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hisfavegiri · 5 months

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You’re Mine - Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, breeding kink, breast slapping, rough sex, jealous Aegon.

Summary: On Aegon's name day, you spent time dancing with everyone. But there is someone who is always watching you

You laughed out loud while dancing to the song, you deliberately didn't accept invitations from all the lords because you didn't really like it.

Your mother and father are watching you with smiles on their faces, as is your grandfather who is sitting at the head of the royal table.

"Good evening princess, I hope you enjoy the party"

You turned your head and found Brandon Tyrell standing behind you, you smiled and nodded slowly.

"Good evening Brandon, yes I really enjoyed this party"

"Glad to know that princess, may I ask you to dance?"

You hesitated but then you accepted his invitation and started dancing with him. Without you realizing it, Aegon had been watching you intently.

"He won't stop dancing with her if you just look at them from here" Aemond's voice made Aegon turn towards him.

Aemond was right, but Aegon was not in the mood to dance. but seeing you laughing and dancing with other people makes his blood boil. Then Aegon stood up making your mother look at him with a confused look.

"I'll be right back," he said and stepped towards you, his steps were very heavy but also fast.

"So Brandon, do any of the women in this palace catch your attention?"

"So far I have only looked at you princess, there is no other woman as beautiful as you"

You laughed at his words, until the sound of a cough distracted you. "Evening Sir Brandon, can I dance with my sister?"

You looked at Aegon in shock, then Brandon nodded and walked away from the two of you. now you and Aegon started dancing

“What did you talk to him about? I saw you were very cheerful and laughing out loud earlier. “You could clearly hear the dislike and jealousy in his tone, you just smiled and shook your head.

“Why do you want to know? It doesn't matter Aegon” you said quietly, you really liked it when he saw him jealous.

Aegon snorted and squeezed your waist, his eyes staring at you sharply and deeply.

"Don't play with me sister, you know I don't like it when people touch anything that's mine."

You shivered when he whispered his last words, your bodies were so close together now. you could see many eyes watching the two of you, including your father and mother.

you heard Aegon chuckle softly, “did the dragon get your tongue darling?”

“Aegon, everyone’s starting at us” you whisper back to him, and he looks around then he smiles and he looks back at you. "Let them, so everyone know that you are mine"

Once alone, Aegon closed the door behind them, trapping you within his gaze. His voice was commanding, laced with possessive desire. "You looked stunning out there, sister. But remember this, you're mine, and no one else's." Aegon caressing your neck while whispering close to your ears.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in Aegon eyes. "Aegon, what are you trying to do?," you protested, but your words were cut off as he moved closer, his proximity overwhelming you.

And as he stepped in front of large mirrors in his chambers, he stared into the reflection looking back at your silhouette. your hair was messy, your face was glimmering underneath his sweat and as he moved away your long and silky hair. Then he release your dress slowly by murmurs his breath afterwards he is revealing your body in naked.

He lets his eyes go wide and his expression softens for full persuasive effect, you huffs, leaning in again. Then, Aegon presses their lips together. He’s firm, making the most of the brief moment afforded to you. He parts his lips and lets out a soft sigh before finally pulling away, your face a shade or two redder than when she had first leaned in.

Aegon reaches out let you to sit between his spread going slow to make sure his sister is comfortable with the new position. Aegin hands slide down your sides and he tenses as they brush past your core, “Ng— Aegon..”

Aegon other hand slowly tracing down from your lips and trickles through your naked breast. You silently admires Aegon’ broad chest and toned shoulder as you casts your full attention on him. You can feel your cheeks slowly heat up as you senses Aegon bores his focus on your figure as well.

“All mine.”

Aegon low voice breaks the silence, magically captivating you and makes your hand wander to touch his collarbones, expression lightens up in fascination despite your reddening face. You lowers your palm to caress his stomach, then up to his chest and lets it lingers there. Aegon lips curl up into a gentle smile at the action. He remains in that position, enjoying the warm touch of his sister.

Then you squealed softly as Aegon pulled you to his bed, you both laughed softly and you kissed his lips. You looked at Aegon's face and stroked his cheeks, he looked at you.

“On your stomach, now” You sulked and reluctantly laying down. Aegon slowly stroked your bottom, smirking a bit. You shivered at the sensation, a whimper leaving your lips.

“You've been a bad girl, haven't you love? talking to other man, making me jealous” Aegon asked, playing with his sister ass. You reluctantly nodded your head. "Y-yes I have..." you muttered out quitely.

Aegon chuckled. "You know what bad girls get? They get punishments? And you're about to get yours." you shuddered, bringing your ass up for him viewing pleasure. He groaned. "Eager as always, aren't we?" He teased, before unexpectedly spanking you. You yelped, tears threatening to leave your eyes from the force.

Aegon affectionately rubbed your behind and gave you another slap. "One." He counted. He spanked her once more. "Two." Another slap echoed through the room. "Three." He said. By the tenth spank, you was a whining mess, begging him to stop. Aegon picked you up and sat you on his lap. He kissed your cheek and rubbed your thigh. "There there dove, it's all done." He said, ending his words with a peck on your lips.

Then he lays you down and climbs on top of you, kissing your whole face gently until he stops at your lips and kisses them softly. “let me take care off you love” as he looked at your bare body on his bed.

You absolutely never fails to leave Aegon awestruck by your ethereal attractiveness, especially when you’re underneath him without any fabrics concealed your curves. He rotates his hips slightly after his length is fully sunk into her, eliciting an obscene moan from the opposite side.

As their gazes collide, Aegon’s hand discovere new purchase around the smaller's neck and squeezes slightly. Then, he applies additional pressure to the sides, feeling your throat constricts and your breath hitches down. After a moment, Aegon lets go and picks up a steady pace. His palm drifting to cradle your jaw before dragging his thumb across your lower tier. Under Aegon’s fingers, your lips flutter with warm breath as you basks in the pleasure.

"Fuck i love the way your walls squeeze me, the way you taking me so well"

You couldn't help but sigh because his pace became more faster also becoming hard and Aegon kept hitting the spot that made your toes curl. He smirked, when looking at you who's holding down at the sheet. You threw your head back as Aegon’s kept on pounding into you. You shut your eyes as the knot inside your stomach grew tighter, signaling that you was about to come.

"Look at me baby, look at me when I'm fuck you good" You looked at his eyes and bite your lower lips, His thrusts were relentless, his pace was brutal. He leaning down to kiss your neck. You whined when he hit that certain spot, she could feel the smug smile against your neck.

"That's the spot huh?" you can't even answer, your eyes are roll back from the pleasure.

"Only my cock that will keep filling you, and i will remind you that everyday." He said, and continued rubbing your swollen clit. you let out a whine, "Ngh—yes yes please ..." you replies breathlessly, squeezing your eyes shut as Aegon keep pistoning his hips toward yours.

"I'll fuck you whenever I want, wherever I want, and will breed you over and over again. My seed will fill your womb, and grow in your belly. I can't wait." Aegon growled with every thrust. “gonna make you swollen with my babies”

your mind goes crazy as you imagine you swell with his child, letting everyone know that you only belong to him. “yes yes yes, please”

Aegon chuckled. "make everyone now that you’re mine, just mine, All mine" He says while slapping your breast lightly, which made you moan.

“ohh P-please..." you rasped. He groaned, he was near his peak.

"Shit, I'm close baby" He said. Your body began to shake with unimaginable pleasure.

"Fuck, now make a mess for me. Cum for me" you let out a high pitched moan as you reached your peak, thrn he thrusted a few more times to make sure that he’s seeds is deep inside you "now you can sleep love" he chuckled and kissed her forehead.

— tag list : @danytar

let me now if you want to be on my tag list for the new story 🙌🏻😉

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd one shot #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii fanfic #king aegon #aegon the second #hotd x reader #x reader #hotd season 2 #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aegon targaryen

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solkara · 3 months

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❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 , jacaerys velaryon and baela targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were born a fighter you had to be the life you lived didn't allow you the liberty of comfort growing up not knowing any form of affection until they came

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , jacaerys velaryon x fem! fighter! reader x baela targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , okay so ngl this was only meant to be one part but I just had so many idea's. also I know the request said jace and luke but I couldn't help but add my girl baela but dw their is gonna be some platonic luke in the next part heheh

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ since the day you were born you were alone. your father left you before you were born. your mother died giving birth to you. so from the moment you took your first breath. you were completely and utterly alone. you weren't high born. meaning your name bore you no luxuries nor status to fall back on. you had nothing.

⌗ so like every other common born you turned to the extremes to make ends meet. and your method just so happened to be the most dangerous of them all. fighting. now fights weren't uncommon in kings landing. especially child ones. often done in dark alleyways where hoards of drunks and gamblers came to spectate.

⌗ and while it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world it paid rather well if you were the winning party. and it was better than becoming a whore. so you tried your hand at it at the ripe age of nine. and haven't looked back since. the fights started off small. meaning small payouts.

⌗ but once you developed a reputation of being undefeated you graduated from street fights with other children and drunks to the big leagues. arena fights. it was no secret that the royals and highborns of king's landing enjoyed watching arena fights. with most betting ridiculous amounts of money on a certain fighter.

⌗ praying to the seven they can reap the rewards. but the more money they gambled the more money there was to be paid out to the winning fighter. which is why you had signed up for every arena fight since the age of sixteen.

⌗ your first had been a memorable one. with everyone counting you out from the jump. which didn't surprise you. as you were surrounded by experienced and stronger fighters. but by playing your cards right you were the last woman standing.

⌗ three years later and you were still undefeated and had become a favourite among the gambling highborn's. as not only were you a safe gamble. but you were also entertaining to watch. life was good. you had more money than you knew what to do with. when you weren't fighting you spent your days in the peace and quiet of your newly purchased home. until the next fight rolled around.

⌗ which just so happened to be a very special one. the fight was in honour of prince jacaerys velaryon's name day. to you it was run of the mill. all you had to do was go out there and win.

⌗ jace sat up on the balcony with his family. waiting for the fight to begin. truth be told he hated events like these. senseless violence that was passed off as exceptionable entertainment. but unfortunately he would have to bare though this as this was being thrown in his honour.

⌗ as he sat between his brother luke and his betrothed baela. he watched as the fighter flooded out of the gates and into the arena. jace's eyes were immediately drawn to a certain individual. she looked the same age as him and baela. though her body was far more toned and littered with scars. wearing scraped silver armour plating. she was as beautiful as she was intimidating.

⌗ and it seemed his betrothed agreed. "she's beautiful isn't she?" baela whispered to him. to which he could only nod. as the two watched the fight on the edge of their seat. the pair knew that they enjoyed duck and goose and were honest with each other very early on in their betrothal. so they had no problem admitting they found another attractive. or inviting them to their bed. and as the two silently looked at each other they knew they had to speak to you. even if it was just once.

⌗ as the fight drew to a conclusion and you once again stood victorious over the rest. walking out of the arena and into the fighter's area. you collected to earnings for the night. but as you went to leave you were stopped by a guard. who informed you that you had been summoned to the royal box.

@avatar4life , Gio, can I get a headcanon for Jacaerys and Lucerys, can be either platonic or romantic your pick, and can you make it about a reader being an arena fighter and them trying to save her and gain her trust? And she's tall and buff with scars scattered around her body. Hope you have a good day or night or evening!!

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targaryen-dynasty · 11 months

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INNATE DESIRES. (1/5)

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, profanity, semi public sex, size kink, power imbalance, breeding, choking, female reader (no mentions of looks besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: The events of this start somewhere between 41 AC to 44 AC, while the rest takes place around 45 AC. Visenya has not died (yet), but Cersye, Alys and Tyanna have. Aegon and Rhaena are captured at Crakehall, and Viserys is still his squire and hostage.

After the passing of your father, you, your younger siblings and mother had fled from Dragonstone to Driftmark almost immediately. It was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it meant you could keep your life after the arrival and coronation of your uncle Maegor, while you would have loved nothing more than to witness the sight of the Black Dread’s shadow devouring the castle on the eponymous island.

When the Dowager Queen and Vhagar arrived, it was her that urged your mother to come back to join the busy life at court – meaning you and your siblings were to abandon her childhood home Driftmark.

Your mother’s stay in the capital was brief, and you assumed it was because she could not stand to be separated from her children any longer, as Visenya had ordered you four to Dragonstone instead.

Two years after your arrival, it was evident that you had become a prisoner in all but name to Visenya on Dragonstone, barely allowed to leave the castle. When she was not around, her spies and vipers were.

And so it was even more surprising that, when you were summoned to the Throne Room in the midst of your lessons, you came face to face with none other than your uncle. He sat on the throne, his mother lingering not too far away. With him in the room, his big frame concealing most of the impressive seat, it was even more apparent how frail she had become over the years. If you would have to guess, she would not do much longer.

As your purple eyes met his, it was as if a wildfire ignited in your body, coursing through your veins, vividly remembering the night you had caught him speaking to your father about a possible betrothal. But it also angered you, knowing that he had left for Pentos with his second wife not long after, without even saying goodbye.

On the other side of the throne stood none other than your mother, and while both Visenya and Maegor seemed rather smug and pleased, Alyssa had a grim expression on her face.

Like an invisible string luring your body towards his, you came to a stop shortly before the first step to where he sat. “Your Grace.“ You smiled sweetly at him and slightly bowed your head, more out of courtesy than true belief, because your brother Aegon was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne after all.

At least five knights guarded the door to the Throne Room behind you, and when Maegor rose from his seat with the pommel of Blackfyre fidgeting between his thick fingers, you were certain that was the moment your life came to an end.

His steps were heavy as he walked down the steps, coming to a stop just shy of you. His domineering frame was looming over yours, and you had long forgotten the last time you had to crane your neck to look up at someone as tall and big as he was.

“Leave us,“ Maegor’s gruff voice rang out, and when both Dowager Queens opened their mouths to protest, he was quick to shush them with a simple raise of his hand. Even when they walked past you, you did not dare break eye contact with your uncle, and while he usually was a hard and brutal man, there was a hint of softness in his eyes solely reserved for you.

