeron. A living contender invites challenge," he continued, his voice heavy with resignation. "And in Rhaenyra's eyes, any one of us could be seen as a threat to her rule”.

Lucaela's eyes flashed with indignation, her voice rising with anger as she countered Aemond's grim assessment. "How dare you, Aemond," she spat, her words sharp with frustration. "My mother would never harm anyone. You are her blood. You would be part of her rule as Queen, not victims of her ambition."

“Did she not demand that I be sharply questioned-to discover where I heard slanders against her bastards” snapped Aemond.

The fire in her eyes burned bright, fuelled by a fierce loyalty to her mother and a deep-seated belief in her righteousness. "Otto has dripped his poison in your ear," she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've let his doubts cloud your judgment, but I refuse to let you believe such lies."

“How can I be assured that they are lies” replied Aemond.

"Aemond, please," she implored, her tone softened with earnestness. "Search our bond. Feel the truth in my words. My mother has no intention of harming you or your siblings."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. But as he gazed into Lucaela's eyes, he saw nothing, but sincerity reflected back at him, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within his soul.

Closing his eye, Aemond reached out through their bond, searching for the truth amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled within him. And as he delved deeper, he felt a sense of clarity wash over him, a profound realization that cut through the fog of doubt and uncertainty.

Lucaela wasn't lying. Her mother, Rhaenyra, harboured no ill intentions toward him or his siblings. It was a truth that resonated deep within him, anchoring him in the certainty of their shared bond.

Aemond pressed his forehead against Lucaela's, their bond pulsing with the intensity of their shared emotions. "My grandsire told me that crowning Rhaenyra would divide the Seven Kingdoms and start a war," he murmured, his voice heavy with concern.

But Lucaela shook her head, her eyes filled with a solemn conviction. "Usurping the throne is what will start a war," she countered, her voice steady despite the turmoil that raged within her.

“I’m worried Lucy-“

“Aemond, please listen to me," she implored, her gaze pleading with him to understand. "My mother is the named heir. It is her birthright, recognized by law. To challenge her claim would only sow further discord and violence only begets more violence. If you take the throne by force, it will only lead to bloodshed and chaos."

Aemond's expression softened as he regarded Lucaela, her sincerity and wisdom shining through in her words. "But what if-“

“-The House of the Dragon needs to stand together as one. Let the realm see us united, witness our strength and unity."

She reached out to take his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "We can show the realm that we are not divided by ambition or greed," she continued, her voice filled with conviction. "That we are bound by blood and loyalty, and that together, we are stronger than any external threat."

“I want to believe you-” whispered Aemond.

“What do you think would happen to us-to me if Aegon was crowned King? It works both ways Aemond, my life would be forfeit as would that of my mother, stepfather and brothers-Otto wouldn’t let us live” whispered Lucaela.

The Alpha inside Aemond bristled with anger at the thought of Lucaela being killed, as angry as he was at her scheming, he knew she was right.

The only thing to do was make a choice-believe his Omega and trust that her word was true, or side with his grandsire and stand on the precipice of war.

In the end it was the Alpha inside who made the choice.

"My Alpha, issa zaldrīzes," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress against his senses (My dragon).

The bond between them pulsed with a primal energy, igniting a fierce longing within Aemond's heart. The Alpha inside him roaring to life, demanding that he seek to make amends with his mate, to bridge the divide that had grown between them.

Unable to resist the pull of their bond any longer, Aemond leaned in close, his lips brushing against Lucaela's ear as he whispered his own confession. "My Omega, I need you" he breathed, his voice husky with desire and regret.

“Then take me Alpha-claim what belongs to you. Now and always” whimpered Lucaela.

Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

He spun Lucaela around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly untying the laces of his breeches.

Aemond nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Lucaela moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand.

Aemond ran his hand up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing his Omega with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He pulls aside her small clothes as he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” growls Aemond.

Lucaela can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Lucaela.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please Alpha-“ wailed Lucaela.

Aemond digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Lucaela’s hips, pulling her body against his as he thrusts forward, his singular eye focused on where they are joined.

His cock shining with her slick, the knot beginning to swell at the base, but he doesn’t want to finish not yet, not like this. So he withdraws from her again, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the chaise lounge and falls to his knees.

Sliding his calloused hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her small clothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“Aemond” shrieked Lucaela as Aemond’s mouth descends on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into his Omega’s dripping core with his tongue, in and out, much faster than his cock ever could.

Still gasping, Lucaela clutched at his head with one hand, her other digging into the fabric of the chaise.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Lucaela ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Aemond growled, deep in his throat; a sound that she didn’t hear very often. The vibration of his vocal cords rippled through to his tongue and Lucaela gasped; she felt every vibration keenly. Her body tensed for her peak– But Aemond pulled away from her and smirked, his chin shining with her slick.

“A-Aemond” gasped Lucaela, the tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks.

“Be a good little Omega and take what your Alpha gives you” said Aemond as he reached for the laces of her dress before he grew impatient and tore it from her body, leaving her breasts bared.

His tongue licking at the stiffened rosy peak.

“P-Please. Alpha” sobbed Lucaela as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he wrapped his hand around his wife’s throat and sheathed himself inside her once more.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Lucaela.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance. He marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his Omega was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Lucaela’s moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me, love” breathed Aemond.

Lucaela’s. screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

Gods, he needed to spill his seed, to see her swollen with his pup. But he wanted to watch her ride him to completion.

So, with his cock still nestled inside her, Aemond manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with Lucaela on his lap.

“Give me another-I want you to come on my cock again” growled Aemond.

Lucaela ripped open the cotton shirt he was wearing and ran her hands over the defined muscles of his chest, her nails digging into his pale skin.

“Oh” gasped Lucaela as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Lucaela’s hips and marvelled at his Omega as she rode him.

Lucaela dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Lucaela as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Lucaela’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Lucaela as she felt Aemond’s knot slip inside her.

 “God. Lucy-my Lucy” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against the chaise, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses. Meanwhile his Omega had collapsed against him, her face pressed into his neck.

Kings Landing was a buzz with activity. The guests were arriving, the preparations had been made and it was finally here. The day Lucaela and Aemond would stand together in the great sept and get married.

Lucaela was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast, as she wasn’t sure that she could actually stomach food.

After bathing, Lucaela’s maids began to help her get ready. Her dark hair was brushed and twisted into elegant braids and the Valyrian steel necklace that had once been gifted to her mother by Daemon was placed around her neck.

The cool metal resting against the mating bite that already marred her pale skin.

Her wedding dress had a fitted sleeveless bodice with a modest neckline. The skirts flaring out behind her like a cloud.

As soon as the gown had been buttoned and her maiden cloak tied, there was a soft knock at the door.

It was her mother.

“You look beautiful” gasped Rhaenyra as she looked her daughter up and down.

“Thank you” replied Lucaela smiling.

“I’ve come to escort you to the sept and Daemon will walk you down the aisle”.

“D-Do I look like a bride mother?” asked Lucaela.

“You look perfect my sweet girl-but tell me is this what you truly desire?”

“Yes mother-“ replied Lucaela.

“I do not agree with Daemon’s scheming-“ said Rhaenyra as she took her daughters hand.

“It was for a purpose mother-I was always meant to marry for allegiance”.

“I hate that you have done this for me-“ replied Rhaenyra.

“I do not. You are my mother and my future Queen, I would see myself from this world if it meant you were safe” said Lucaela firmly.

“My sweet girl what a precious gift you are-“ exclaimed Rhaenyra as she pressed a series of kisses to Lucaela’s face.

“Aemond isn’t all bad mama-he makes me feel desired” whispered Lucaela blushing.

“I can see the marks of Aemond’s desire for you” quipped Rhaenyra.

“Mama” gasped Lucaela.

“Right, shall we get going. It’s almost time” said Rhaenyra brightly.

The sept was decorated beautifully, but it all paled in comparison to Aemond who was stood beside the High Septon.

He was elegantly dressed, his black tunic decorated with silver dragons and his Targaryen cloak tied loosely around his shoulders. His long hair tied back in its usual half up, half down style.

The horns signalled the beginning of the ceremony and begrudgingly Lucaela took Daemon’s arm.

“You look beautiful my daughter” muttered Daemon.

“Thank you, father,” replied Lucaela.

“Be mindful Lucy-Desperate men are dangerous” whispered Daemon as he nodded towards Otto and Larys Strong who were muttering to one another.

“I had assumed that the traitors would have been dealt with already”.