When you two were the only people left in the room, he directed his voice towards you. “You have grown,“ he stated, his eyes traveling up and down your body. With the defiance of a young woman, you jutted out your chin just slightly, nonchalantly looking up at him. “How would you know?“ you asked. “Five years and you have not once come to visit me.“

Your uncle chuckled dryly, one hand coming up to pinch your chin. “You know ‘tis not as easy as you make it seem.“

From how much your father had told you after Maegor’s departure, you knew he probably was right, though you had yet to find out the true reason behind it. With his longing stare making you somewhat uneasy, the pregnant pause between you two grew thicker with tension.

Until your voice cut through it.

“Why are you here, uncle? Do you not have a wife to care for and a realm to rule?“

“I do,“ he said, his tone growing a bit harsher as the memory of the stranger taking his three wives not too many moons ago flashed before his eyes. “I am here for you.“

A small crease formed between your brows at his words. “I am afraid I do not understand.“

“Maybe you will understand this.“ Where his paw had rested on your chin before, it traveled down to your waist, almost taking up its entirety with his fingers splayed out.

He dipped his head towards yours, but you were quick to bring your hand up between your faces, taking a careful step back. “We can not,“ you stated, trying to sound stern, yet you were betrayed by your fluttering nerves, your heart beating in your throat.

With his hand still on your waist, he pulled you back against his firm chest as if you weighed nothing, the sheer display of his strength bringing heat to your cheeks. “The matter is settled already. I shall take you as my wife in a sennight,“ he said. “I have waited long enough for this, and with my brother dead there is no one left to deny me.“

“My mother–“

“Has no other choice than to give me what I want.“ The threat was unspoken but clear.

Every attempt to speak against him was silenced by his lips on yours. The kiss was far from being gentle, and it was evident he claimed your lips with a carnal need. With his hands traveling over the curves of your waist down to your rear, roughly fisting the skirts of your gown, it was obvious that he intended to do the same with your body.

Your heart was racing, pounding against the confines of your ribcage when your lips parted, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I have never–,” you whimpered, trailing off as you looked at him with wide eyes. Every ounce of affection and gentleness Maegor mayhaps held before had vanished with a snap, leaving only a man hungry for your virtue.

But no matter how badly your body ached for his touch, having craved it for so, so long, you pulled away to walk past him, climbing the few steps towards the throne with shaky legs as a heat settled at the apex of them. You had to bring some space between the two of you, mayhaps that allowed your thoughts to clear again.

”My brother Aegon–,“ you started, but were interrupted when you tripped over one of the last steps, causing you to topple forwards. Taking in a sharp breath while bracing yourself on your hands and knees, Maegor was quick to not allow you to get back on your feet. Kneeling down next to you with one hand resting in the place between your shoulders, he applied just enough pressure to keep you down.

“Where is your craven brother now, sweetling?“ he emphasized the nickname with a condescending tone, and it should have you feeling sick to the stomach, not aroused. “Not here. He had the chance to claim the Iron Throne, but he did not take it.“

His hand brushed over the bodice of your dress, trailing deep enough so he could cup your arse. But it merely lingered there for a few seconds, never settling. That touch alone still was enough to reignite the flame within you, and only when your fluttered nerves calmed just a bit, you noticed the proximity between you – and how he looked at you with darkened eyes.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tried to gather some courage before speaking, “You are just as much of a coward as he is. Coming to claim what is rightfully his when he is besieged at Crakehall.” Another chuckle came from Maegor, but this time it sounded somewhat amused.

“Oh, I know you do not think so highly of your own kin,” he said, a smug smirk pulling on the corners of his chiseled lips. His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, the pad of his thumb brushing your lips.

“Enough with the mummer's farce, Y/N. Are you not at least a little happy to see me, mh?” It was evident in his mocking tone that he did not really care much about your feelings. You were meant to marry him regardless of what you wanted.

With pleading eyes, you looked at him, slowly nodding your head and allowing your guard to fall – even if only for a few seconds. “Y-Yes.”

“And do you not want to be a good, obedient wife to me?”

If his question did not already choke the air from your lungs, his hand fisting the skirts of your dress to lift it just enough for his hand to snake underneath certainly did. It was him harshly groping the flesh of your arse that caused you to speak again, forcing you without voicing a command.

“I do.”

As his fingers started to drag over the dampened spot in the center of your smallclothes, he got all the confirmation he needed to proceed with his actions. The ministrations of his fingers grew in determination, dragging around your little bud in circular motions and eliciting soft whimpers to fall past your lips. As the pleasure rippled through your body, your hands grabbed the edge of the step beneath you, knuckles blanching from the force.

Shame filled your veins, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, instead focusing on the throne in front of you. “I–,” you wanted to repeat your previous words, but your uncle was quick to cut you off. “Then let me be the first and only. You belong to me.”

Any protest was once again silenced by your own gasp as two of his thick digits pushed the linen of your smallclothes aside, scarcely dragging through your soaked mound. Only when they were generously coated in your arousal, he eventually pushed them inside without a warning.

“Gods,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as your maiden hole tried to adjust to the girth of his fingers. “P-Please…” You did not know what you were begging for. For him to leave you be or for him to give you more?

Maegor seemed to be at least a bit mindful when it came to your maidenhead, keeping his fingers still until they were buried to the hilt. You clenched around him tightly, which caused him to hiss through gritted teeth as if it was his cock plunging deep inside you and not his fingers, hardly preparing you for what was to come.

“Please,” Maegor mocked you with a chuckle, pushing his lips forwards into a pout that feigned his pity. “You are so pretty when you beg, niece.” The ministrations of his fingers were slow, pulling out almost completely only to push right in again. The sounds of pleasure they forced from your throat were enough to drive the man next to you close to insanity.

His head dipped forward, looking you down with a sharp expression that savored the sight of your face contorting in pleasure all because of him. Your body was torn between feeling hungry for him and being humiliated because of him, the interplay leaving you utterly confused, and longing to be filled by something else of his.

When he withdrew his fingers from your cunt, they were glistening with your arousal. The warmth that slowly spread throughout your stomach had vanished just like that, and the whine that slipped past your lips at the loss of friction was the epitome of being pathetic.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, engulfing them with his lips and humming as if he enjoyed the finest Arbor red the castle had to offer. You squeezed your thighs to soothe the aching that burned between them at the sight, feeling empty and not at all satisfied. “So, so sweet,” he purred, the tone a stark contrast from the harsh one he had used before. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he released in the following, the purple of his eyes almost eclipsed by black.

Magor leaned in to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent he had missed so dearly for the past five years.

The softness of his voice and the close contact had you losing yourself in his dominating presence, completely at his mercy. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before his bulky frame disappeared behind you, one leg bent at the knee while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. Because he was so close, you felt him undoing the laces of his breeches, his hands bumping against your arse each time he pulled the strings loose.

Your impatience got the worst of you, masked as a shiver traveling up your spine. You were not sure if you had to accommodate a girth wider or lesser than his fingers, but at this point you did not care. Your body longed for something you hadn’t felt before, and it needed it. Now.

One of his hands darted to your hip, squeezing it harshly while the other wrapped around his hard member. Feeling the impatience take over your body, you pushed your hips back enough for the tip of him to prod at your hole, causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip.

As you turned your head to look at him from over your shoulder, your hooded eyes met his, a lazy smirk draped over his features. “That is all it takes to change your mind?” he mocked, stifling a grunt as he forced himself into your tightness, your maiden walls squeezing him. “Pathetic.” All of the sudden, his raspy voice was strained, having to restrain himself from pounding into you before he even filled you to the brim. You could see it in the way he set his jaw, forcing you to avert your eyes in fear.

You released a mixture of a whine and a shaky breath, the burning of the stretch prominent enough to cloud your mind and set your body on full alert. With both his paws on your hips, you could not even intervene or squirm away. Every ridge and vein of his cock dragged along your clenching walls as you accommodated the sheer size of his member, not making the stretch any more pleasurable.

“S-Stop,” you whimpered.

And Maegor actually listened, but only because he had bottomed out completely and needed a few moments to regain his composure, adapting to you squeezing him like a vice. “It will become more pleasant soon,” he grunted, trailing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting manner you did not know he possessed. “Trust me.”

The first snaps of his hips were neither hard nor fast, but deep and determined enough to brush that sweet spot inside of you your own fingers had not reached before. Having his breeches pulled down enough to free his cock and the sac of his stones, they slapped against your sensitive bud each time his hips met yours.

With that pace, the burning slowly but surely turned into the pleasure your body had been asking for.

Looking back at him once again, you were blessed with something you hadn’t seen before. A few strands of his usually neat, silver hair hung in front of his face, every now and then clinging to the few beads of sweat on his forehead before the tremors of his thrusts freed them again.

He felt you adjusting to his size, which prompted him to increase the pace to the point he was pounding you. Each impact forced your head to tip forwards and your knees to scrape across the stone floor, barely diminished by the skirt of your dress.

Something you hadn’t anticipated was him bringing his hand in front of you to clasp around your throat. With the strength he possessed, his grip was tight, choking you regardless of him intending to do so or not.

“I want you to look at the throne,” he commanded through gritted teeth, the choking and gasping sounds you made merely a dull noise in the background. “‘Tis the seat our son will sit in one day.”

His other arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his firm chest, securing you and keeping you steady despite the reckless snaps of his hips. Mayhaps it was the possibility and danger of the Dowager Queens barging into the Throne Room or because you finally got what you had craved for more than five years, but your peak built in the pit of your stomach far too quickly for your own liking.

“I am going to fuck you so full of my seed, making sure it will bear fruit.”

Maegor shifted his hips, angling them so he was thrusting upwards into you, which had his cock reaching even deeper than before, causing you to mewl and whine. Even if you wanted to, you could not reply, but with a renewed wave of your arousal dripping down his throbbing member and stones, you did not even have to.

“I-I–,” you stammered, his grip not loosening. It was a surprise you managed to inhale enough air to fill your lungs – mayhaps he was better at assessing his strength than you thought.

“Go on,” he rasped, squeezing your throat in a rhythm that matched his hips, sensing your impending peak.

It was embarrassing how quickly your peak took over at his words, rippling through you with soaring pleasure. Each time his stones hit your little bud, your overstimulated body tried to jerk away from him – but to no avail with his strong arm around your waist.

Maegor watched in awe as your body trembled within his grasp, the tremors growing more apparent with each second he did not pull out. His mouth pressed to the side of your face, tongue licking a flat stripe from your jaw up to your temple.

“You want my seed, niece?” he grunted into your ear, “want me to fuck a child into you? See your body swell with my seed?”

Finally loosening the grip he had on your throat to allow you to speak, you croaked a ‘seven hells, yes!’ into the chilly air of the Throne Room. “Put a babe in me… please,” you all but begged, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him – enough to capture his lips with your own.

The response of your body his and your own words elicited was pitiful, but it was just the truth. You wanted his child, the thought lingering in your mind for the past five years. Your walls trembled around him, choking him so tightly the bull of a man behind you had to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort was fruitless when his pulsing cock spent itself inside of your quivering walls.

Each of his grunts and groans was devoured by your lips on his, drinking them down as if they were the only things keeping you alive. Out of instinct, you started to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milked him for every drop of his seed.

Maegor was out of breath by the time his movements came to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he meant to make sure his efforts bore fruit. And you relished in it, despite the vulnerable position it brought you in.

Tipping his forehead against your temple, he closed his purple eyes, breathing shakily before speaking, “merely pack the bare essentials for the travel. We shall depart for King’s Landing in the morrow… on dragon back."

Bowing your head once, you fixed your undergarments and dress once he had pulled out, sitting back on your haunches. With your back facing him, he did not notice the wide grin on your lips.

Mayhaps then you finally were to witness the sight of Balerion’s shadow devouring Westeros' capital.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

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asumi2020202 · 3 months

Text

The Right Choice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader(slight), Daeron Targaryen x reader

Summary: After everything that has happened, you thought he would change. Only for him to inflict a bigger scar as your hope for this marriage vanishes into thin air.

A/n:Thank you for reading.

Alternate ending of: Everything has a Price to Pay

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War was at its peak. It had been almost two weeks since the last time you met Aemond in your shared chambers. Your wounds had healed leaving behind just some aches.

You knew that he didn't speak the truth. The informer of the green, Larys Strong had informed them that Aemond had returned to Harrehal. And that his whore was pregnant with his bastard.

You knew he would do so. You knew he would not be able to keep his word. Because if he truly was faithfully, then he wouldn't had slept with her in the first place.

You didn't really feel anything. You were disappointed,Yes, but you wouldn't hold him back if he did love her. You had your son and your family.

Instead of being dissatisfied with his actions and crying over it, you thought of asking your eldest brother to annul the marriage.

Aemond had broken the gentle girl you once were. The pain and betrayal numbed your mind. No longer did you care of what the others would say.

_________________________________________

Word had been sent to the Red Keep from Harrehal that Prince Aemond would bring back his whore to the Keep.

Your numbed soul hurt. Alicent had didn't even want to call him her son but she couldn't deny it.

He had stated that a room should be prepared for... Alys. The name of his whore.

You simply couldn't stand the thought of being with him again. Not when that perpetrator would also stay with his whore inside your very home.

You asked the maids to shift your belongings and your son's to another room. Your mother, the dowager queen had told you to stay with Helaena since Aegon doesn't sleep with her.

She thought that since both of you had the same fate, you could find comfort in each other.

You had agreed. Hastily leaving the room along with your son to find your eldest brother, the king.

_________________________________________

Aemond had landed near the dragon pit. He got off of Vhagar before carefully taking Alys off of Vhagar as well.

Alys had tried to touch Vhagar. Trying to pet her like Aemond does but Vhagar gave a loud and angry growl. And almost tried to bite her before Aemond intervened.

Alys fearful of the dragon, hid behind Aemond.