“In due time-I cannot wipe out half of the Kings council, we must be vigilant and strike when the cunts least expect it” said Daemon.

“Mother must be persuaded to remain in Kings Landing, returning to Dragonstone isn’t the solution” said Lucaela softly.

“I agree” uttered Daemon.

“Thank you for escorting the bride Prince Daemon. If you would be so kind as to wait for the Princess to remove her maiden cloak” said the Septon.

Lucaela undid the ties of her maiden cloak and handed it to Daemon who nodded respectfully to the Septon and took his seat next to Rhaenyra.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection” said the Septon loudly.

Aemond removed the cloak bearing the colours of house Targaryen and draped it around Lucaela’ shoulders.

Aemond then took Lucaela’ hand and smiled as the Septon tied their hands together by a ribbon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now you may look upon one another and say these vows together” exclaimed the Septon.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days” said Lucaela, her lip wobbling slightly.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days” declared Aemond loudly.

“The vows have been spoken. You may kiss your bride”.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Lucaela’ lips.

“ñuhon” whispered Aemond as he pulled away (Mine).

The grand feast in the throne room of the Red Keep was a sight to behold, a dazzling display of opulence and extravagance befitting the union of two noble houses. The room was alive with music and laughter, the air filled with the tantalizing aroma of exotic dishes and fine wines.

Aemond and Lucaela sat side by side at the head table, their fingers intertwined as they shared stolen glances and whispered words of love. But despite the festivities that surrounded them, the Alpha inside Aemond was restless, his senses ablaze with the primal urge to claim his mate.

As the night wore on and the feast reached its crescendo, Aemond found himself increasingly unable to resist the pull of his desires. The mating bite on Lucaela's neck called to him like a siren's song, its intoxicating scent sending waves of arousal coursing through him.

Desperation clawed at Aemond's senses as he struggled to maintain his composure, the need to reclaim his Omega growing more urgent with each passing moment. But amidst the revelry of the celebration, he knew that they would need to wait until they were alone, until they could be together in the privacy of their chambers.

Suddenly Aemond’s senses sharpened, a strange scent tickling at the edges of his awareness. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but to Aemond, it was unmistakable.

Nosing Lucaela's mating mark, he inhaled deeply, his heart pounding with anticipation. And then he caught it—the faintest hint of milk, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the scent of their bond.

With a surge of excitement, Aemond turned to Lucaela, his eyes shining with joy. "Lucy," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "You're carrying my pup."

Lucaela's eyes widened in disbelief, her hand instinctively moving to rest against her stomach. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Aemond nodded eagerly, his heart soaring with pride. "I can scent it as your Alpha, the scent of milk is unmistakable," he explained, his voice filled with excitement.

Tears welled in Lucaela's eyes as she processed the news, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "Aemond," she breathed, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "I can't believe it”

The Alpha inside Aemond surged with a primal delight, a fierce sense of pride and joy coursing through him like wildfire. To pup his sweet Omega mate was a dream he had scarcely dared to imagine.

As he gazed upon Lucaela, his heart swelled with love and adoration, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and cherish her and their unborn pup with every fibre of his being.

With gentle caresses and tender words, Aemond showered Lucaela with affection, his touch a promise of the unwavering devotion and support he would offer her as they embarked on this new journey together.

As Aemond and Lucaela reveled in the joy of their news, their moment of intimacy was suddenly interrupted by the boisterous arrival of Aegon. With a mischievous grin, Aegon sauntered over, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Well, well, well," he declared with a playful smirk. "I think it's time you two lovebirds got a room, don't you?"

Aemond's scowl deepened at his brother's teasing, but before he could retort, Lucaela gently squeezed his hand, a knowing smile playing at her lips. With a soft chuckle, she rose to her feet, her gaze locked with his.

"Shall we, my love?" she whispered, her voice laced with laughter.

Aemond's heart swelled with affection as he returned her smile, his Alpha instincts urging him to protect and care for her above all else. With a nod, he rose to his feet, his hand entwined with Lucaela's as they made their way out of the crowded hall

-Months Later-

In the dim light of the birthing chamber, Lucaela's laboured breaths echoed against the stone walls, her grip on Aemond's hand tightening with each wave of pain.

Aemond stood by her side, his heart heavy with worry yet brimming with pride as he watched over her, offering words of comfort and encouragement with every contraction. "You're doing amazing, my love," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of pain. "Just a little longer, and our pup will be in your arms."

With each passing moment, Lucaela's strength grew, her resolve unwavering as she pushed through the agony with unwavering determination. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, their pup emerged into the world, a tiny bundle of life cradled in Lucaela's arms.

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he beheld his newborn pup, his heart overflowing with an indescribable sense of joy and wonder. "He's beautiful," he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Lucaela smiled through her exhaustion as she gazed down at their son, her fingers gently caressing his soft, newborn skin. "Aeron," she whispered, her voice filled with love as she spoke his name for the first time.

As Aeron let out his first cries, a sense of awe washed over them, a profound realization settling in their hearts. For even in his first moments of life, he emitted a scent similar to that of his father—Aeron was destined to be an Alpha.

As Aemond cradled his newborn son in his arms for the first time, his heart swelled with a love so fierce and profound that it felt as though it might burst from his chest.

"My son," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "My precious Aeron. My boy"

Tears welled in Aemond's eye as he looked upon the small, features of his son, the exact mirror of his own, his fingers gently tracing the delicate curve of his cheek. In that moment, he vowed that Aeron would always know his attention, his kindness, and his love and devotion.

"You will grow up strong and brave," he murmured, his voice a soft promise. "I will teach you to be honourable and just, to stand up for what is right and to protect those you love."

With each word, Aemond felt a sense of purpose settle within him, a determination to be the father his son deserved. For Aeron was not just his son—he was his legacy, his hope for the future, a symbol of the love and bond that he shared with Lucaela.

As the joyous celebration of new life echoed throughout the halls of the Red Keep, a solemn hush fell over the chambers of King Viserys Targaryen.

Beside him stood his loyal attendants, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched over their beloved King in his final moments.

“With a final, gentle exhale, Viserys' hand went limp, his eyes closing.

"Aemma," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he reached out through the darkness, his thoughts drifting to the wife he had lost so many years ago.

"Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of tradition. "The First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

With a graceful movement, the High Septon lowered the golden crown onto Rhaenyra's brow, the weight of it settling like a mantle of authority upon her shoulders. And as the crown gleamed in the dim light of the sept, Rhaenyra felt a sense of pride and purpose swell within her heart.

"And her Consort King, Daemon of House Targaryen," he declared, his words ringing out with solemnity. "May their union be blessed by the Seven, and may they rule with wisdom and justice for all the days of their reign."

A ripple of applause swept through the crowd as Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a knowing glance, their hands clasped together in a silent vow of unity.

In the quiet chambers of their quarters, Aemond stood watch over his mate as she recovered from giving brith. Beside them lay their newborn son, Aeron, his tiny form cradled in the warmth of his mother's embrace.

Despite the grandeur of the occasion unfolding within the walls of the Red Keep, Aemond had made a solemn vow to remain by Lucaela's side, his protective instincts as an Alpha driving him to ensure her safety and that of their pup.

And so, as the sound of cheering crowds echoed through the castle walls, Aemond and Lucaela remained cocooned in the quiet sanctuary of their chambers, though they may have missed the pomp and pageantry of Rhaenyra's coronation, Aemond knew in his heart that their absence was a small price to pay for the precious moments they shared as a family.

But as Aemond gazed out of the window, his thoughts were consumed by the weight of uncertainty that hung heavy upon his shoulders. With Rhaenyra now crowned as Queen, the future seemed more uncertain than ever before.

Would their lives be in jeopardy under her rule, or would Lucaela's assurances of her mother's intentions hold true?

The memory of his grandfather's warnings echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Otto Hightower's schemes had been thwarted, but the threat to their family still lingered, a dark spectre looming on the horizon.

Lucaela stirred from her slumber, her presence a comforting balm amidst the storm of his thoughts. As he turned to look at her, her eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to take his hand in hers, her touch a silent reassurance of their bond.

"Are you alright, my love?"

Aemond forced a smile, though the worry still gnawed at his heart. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice strained. "Just-thinking."

Lucaela's brow furrowed with worry as she squeezed his hand gently. "Whatever happens, we will face it together," she said, her voice filled with determination.

As Daemon sat next to his wife, his sharp eyes trained on the trio of men engaged in hushed conversation across the room. Otto Hightower, Larys Strong, Jasper Wylde, and Tyland Lannister—men whose ambitions and treachery simmered beneath the surface, threatening to undermine the fragile peace of the realm.