He turned and saw Moonfyre giving a very angry and loud scream towards them before both the female dragons flew off in the sky.

Aemond, turning his gaze back to Alys, guided her inside.

_________________________________________

As he walked through the garden and inside the corridors, he could see you talking to someone. It was a man. He too had white hair like him and was tall like him.

Aemond asked a passing maid to escort Alys to her room before he saw you coming towards his direction. The man going the opposite direction.

As you tried your hard to walk past Aemond and avoid him, he grabbed your hand.

"Y/n.." he started.

You turned to look at him. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest. Your eyes looked hollow unlike the way it shined when you conversed with the other man.

" It was just one night . I didn't think she would get pregnant. I couldn't leave her there, knowing our enemies might attack any time. I really am guilted. I didn't wish to hurt you love. Please forgive me." He spoke, looking at your face as you looked outside.

"I'm sorry I couldn't satisfy you. That you sought out another woman for pleasure." You said. He was about to speak but you didn't give him the chance.

"From now on you can live with her. I hold no grudge. After all, it is my fault for not being able to hold my husband to myself.

But don't worry you can love her as much you wish from now. You and I will only be related through blood and name, nothing else. I already found someone who will love me."

"My love. I don't understand what you mean. Found another? We are married. I am your husband and you are my wife." He spoke up, hoping you didn't mean what he thought you mean. Anger and jealousy in his voice.

"No longer. I had asked Aegon to annul our marriage after you're raven arrived. And he did so. The whole of kings landing knows of what you did brother. The council has decided that me and my twin will marry each other so I can be relieved of the shame you bestowed upon me. Daeron and I did loved each other before he was sent to old town.

Now that I am no longer bound to you, I am free to marry him and my son does need a father. Aegon assured me that my son will be acknowledged by the people as mine and Daeron's son, as the people haven't seen Aenor yet. You would be wise to not disturb us." You spoke with venom as you walked away.

Annul the marriage? Your twin? When did Daeron return from old town? Aenor will be claimed as Daeron's son. His younger brother.

So many thoughts went around Aemond's head. He had messed up everything just for pleasure. He lost the only who loved him for who he was and now she left him along with his son.

Defeated, he asked a maid to escort him to where Alys was.

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All the family had gathered in the dining hall. Aemond came in and saw everyone already chatting and conversing. His eyes looked for you until they did find you.

In your right sat Helaena, conversing with you. And on your left, in his seat, sat Daeron.. he saw how the two of you held hands and occasionally smiled at each other.

His thoughts were disturbed as he felt a tugging on his arm. It was Alys.

The entire family's laughter and peace was stopped due to the unwanted face in the dining hall.

"Brother. I thought that this hall was only for family, you had been the one to tell me that. And yet you bring some whore here. Aren't you acting hypocritical?" Aegon said. Giving a disgusted look towards Alys.

Aegon noticed your discomfort with Alys present. He knew he treated his wife the same but Helaena was weird to him. Yet you... were his perfect little sister.

Aegon had completely changed after becoming the king. He couldn't quit drinking but he didn't go to brothels.

"Alys will be eating with us from now on. And I suggest you show her some respect." Aemond replied as Alys looked down.

"Suggest? Hah!" Aegon laughed. "Are you trying to intimidate me brother? I am the king. Your whore is of little worth to me." Aegon continued.

"Aegon." Alicent tried to stop her son. She got up from her seat and came around the table at your side and gently placed her hand on your arm.

"I could behead you and whore at once for the shame you brought to the house and my sister." Aegon said as Aemond had nothing to reply with. He only looked at your face as you turned away.

"Guards. Escort prince Aemond and that.... Witch! to their chambers." Aegon ordered as the said people were escorted away.

You looked at Daeron as he offered you a smile which you reciprocated and intertwined your hands together.

_________________________________________

"How could you?! You ruined everything that I had! Just to cover up one lie of yours! You decieved me!!"

"I'm sorry Aemond but I needed money to raise my child! I had to do it. I am sorry if I hurt you.. but I do accept that I never loved you to begin with."

Hurt?! You took everything from me! My child! My wife! My family!.. And now you tell me that... The child is not even mine?!!

Shouting could be heard throughout the castle.

Alys had been secretly seeing and writing to her lover. Not Aemond. Aemond had accidentally seen them kissing when he entered the room.

She confessed that she was pregnant before they even laid with each other. That the child was of her lover's.

Aemond in a fit of rage even slapped her when she told him that she only stayed with him for money to run away with her lover.

Aemond felt betrayed. Just as he felt when his father didn't take his side when he lost his eye. He felt blocked from all sides. Because of his mistake, no one in his family believes him anymore.

He ran out the door as fast as he could. He hastily reached the dragon pit and mounted Vhagar.

He took off to the place where Aegon had been coronated. As got off and pushed through the crowd. Tears flowed from his eye.

There you stood before the crowd. You and Daeron. As the High Septon finished his speech. You lips and palms were already cut. By the time he reached, you two were drinking from the cup.

He saw the way you both kissed eachother so lovingly, the same way he did when you both got married. But now he had to see his brother do that to you.

His mother, the dowager Queen. His brother, the king. His grandsire, the Hand. His sister, the Queen. All stood there and smiled. The crowd were cheering. Yet Aemond felt bitter.

_________________________________________

The Dowager Queen and The Hand had left for the Red Keep along with the King and the Queen.

Daeron was mounting Tessarion and you Moonfyre. Aemond ran to meet you. As he did, you looked down at him.

"It isn't mine. That child isn't mine." Aemond spoke. He was panting, having to run all the way to you.

"Oh that.. I already knew. Helaena told me 2 days after I last met you." You spoke calmly.

"Already knew?" He felt confused.

"Well if my mind serves properly, Helaena told me through her riddle 'The one who he sacrificed for is not his own.' "

Aemond didn't even know what to say, so you spoke for him.

"Brother..... I know it was a mistake you made. I won't blame you for seeking love hence I forgive you for what you did but I don't know if mother will. I am thankful to you." You spoke.

"Why would you thank me for what I did?" Aemond didn't understand what you said.

"I am thankful because for your mistake I was reunited with my twin, my husband. I blindly thought I loved you but it seems that I was wrong. I can only give you one advice... Move on." You said the last sentence coldly, not sparing him even a glance. And with that Moonfyre and Tessarion flew into the sky, roaring from above.

Aemond stood there, his one eye saw your pain and anguish. His tears fell endlessly as he stared into the sky.

_________________________________________

You stood near the corridor of the second floor, staring at the training yard. While your husband, Daeron, cradled your son to his chest.

You turned to your husband as he gently kissed you with one hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up.

"I am to go get a dragon egg for my little princess." Daeron said as his eyes travel to your stomach.

"Princess? How do you know it'll be a girl? I am betting a barrel of wine that it'll be a boy. Mother's intuition." You replied to your husband, smirking at him.

"Let's see who will win. The father or the mother." Daeron spoke, giving you his kinky smile. You got on your toes to kiss his cheek as you both were leaving for your chambers.

Beknownst to you, Aemond had seen everything you two were doing. He felt hurt. Hurt because he couldn't experience it. Hurt because he saw how happy you were with his brother. He regretted everything he had done that day. The day he laid with the whore.

He saw you both leaving. While he was blinking away his tears, he saw you angle your head a little towards him. He saw you smile and rotate you head back to the front.

He heard you say a sentence before you left with you husband and child. One that completely broke him.

..."I finally made The Right Choice".......

-Lillian

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acupofqueercoffee · 3 months

Text

“Beneath the Dragon’s Eyes”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader (+Meleys)

wc : 2700+

cw : older woman x younger woman // also, they make out in front of meleys, hence the name // a touch of fluff and a sprinkle of spice

finally took matters into my own hands muahahaha 😈 i love my red queens so gotta include both of them, and ofc, rhaenys speaking high valyrian 😮‍💨

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Zephyrs in Driftmark can be unforgiving at times, especially in the break of dawn. It crawls through little gaps from the castle’s stone walls, running its frigid fingers over every part of your body that is left exposed by your thick covers. One cursed touch of it, and immediately, the shivers come in a tidal wave, iciness crashing down your frame the way waves break the sandy shore.

Peeved to be so rudely awaken, you burrow deeper into bed, pulling the covers over your head to hide in your warm, little cocoon. Still, the trembling persists as though your early morning visitor has left a piece of itself behind in the very depths of your core, for coldness continues to swell from within. On your temples, your blood throbs so fiercely in your veins to the point that you think they may pop any moment now, an awful sensation that is well-nigh torture.

A part of you is inclined to believe that such is the punishment for the sin you have committed yesternight, but even if it is to be the case, the better part of you harbour not a dot of remorse. Why should you when there still lingers traces of her presence, subtle but certainly detectable on the delicate piece of fabric that is presently held close to your chest, a keepsake. Admittedly, not willingly given. Rather, stolen in a moment of irrepressible desire. But a keepsake nonetheless. The handkerchief is simply a square piece of cotton cloth, elegantly lined with lace, as white as milk, but her initials, in blood-red cursive, are embroidered on one corner of it.

Pressing the soft material to your nose, and drowning in the faint scent of sea breeze and firewood that is uniquely and so undeniably your Princess Rhaenys’s, conjure up memories from last night. Within the secrecy of your room, one of the privileges of being the Princess’s Handmaiden, with the stolen little piece of herself nestled over your nose, your fantasies have gone uncontrollably wild. Teeth biting lips, fingers journeying south, sweat blooming into beads, body writhing in ecstasy. Suffice it to say that by the time you drift off, you are thoroughly drained. Only the sea scented breeze catches wind of the name that sweetly, thickly drips down your lips in a sacred whisper, and the moon, the sole witness to the rivulets that shimmer on the inside of your thighs beneath its silvery light.

A cascade of warmness that envelops your body at the mere thought of your lady is all it takes to fend off the cold. Cheeks rosy and ears buzzing, you suddenly feel very feverish. By the side of the bed, a window sits on the wall, the clouds beyond the frame drenched in artistic reds and oranges at the hands of the slowly rising sun, and in need to cool off, your fingers curl around the latch to push it open.

Your respite is fragile, short-lived, shattering like a glass on impact, once an eddy of wind, strong and sudden, swirls into your humble dwelling. The intruder leaves everything untouched other than your little keepsake that is stolen right under your nose. Slipping through your fingers, it flutters akin to a bird preparing for take off, before being escorted through the window, and you watch, a gasp on your lips, while the relentless breeze sends the precious piece of your lady flurrying down, and down, and further down. Your heart drops along with the handkerchief by the time you realise where it has disappeared into.

In your haste to retrieve your prized possession, you have forgone, or rather completely forgotten, the decency to slip into something more suitable for the weather. With a simple nightdress precariously hanging on your frame, your bare feet pad through the winding halls and down the grand staircases as you slip past bustling servants, too engrossed in their respective works to pay you any mind. By the time you reach the entrance to the crypt, you observe from behind a pillar. Only when you have made certain that the two dragon-keepers are locked in an animated chatter do you emerge from your hidden spot, running past them in a blur of movements.

The bowels of the castle are off-limits to many servants save a handful of guards and the dragon-keepers. It is after all home to Meleys, the Red Queen, Princess Rhaenys’s beloved dragon.

Amidst your descent into the foreboding darkness, the beast inside your chest pounds against its cage, wild and frantic. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of dragon, and there, in the shadowy depths of the cavern, you can outline the form of Meleys, her scales shimmering like rubies in the faint glow as she appears to be slumbering, coiled and relaxed. Granted, you have feasted your eyes upon the dragon from afar with no small amount of wonder whenever your Princess takes her out for a flight across the ocean, but it is only given that you will be hypnotised by such a spectacle right before your very eyes, the sheer magnitude and majesty of the Red Queen filling you with intense awe.

A sudden, swift whoosh of her tail sends something aflutter into the wind, and the sight of it spills ice along the length of your spine. Caught on a jagged stone, between you and the dragon, is your lady’s handkerchief.

You have just barely plucked the delicate fabric between your fingers when a low, rumbling growl, seeming to come from the very bowels of the earth itself, shakes you to your core. Slowly, you unstick your eyes from the ground only to find twin orbs of molten gold locked onto you, burning with such malice and ferocity that the force of it alone sends you stumbling back. She rises, hackles raised, and only when a person emerges from behind her large body do you understand why the dragon is being so alarmed.

“Daor, Meles!”

(No, Meleys!)

You are in equal parts absolutely terrified of the doom looming over you, and ridiculously enamoured of your lady’s mother tongue reaching your ears in a tentalising caress.

“Ryptēs. Lykiri.”

(Listen. Be calm.)

One colossal wing unfolds, a protective barrier shielding her rider from you who she deems a possible threat.

“It’s alright. She’s not a threat.”

You can see from where you sit in a sorry little heap, still frozen on the ground, that Princess Rhaenys’s hand has planted firmly against her dragon’s side, offering reassuring strokes that seems to effectively pacify the massive creature. Little by little, her red wing lowers to fold gracefully against her side, and in doing so, reveals to you your lady, comfortably dressed in her dragon-riding attire. There is a steely edge to her face, lips pursed, and gaze stormy when she turns to look at you.

“What, pray tell, do you think you’re doing here?”

So, she demands, and you stand before you answer, or at least, you try to, but the suddenness of it encourages a dizzy spell that has you wobbling on your feet. That has been your foolish mistake for you have offered the doom, that is silently, solemnly observing you, one wrong move, and one is plenty enough of a sign for her to finally descend upon you. With a snarl, scary and sinister, the red queen takes a step forward.

“Lykiri, Meles. Rȳbās!”

(Be calm, Meles. Focus!)

Helplessly, hopelessly, you swoon over your Princess, who has placed herself between her handmaiden and her dragon, her body a firm wall of protection before your own.

“Lykiri.”

(Be calm.)

Once again, the delicious pulse of her voice flows in the form of High Valyrian, gentleness and authority intertwined as she quells the anger of the dragon with a string of melody that effortlessly spills forth her lips, accompanied by a delicate touch of her fingers on the dragon’s impressive snout. Despite your circumstances, you cannot help but stupidly find the gesture endearing.