As Daemon's gaze met theirs, they offered him a hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their unease of what the future would bring. But Daemon remained stoic, his expression unreadable as he raised his goblet of wine in a silent toast.

The time had come to confront the traitors who sought to plot against his wife, Queen Rhaenyra. With a sense of purpose coursing through his veins, Daemon wrapped his hand around the pommel of his sword, the weight of it a comforting presence at his side.

The blood of the treasonous cunts would serve as a warning to all who dared to oppose Rhaenyra's rule. With steely resolve, Daemon vowed to root out the rot that festered within their midst, to ensure that justice was served, and the realm remained united under his wife's rightful reign.

As he took another sip of wine, the taste of it bitter upon his tongue, Daemon knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril. But with his sword in hand and his wife's reign to defend, he would stop at nothing to protect what was rightfully hers.

[tenseoyong]

Hi can you do Aemond x betrothed reader at the dinner scene he’s jealous of jace and reader dancing?

Aemond would scarcely admit he hadn’t expected to become so quickly enamored by his sweet tongued, kind-eyed, gentle handed betrothal. Honestly speaking, Aemond had assumed his arranged marriage would follow a similar pattern as his parents’ and siblings’—loveless and constant avoidance—he was sure that the lovely Lady that had arrived at court would have little interest in the Scarred Prince beyond the gain of gold and the title of Princess.

Yet, Aemond was surprised to find a less than timid woman, one who did not shy away from his cold gaze, nor did she pity or fear his childhood maiming.

Yes, the Prince had grown rather fond of the unusual Lady. Often Aemond spend hours with her, hidden from prying eyes by the many shelves of books of the Keep’s library.

She listened to him attentively—not just keeping up appearances of a doting and obedient wife-to-be—no, she actually enjoyed Aemond’s company; hanging off his every word as he recounted his daily training, or when he told of the history of dragons, even dared to attempt to teach her a word or two in High Valyrian. In turn, she spun tales of her home, how her brothers bickered as children, and how she feared riding a horse just as one would fear facing a dragon.

Aemond would grow to love his Lady Wife—that much he was sure of—and he had dared to hope that she would return that love ten fold.

She had all but extinguished the dragon’s fire that lived in him.

Yet, the moment his darling nephew, Jacaerys, had stepped forward—folllowing his sweet sister Heleana’s speech of marital neglect—and requested she accompany him in dance, Aemond’s mind filled with vivid images of Jacaerys burned to a crisp, curtesy of Vhagar’s breath.

To see her, in the arms of his bastard nephew as she politely accepted his dance proposal, turned his stomach to stone.

Aemond believes he knew true anger. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood angry—angry at his father, and his nephews, and at his dragon-less status. Though, as violet eyes watched his Lady and Jacaerys is dance, Aemond knew then he’d never truly experienced anger—until this moment.

It burned inside him hotter than dragon’s fire, boiling his blood and scalding his heart.

And as his nephew spun his betrothed about the empty corner of the room, Aemond could bare to witness it no more.

The whole room came to a screeching halt as Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose to stand tall, and mockingly held his cup in the air, “I’d like to toast to my nephews—Jace, Luke…Joffrey—each of them handsome, wise, brave…” He paused, turning to stare directly at the hand Jace had placed to the small of his Lady’s back. “And Strong.”

Not to give up the game, Jace didn’t release his partner, only twirling the pair until Jace was between his uncle and his intended before demanding, “I dare you to say that again!”

“Why?” Aemond tsked, rounding the table and taking several calculated steps towards the stationary duo. “T’was only a compliment—I would extend my toast to my beloved betrothed, I shall pray to the Gods that they make our sons as Strong as their cousins.”

The fury was evident enough on young Jace’s face, all while the quiet satisfaction of getting under his skin flooded Aemond’s.

Though, the satisfaction didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped—for as soon as Jacaerys fixed Aemond with a mischievous look and devious smile, Jace reestablished his hold on his uncle’s bride-to-be, and taunted, “If only there were such a way to ensure your sons’ strength, perhaps I’ll be of some help, if the Lady wouldn’t mind me—“

All at once, Aemond closed what little space remained between him and the dancing pair, and curled his fingers into his nephew’s neck like a claw, snatching the younger boy up much like a kitten at its scruff, “You’ll remove your hands from my Wife.”

“You misspoke, Uncle.” Jacaerys smirked, ignoring Aemond’s seething rage. “The Lady is not yet your wife, is she? I believe that gives her leave to do as she pleases, while she can.”

“I care not for the beliefs of a bastard,” Aemond’s words dripped with venom. “She is to be my bride—since you are so keen on pretending to be of your status—you should be aware that you are greatly overstepping.”

Jacaerys only cocked an eyebrow—a silent challenge—before his fingers curled into your side and what little room between your bodies had been erased, “Oh? Have I overstepped—“

“You will remove your hand,” Aemond was through playing this game, he did break the eye contact he held with his nephew, yet he could still see the obvious annoyance and displeasure growing on your sweet face. Aemond’s hand fluttered above the dagger strapped at his hip. “Or I shall remove it for you.”

The threat lingered in the air momentarily before, much to anyone’s surprise, the Lady squirmed out of Jacaerys’ hold and took her rightful place at Aemond’s right and placed a gentle on Aemond’s tensed arm.

“My Love,” She all but cooed at the furious dragon she would soon claim as a husband. “Let us not ruin the single night your father has requested with his family—I am unharmed and unbothered—let us not have further bloodshed between kin.”

Aemond won’t not soon let go of his hatred for his bastard nephews, but as his Lady-to-be stood by his side and looked upon him with such care and affection Aemond would afford her this kindness.

He released his blade, and his grip on Jacaerys’ neck—though he paused a moment to admire the half-moon shaped nail marks he’d left in his stead—before collecting his betrothed and whisking them both from the disastrous dinner, desiring nothing more than to be hidden away with his Lady love where they belonged.

Soon after, as the servant folks spread tales of the exciting night—a song would emerge—that of a Lady, who had managed to tame the dragon.

[masterlist]

@moonchildrenandflowercrowns

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my GOSSSSSH, with every chapter I post, we get closer and closer to the end and I'm literally wriggling in my chair in excitement, like holy shit! hahaha, anyway, I so hope you enjoy this new chapter and the remaining ones to come! ENJOYYYYY <3

Chapter 101: The Merciless Queen 

“If we are to give Flea Bottom gold to build new dwellings, whose to say that the other small folk across the realm won’t decide to take arms and demand the same?” Lord Tyland Lannister, elder brother of Jason Lannister and Master of Coin argued, seated amongst the other Small Council members who seemed to be in a disarray since the slaying of their previous King, Aegon.

It had been a few days since his death, and whilst Aemond and yourself could not keep your hands off of each other, there was no denying the tension that still circled around the two of you. 

You had been coronated as Queen Consort, a short lived affair in the throne room with only the Small Council present, letters written to be sent out shortly thereafter to their supporters. There was no celebrations to be had, no drinking or dancing. It was short, brief, and most importantly, political move.

And now, all sat in wait for the more pressing question at hand.

What was to happen to the treaty?

And yet despite this question, and the sheer multitude of meetings with the council, Aemond let the unknown hover over your head like smoke, filling your lungs thickly and choking you.

When once Maester Orwyle had asked the same question, which was asked more than once a day, Aemond had barely given the man a second glance, and redirected the question elsewhere. 

In no time however, much to the urging of Otto Hightower and Lord Jasper Wylde, word would soon reach Dragonstone, and the Green Council would need to be ready for such events.

There was a very real possibility that at the knowledge of Aegon being indisposed of, and the Greens thus only having one dragon rider, may invoke the wrath and fury of all the Black’s power. 

And in this moment, they had it. 

And the council, knew it. 

There was an all encompassing feeling of dread that filled each member. The anticipation being a most poisonous thing, and at any loud noise or uncertain sound, Alicent Hightower would jump in her seat, eyes skating to the doors of the chamber they were in, or looking out the window to the skies. 

“Then see to it that they do not.” Breezed Aemond, the Conquerors Crown seated atop his head, ruby glinting in the light of the chambers.

“I do not see why we need to do so in the first place, Your Grace.” Maester Orwyle spoke, “The small folk are not in need or want, nor do they know more than what they have.”

Aemond blinked slowly, finger impatiently tapping on the table as he looked at his men and mother, the gold ring upon is finger clunking on the wooden surface.

“We have the gold, not much, but enough. As it is, their disdain for us was exaggerated by my brother and his selfish disregard for their needs." Aemond began, "I couldn’t care for what they do below in their shit and piss, but my Lady wife has spoken of the benefits of having the love of the small people, and we are in dire need of support.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling the eyes of all the Lords at the table, and the ever present scowl of Alicent Hightower directed at you. Swallowing, you licked your lips, fingers finding your council sphere and spinning it in its dish.

“My mother is loved by the small folk, as was I,” Before they dubbed me the Merciless, “‘The Realms Delight', they named her, most beloved and fair, much the same for my sweet aunt Helaena."

You paused, letting your gaze stop on Alicent, "Where as when they think of the King, they have little good things to say. Two Kinslayers on the throne would no doubt further press their disdain." You turned back to Aemond, "The support of the common folk is important when ruling, it makes things easier, and if the time comes, they will take up arms to support your cause.”

Larys Strong’s voice carried across the table, his high lilt directed at you. His hands were crossed over the top of his cane delicately between his knees at the table, “My spiders have told me that there are ample supporters of your rule, Your Grace.”

You scoffed, “Supporters of the Faith perhaps, or the whispers of the old militant sect even, but that support lies with Alicent, and they would surely have issue with mine and Aemond's union, as is our tradition as Targaryens, and also the very issue of us both being Kinslayers," You looked to Alicent, "Which we are very much reminded of. But the small folk, the true small folk who live in poverty, where sickness and disease is ripe, have no positive feelings of loyalty towards a King who does not see them and gorges upon riches unimaginable. My father took to the streets and killed every rapist and murderer in Flea Bottom, punished thieves and crooks, and the small people felt safer.”

“They were scared out of their wits.” Otto sighed, “The small people need nothing but the clothes on their backs. Simple minds think not of extravagant pleasures.”

Anger rolled through you, “Having proper housing and not living in the streets is not an extravagant pleasure. I would say it is a right for them to live freely and happily, to pursue their desires and passions.”

Jasper Wylde placed his long fingers upon the sphere, several gold and silver rings adorning the digits, “The Queen makes a point, Your Grace. King Jaehaerys was loved by the small folk for his benevolence, and the actions of Maegor the Cruel brought him nothing but trouble. Perhaps the spending of a few Gold Dragons on Flea Bottom’s worse affected slums could bring you support, especially now that the treaty is in question.”

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, opened the conversation for the treaty to be discussed. 

Again.

All eyes were now on Aemond, who sat stiffly in his chair, one elbow upon the armrest, the other still tapping against the table.

“Has word reached Dragonstone?” Aemond questioned Larys, noncommittally. 

The brunette leant forward, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, “As it were, a spider intercepted an attempt to alert them. Though I have no doubt they will receive word by the morrow.”

The King hummed.

“Will the treaty be renewed, Your Grace?" Maester Orwyle began, eyes flicking to you, then back to the King, "I believe it to be prudent that we do so. As it were, we are outnumbered in dragons. You are but the lone rider here at the Keep.” You narrowed your eyes at Maester Orwyle, “Perhaps if we sent word and new terms, Rhaenyra will be-“

“-No.” Aemond’s word cut through the air like a knife. Crisp. Icy.

Final.

“No?” Otto questioned, “The realm will fall to war again if-“

Your heart beat against your chest like a drum, iciness spreading across your skin and at the base of your skull.

No.

“What do you mean, no?” You breathed.

Aemond did not turn to face you.

You snapped, “If you do not sign a treaty, they will come for you, Aemond. My mother and father will come to claim what is theirs.”

The King’s nostrils flared, “Let them. I ride the largest dragon in the world. If my half-sister wishes to declare war at the risk of your safety, then it shall be your blood upon her hands, not mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“My blood?”

Aemond did not even turn to face you.

Your hands slammed against the table, and you shot out of your chair, leaning towards your husband as you sneered, "Have you learnt nothing? You are blinded by your hatred. You will be our ruin, not Aegon.”

Aemond breathed sharply, eye solely on you as he spoke to the table, “Send coin to Flea Bottom. Hire masons and workers, or let the small folk build it themselves.” He looked to his men before finishing, “Clear the chambers.” He commanded the room, and all Lords and Lady Alicent, stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving Aemond with an enraged wife.

“Are you to doom us all with your stubbornness? Have you gone mad?” You growled, “Your thirst for the throne will kill us, Aemond. My mother and father are not to be trifled with. My brother and sisters are not to be trifled with. Do you think that we will survive this?”

Aemond simply stared at you, hand still on the table tapping, whilst the other gripped the arm of the chair fiercely, knuckles white.

“Is it your true desire to have another war? Or is this a foolish little boys dream?” You said in disbelief, looking down at him from your standing position, hands still flat against the table to ground you, “I barely survived the last one, and yet you wish to play games with my mother and father? With my life? Do you know what they will do to you? What they could do to you? You would be dead before you even reached the skies.” You sneered.

The King’s lips pulled into a thin line, brows furrowed as he looked at you, barely contained anger burning behind the violet of his eye.

“They would not do it if it meant jeopardising your life.”

You flinched backwards, as though he had hit you, curling your hands into fists at your sides as you tried to steady your breathing, but panic coursed through your veins, and your throat grew tighter with each passing second.

"Is that a threat?”

Aemond frowned at you, the lines in forehead pulling the crown down in the slightest of movements. It was as though he was offended by your question, and though you had questioned every natural fibre of his being. 

“You think I would harm you? After all that has happened? After all I have done for you?” His voice became raised, anger leaking into each syllable. 

You scoffed, “You just said that them acting would put me at risk. What will you do? Have Ser Cole at my side, sword ready to cast against my neck or plunge into my heart?” 

Aemond leant forward and sneered, “Do you truly think so lowly of me? I did this for you! I love you!”

“Then do this for me, too! Renew the treaty, Aemond.”

“I can’t do that.” He breathed.

The backs of your calves hit the edge of the chair as you leant back, looking at your uncle from down your nose, “You can. But you won’t.”

Aemond did not respond.

“Sign the treaty.” You said more sternly, anger causing the words to come out harsh, and biting.

The King's broad chest rose and fell in his robes shallowly, his one eye watching you as his hands flexed upon the table.

“Why do you wish to sign a treaty with them? After all they have done?” Aemond growled.

After all they had done?

“They cast you aside! Abandoned you here to be tormented by Aegon.” Aemond continued, voice rising.

“They did not abandon me!” You snapped, hurt and betrayal causing tears to prick in your eyes.

“Oh? But they knew what would happen to you once you were wed to me. They let you be raped. You were sold to me like a brood mare.”

“And who did those things to me?!” You screamed, a tear falling down your cheek, “Who, Aemond? Who raped me? Who defiled me? Who scarred me? Because it wasn’t them.”

Aemond’s anger seemed to bleed out of him as he looked at you.

You pushed the chair backwards hard with a kick of your foot, sending the high-backed wooden seat to crash against the stones loudly, “You raped me. You hurt me. You did that. Not them. You! You act as though you’re innocent in all of this!”

“I don’t-“

“-I will not survive another war.”

The anger was back.

Aemond’s lips curled in disgust, “You expect me to bend the knee to your mother? The very woman who wished to punish me after her son took my eye?”

Your face fell, “No.” You declared, “I expect you to give the treaty a chance. Countless lives will be lost if you start another war, Aemond. Needless blood will be shed. Could you live with yourself knowing this?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly, that it seemed that Aemond had not even needed to give it a second thought. As though he had already weighed all possibilities against each other, as though he had measured the odds.

And still, he had said yes.

You swallowed thickly, wishing the damn lump to leave your throat. And so quietly, you asked a question which clawed at you from the back of you mind. A question of doubt. Of fear. Of another ‘what if’ that you had to bat away with a swift blink of your eye.

“Even if it is mine?”

It was an uncomfortable sort of silence, and this time, Aemond did not answer straight away. Not like how he had a moment before. As though he had not weighed up this question in his mind yet, or perhaps he had, and had come to no conclusion. You watched his face as he stared at you, his seeing eye flickering across your face as a finger twirled the ring upon his hand.

“I will not lose you." He began, making a move towards you, "But I will not bend a knee to Rhaenyra, and kiss her old cunny for the sake of peace.”

His tone was final, he had hissed your mothers name like a curse, and there was no changing his mind. No shifting of the tide that had been steadily building for months now, a tide which had moved away from the shore, sucking the water and life away from the beach, revealing the jagged rocks that were hidden beneath.