“Demās.”

(Sit.)

As oblivious as you are to what your lady is saying, you hang on her ever word, enthralled, and so, too, is Meleys if the way she stops her grumbling to instead sit down on the ground is anything to go by.

“Hegnīr. (Good.)” And with a press of your lady’s fingers, elegantly long and delightfully lithe, that are bestowing gentle caresses along the plane of her cheek, the dragon emits a sound, not akin to the growls from before but a happy noise, supposedly the closest thing to a purr she can manage. “Hmm…ñuhys meles darys. (Hmm…my red queen.)”

Once her dragon is settled, you become the focus of the Princess’s attention, or rather, the object of her ire. “You’re not supposed to be here.” She scolds, her stony-eyed gaze pinning you in place. “And what have you got there?”

Following her eyes, you find that they are resting on your hand, grip, white-knuckled tight as fingers curl around the handkerchief, her handkerchief, for dear life. “It’s- I- uhmm-” Silently, patiently, she studies you as you try but fail miserably to stammer out an explanation, for the words get tangled in your throat.

One footfall of her boots brings her closer to you.

One more and you will be able to feel her breath on your face.

Her gaze, although just as intense, has begun harbouring a touch of softness as those fingers, which have served as one of the focuses of your fantasies, lock around your wrist, thumb of her other hand tracing the embroidered initials. “This is mine.” She speaks matter-of-factly. “Why do you have it?”

Your eyes are cast to the ground, roaming over every bump and ridge of rock, anything but her face, and so, with her hand still fitted around your wrist like a snug bracelet, she tugs you, not unkindly, merely as a means to draw attention. “Eyes on me.”

How are you to resist a direct command from your Princess? A command to feast your eyes upon the mesmerising planes and valleys of her face no less.

It comes to you as easily as breathing, admiring the little lines bracketing her lips and the delicate crow’s feet below her eyes, and enjoying every moment of it, but not so much having your soul laid bare beneath her hot scrutiny. The brilliance of her stare gives rise to goosebumps on your body, the little hair on the back of your nape standing when you hear Meleys in the background. The dragon levels you with those twin suns of hers, pools of liquid gold that shimmer with curiosity, in return for the peek you have sneaked. Her stare is both mesmersing and terrifying. A strangled little gasp tumbles out of your lips, whereas a thrill that simmers low in her maw seems to vibrate deep within your bones.

“Fear not.” Your lady’s face gravitates towards you, but a whisker away. “Meleys wouldn’t touch a hair on your head unless I say so.”

“But me on the other hand, hmm,” Middle and fore finger touch a lock of your hair as she whispers in your ear. “I’m not quite sure.”

“I- I’m sorry, my lady. It smelt of you,” You swallow, warm and fuzzy. “-and it was so inviting, and I couldn’t help myself.”

A pad of a thumb traces the bone of your cheek, before opting to pluck your chin between forefinger and a thumb. Gingerly, she angels your face until your gazes collide. “Oh, I bet you couldn’t.”

She watches you intently, her eyes roaming over every feature on your face, and despite the cheeks that are dusted cherry red and the sorry little thing swelling painfully inside your chest, you glory in her attention, soaking every droplet of it.

Dainty and delicate in appearance, her lips call out to you, a siren’s song, and just as you are entertaining the idea of throwing all caution to the wind to chase after the forbidden temptation, they fall upon you.

No amount of wildest dreams can hold a candle to the real experience. Smooth and soft, her lips are the sweetest thing you have ever had the pleasure of consuming, but underneath it all is an addictive spiciness, you quickly discover, once a velveteen tip of a tongue licks the swell of your lips. No sooner has the delicate bud unfurled like a flower in bloom than the ravenous snake slithers inside in search of sweet nectar.

An arm has twined itself around your waist, pulling you against her body, kiss intensifying as teeth nibble and tongue tangle, and with a choked little noise, your hand descends upon your lady’s shoulder.

In the haze of it all, you cannot help but appreciate her hair, a cascade of white satin falling beautifully down her shoulders, which you braid every morning and comb every night. A knit appears between your brows. Clearly, her hair is fashioned. Although, you do not remember putting these particular braids on her head.

“You didn’t send for me to have your hair done.” Fingers toy with a lock of hair, perpetually drenched in moon glow. “Who did these, my lady?”

“I can manage a few braids myself, dear girl.”

A nip on the delicate underside of your chin proves to be a dizzying distraction.

Meanwhile, blossoms of her kisses have branched off to your neck, lips closing around the little notch on your throat. Like dewdrops blooming on leaves on a misty morning, specks of perspiration has appeared on your forehead. She sucks once, and your spine arches. Another, and with a trickle of gasps down your lips, your body curves deeper into your lady’s.

“You’re trembling.” She breathes into the hummingbird flutter of your pulse, voice throaty and hot, and you feel it on your skin more than you hear it. “Is it the cold?”

“No,” Her hand tugs one part of your chemise down, and doing so leaves your shoulder bare. “No, Princess. It is you.”

“Hmm.” Lips glide across your skin, planting firmly on the slope of your shoulder, and sucking the flesh into the hot cavern of her mouth until it is red and rosy and deliciously raw.

Then, she arises, thumb outlining the fleshy swell of your lips, dewy and kiss-swollen, before opting to cradle your face in the palm of her hand. A ghost of a smile that blossoms on her lips is such a sight for sore eyes. You drink it in like a parched man.

A beautiful mess, the Princess has left you, and she takes her sweet time relishing her masterful craft.

“Gevie.”

Her mother tongue makes a delightful reappearance, this time solely for your ears, and you are but butter in her arms, melting from the sultriness of her cadence alone.

“What does it mean, my lady.” Your gaze, doe-eyed and love-struck, finds hers. Her amused little grin is not easily discernible, but all too familiar with the nuances of the Princess’s expressions, you find it in those enchanting browns, in the soft little lines on her face that becomes just a touch vivider. “Beautiful.”

“I’ve found myself wondering what my touch would do to you-” Her gaze moves to the stolen keepsake that still resides within your grasp. “-if this flimsy, little fabric was capable of making you moan my name so reverently in bed.”

The knowledge that she is aware of your deed breeds excitement, sends tingles down your spine. A twinkle of anticipation has appeared plain as day in your eyes, and to your pleasant surprise, a chuckle spills forth her lips, deep and dizzying.

“But perhaps another time.” She drops a kiss atop the little arch of your nose, and your eyes slip shut, full of bliss. “And keep the handkerchief. I’m sure it’ll be more useful in your hands than it is in mine.”

A feather light touch has found home on your naked shoulder, a gentle flap of a butterfly’s wings against the deep purple bloom that her mouth has so exquisitely painted on your skin. With a hum, she fixes the chemise so that the evidence of her doing lies hidden beneath the fabric, away from prying eyes and gossiping servants.

“Come. Let Meleys rest. She has had enough entertainment for one day.”

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#house of the dragon #rhaenys targaryen x reader #rhaenys targaryen velaryon x reader #rhaenys velaryon x reader #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys velaryon #rhaenys the queen who never was #character x reader #hotd s2 #hotd season 2 #fanfic #tv: hotd #hotd fanfic #meleys #meleys the red queen #dance of the dragons #eve best #high valyrian

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bl00dlight · 3 months

Text

Maiden

Aemond Targaryen x OC lyseni brothel worker {NSFW} {RQ}

Warnings ● Misogyny, Classic harmful Westerosi male bullshit, canon Aemond incelness, smut, not proof read, mother issues, general woman issues, awkward ass vibes, mentions of violence, UNEDITED, etc etc

Word count ● 5.6k

Author's Note • This isn't QUITE the same as the request, but after ep3... well let's just say it's pretty clear Aemond really ain't the type to uh, treat sex workers with respect. I mean he never was... but this really plays into the whole incel book thing. Sorry y'all. Enjoy the fucked upness. Also sorry for any typos.

Masterlist

The few nights that Aemond Targaryen had spent visiting Madame Sylvie, were indeed - strange ones.

He had never thought he might return here; never thought he'd stomach the sight of the woman whom his brother had coaxed him to lay with all those years ago. It seemed as though Aemond could remember that fateful day, his thirteenth name day; down to the very last detail. What he had eaten to break his fast that morning, the feeling of his mother's weary smile beaming down at him softly, the bitter taste of the ale his brother had poured down his throat before pulling him towards the seedy streets of flea bottom.

He could remember all, but the memory of entering into Cock Inn, meeting the Madam. That, he'd somehow forgotten, only the knowledge that it had happened remained.

Yet, the first night he returned to Cock Inn, suddenly all returned. The aching saccharine scent of the perfumed air, the soft flesh of bare whores dancing and of course, the peaked eyes of the Madam as she looked upon him.

All were things that seemed to bring him back forcefully to the night Aegon had first brought him here, the night he first lay with a woman. There was still a hardened ache of disgust and humiliation in his chest regarding the matter, for it had not been an experience Aemond enjoyed. Even now, upon returning, he wasn't particularly certain he enjoyed fucking the Madame as he thought he should.

For he hadn't touched a woman since his name day, and strictly returned to the Madam for she felt familiar, known to him.

The prince rather preferred taking comfort from the older woman, laying upon her soft lap, the thick flesh of her arms and thighs cradling his bare body, her hands stroking his hair. She was soothing, understanding - of course only in a way a whore could be. Afterall, Prince Aemond was no fool to think the Madam's affections extended beyond the coin he paid her. Though it was clear she held some level of care - which for Aemond was more than enough to warrant his actions.

He needed to be soothed, cared for - especially after what happened with Lucerys. Especially since he could not bear to see the glimmer of disgust in his own mother's eyes. After all, Aemond had done for her, the sacrifice he had made in honour of duty. After all the years Alicent had willingly chosen Aegon to give attention to over himself. He had been starved of love, starved of affection. So, he sought it in the one place he knew he could get it: Sylvie.

He sighed, laying his head gently upon her lap, her fingers grazing his scalp. For a moment Aemond pretended the Madam was Alicent, that it was she who cooed and praised him softly. Who's touch was soft like silk upon his taut flesh.

Aemond closed an eye, taking in the warmth as the two lay upon a large circular bed, in which candles draped all around the stone ledge behind it. Despite the fact, he knew the brothel's surroundings to be the mastery of artificial comfort, lulling drunken men even further into depravity - he still could not help to take comfort in it. It was a welcome change from the often dreary halls of the Red Keep - which seemed more like the Sept these days.

The prince coiled himself even further upon the Madam, cuddling into her so that he might feel the plushness of her belly upon the back of his head. She felt warm, safe - in an odd way. She made him feel as though he was allowed to rip off the mask of strength he had so thoroughly integrated onto himself. Sylvie looked down upon him, slightly bewildered yet pitying the young man before her.

It was not until the familiar sounds of her protégé entered the room did her eyes wander from Aemond's silver hair. She looked up, noting the tray the young woman held. Upon it a small copper cup in which she had carefully begun to pour milk within its confines. Sylvie gave her a nod, watching as the young woman filed in, placing the tray near the bed.

The Madam rarely took in women and girls to mentor into the trade; however, her current protégé was undoubtedly one which was most promising. The day she had been bought by the Madame was a most memorable one as it was the first time she had ventured to Lys to select girls of a more prestige history - in order to attract patrons of noble birth.

She had remembered laying eyes upon the girl, Sierra, she was called, a girl of ten and two - born in a Lysene pillow house to one of the women who serviced there. She was a strange thing, soft spoken - unsure. She even looked particularly peculiar given the Valerian appearance of most Lysene citizens. Sierra did not bare the silver hair nor purple or pale blue eyes of those whom she lived amongst- instead her hair like aged gold and her eyes stormy.

The girl was odd indeed, not quite as lush or alluring as most Lysene, but rather moony. However, she was prized possession, most commonly sought by older noble men or the sons of Lords recently betrothed. Sierra was easily controlled, unintimidating, so in that way she seemed more like a Lady of the court that a brazen a brothel worker. Sylvie often sent her to men who wished to fuck a maiden and Sierra was most perfect for such desires as in all sense she truly seemed to be one. In that way she was perfect for Aemond, unthreatening as so many young whores could be – and most importantly would not remind him of whatever depravities he stifled down within himself.

“Come.” Sylvie gestured to Sierra, hailing for her to bring the prince the cup.

As she approached the two upon the bed, the prince peaked his head upwards, slowly sitting up and taking the cup from the young woman’s hand. Aemond had remembered her from his name day, remembered her wide eyes observing him and the Madam for a moment before ducking behind the silken drapes. He had always wondered what such a young girl had been doing in a brothel, remembered the coils of her golden curls flickering in the candlelight. Now, as he looked upon her after all those years, it was a reminder of how much he had grown too. She was a woman now, though still seemed just as uncertain of herself he remembered her to be.

Aemond downed half of the milk, his eye scanning her as he placed it back upon the tray, he caught the way Sierra averted his bare body. As he settled back upon the Madam, he rested his head right on her breasts, taking in the comfort of her warm flesh.

As he did so, Sylvie caught note of another worker peak her head through the silken curtains, her eyes wide as if to signal there was trouble that needed to be attended to, the Madam nodded and then caught the gaze of Sierra who approached the intruding brothel worker. Sylvie watched as the two young women were caught in a brief exchange, and it seemed that Sierra had been passed a small note – which soon made its way into the free hand of the Madam.

Patron trouble. Girl left bloodied, after a refusal of payment.

Sylvie then gave a nod to the waiting brothel worker, sighing softly as she knew this would be no easy task. The known rule of Cock Inn was for no harm to befall her girls, lest there be a tax placed upon any patron for the coin she would be unable to make in her recovery. Though it wasn’t uncommon for patrons to become… unruly with her girls, and such behaviour was not tolerated at the Cock Inn as it was to be one of the finer establishments – meant for pleasure, not outright degeneracy. For the most part the tax alone dissuaded most men from harming the workers, though for the ones that did – it was an arduous task getting them to meet the agreement of the tax.