You blinked again, another tear falling down your cheek.

Your uncle continued, “And if it need come to war, then so it shall be.”

It was so point of fact. 

So emotionless.

Toneless. 

Void of anything other than finality. 

War was to come.

And there would be no changing that.

“But,” Aemond’s voice startled you from your thoughts, your eyes racing over his face, “You are Queen now. My Queen. Something that is and was always your birthright.”

“Like my mothers.” You sneered.

Aemond ignored your comment and continued, “And you, as Rhaenyra’s heir shall sit the Iron Throne in her place. And then, when the time comes, our heir shall follow."

It was clear to you then, that Aemond had thought on this.

"If Rhaenyra’s concern for succession is blood, then she can be satiated in knowing that the daughter she denied shall sit where she is owed by her birthright.”

You stepped towards him, hands clenching and unclenching, “Aemond, please. Think about this. You are asking me to depose my mother.”

“I ask nothing of you. I am telling you, zaldritsos. I will not have you be pushed aside again for your bastard brother. I will not bend the knee to my half-sister. This throne is ours. It is ours by birthright. And I will be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

The air in the chambers shifted, and you inched towards your husband as he continued to speak.

"Do you think that if I bent the knee to them, that your father would let you stay wed to me? Think on it a moment, Y/n. Do you think that your mother would let you stay wed to a monster? The man who killed her son? They will take you from me."

You stepped away from him, turning your back as your mind raced a as you looked around the chambers, eyes casting out the veranda at the clouded skies. Dread settled in your gut.

You didn't want to be parted from him.

You loved him.

The air was charged as you spoke, voice shaking, “So what now? Are you to send word to them?”

Aemond stood behind you, the chair scraping against the stone floors.

“I will be sending Otto and Ser Cole to Dragonstone as envoys to give word to Rhaenyra and Daemon. They will be told that their blood sits upon the Iron Throne as Queen. They will be allowed to live where they do. My half-sister can have Dragonstone, I have no need for it when I have Kings Landing and you. And they will bend the knee.”

You shook your head, still not turning to face him, “You should know that they will not.”

“Not if you don’t encourage them.”

Your eyes widened as you spun on your heel to look at him.

He was deathly serious.

“You wish for me to ask them to bend the knee to you?” You laughed.

Aemond frowned, “A letter from the Queen is a hard one to refuse. Especially if the Queen is their own daughter. Tell them of the fears that you have. That war will break if they do not swear me as their King and you as their Queen. They can remain on Dragonstone, and you shall remain here, with me. Where you belong.” 

He seemed so sure that it would work. So sure that a simple letter from you would bring the water back to shore. But the tide was gone from your reach, and you were anchored on the coast atop a beached ship with no way to get off. 

Aemond stepped forward, cupping the side of your face gently as he looked at you, "They will listen to you.”

You grasped his wrist tightly, “I am not so sure.” Your voice was quiet, so fragile, like the finest of glass from Essos. One octave higher, one shift against your throat could cause them to crack or break.

If you did this, you would be betraying them.

You would be deposing your mother.

Aemond pulled you into a reassuring kiss, one he poured love and adoration into as he cupped your face in his hands. When he pulled back, his eye roamed your face softly, “I do not wish to see bloodshed, nor do I wish to see you harmed. This is the only way, surely you can see that."

And you did.

You did see that.

You saw it all clearly.

Your husband pressed another kiss against the top of your hairline, your eyes sliding shut as you breathed through your nose, preparing yourself for what you had to do.

"I trust that my Queen will know what to do.”

And you did.

You knew what you had to do.

And so with a short nod, you agreed to his terms.

“I will have Otto deliver your letter by hand.”

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[sunnyhvnny]

I’m posting this request on this blog to see if it shows up in the tags because everything I’ve been posting on @sunnytarg hasn’t been appearing in the tags.

Jacaerys Velaryon

When the war broke out and Jace was sent to Winterfell by his mother to draw the Stark’s support to their side, he wasn’t expecting to fall in love with Cregan Stark’s younger sister.

He had gone to Winterfell on business alone and was more than aware that he was betrothed but it had all seemed irrelevant when he met the younger Stark. He had only been in the freezing castle of Winterfell for two days before an affair started. When it was time for him to leave, he begged his lover to come with him and be his bride. She had only smiled at him sadly and gave him one last kiss before she declined and wished him fair well.

It was the last time that he saw her. After they had won the war, and his mother sat on the throne, he received no news of Cregan Stark’s sister. Eventually, he let go of his foolish dream of being with the northern woman and marrying his betrothed. His marriage to Baela was a union filled with respect and love that grew over time. He was grateful to be married to such a woman and eventually found that he didn’t think about his lost love as much as he once did.

That was, of course, until his mother announced that Cregan Stark and his family would be coming to King’s Landing to celebrate the five years of peace after the war. Jace’s mind had not calmed until he was standing outside of the Red Keep, alongside his mother, to greet his old friend. He watched as several carriages rolled along. Cregan emerged from the first one, holding out a hand for his Lady wife to step out. After her foot hit the ground, several of the children that must have been Cregan’s started to pile out of the carriage. The youngest looking to be no more than two years. He greeted his friend and his wife, as well as their children when the second carriage finally stopped.

This time a large, burly man stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out the same way Cregan had done for his wife. Jace took in everything about the other man and when he saw a crest with a bear on his chest, he knew this was Lord Mormont. Before he could question why Lord Mormont was here when his mother specifically said that it was the Starks that was coming, a woman that he hadn’t seen in years stepped out of the carriage. She was still as beautiful as when he met her only this time, she cradled her swollen stomach as she helped her two sons out of the carriage. Jace swallowed his disappointment, hoping that she had remained unwed. He smiled and politely greeted Lord Mormont. When, the now, Lady Mormont appeared before him with her sons he knew his smile turned softer and the way he took her hand and kissed it was much too familiar. She smiled politely back but turned away at the soonest possible second. Knowing he’d be unable to demand her attention as they all entered the castle, he looked at her sons. Both with unruly hair and giant smiles. They looked close to the same age but he could tell that the one with the slightly more puggish nose was older, perhaps five years of age.

As the days pass, he barely sees the woman who his mind rarely strays from. He chats with Cregan and plays with his friend’s children. He gets to know Lord Mormont and can’t tell if it’s better or worse that he seems to be a good man. It’s only at the feast and when he goes to the training yard that he sees Lady Mormont. She watches her sons play with wooden swords and swat at passing Queens Guards with a soft smile. When her eldest manages to trip one up she chuckles and Jace decides to leave her in peace, knowing he’d only ruin the moment for her.

The day before they are meant to leave is the day that she finally speaks to him. Well, it’s not so much as to him but as to everyone that is standing around. She had run into the throne room frantically telling everyone how she couldn’t find her eldest. How she had planned on putting them to sleep but only found her youngest. She had searched everywhere she could think of before she decided he was missing and thought it best to inform her family and the Queen.

No one wasted any time trying to find the young boy. Jace found himself outside, looking in the small hiding places in the training yard he used to hide in when he was a child. When that wielded no results his eyes snagged on the dragon pit and his heart sank. What little boy wouldn’t want to see dragons before he left? He remembered the boy chattering on at the feast about how he made his mother read almost every book on dragons that they had to him.

Jace had never moved so quickly before and found himself at the dragon pit in record time. He couldn’t find any of the dragon handlers but he refused to turn away in case the young boy was down by the dragons. He called his name and got no response.

With dread creeping up his throat, he made his way further into the caverns where the dragons resided. He Vermax and gave him a pat on the snout before continuing further. He stopped when he finally saw the young boy. Jace said a quick thank you to all of the gods that he could think of when he saw that he was alive and standing and not a pile of ashes on the ground. He strode over to him quickly but stopped short when he saw him climb atop a young dragon named Valaxon. She was approximately the size of a fully grown horse but Jace had seen her with the other dragons and with the handlers. She was a rough dragon, which came as no surprise because she came from a clutch of Moondancer’s eggs.

When he saw that the young dragon wasn’t planning on eating the northern boy, Jace stopped and stared. The dragon practically preened under the boy's attention and for the first time since the Starks and Mormonts arrived, Jace truly took in the boy. He remembered thinking how he must have been no more than five years of age, at first he brushed that little thought off and thought that his old love had moved on from him quickly after he left. His age and the fact that he clearly bonded with a dragon were proof enough for Jace now. He tried not to let the boy see the tears in his eyes as he approached him. He couldn’t very well explain to a child that his mother must have known that she was with child when he left and chose not to tell him of the life that they had created.