Aemond closed his eye when he felt the warmth of Sylvie’s hand come to his chin, guiding his eye to meet hers.

“My prince…” Her voice soft, cooing, “It seems I must attend a rather urgent matter regarding one of the girls. I shall see to it that some of your coin is returned.” The Madam lowered her head, shifting away from him as Aemond raised his brow in curiosity.

He sat up, then, extended back to lean upon the stone ledge, “Hm, I shall wait your return.”

The Madam shook her head, rising up to her feet as she readjusted her robe, “This particular matter shall not be easily solved, I fear. I may not return for quite a time.”

Her head turned to meet the gaze of the waiting brothel worker, she then found herself pondering upon Sierra. Who meekly awaited the Madam’s next instruction, she cleared her throat before speaking to the prince once more, “Very well then… please allow for Sierra to amuse you in the meantime. She is particularly popular amongst many noble men as yourself.”

He shook his head, averting his gaze, “I’ve no use for her in that manner.”

“Indeed…” A small smirk came upon Sylvie’s face, she lowered her head, raising her brow as she chuckled briefly, “I mean for her to take my place... to satisfy such particular tastes of yours as you would have me?”

Aemond met Sylvie’s gaze, almost like a boy stubbornly resisting his mother’s advice, the Madam tilted her head, moving over to Sierra who stood; wide eyed and unsure. The Madam gripped Sierra’s arm, leading her closer to the bed, “She is most gentle.”

His eye narrowed and Aemond took a deep breath in, his chest raising in apprehension as he scanned the young woman before him. Her cherubic face, slightly trembling demeanour. He gritted his teeth and nodded, “Very well.”

With that Sylvie gave him a small nod of approval, before gently grazing Sierra’s lower back as she left. As the older woman made her way through the drapes, Sierra quickly followed; gripping her forearm softly causing the Madam to snap her head towards her. The young whore stuttered as she whispered, meeting the concerned eyes of her mentor, “Madam I…”

Sylvie sighed and brought Sierra closer, whispering firmly, “Just hold the boy. Do as you’ve seen me. Go, girl.” She pulled herself way, giving the other worker a subtle nod as she was led away.

Sierra turned, taking a deep breath in to centre herself. She had never been with a man as powerful as the prince, never known such fear which coursed through her at the thought of what might happened to her if she was to displease him. Her hear thumped as she took that fateful step back through the haze of silken drapes, as she entered she felt the harsh gaze of that lonesome eye upon her, scanning her.

Aemond sat up freely, leaning back upon the stone ledge – uncaring that he was completely exposed before her. He let himself take her in, her willowing form which held a peculiar softness to it. The roundness of her breasts and hips which clung to the silk robe draping her form – the familiar flicker of her flock of curls which had turned a rich gold with age, a few bronzed and silvery strands peppered through them. He watched as her fingers delicately began to disrobe herself but her looked away. “Don’t.” The prince muttered.

As Sierra heard the smooth sound of his voice ring, she froze slowly looking up to him as she thought how odd he was to refuse her bare. Instead, he merely signalled awkwardly for her to join him upon the bed, in which she obliged.

She sat carefully upon the end, feeling the gaze of him boring into her back, Sierra lowered her head, “Do I displease you?” A soft tinge of her Lysene accent still lingering.

A small sigh left the prince as he shook his head and mumbled once more, “No.”

“You… you wish for the Madam.” Her voice soft as she turned her head to look upon him.

“We share a history.” Aemond spoke plainly, his eye narrowing as he gazed upon the young woman before him.

The soft flush to her cheeks, her skin plump and face still retaining the kiss of girlhood upon it, there was no mistaking the difference in her appearance to the Madam. He had noticed how despite the womanly graces Lady’s his own age possessed, they hardly appeared as grown at all in comparison to the older counterparts. There was something distinctively different to a mature woman, the way her cheeks sunk in a tad, or her skin would be softened with lotions to mask the tautness that comes with age. How their voices are deeper and eyes brimming with confidence, as if they know you all too well. In a way it was a comfort for Aemond, to have a woman understand his desire – to have seen so many men before that harboured similar needs, that for once, he did not feel so different in his depravity. The Madam knew just how to sooth and ease him, without judgement that so many younger women may possess. Indeed, there was no mistaking how Sierra was likely no older than himself.

He suddenly spoke, “What age are you?”

Instantly she felt her cheeks go red, her voice soft, girlish, “Eight and Ten, I believe.”

The prince raised his brow at this, slightly shocked at her coyness. He had never seen a whore blush before, it almost seemed like a jest, “You believe? You do not know how old you are?”

She let out a gentle breath before shaking her head, beginning to turn away before a sudden fierce grip clutched at her wrist. Seirra turned upon the bed, her eyes wide.

“Do not look away. Speak.” Aemond commanded softly, though a slight unease filled him at the sight of her uncertainty.

“I… I do not know of my name day?” She replied.

He tilted his head, once again shocked by her flustered appearance, and of course that she would not know of her name day. “You do not know?”

Sienna felt the soft satiny texture of the sheets below her, her eyes drifting downwards as she spoke, remembering her fractured girlhood, “I was born in a pillow house… my prince. My mother perished but a few years into my youth, I remember little.”

He bit his cheeks, studying her, “Hm, and your father?”

The whore looked up, her voice soft, “A mystery.”

As Aemond continued to scan her, he noted the way she altered herself in his presence – making herself appear small, less intimidating. A strange, amused look fell upon him as it found it both titillating and frustrating. He spoke sternly again, changing the subject, “Your accent…tis strange.”

“I am from Lys.” Sierra replied.

The prince hummed, seemingly surprised, “The Valerian freehold? You appear more like a Lannister than Lysene.” He watched her as he shrugged, and he hummed again, “Hm.”

The energy in the air was rife with tension, not to mention a cloying awkwardness Sierra had seldom felt with other patrons. As though he was waiting for her to be the one to approach him, and that he was.

Fed up with his inaction she moved closer to him, noting the flicker of discomfort in his gaze – still the young whore pushed forward, positioning herself beside him. Aemond gave her awkward glance before slowly sitting up, looking out onto the lewd paintings on the chamber walls. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden nervousness, he had never been with anyone but the Madam, never touched a younger woman. He felt a vulnerability like none other, his face hardening as he began to withdraw back into himself.

“My prince?” Her voice faltered, exhaustion over the situation making her voice all the meeker, she didn’t wish to pursue him if he was to be like this. It was too much, she risked too much – the mere throughout of displeasing him and what he might do was enough to have her tense. But the mere fact it was he who seemed nervous, he who seemed unsure of himself – made the matter all the worse.

She reached out, attempting to draw him back, her hand brushing his shoulder.

“Don’t.” Aemond shifted, refusing to meet her gaze as he felt the touch of her fingers.

Another silence bloomed, and Sierra moved back, contemplating on what seemingly had set him off in such a manner. However, the thought soon occurred to her that she had never once seen the prince with any other but the Madam recently, that never once had she noticed or even heard of the King’s younger brother gracing the Street of Silk. It had only been that night all those years ago, a slight pity bloomed as she understood he was likely uncertain of how to even engage with a woman of his own age, so stifled by his own propriety, “You have been with no other… haven’t you?”

Aemond did not respond to this of course, only growing more angered and overwhelmed by the situation he found himself within. In fact, he began to regret even returning to Sylvie, he ought to have dealt with his feelings as a man would, focus on the war, on sharpening his mind and training his body. Readying himself to lead forces to take Harrenhal, not simpering like a boy in the arms of a woman… not even just a woman… a whore in fact. His thoughts were broken by Sierra’s silvery voice, “It would bring me much disgrace if I were unable to please you. The Madam would not have asked this of me, if she did not think me… fit.. for you.”

Her words though, seemed to tempt him once more and though he wished to resist it, he also feared the idea of her finding him so weak to be unable to face both his desire and lack of experience. With a small puff of his chest and stretch of his neck, he found his gaze hardening and mummering lowly, “Move.”

The younger woman followed his command, moving herself to the position in which Sylvie usually encompassed upon the bed, Aemond turned his head gazing over her swiftly before he moved to lay upon her hesitantly. Sierra looked down, her mind reeling as she had never seen a man behave in this way towards her… it was odd, though not displeasing. Slowly she brought her hand to his silver locks, gently threading through them, attempting to mimic what she had seen Sylvie do upon him. As the prince laid his head upon her chest, he felt himself unable to find the same kind of comfort as he usually did, his eye remaining open, the thought of giving in to such vulnerability in front of a woman such as she, seemed unthinkable. He couldn’t relax, shifting and readjusting himself endless and Sierra could sense as such as she cringed internally at the sheer gracelessness of it all.

As the prince finally settled upon her lap, he had managed to find a semblance of relief from the tension that made him restless. It was the familiar softness of her thighs, that same sweet and musky perfumed skin that it seemed all the whores, the Madam included doused on their skin. Gradually he had managed to close his eye, letting himself be taken by her hand making contact once more with his scalp.

“I… remember you.” She whispered.

Instantly his muscled stiffened at her words, Aemond didn’t reply, he only opened his eye.

“From all those years ago… and yet never again since.” Sierra whispered again, her voice sweet and girlish as she looked down upon the gleam of his silver strands.

The prince cleared his throat quietly, “Hm. I had no need to return.”

“And now?” She countered, though the prince did not reply, he closed his eye once more, ignoring her and focusing on the soothing pleasure of her fingers against his scalp.

“You have only been with the Madam-” Sierra began again before being swiftly interrupted.

His head turned upwards slightly, Aemond suddenly gripped her wrist, forcing her hand from his hair as he snapped, “I do not pay to have my intentions dissected freely.”

Sierra found herself suddenly stammering as she nodded fiercely, feeling his grip loosen upon her wrist as she slowly brought it back to his hair. Aemond gave her a warning glare before turning his head back, nestling his head further into her lap before he closed his eye. Silence bloomed… and awkward one at that.

As the prince lay there, awaiting for her to further such affections upon him he huffed, “You may do more.” He mumbled.

The young whore looked down upon him, unsure of how exactly to approach furthering her touch, nonetheless she lowered her head, her head turning slowly to look up to her. Sierra cupped his jaw and forced herself closer, straining her body slightly from the awkward positioning. Gently she let her lips kiss at his forehead and cheek, her hands moving his face slightly awkward and soon the prince himself shifted his frame to a more accessible position. His head now once again resting upon her chest, tilted upwards as she gazed upon his softly, he noted the way her eyes flickered as they lingered upon his sapphire eye.

Sierra went to kiss him away, but Aemond suddenly grew discomforted – feeling a particular sting of insecurity of his face. He had never been so close to a woman of his age. Never been touched by skin which was plump with youth. His jaw clenched as he pulled away slightly, but the feeling of her cool hand came to his face once more drawing him near, “You are unsure.” She read him.

“No.” Aemond replied firmly, though it was a lie.

Sierra shook her head, scanning him carefully, “Do you not think I might know when a man might feel…tentative? You have not known the touch of others; I do not blame- “

“I am not some simpering boy who has not fucked a woman. Do not presume to know the reason behind my hesitation.” The prince snapped in response, his temper flaring as her words struck a chord so exact it made him reel, for he knew she was right. Knew that he had indeed never been with another but the Madam, and even that had been a affair spurred on by recent events. The Madam felt easiest to approach, easiest to reveal himself to. She had already seen him at his weakest, frozen with fear and disgust as a young boy. Spurred on by the taunting of his brother. Who else was he supposed to turn to with such desires, who else would give him comfort in the way he needed?

He stiffened attempting to regain the well curated mask of infallibility though he could not stifle that familiar nervous restlessness which dawned upon him again the wake of her silence.

Sierra let her gaze fall, seemingly thinking on his words. Though she ignored them all together knowing they were merely the deflections of a young man who felt his ego wavering at the notion of his inexperience. The young whore looked up softly and before she could stop herself, “I wish to show you.”

Prince Aemond merely blinked at her, shocked by her sudden request. The two shared what felt like an eternity in stillness and like that he nodded, no other words being exchanged.

Sierra almost couldn’t believe he had agreed so… easily? There was a small moment of uncertainty between them as their bodies shifted once more, Aemond sitting upwards gazing at her expectantly as she disrobed herself. His eye couldn’t help but scan her tender form, the peaks of her breasts, the blooming swell of her soon to be developed hips; a young maid’s body – not yet enhanced by motherhood.

She settled back into her spot where he could coil upon her again and that he did. Her gaze lowered as she noted how his soft strands felt upon her bare skin. Slowly she brought his hand into hers, guiding it to her breast, letting him knead the soft flesh. Aemond found himself unable to fight against his desire carefully watching the way his fingers grazed the bud of her breast. A soft moan escaped her, making him buzz with desire, he did not resist when feeling her other hand guide his head closer, he wet his lips before leaning in further to clasp them upon her nipple, suckling softly.

The young whore let out a soft whimper, moving his hand lower, “You may please… a woman by touching her.” She guided his hand between her wet folds, letting his fingers graze her clit.

The soft mewls which left her lips set off a fire in him, the feeling of her wetness on his finger made him want to work to pleasure her more. His lips clasped her nipple harder, his soft suckling intensifying as his fingers rubbed quickly, inching to stick themselves inside her. Sierra grabbed his silver hair gently, pulling him away, her eyes meeting his lonesome one.

Aemond felt his cock stiffening greatly and slowly she let her hands come to his chest, his body shifting as he cradled himself against her. Sierra found herself grasping at the length between him, stroking it gentle to gauge his reaction – which was all but enamoured with pleasure as he shut his eye, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

Her hand moved, stroking at him feeling the softness of his skin in her palm – as she did so, her lips peppered small kisses upon his forehead. Sierra was gentle with him, despite the lewdness of the act – her touch and tenderness was a comfort the prince was indulging in. He raised his head up; a soft groan left him as he forced his lips into hers. For a moment he would pretend she weren’t just a whore, but a woman who’s feelings were that of true care. As her hand increased its speed, Aemond let out a low whimper into their kiss, moving to force his lips on her neck.

Sierra tilted her head, closing her eyes as she too found herself letting go to the heady feeling between them. He was much different than the usual man who might use her, he seemed less interested in fucking her and more interested in being tended to. So that’s what she did; slowly Sierra pulled her hand from his length, a soft muttering of protest leaving him.

“Lie back.” She whispered, and Aemond obliged.

His eye was narrowed with need as he gazed upon her, watching as her soft frame now hovered over his own. Slowly he raised a hand to her cheek, feeling the smooth skin that flushed pink upon his touch. He watched her with a keen eye as she lowered herself down further, settling between his legs. Aemond shuddered a breath, his eye growing wide as he felt his heart thump wildly; suddenly he felt like a boy again – struck by an awkward inability to verbalise his desire. Though Sierra already knew, as she lowered her head, kissing softly upon his hip as her hand wrapped around his length once more.

The sight of her doing such a thing made him furrow his brow, her lips pressing so gently into his taut muscle made him feel a tad unmanned; mainly because he enjoyed it. Aemond brought a hesitant hand to her hair, deciding that he would indeed take control for once, that if he were going to let a whore take him – he would attempt to assert his desire.

As his fingers laced his spindly fingers into her curls, forcing her head lower until he felt her lips graze against his aching tip. “Take me.” He grumbled.

Her eyes looked up to his as her mouth came to clasp his tip, swirling her tongue upon him; the fleshy, yet salty taste that dripped from him filling her mouth. Aemond’s own mouth dropped, his jaw slightly slack as his head tilted back, he felt his fingers tightened their grip in her curls, slowly moving her mouth to take more of him. The prince opened his eye, looking down as a strange satisfaction brewed from the sight of it, her mouth taking as much as he wished it to.

Another groan left him as she moved her lips up and down him, gaining traction as the moments passed, his hips now bucking – fucking himself into her mouth. He forced her head upon him faster, and Sierra let him as she hollowed her cheeks – siphoning him to the point where his moans turned to pants. Her own sounds falling from her as she too felt a strange enjoyment from seeing him take so much pleasure.

He kept pushing, his cock now an ache in which he needed relief from, Aemond’s mouth hung once more as he mumbled, “Faster.” To which the golden haired whore before him did so, her hand now enveloped around the tail end of the base of his cock, stroking it so that the orchis’ which hung between him were grazed – sending him into a further frenzy. Thoughts of wanting to push himself between her thighs filled him, a fantasy of what she may feel like around him, how her arms would wrap around him, cradle him; it all made him huff. The pressure that built in him felt more than pleasurable, it felt like a burning flame had been set off in his loins; at this point he could hardly care about the comfort Madam Sylvie brought him, now all he could think of was how he longed to see his seed force its way into Sierra’s mouth.

Then a tinge of anger filled him, frustration as his grip intensified as he fucked himself into her mouth – edging at his release. He felt like his brother, depraved, hungry with a force he had stifled for so long. But the thought of a whore striking such feelings in him suddenly left him feeling slightly conflicted, almost angered by the sight of her bringing him such pleasure. Aemond’s hand tugged harshly upon her hair making her wince and she looked back, confused by the sudden streak of aggression, to which in her uncertainty she began to pull away.

“Keep going.” The prince choked out, his voice low and soft… yet, oddly threatening.

Aemond reeled at feeling small snaps of her curls break in his hand. Sierra slowly finding her mouth back upon him, siphoning him as quickly as possible though she began to tremble slightly. Afterall, this was no common patron, she could not warn him of the brothel’s code of conduct – for he could very well burn the place to a fucking cinder or worse, have their heads for an accused treason… or in an effort to purge Kings Landing of its sin. The Gods know it would not be the first time whores were blamed for the depravity of men’s desires.

It filled him with a familiar streak of satisfaction as he watched her buckle beneath him. Glory flooding him as the pleasure of her mouth brough him finally to his peak and the events of recent flashing through his mind as he rode out his long awaited release. That flash of fear upon his face reminded him of who he was, and what he was capable of. Afterall even his uncle… The Rogue Prince himself had sought for him to be slayed in his sleep.

Daemon feared him, his mother feared him, his grandsire… the Blacks…and now the whore between him feared him. They should. He thought.

The sentiment lingered as he felt his peak slash through him, spilling into Sierra’s now hot mouth. He looked down, satisfied though disgruntled. He was quick to force her off of him, interrupting her as she went to speak. It was clear Aemond did not wish to hear what she had to say.

Uncaringly, he rose to his feet, his cock still stiff and buzzing, he reached to dress himself – feeling the soft, unsure gaze of the whore who still sat upon the bed boring into his bare back. He ignored her, unwilling to admit the pleasure he had brought her, or the vulnerability that had been seen of him. It was gone, just like that. Done away with.

As he felt himself calm, a focus coming over him as the blood rushed from his length. Without another word he abandoned her, sauntering through the Cock Inn, the sounds of passing moans flooding his ears and perfumed air attacking his senses. Clarity. Is what he thought.

Clarity that he did not need to bury himself in a whore like his brother. He had greater control; he was indeed a man of finer stock. What need did he have to give in to not only a young woman… but a whore. Born so lowly she was conceived and birthed in a pillow house. No, Aemond would take the pleasure and comfort he had gotten and focus his mind elsewhere.

At least until such desires demanded easing again.

#hotd #aemond targaryen #targaryen #house of the dragon #got #aemond one eye #daemon targaryen #rhaneyra targaryen #helaemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x brothel worker #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon season 2 #aemond targaryen x oc

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manmuncher777 · 2 months

Text

Stamina

smut drabble - aemond targaryen

okay so i just saw this thing someone posted about Ewan talking about all the excercise he did for aemond because he wanted aemond to look like he put so much work into becoming a “leather weapon”

*not proofread at all*

So imagine the stamina this man has built over the years, how toned and dedicated he is. I mean along with sword training, he also rides a dragon and then trains more on top of that.

If this man would be fucking you, you could only wish for his stamina, you best bet he is lasting… longggggg. He would do any positions you wanted, you wouldn’t have to worry whether it would be tiring for him or not, he could do it for hours. and if he had this dedication to other topics, imagine how dedicated he is to pleasing the woman he loves.

He would fuck you for hours until you truly couldn’t fuck anymore, he wouldnt stop until you were a panting sweating mess telling him you needed a rest - he would definetly still be fine, probably wouldnt have even broken a sweat - and of course he would have a break while you recovered and got some water, but as soon as you’ve put that glass down he would be fucking you again.

And the pace this man would be able to set would be brutal, you wouldnt even be able to catch your breath, too busy screaming his name with he destroyed your pussy. THis man is the opposite of a one and done, he is going multiple rounds, and those rounds are not short at all.

all he wants is to see you satisfied, and he hasn’t satisfied you unless hes left you a shaking sweating mess

This translates to all aspects of sex though, like he would be eating you out for ages, this man could go hours. Breathe? he doesn’t need to. his toungue is licking and sucking you just right and hes only just getting started

You’re getting multiple orgasms with the way he can go, he loves to take his time with you, he knows that he can use his stamina for your benefit and he isnt shy of doing so

once you’ve finished as many times as he seems adequate, then he allows himself to rest, until that point he will have you face down lying on the bed while hes pounding into you

You realise all you can do is moan and squeal because best believe you’ll be getting overstimulated, because you will have cum over 3 times and he still wont have finished

not like you would ever complain though

With the stamina also comes strength as well, after all he wouldn’t have only been training for endurance

imagine how well Aemond would be able to throw you about, dragging you with every position change with ease.

his large hands gripping at you and moving you like a little doll

he can also put this strength into fucking you, leaving you truly tired at the evenings end

#aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond fic #hotd aemond

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paulyenvol6 · 15 days

Text

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 1)

Contains: No trigger warnings really just Rhaenyra being mean and tension between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~2.68k

Masterlist of this story

You looked out of the window in your chambers in the red keep, watching the approaching ships.

You knew that you should be down there. Like your sister Rhaenyra, waiting at the dock, waving to your uncle and the other people and welcoming them back kind – heartedly in the capital. But you couldn't.

It was too much and you knew if you did what you were supposed to do, you'd feel bad afterwards.

Your sister was three years older than you, 19, beautiful, feminine with full lips and warm eyes. And then there was you. A bit too tall and a bit too thin.

Of course you hadn't always felt that way. But when your cousin Aelon had said that you looked like a boy a few years ago, that had stuck with you. Ever since that day you always had these words in your head and you indeed felt like a boy.

You were 16 now, a grown woman but you didn't have a large chest, beautiful soft curves like a real woman does. Your chest was too small, your hips too slim and your arms and legs were too long. You felt like a fool, a boy… And you knew that a man didn't desire to lay with a boy.

Having a sister like Rhaenyra didn't exactly improve your situation. She was desired by all men in the seven kingdoms. Her grace, her charme and her wide smile had enchanted the grumpiest and rudest lords and knights.

And it had also enchanted your uncle Daemon, you were certain. Daemon Targaryen, brother of your father, Viserys Targaryen. Daemon was chaotic, wild, messy and dangerous. And all these traits had always made him so interesting to you and your sister.

Your father was the exact opposite. Rhaenyra and your mother had died when you were little and your father had wanted to protect you two ever since. Perhaps it was because you were the only two things left of your mother or it simply was because he didn't want to lose what he loved again. It didn't matter, he guarded and protected the two of you as if you were made of glass.

That was probably why your uncle had always been that interesting because he was different. Rhaenyra and you knew him as dangerous ever since you were born. He brought excitement, risk and thrill. When he came around you knew that it wouldn't be boring and you knew that everything would be different to what you expected.

Perhaps that was the reason why you and Rhaenyra had been fighting for your uncle's attention as long as you could remember. It was about who Daemon looked at longer, whose jokes he laughed about louder and who he brought the more special gifts.

You were competing and battling for his gaze and appreciation. Each of you wanted him to like you just a little bit more than the other.

When he made you a compliment you could feel Rhaenyra's angry gaze burning a hole in your back. But when he asked Rhaenyra for a dance on a name day of some distant cousin it was not rare for you to cry your eyes out in your chambers from anger and desperation.

You couldn't even exactly pin point when this competition had started and you didn't even exactly know what it was about. What was the prize, what were you fighting for? It simlpy was like a unspoken game between you, even though game seemed like a word too kind for this battle. You couldn't even exactly tell whether Daemon knew about the battle between you and your sister. At least he had never shown any sign that he did so you were not able to figure it out.

Over the last couple of years though, you had felt like you were losing this very game. When you were 12 you had seen Rhaenyra change. She had been growing and becoming a woman and you had feared you'd lose your uncle's attention.

You didn't entirely, but at the same time you felt as if he liked Rhaenyra better. Perhaps because she was more like Daemon than you were.

She was brave and witty, she made jokes while there were important men with important positions at the table. She was cocky and wasn't afraid to speak up to a lord who was twice her age. Rhaenyra was bold and it had happened more than once that she had gone out for a midnight stroll in the city, something that you wouldn't dare to do.

Maybe you were more like Viserys, you followed the rules and kept your head down. But you didn't do this to impress your father, no, you didn't want to be that way.

You wanted to be special, someone the people were talking about. You wanted your uncle to raise his eyebrows impressed when you told him about your adventures and wanted him to laugh about your quick-witted temper. You wanted him to flirt with you and wanted to be able to answer just as charmingly. But you knew that you couldn't.

Perhaps it was just the way you are, you weren't able to act that way. You looked down when important people spoke to you and you laughed at your sister's jokes instead of making some yourself.

So that's why you sometimes considered the competition with Rhaenyra finished. You couldn't even be mad at Daemon for prefering your sister. She was indeed more like him and she definitely had more to offer. Not only a more beautiful face but a smart and funny mind. Things simply were the way they were and you couldn't change them.

~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't watch everything out of your window but you could see the boats arriving and tiny people stepping from the boats to the ground. Daemon had been at the Stepstones the last weeks fighting a war against the Triarchy. You hadn't seen him in four months and actually were looking forward to have him back at the red keep.

Your ongoing battle with Rhaenyra wasn't everything. You always had a good and exciting time with Daemon and enjoyed spending your hours with him in the gardens or at dinner.

Then after a while all the tiny people had stepped inside the carriages and there was nothing to see anymore. They would drive to the red keep now and then there would probably be a little welcoming and then a big feast in the evening to celebrate the King’s brother's safe return.

You stepped away from the big window and sat down on a chair. You knew you couldn't hide in your chambers all day. You knew you would have to attend tonight's feast and it wasn't like you had to be forced to go there.

You couldn't even exactly say why you had refused to go to the bay to welcome the ships. Because once again, you didn't despise spending time with Daemon at all, it was the contrary. He made you giggle and blush and smile. You just felt like competing with Rhaenyra for his attention took all of your energy and it sometimes could be very exhausting. Now you took the book next to your bed and turned the pages bored. You couldn't really focus on the letters and just wanted time to pass. You didn't even know what you were waiting for, perhaps it was the feast tonight.

You were really looking forward to seeing your uncle but you didn't have the courage to leave your room to make a special entry down in the hall either. That exactly was a good example of how you were different to Rhaenyra because your sister most certainly wouldn't have a problem doing something like this.

You were still trying to focus on your book when there was a knock on your door. "Come in.", you said surprised and then the door opened. "Uncle?!" You couldn't supress a wide smile and stood up.

He had come. He had come to see her shortly after his arrival. He hadn't gone up to his room, hadn't strolled through the gardens with Rhaenyra (at least not for a very long time because some time had passed since his arrival and you obviously couldn't tell what he had been doing since he had arrived), no he had come up all the steps of the staircases to see you.

He wore black trousers and skirts with a red shirt underneath and of course, looked handsome as always.