He tried not to think of the years he missed with his child and his old lover when the boy beamed at him from atop a dragon.

Aegon II Targaryen

When it was announced that The Lady of House Wylde would be joining her husband in King’s Landing after they had won the war, Aegon had thought little of it. He knew only a little of Master of Laws personal life. He knew that he had four wives at some point and that one remained. He also was aware that he had sided over twenty children with said wives. He had no idea how many he had with the current Lady of House Wylde but he hoped it wasn’t many. He didn’t want several children running about the Red Keep.

The Lady and five young children arrive a few days later. As the King, he goes to greet his Master of Laws wife and the Lady of House Wylde when her carriage stops. After her children pile out of the carriage, she finally steps out. Aegon is taken aback by the noblewoman. She’s stunning, much too beautiful for Jasper Wylde. When he goes to greet him, she curtsies before him and he notices her red cheeks when she raises her head. Only when he meets her eyes does he remember his small tour of the Stormlands as a prince and his dalliance with the Lady of the Rain House. She was young, as was he, and already married to Lord Wylde with a son and daughter. Every night he had been there, they snuck away and enjoyed each other.

When it was time to move on with the tour and away from House Wylde, he hadn’t thought about his brief dalliance afterward. After all, he had slept with many women. Whores and noblewomen alike and on his tour of the realm she most certainly was not the only Lady he had fucked.

The trance she is in, and the stare she had focused on the king was broken when her children broke into a little scuffle over who was to greet the king first. She mumbled her apologies as her husband lined up his children and introduced them to him in order of age. Aegon fleetingly remembered the eldest two, but they had grown so much in the few short years that he had difficulty placing their names without help. The third was born sometime after he had visited them and his Master of Laws said that it only seemed right to name his third child and second son after the future king. Little Aegon could barely meet his eyes as he bowed and mumbled a greeting. Unlike the other children who took heavily after their father, he resembled his mother.

When the greetings were over, Lord Wylde had told Aegon that he would see his wife and children to their chambers and then he would meet him at the small council. Aegon had nodded noncommittally as he watched the Wylde brood walk off, his eyes lingering on the Lady and the third child. The timing lined up well enough, but if that child was his, he had no clue. There was no resemblance and the Lady had given no indication that he was his. Aegon supposed it didn’t matter much, he had many bastards wandering throughout the city and most likely the Realm. If he was honest, many of the children that ran about the Red Keep could possibly be his bastards so he saw no reason why he would think anything of this Wylde child potentially being another.

The presence of Lady Wylde and her children hadn’t made much of a wave throughout the Red Keep. She had befriended many Ladies of the Court, and his sister-wife, Helaena had taken to the Lady quickly; they were inseparable as were their children. Her two eldest children quickly became friends with his daughter and were often seen running about together. The three youngest were always with their mother, who in turn tended to be with Helaena and his youngest son, Maelor. Aegon had tried not to let his gaze linger on the beautiful Lady. It wouldn’t do well to fuck the Master of Laws wife, but the more she was around the more he remembered their brief dalliance. He remembered fucking her roughly in dark hallways and covering her mouth to hide her gorgeous moans. At night, he let his mind wander to those nights they shared and he often found himself fisting his cock at the remembrance of her wet cunt and the way it squeezed him.

His mother’s words had painted a certain picture so when he finally entered the nursery to see Helaena, Lady Wylde, a crying Maelor and Lady Wylde’s third child, little Aegon as Lord Wylde called him, holding a vividly green dragon hatchling with the cracked egg on the ground, he was surprised, to say the least. Aegon realized what happened immediately. The egg that was placed in little Maelor’s crib in hopes that the dragon inside would bond with him had finally hatched and instead bonded with Lady Wylde’s son. It doesn’t take long for Aegon to come to the conclusion that the children must truly be his because without Targaryen blood the child never would have been able to bond with a dragon.

His sudden laughter filled the room and startled everyone. Of all his bastards, never had one claimed a dragon. He looked over at his ex-mistress and saw the horrified look on her face at what this all meant. Perhaps she had only the smallest inkling that her child could have been his, after all the little boy didn’t resemble him in any way. This news would spread fast and her husband would be bound to find out sooner rather than later. He clamped his hand on the small boy's shoulder and congratulated him, the boy only nodded as the small dragon climbed up his arm and settled on his other shoulder, chirping happily. Aegon looked over at Lady Wylde and smiled charmingly before saying, “I’ll talk to your husband. There is no need to worry.”

The Lady visibly swallowed and whispered a thank you before Aegon led the smaller Aegon out of the room, intending to bring him to the dragon pit. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Lord Wylde to let the little boy stay in King’s Landing after this. Perhaps he could sway him into letting the Lady remain with her son. His sly smile overcame his face at the thought of resuming his affair with the woman as their child learned about bonding with a dragon.

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond knew that when he took Harrenhal it was his right to take any of the women to his bed as a prize. Truthfully, he had considered it but then his eyes landed on her. While some of the women looked at him with disgust or fear for taking their home, she looked at him with her nose turned upward and a hard look in her eyes that drew him towards her. What he had with her for those few weeks probably wouldn’t have been considered an affair. He spent his meals with her and found time every day to talk or walk with her and despite the fact that he aches for her, he didn’t take her to his bed until a week before he left to go back to King’s Landing.

He hadn’t forgotten her in the years that passed. When he married the youngest Baratheon daughter for an alliance, he thought of the woman at Harrenhal. When he bedded his new wife, he pictured another woman beneath him and the way she moaned as he had taken her. How she wrapped her legs around his waist and how she stroked his scar. His wife hadn’t done any of that. She lay underneath him and refused to look at him. He saw the same slight disgust in her eyes when it came to his scar. She didn’t cling to him and he fucked her and when he spilled inside of her she hadn’t whispered how she hoped his seed would take root in her womb, but instead rolled off the bed and pulled on her nightgown and left.

As the years passed, Aemond got used to his loveless marriage. His wife had never grown to love him and he never grew to love her but he loved the children that his loveless marriage wielded. He spent the most time with them, their mother often found herself spending time with the women in court or going to her place of birth. She barely glanced at her silver-haired children after they were old enough to be away from her.

In the quiet moments in his life, he often found his mind wandering to Harrenhal and the woman he had grown to love within those walls. He missed how he could laugh freely with her and how she looked at him, truly looked at him, and didn’t see the prince who rode the largest dragon or the scarred and disfigured kinslayer but only saw him, Aemond Targaryen. He would often get hard at the thought of her in their last moments together. Most of the time he would close his eyes and fist his cock and imagine it was her that was doing it but there were times that it wasn’t enough, and those were the nights that he found his wife in her chambers. They didn’t speak as he rutted into her and he wondered if she thought of someone else as he did. Usually, these moments would result in a babe down the line. He currently had seven children from his Baratheon wife. His eldest was seven years of age, born just before the war ended. He was a quiet boy who preferred the company of his dragon. His second eldest was a little girl, only a year younger than her brother, she was always in the dirt looking for insects for her beloved aunt.

He was lost in his thoughts about his children when his brother made a small announcement. His wife nudged his side and he blinked back to reality and looked at his brother, his king (he thought with disgust if it wasn’t for him that crown wouldn’t be on his head), as he told the few family members at the table that new knights were being brought to the Red Keep to join the Kingsguard. Aemond made no acknowledgment until his daughter of five years tugged on his arm excitedly and began talking nonstop about what her elder sister told her about knights. He listened, his entire attention on her, as his wife conversed with his mother.

Aemond went with his mother and princess Jaehaera to examine the potential knights for the Kingsguard. When it was one man’s turn, Aemond looked him over intensely. He could have sworn that he had heard the House that he belonged to before but he couldn’t place it. He also looked familiar but Aemond was sure that he had never met the man before in his life. Eventually, he was one of the knights chosen to join the Kingsguard and on top of that, he was sworn to his sister, Queen Helaena.

As he strode down the corridors of the Red Keep, planning on going to his chambers, he saw his daughter running at full speed. He thought that she was running to him and he opened his arms wide for her to jump into but instead she ducked under him and crashed into a girl he had never seen. The young girls were giggling on the floor when a woman came around the corner, the other girl's mother probably. It wasn’t until the children were standing up that she turned her gaze to Aemond. He felt frozen to the spot when their eyes met. It was her. The woman from all those years ago. The woman who proved he could be loved. She smiled fondly at him and without saying a word she turned and the two girls followed after her.