You fastly walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him. He returned the hug and buried his face in your hair. "My beautiful niece. Wonderful to see you." You smiled softly, which he couldn't see and felt your heart beating faster at his words. You ended the hug and you could see Daemon watch you closely.

"I must admit I was a little disappointed to not see you at the dock.", he smirked. "I'm sorry, I… I wasn't feeling very well earlier.", you lied and Daemon immediately took a step back.

"Do not tell me that you're ill and I'll be walking out of here with the fever.", he hissed with small eyes but smirked. You laughed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"No I'm not ill. It was simply a headache." "I’m glad, little owl."

'Little owl'. That was his nickname for you and you didn't know what to think of it. You found it cute that he even bothered to have a nickname for you but at the same time you were wondering whether or not it once again confirmed your apprehension. Weren’t you nothing but a boring, quiet, night owl to him after all?

Daemon called Rhaenyra little storm sometimes but the nickname definitely wasn’t as established as yours and he only used it very rarely, but you still didn’t know if it was good or bad.

"But how are you, uncle? What are the stepstones like?" Daemon threw his head back. "Let me think, there is…. Bad wine, bad climate and no feather beds. In other words, I’m happy to be back.", he smiled and you couldn’t help but softly smile as well.

You were so happy to have him back after all. "I have something for you, by the way." You looked up to him to meet his gaze and he grinned crookedly.

"Turn around.", he spoke and you did as he had told you. Once your back was facing him he gently moved your hair out of the way. You helped him and exposed your neck and then you felt Daemon reaching around your neck to put a necklace on you. His hand brushed over your soft skin and you could feel yourself getting goosebumps and just hoped Daemon didn’t notice it. His hands were so close and you felt the blood pulsating in your veins.

He had closed the claps and you slowly turned around. Daemon smirked and watched the pendant on your skin.

"Beautiful.", he whispered and you could feel the blood rising in your cheeks again. Then you stepped in front of the mirror to watch yourself. The pendant glistened golden and it had a red flower on it. It was incredibly beautiful and you happily played with it.

"Thank you uncle. It’s lovely." Daemon stepped behind you and watched you as well through the mirror. You could feel his arm against your back and slightly shivered which made you angry. Why couldn’t you just play it cool for once in your life?

"You’ve become a woman, little owl.", he then whispered and didn’t take his eyes off the reflection of you. Your eyes searched for his‘ in the mirror and you didn’t know what to answer. You felt his chin brush against your hair. He was so close to you, you could literally feel his warmth.

"I’m 16.", you said and wanted to slap yourself. That had literally been the worst answer one could think of. Daemon chuckled in response.

"I feel like you have changed in these last four months." You smiled softly. "I don’t think I have." Your uncle smirked and you could feel his hand ligthly over your arm.

"Perhaps I should look at you more accurately then." You could feel your breath fasten and helplessly bit on your lip just to do anything. Daemon looked down to your naked shoulder as you could see in the mirror when he suddenly stepped away from you.

You exhaled loudly and all of the tension was gone. You aimlessly walked around in the room and tried to collect yourself.

"I’ll go now, I have to rest before the feast tonight." Your head turned to watch your uncle still smirking. "Yes, yes. I’ll see you later.", you spoke with a weak voice and didn’t look at him while he left your room.

'What was that?', you thought and tried to get more air to reach your lungs. Had you imagined this or had there been tension between the two of you? You knew your uncle and you knew that he liked to be a bit flirty but this right now…. He had been so close to you and what did he say? He should look at you more accurately, what did that even mean?

You supported your weak body by resting your hands on the desk. Slowly you could feel your heartbeat slow down and after a while dared to stand on your own without the support of the desk. Your hands were still slightly shaking but after another 5 minutes you almost felt like yourself again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later you were finally walking down the stairs and headed to the hall. You had spent the last two hours overthinking every second of your encounter with your uncle and had come to the conclusion that after four months of fighting a war, Daemon had simply wanted to play with her a little and she shouldn’t read anything into it. He probably had just felt like confusing her a bit and it honestly made a lot of sense, considering it was his nature to be a bit coquettish.

You now wore a red gown that exposed your shoulders and collar bones. It fell down to the ground and was tight at your waist. When you were about to step through the door to enter the hall in which the feast would take place you could feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Sister.", Rhaenyra hissed and you turned around. "Rhaenyra.", you greeted her.

"Where were you all day? Why didn’t you come with us to welcome uncle?" You raised your chin, promising yourself to be brave and self confident today. "I wasn’t feeling very well, sister. I prefered to spend the noon in my chambers."

Rhaenyra frowned. "I don’t believe you." "Then don’t, but I’m telling the truth." Your sister took a step back from you and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Is this about uncle?" You chuckled. "What about him?"

"You didn’t want to see him, did you?" You laughed loudly. "Why shouldn’t I?" "Because you don’t like to see him put his attention on any other person who’s not you." Rhaenyra smiled evily and you just wanted to punch that smirk out of her face.

"That’s not true, I told you I simply had a headache." "You NEVER have a headache." Slowly you got angry. "Well I did today and this is none of your business anyway."

Rhaenyra smirked even wider and took another step back. "I’m going to go fly with uncle tomorrow, by the way. On Caraxes. We’re going to Dragonstone and he said he’s gonna show me around the caves."

Your heart was beating faster and you could feel your anger and pain going to your head. With all your energy you tried to make the tears that you started to feel in your eyes vanish but you knew that Rhaenyra had noticed them. "I hope you have a good time.", you pressed and then turned around and entered the hall.

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vhagarlovebot · 2 years

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NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: you haven't consummated your marriage and your husband is the only one with an answer.

content warnings: +18, smut if you squint, a bit angsty, fluff, aemond being an insecure little baby.

note: if there are any grammatical errors i apologize, english is not my first language! hope you enjoy.

YOU MARRIED AEMOND TARGWRYEN four moons ago knowing that he had some issues. a lot of them. but the heart wants what it wants and yours has aemond’s name on it.

if you ask someone about aemond’s weakness, they would tell you he does not have one. but those who live in the red keep know that the prince weakness is his lady wife. and you know aemond would not hesitate on burning king’s landing and everyone in it if something happens to you. you’d never question is love for you.

however, you have been feeling sad and unattractive, so undesirable, for some time now. but at this point it’s not even about you.

today you did not see each other all day, not even at dinner. that’s why when your husband enters your chambers, he’s meet with you jumping on him, your lips immediately finding their way to his neck. but while you’re leaving hot and wet kisses on his pale skin, aemond does not know what to do. sure he can surrender to pleasure, but then what? of course he has kiss you before and you two have done other things. things that involve him rutting into you fully clothed, making a mess in his trousers but not letting you help when you happily and still hot volunteer to do it with your mouth.

he grabs you by the waist and pulls away, a hard expression on his face. “i’m not in the mood.” he simply says, walking away to start taking off his clothes for bed.

“don’t you find me attractive?” you fidget, bitting your lip and looking straight to the floor. “i-i mean we never… you never…” you shrug, the words not leaving your mouth even though you have a lot to say.

your husband stays silent and you think you have upset him, until he’s back in front of you, his hands grabbing yours and guiding you with him to the bed.

he sits with you between his legs. his touch soft and gentle goes up your arms, to your neck and stops on your cheeks, making you look directly into his eye. “there’s no more beautiful woman than you, my wife.” but there is no reaction from you and he knows this is all his fault.

the last time he tried to be with a woman, he ran out. to this day his older brother stills makes fun of him.

he sighs, he knows what he has to do and this time he’s not backing away. his right hand goes back to yours, this time guiding it to rest on the bulge between his legs. you blush and try to pull your hand away, but aemond won’t let you.

he’s shaking, his face with that light pink that tells you he’s nervous. and you want to make him feel better but you also want to know what is going on inside that pretty head of his.

you give his cock a light squeeze through his clothes and he groans, his forehead going to rest on your stomach while you jerk him out.

and so he starts talking. and he tells you about that time on his thirteenth name day, his first and last time with a woman. and why he has not been with one since then. all of them scared to see what’s under the eyepatch; scared of the crippled prince. he has heard the ladies talk about how handsome he would be if it were not for his missing eye, disgusted for having to see that thing while he fucks them.

aemond does not want you to go through that, he knows how disgusting he is.

he has tears in his eyes and you don’t know if it is for the pleasure your giving him or the awful things he’s saying. but you keep going, touching him through his trousers, sweet nothings whispered in his ear until he’s a trembling moaning mess clinging to you.

but you don’t stop there. you take your time to undress the both of you, kissing every new spot of skin on him that comes into view. you’re waiting to be stopped at any minute but he let’s you keep going until you’re both presenting yourselves bare in front of the other for the first time.

“i married you, did i not?” you sit on his lap and slowly start moving your hips, a low groan coming from him at that new sensation. "and it was my choice. i could have run away but i stay and you know why?" you swallow a moan by biting your lips, your hands going for his eyepatch. but aemond immediately stops you with the hand that's not in your waist. however, you brush it away and as you remove the last piece of clothing from him, you leave kisses along the scar.

when you look at him without his eyepatch for the first time you think about two things. the first one being wanting to find out who those ladies are, so you can have them remove from court at once. and the second one being how that sapphire suits him so well.

"because i love you as i have never loved anyone until now." you trace his scar, mesmerized by the gem. "and if you let me," reaching between your bodies, you guide his cock to your entrance. a moan escapes your lips as aemond's hips jerk up slighly, his hands gripping your waist. "i would like to show you how much i really love you, my dear husband."

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year

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children of the empire

king!jacaerys valeryon x reader

summary: the tale of the king and the slave.

warnings: slave!reader, infidelity, hurt/comfort, angst, childbirth, grief, death, inspired by paul and chani from dune book series.

A/N: just jace and reader being wholly devoted to eachother

wc: 1.4k

----

HE KNEW THE two of you were destined to be together from the moment he laid his eyes on you. After the coronation held for him as King, multiple houses that had changed the course of their loyalty at the last minute had begun to seek the now young King Jacaerys’ favor. And so began the parade of gifts from ornaments, jewels and women were presented. Exotic slaves from colonized lands were brought forth to the king. He had sat on the throne as if it was made just for him. The throne his mother had not been given the privilege to sit on for even a whole year.

By his side, was his once betrothed and now Queen Baela. Their union was celebrated the way their parents would have wanted, and the two tried their hardest to uphold all the traditions and rulings to make worth of the sacrifices and bloodshed in the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

In everyone’s eyes, the pair was unstoppable, a united front with grudging respect for the other. A pair not only blessed with deserving power, but also with love.

But no one knew what really lied behind closed doors. The King Jacaerys and Queen Baela Targaryen had not loved one another. They might’ve liked each other in a way, back then. But the war and deaths have changed them both forever. They could not find any semblance of romantic attraction or comfort in the other. They had mourned their families in such a similar way, yet somehow still jarringly different. To find intimacy with the other was to face unspoken grief.

Jacaerys had thought that the loveless marriage would be the end of him ever experiencing a pure, tender bond with anyone. But he had seen you in a line of tired looking, plain and pretty girls, and he had sworn he’d seen you in a dream before.

If his mother was alive, she would be cursing him off his head. In fact, sometimes he hears her too. Yelling, and calling him a failure of a son, as he’s holding your thighs open, plunging himself deeper inside of you. An affair had by kings wasn’t uncommon, but he wondered how many of them were of love and not lust. He knew he would love you like his mother loved his father. But no matter how much of him is his mother’s son, he would not let you suffer the same end as his father.

He learned quickly that you weren’t as docile as you looked. Ask the wrong question and you’ll snap back. And yet, you were also not as hostile as you make yourself to be. You scold him like no one dares to do to the King, and you call him names on days he’s being particularly irritating, receiving a rising reaction from his shocked and baffled advisor and guards. But he knew that you were harmless. And you knew that a man like him can take a few jabs. And as much as the insults keep on coming, you advise him like no one does either.

You run your fingers through his hair like you’d give up everything you have to be able to touch him. And he looks up to your standing figure through his mussed-up hair as he kneels down with his arms circling your waist, like no one could ever look to even the greatest of kings.

“You will carry my children.” He had once told you.

The late-night silence where only the wind was able to speak louder than either of you, making anything he was saying sound possible. “Your queen will hold a knife to my throat.” You responded, feeling him pull you closer to his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head. “I would not let any other woman be the mother to my children except you.”

You let out a hoarse laugh that sounded almost too cynical to his liking. “I am not your woman, even if I am your property. Any child you have with me is a child destined for a life of suffering.” Had he not been so tired, he would have presented a stronger case after seeing you argue with much more fire even in such an hour. But instead, he only shook his head hard enough for you to feel his disagreement. “You are not my property.” You hummed with your ear to his heart. “I would be yours if you’ll have me, and I’d let you rob me naked if that be your heart’s desire.” You let out a scoff you always do when you’re finding him ridiculous and drunk. Only soft kings dare to dream, a reminder you bring up constantly to him. All because you knew what usually happens to those kinds of rulers, and even if you wouldn’t say it out loud, you cared for him too much to see him resigned to such a fate.

Three months later, you were with child. Brimmed with joy, Jacaerys had vowed to legalize the babe as soon as it comes out. And even with his queen’s relentless challenging to his title and responsibility, he refuses to send you away. He asks her forgiveness for the disrespect the child’s birth would be to her, but his mind was set.

An illegitimate royal child was not unheard of, and Jacaerys’ fortunate case of being a man helps lessen the cacophony of riots and disagreement within the council. But when it had been confirmed that the child would be legalized and appointed as his heir. How can a scion of the Targaryen family be a bastard made by bastards.

And yet with every voice raised against him, his assurance only becomes stronger. Every drink you take and every meal you eat will be tested first for poison. And every move you make would be supervised and followed by personal guards that were starting to make you regret being with him. 6 months into the pregnancy, you had relented into staying in your chambers, his overprotectiveness had become more obvious. Not even the Queen was granted to visit you, in fear of bad intentions.

His actions had hurt Baela, for she expected him to know better what kind of person she is in terms of morality.