When he was back in his chambers he let his mind wander to her and the little girl that must have been hers. The child looked so much like her and she looked at the child so fondly that no one would miss the maternal nature of it. The little girl was probably a little older than his eldest and was clearly friends with his eldest daughter.

It clicked then. The knight from earlier must have been her brother. He remembered her talking about a brother who was off fighting for the greens during the war and had aspirations of becoming a knight. Perhaps she was visiting him in the capital.

He decided he would find out the next day. He would invite her to tea with him in the gardens and ‘catch up’. He wanted to ask why she never sent word after he left, he wanted to ask about her daughter and if she had a husband. He wanted to know everything about her.

The next day, he joined his mother and sister for tea in the gardens. They always asked him to join and he rarely took them up on the offer but today she was with them and he had no idea how he could say no. She smiled at him as he sat with them and rarely took her eyes off of him as the time passed. He asked her about her daughter, who he learned was only a little older than his eldest son. He asked about her husband. The question made her pause and look down into her cup. Her smile dropped slowly as she said he was a good man and provided for their little family. After that he questioned her no more on her family.

Instead, he mentioned how it seemed that his children, Jaehaera, and her daughter seemed as thick as thieves. All the women giggled at that and it was Helaena who told him that the girls went to the dragon pit. They were insistent on showing their new friend their dragons. As if the girls heard their parents talking about them, several dragons appeared in the sky. He saw Morghul, Xurmag, and Dallas in the sky. Clearly being ridden by the young princess but following them was a bigger dragon. He squinted up and saw that it was Silverwing, who was unclaimed since the war. When the dragons descended in front of the adults, the girls scrambled off with shrieks of laughter.

When Silverwing landed it was the daughter of his ex love that climb off. She looked frazzled but excited. He felt his mothers and sisters gaze on him as he watched the young girl walk over to her mother. He finally looked up at the woman who was already staring at him. The truth didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They all knew it. Perhaps, though, with this new information he could persuade her to stay in King’s Landing, or better, he could take his children and their dragons and they could go to Harrenhal. Where it all started.

Daemon Targaryen

Many of the dragon riders thought little of the dragon handlers. Daemon, while he looked down upon many, he didn’t look down on the man who took care of his beloved dragon. No one else was suited for the job but this specific dragon handler so he became close with him and his family. Meeting his wife and two children. His son had already married some commoner and was training to be a dragon handler himself when Daemon first came around.

His daughter on the other hand was a different matter entirely. She was gorgeous and fierce, and if Daemon hadn’t met her parents already he would have thought she was born from a dragon. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall together. The first time he had taken her had been in the cavern in which Caraxes was held. Her father had been away and their desire for each other had reached a boiling point. Quickly he turned her around and shoved her against the wall and slipped his cock inside of her. Neither cared that a dragon was only a few feet away, all they cared about was each other at that moment.

Their brief tryst had stopped abruptly when his brother exiled him after the death of the Queen and his son. He should have seen it coming, truthfully, but it still hurt all the same. He had tried to convince his lover to come with him into exile but she refused to leave her father behind. Daemon had been close to just tossing her onto Caraxes and flying off but he couldn’t drag her down with him, so he left without saying goodbye.

When he returned from the Step Stones four years later he had hoped to see her again but he hadn’t. For the brief time he was at the dragon pit he had asked after her and all the information he received was that she married a kind and strong man whilst he was away. Daemon refused to let jealousy fester inside of him as he took off again. This time to Pentos.

Several years had passed since he had last seen her. Enough time for him to not think about her and at times forget about her. They had good times, he wasn’t denying that, but they had both married since then, and in his case, he’d been widowed twice and remarried again. When he finally came back to King’s Landing, it had been close to fourteen years since he last saw her. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid off of his dragon and let her father and several other dragon handlers deal with Caraxes.

He watches the dragon handlers for a moment before he decides to go and talk with his old lover. Still as beautiful as the day he had met her, he think with a smile. As he takes a step towards her, though, he hears a shout from what sounds like a little girl. He’s ready to ignore it but she snaps her head in the direction of the dragon pit with worry in her eyes. It’s not until she hears giggling that her face relaxes.

Daemon finally makes his way over to her. She stiffens at his close proximity but doesn’t move away. He hadn’t thought about what he wanted to say to her, he only knew he wanted to be close to her one last time. Finally, he asks who the screaming had come from and reluctantly she told him it was her daughter. When she came to visit her father at the dragon pit, her daughter often liked to join them.

“Isn’t that rather dangerous,” Daemon mussed as Caraxes was finally corralled into the pit. When he looked back at his ex-lover he waited for a reply but only found a sly smirk on her face instead.

Only a few moments after he had asked his question, a girl barely a teenager came out of the entrance of the pit on the back of a blood-red dragon. It wasn’t fully grown but it definitely wasn’t a baby. She rode it like a horse as she waved down at her mother. From the looks of it, it wasn’t her first time being atop this dragon.

Daemon watched in awe as his old lover's daughter took flight on a dragon. He supposed that he could have left her with child before he left but other than the brief fleeting thought, he hadn’t thought much of it. Now, though, seeing what clearly must have been his daughter soaring through the skies on a dragon that resembled Meleys, he couldn’t deny that not only did he have a daughter with his old lover, but a dragon rider as well.

[marshmallowdarling]

Hi! I love reading your story's, can I request a yandere Hannibal x fem reader please?😊💕

It’s not surprising that Hannibal plays the long game but Hannibal also makes the game. 

It was easy for him to set up the game, almost laughably easy. He was a renowned therapist who helps police on cases, strong, smart, made a name for himself- a good name. Your parents didn’t even have a chance to have doubts when he came to ask for your hand in marriage. If anything your parents were elated, over the moon that you, the black sheep of the family, had the eye of a man like Hannibal. They practically threw poor little you to into his hands. 

One thing Hannibal likes is politeness, manners, and no matter when or how Hannibal had meet you he was struck with the need to understand you, figure you out and not in his usual killing urge type of way. After a few months or even years of following you around he finally realises what it is, love. 

Does he really think its love? Not really, its something deeper, more sinister than love. He would rip apart anyone that would try to hurt you, he wants to keep you safe with such feral intensity it’s not sane. But he himself can’t even breathe at the thought of hurting you himself either so he chalks it up with a simple word. Love. 

He should have seen it coming, really he should’ve since he had been watching and ‘protecting’ you for so long, but he’s still struck shocked when you fight back your holy matrimony with such pettiness and sass. You couldn’t stop your parents from practically forcing you to agree to marry him, getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t really care about, everything too grand and nothing like what the little girl in you envisioned. So, in retaliation you tried everything to get him to re-think his decision, anything to get him to divorce you, even if it meant being a sassy brat. Turning your nose up at his delicious food just to piss him off, doing little things you knew he hated just to push his buttons.

It’s cute, he thinks, really cute that you think being a brat would stop his heart from yearning for you so much his physically body aches being away from you. But you aren’t a brat, are you? Your just pretending because your sick of your parents stupid pressuring expectations, hating how they dictated every little thing in your life and now your ‘life’ partner. 

Every time you push and shove and take bits and pieces of his sanity it just fuels his obsession for you, every time he feels himself get frustrated or irritated it just makes him more head over heels over you. Staring at you with hearts practically in his eyes as you make his blood boil, he takes everything in stride. With a polite smile on his lips and insanity in his heart eyes. 

But he does feel bad, really he does, he feels bad that you have terrible no good rotten parents who are ready throw you to the wolves once they get their greed filled, or bad enough for a man who feels no remorse or guilt. Maybe its pity, he thinks, like how one looks at a wounded animal. But he could never see you at a level as an animal, no matter how adorably cute you are. Maybe a goddess then, a fallen goddess, he worships you as if you’re a goddess anyways, taking your sass and anger as some sort of twisted love from a holier being. 

He can’t help the feeling of amusement that bubbles up when he see’s you try to be a brat, but the manners engraved into your very soul peek out, like your body and mind are fighting on your decision to pretend to be mean when your really such a sweet nice darling. 

The little ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ that come out when you demand something from him or the sweet little ‘no thank you’ that you give him when you pretend to glare at him with faux hatred in your eyes, because you didn’t really hate him. How could you? He was unbelievably sweet and attentive, picking up on the little things you didn’t even know about yourself until he picks up on it. He was the best husband anyone could ask for, in and out, even if he could be a little serious, cold and calculative at times. Hannibal shields you from everyone, including your parents, shutting them down so quickly and efficiently when they start their bullshit of bringing you down it seems natural. 

And one day your fake anger towards him slips, your tipsy on alcohol and his love, its all consuming but it feels oddly soothing, like cool balm on an open wound. You stumble and almost trip, but his arms are already there to catch you, ready to do anything to keep you safe and without thinking you lean up and press a soft, albeit clumsy, kiss on his lips. 

Something in Hannibal snaps. The kiss, as quick and fleeting as it was felt like heaven. Like he was reborn, like for once in his life he could finally breathe.

You gave this dirty, blood-stained sinner a slice of heaven and now he’s your most devoted worshiper at your alter. For better, or for worse. 

~~

Hannibal has you pressed in a mean mating press, one of your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. The thin handmade anklet he got you for your wedding present, dainty and small, designed from start to finish by him with a little ‘H’ dangling on it chimes in his ear and makes his head spin. 

“I- god- I love you so much.” He groans out, sweat clinging to his brow as his messy blonde hair sticks to his skin. “Goddess." He murmurs into your skin, pressing his lips against your ankle, kissing all the way up to the side of your knee as he saours the way your skin feels on his lips. Pulling back he licks your sweat that smeared on his lips and he smirks. 

 His pupils are wide and blown as he gazes down at you with so much love and tenderness it hurts. Sweat clung to his muscular frame as he threw his head back, groaning so low you feel it in your tummy.

Your in worse shape than him, yourpractically writhing under him, not able to escape the torturous pleasure as he puts all his weight down onto you. As sweaty if not more than him, twisting and bucking and shaking, hair messed and sprawled out on the bed beneath you, eye brows knitted. Your breath being selfishly stolen by him as he takes and takes, gasps the only thing able to leaven you as well as broken keens and whimpers. You had long stopped trying to muffle your embarrassingly lewd noises, he had practically growled at you to let them out, not letting you hide anything from him. 

Sparks zing up your spine as he hits deep and a wail leaves you, your hand coming to push at his lower stomach, nails scratching over his muscles. Hannibal moans and his eyes roll at the feeling, quickly snatching your hand he slams it softly next to your head. His fingers entwining with his as he locks them together. 

Long deep slow strokes makes your brain melt out of your ears, brain gone all fuzzy as you get addicted to him and his touch. 

“Take it sweetheart, I know you can.” His breath hitches as he forces your thighs open wider to accommodate him, he looms over your more and the change of position makes you cry out. “Let me worship you my goddess, your mine, all mine.”  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Woo wee thats finally done! I hope my first proper attempt at smut was ok I think there was another ask for Hannibal but it was H/C's, I'LL GET TO YOU MY LOVELY I PROMISE 😭 Im trying to get back into writing but its hard, im sorry but I will get to you all. Some might be before others just because some things kick start my writing process 🥺 But please keep sending requests I love the ideas and support even if it takes me a bit to get to them. Hope you enjoy lovelies.

~Mwah ♡

[the-desilittle-bird]

AN- Another preference guys!!! Also, I have an angsty Daemon oneshot based on Tere Liye song in my drafts...

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preference

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark & Criston Cole

Warnings- Westrosi Shenanigans

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are an honorable lady of one of the Great Houses of Westeros. And after Lady Rhea Royce dies mysteriously, your father plotted to marry you into a marriage with the Rogue Prince.

You had met him a few times earlier, and you were less than impressed with his... antics.

You swore you would have ran if you weren't devoted to your father and his life's work in order to make a beautiful legacy for your family (sounds Lannister-ish).

You had controlled the urge to laugh during the entirety of the feast hosted to honour your betrothal with the prince.

Daemon's face resembled that of a pouty kid who was denied something he needed. While on the other hand, Viserys was gleaming with happiness as he congratulated the "beautiful pair".

The wedding was lavish, much to both your and your husband's dismay. And while you covered your dismay with grace; his remained bad.

He was partially dragged to the sept by his brother.

Marriage with him can go two ways.

Either you become another bronze bitch for him.

Or you impress him with your charms and he ends up being completely enamored by you.

If you try to reject his advances; he will never quit making them.

And when you accept his devotion, he will be the happiest man in Westeros.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

He marries you on his mother's demand.

Very formal and stoic. Will reward you with only a hand on your back in extreme situations.

Aegon teasing him about the upcoming bedding after your wedding.

Also offering you an opportunity to approach him if Aemond doesn't suffices you.

"My lady, you know where to find me if my brother can't suffice your womanly desires in bed."

You in reply, had smiled sarcastically and said, "it won't be required."

The boy's ego was wounded.

While Aemond was downright impressed by your courage.

It starts slow with him.

And takes a loooooong while before he shows you his left eye; bared of the eyepatch he wears.

You had a hard start; worse than that of possible.

But he starts seeing you as family after Helaena softens up with you and you spend time with his niece and nephew. Alicent also likes you.

He would never compliment you directly or profess his love in words. But his actions speak louder than anything else.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

You are his second wife. And not really a recipient of his love and care.

Purely political marriage with both your and his house benefiting in some way; all while you were being prepared to be a man's second wife.

You learnt quickly how you shall always been seen as a shadow of his wife. And you were actually happy with it.

Both of you shall perform your duties to one another, but that would be it.

No speaking until necessary.

His children not liking you at first; but once you start to open up with them, they come to tolerate your presence.

The first real conversation you two have is after you find Alicent crying in her room, reminiscing the happy family they used to be before her mother perished.

You had barged into his office, demanding to know when was the last time he spoke to his daughter.

And you fought for hours. Until you broke down into tears as your patience ran thin.

"YOU DO NOT CARE OF ANYONE AROUND YOU, BUT YOURSELF! Not Alicent, not your sons, not the king... not me."

He saw you in new light that day. Someone who was ready to fight for his family.

And he starts engaging you in conversations at feast.

And honestly, you like it. Being noticed by your husband who only saw you as a trophy before.

Corlys ���Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Your father was the most important merchant in Essos; and you were his precious little daughter.

You met Corlys for the first time after his negotiations with your father.

When your father tells you that you shall be married to the Sea Snake to assure the new alliance’s birth and growth.

You were extremely angry. And hurt.

Your marriage to him was anything but modest; and took place in Driftmark.

You could feel the unease radiating off the lords and the King as they congratulated you and your new husband.

Unfortunate for you, your father skipped the part of him being a widower and having kids close to your age.

And you were furious. Very. Very. Furious.

You kicked and screamed; creating a scene behind the closed doors while your new family and your family was present.

Tensed with anger and disappointment burning deep in your chest, you find yourself roaming the beach as the sun raced towards the horizon.

You hadn't expected the man, your new husband, to come for you. But he did.

And you talked, deciding a few terms for easy marriage life.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

You were from the West; betrothed to him after his first wife passes during childbirth, leaving him with a son, alone.

And so, your father decides that you should become his second wife and mother to his barely a year old son.

Your betrothal is officiated on letters. No formal meeting. No courting.

You were sent to the North before a fortnight from your wedding.

You arrived to be greeted by Sara Snow, since you cannot see Cregan before your wedding, as per traditions.

You have a wedding in the customs of North.

And then a smaller wedding with only close people around in the small Sept in Winterfell, where you are wedded in your traditions.

The feast following was loud and warm with wine flowing the cups and fire blazing in the backdrop.

When you were asked to share your first dance as a couple, your very first dance anyway; you hesitated as you accompanied him.

But everything went very very smoothly.

And then was the time of bedding ceremony. And Gods! Were you overjoyed when Cregan defended your honor and downright canceled the ceremony.

"Anyone who shall dare touch my bride shall spend his life without any further children. I and my wife are perfectly able to find our way to our chambers."

That night, there was no bedding. But you spent the time conversing while Rickon Stark slept against your bosom, peacefully.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

Since he is the part of King's Guard, he can't marry anyone. But after he takes on the position of Hand of the King to King Aegon II and Prince Regent Aemond, that's a different story.

He arrives at your father's holdstead with a handwritten letter from the Queen Dowager Alicent, asking for your father's allegiance to the Greens.

But your father was no fool.

You were his eldest; first of the four sisters.

And so, he asks for a betrothal in exchange.

But with Aegon already married and Aemond betrothed to marry and Daeron too young for you, he asks Criston to marry you.

And with his undying loyalty to Alicent and Greens, he does.

The ceremony is small and not flashing, with only Aemond and your family present.

There was no feast. Just a close dinner between family.

You were scared... terrified actually.

But the Hand of the King reassured you that he will do nothing you don't wish for, and instead of consummating the marriage, he falls asleep; on the floor.

And you realize that maybe, he isn't as bad as you have heard of him.