When your water finally broke, he was 20 minutes late. When a guard had run to him in the throne room to announce the birth, he didn’t need to be told twice to get himself off the iron throne, running to you as fast as he could. You had given birth to a set of twins. A girl, and a boy. He had made it to you in the last few seconds before you let out your final breath. You had whispered his name as he squeezes your hand in a fist while apologizing profusely. “I couldn’t have belonged to anyone else, even if I wanted to.” He had cried by your side. You responded with a confession you’ve never uttered aloud, though both of you already knew what it was. You had breathed out so quietly, words only meant for his ears, “I love you.” The lights in his eyes died out the second you were announced deceased.

He sat by your cold body for hours before he could be convinced to let his grip on your dead arms off. He held both of his babes for the first and last time in his arms that day before spending the next 2 days locked and isolated in his chambers. Rhaenyra and Lucerys Targaryen. A storm brewed in the sky of Kings Landing. Wild winds and lightning as devastating as his own heart. The people stayed inside as the weather rips off wooden houses and floods the streets in every corner that is

Baela had tried speaking to him, as gentle as she could, reminding him of his children. But he was non-verbal. And so, she gave up.

On the third day, Rhaena Targaryen had rushed to her Queen sister, screaming in pure terror as she held up a folded and opened envelope of a letter. The doors to the King’s chambers were slammed open, only to find the place empty. The King hadleft. He had exited the castle to the storms.

And in his letter contained his want for his wife to rule in his stead until his daughter Rhaenyra reaches the age of 10 and 8, old enough to be wed to her brother, and then after, she’d take her rightful place as Queen.

A legitimate claim to the throne.

The only other thing written besides his will, was a sentence among the lines, ‘Only a soft king dares to dream. And I am as weak and soft as it can be.’

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jace velaryon x reader #hotd x reader #jace targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones #hotd #jacaerys targaryen

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lady-pug · 1 month

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Written Between the Lines

Chapter II - We Shall Find Our Answers

Summary: You and your family return to King’s Landing after several years, and you are dreading having to face your uncle again. While you cannot change the past, maybe the lines on his palm can show some insight into your future. And maybe, just maybe, the future might be bright for the two of you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Pssst. Hey, you. I’m back. And I bring thee the continuation of this story, which I had a lot of fun writing. I intend on writing more for this little universe, so if you've liked this story so far, please consider staying tuned for more parts to come!

Just for clarification, I don’t understand much about the rules and laws of monarchy, but since this is my story and I’m already saying ‘screw canon’, we’re also gonna say ‘fuck tradition’ (and if any of the characters, especially Aemond, seem a bit ooc I deeply apologize, I’m just trying very hard to Bob-The-Builder the events of the show)

Also, I have purposefully left the question of the reader’s father somewhat ambiguous so there can be more leeway for the reader’s appearance to be undescribed.

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this story! <3

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

It had been several years since you had last stepped foot in King’s Landing. Not since the death of your aunt and father. Or fathers. Which meant you hadn’t seen Aemond since that fateful night in Driftmark. You’d been by his side in an instant once Luke had shaken you awake wailing like a babe that he had done something terrible. You had held his hand as the maester tended to his wound, much to his mother’s grief. She had even tried pushing you away from her son, but his hand held tightly around yours prevented you from going too far. He had wanted, no, needed the comfort of your presence. But that all changed when Jace explained what had transpired, what he had called your younger brothers and, by extension, yourself. You had dropped his hand as if it burned, feeling more betrayed than ever, not missing the way your hurt was reflected in his own eyes. Well, eye. He had tried to talk to you after everyone had been excused but you fled from him, not wanting to face him just yet. Perhaps never again, you had thought at the time.

Now a grown woman, you returned to King’s Landing once more, summoned by the court for a hearing in which Ser Vaemond Velaryon intended to question Lucerys legitimacy as heir to Driftmark (which he was in for a surprise as your mother did not intend to pass Driftmark down to Luke, but to Jacaerys instead, as previously discussed and agreed with your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, while she would name you, her firstborn, as heir to the Iron Throne after her). So it’s no surprise you were not looking forward to this visit at all.

While you had kept in contact with Helaena through exchanged ravens, you hadn’t once written to Aemond, nor had he done so to you. You were dreading the moment you had to see him again, as you didn’t know how he would react to seeing you after the way you left things off in the past. In reality… you missed him. You missed having someone to talk to, someone who truly cared about what you had to say, who shared similar interests to you and enjoyed the diverging ones all the same. You missed your study partner, as Jace’s high valyrian was incredibly subpar, leaving him far behind you in his studies. You simply missed having him.

The first moment you had laid eyes on him had been, unsurprisingly, in the courtyard. You’d been following after your brothers as they explored what had changed and what hadn’t around the Keep, trying to ensure they didn’t get into any trouble, when you noticed a small crowd forming around two men engaged in a heated training match. One was none other than Ser Criston Cole, who hadn’t aged a single day but looked like the stick up his ass had slipped even further in, and the other…

You couldn’t help but stare, oblivious to anything else around you. He had grown quite a lot in the years you’d been apart. He was taller, his shoulders pulled back and his head held high, no longer the timid, self-conscious boy you’d once known. Where Ser Criston was strong Aemond was fast, his tall frame and lithe shape allowing for a more fast paced combat, his movements sharp yet swift and even somewhat… graceful.

“You should clean up, right there.” you snapped out of your reverie, brought back to focus by your brother Jace, who motioned to the corner of his own mouth with a smirk hanging from his lips “You’re drooling.”

Feeling a warm flush on your cheeks you swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, finding nothing there, as Jace chuckled at your naivety and moved to join the crowd along with Luke.

Little cunt.

You followed after your brothers just as Aemond had his sword pointed right at Ser Criston’s neck. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, only catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Have you come to train?” he had been saying, his eye trained on Luke, some underlying darkness swirling in it, before his gaze finally met you and something shifted in it almost imperceptibly “Little niece.”

The way he said it, the use of the once mocking title, left you reeling. The tone he used made it so you couldn’t quite tell if he had been sneering at you or in awe at your presence, if he was jesting or quite serious, mocking or sincere.

But your musings were interrupted by the gates opening, Ser Vaemond walking in as if he owned the place. Or like he was owed something from this place. It seemed your dreaded reunion with your uncle would have to wait.

As much as you hated being back in King’s Landing you couldn’t deny this place did manage to keep you entertained. The hearing had gone as well as one could expect, with Ser Vaemond hurling one insult after another at both you, your brothers and your mother and ultimately losing his head for it. All was well with your family, Jace’s claim to Driftmark and his status as future Lord of the Tides and your own as heir to the Iron Throne after your mother had been reaffirmed by the King himself, backed by your grandmother.

During the whole hearing you couldn’t help but glance at Aemond from the corner of your eye every once in a while. He had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face all throughout Vaemond’s speech, the bastard, but once your mother mentioned her desire to establish you as her heir to the Throne something changed. His gaze met yours and his face softened, the smugness disappearing all together from his features.

It was the last you saw of him, having taken off to the courtyard to relish in the diminishing sun as it lowered in the sky by sitting under the weirwood tree. Jace and Luke were enjoying a stroll around the Keep with their respective betrotheds, occasionally passing by your peripheral vision.

“I thought I’d find you here.” a voice cut through the air, souring your mood.

“Have you come to question my legitimacy as well, uncle?” you asked Aemond, who stood in front of you with his hands behind his back, before nodding in your brother’s direction as they skirted the edge of the courtyard “Be careful not to speak too loudly, we wouldn’t want you to lose yet another eye, now, would we?”

The smallest twitch of his eye was the only indication that he was bothered by what you said. You knew it was low, and you did feel a twinge of guilt about it, but the hurt you’d been cultivating for him since that night was festering in your heart.

“Always the jester, little niece.” he smirked, taking a seat next to you, keeping you on his good eye’s side.

“Only for you.”

You both fell silent, the air around charged with years of tension built between the two of you.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages.” he spoke softly, facing forward.

“You didn’t write.” you jabbed.

“You didn’t either.”

He had you there.

“Helaena’s told me of your travels.” he tried again “You’ve visited quite a lot of places.”

“I wanted to see the realm.” you explained, feeling some of the tension dissipating as he extended an opportunity for you opened up “To learn the ways of the people we are to rule.”

He only hummed in response.

“And what about you?” you turned to him, noticing how his body seemed to instinctively turn towards you as well “How have you been faring?”

“Oh, you know.” he shrugged, nonchalantly “I have been busy, studying, training with a sword, as you’ve very well seen,” the smirk that formed on his face was enough to bring heat to your cheeks “and trying to stop Aegon from drowning in his cups every night.”

A giggle escaped from your lips, which in turn prompted a small grin from him. This moment, right here with him, felt like before; it felt freeing. The full weight of how much you had missed him hit you like a Vhagar-sized carriage.

A moment of silence passed before he turned somber again.

“My mother has deemed it time for me to find a wife.” he spoke slowly, his words making something twist painfully in your chest “She’s been trying to find matches for me in some of the noble houses. But none of the ladies in court will even look at me.”

He cast his gaze down and away from you, his stoic demeanor cracking for a moment and giving way to a forlorn expression. It seemed… awfully familiar to you.

“I frighten them. Not just them, the maids too.” his voice was soft, resignation dripping from his words, the prideful man you saw earlier in the yard taking a step back to allow the shy and insecure boy you once knew to make a reappearance “I think your lines have lied to you. No lady would ever want a one-eyed husband.”

“Aemond-”

“I told you once before, I don’t appreciate your pity, niece.” his tone hardened, but it lacked venom, meaning he wasn’t angry with you, rather upset at himself.

You could only wonder how much the events of that night had changed him, for better and worse. He might argue that he had claimed a dragon, the biggest in the world, so that made things even but you could only imagine the kind of pain, both physical and emotional, he had gone through since then.

“For what is worth” you started, raising a hand to his face very slowly, giving him more than enough time to halt your movements. He flinched at first but eventually relaxed, allowing you to lay your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly against the end of his scar “I am truly sorry for what happened that night. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

His hand raised, grasping your wrist and running his own thumb on the skin at the edge of your sleeve.

“What I said that night,” he closed his eye for a moment then looked at you again “it was unbefitting. I never meant to hurt you.” he paused, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, as if he was letting go of a lifetime of weight he’d been carrying “No more than I believe Lucerys meant to hurt me as badly as he did.”

It was an olive branch, you realized. Given how he now carried himself it was the closest thing to an apology you’d get. While he might not simply ever forgive your brother, he was willing to try and put it behind him, to let go of the pain, for you. And for that you’d forever be grateful to him. He tilted his head to the side, letting his lips linger on your palm for just a moment, before pulling your hand away from his face and carefully placing it on your lap again, both of you facing forward once more.

The silence that fell was not an uncomfortable one. It reminisced of the days you’d sit together in this same spot and wait for the servants to come fetch you when it was time for supper. But every nice moment had to be broken at some point.

“My grandsire and mother believe Aegon should be named my father’s heir.” he spoke after a moment, your head quickly snapping to look at him.

“What?”

“They believe that, as his firstborn son, he would have a better claim to the throne.” he glanced at you “That most lords would support him if it came to it.”

You were baffled by this revelation, even though you shouldn’t really be all that surprised. Otto Hightower was a cunt who would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne. As much as your mother resented her former friend you’d come to the conclusion that Otto had been the one responsible to sway Alicent against her. It shouldn’t come as a surprise he would be plotting against her. That’s why the man was smug about today’s hearing, and why his face promptly fell once Rhaenys made her support of Jacaerys, and by extension your mother, known. But…

“Why are you telling me this?” you questioned, confused as to why Aemond, the dutiful son, would tell on his family like that.

An amused grin, almost resembling a smirk, took over his features, his eye turned away from you.

“New information has come to light regarding the line of succession.”

Your heart clenched, a smile of your own appearing on your face. He recognized you as heir to the Throne, as a future queen.

His smile, however, slowly slipped from his face, leaving a sad look in its wake.

“What troubles you, uncle?” you asked.

“I just-” he sighed, almost exasperated “I just do not understand how they could possibly believe Aegon of all people fit to be king. He, who disappears every fortnight for the Street of Silk, who’s barely ever sober during the day. He, who has his way with the servants while his own wife exists silently, he who, dare I say, barely understands a word of high valyrian and the importance of our family to the realm.”

His rant left him slightly breathless, as if he had been suppressing those feelings for a very long time. And although he had not dared say it, you heard the hidden meaning behind his words. If he, now a grown man, was anything like he was as a boy, he was much more suited to be king than his brother was. He was probably well studied in both history and philosophy, he knew his way quite well around a sword, as you’d seen, and he’d kept up with his lessons in high valyrian, like you had. He would make for a fine king, if it weren’t for your mother and, eventually, you.

And then it hit you.

Otto Hightower would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne.

“Give me your hand.” you spoke firmly.

Aemond looked at you quizzically, taking too slow to comply so you forcefully grabbed his hand in yours, his palm facing upwards.

“Not this again.” he said, bemused.

As you ran your finger delicately over his palm, you took your time noticing the way calluses adorned the skin, once soft under your touch, probably from years of dragon riding and intense sword training.

“Your line of life is still quite long, good.” you heard his scoff, although it sounded quite like a barely contained laugh “It means the Stranger will not come for you for quite a while still.”

His eye was trained on you as traced another line on his hand.

“And your line of heart still tilts upwards, so you will marry a woman who loves you dearly.”

You spoke with so much conviction, squeezing his hand, your eyes finally glancing up, locked firmly onto his own as you said it.

“She’ll love and cherish you for everything that you are, unwaveringly and unapologetically. You’ll be hers as much as she’ll be yours.”

His eyes shone with barely contained hope, before you averted your gaze back to his palm.

“And here,” you pointed to a small line near the bottom of his palm “is the line of the king. It appears only on the hands of those who are destined to rule over the realm.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t falter.

“You are jesting again, niece.”

“I am not.” you shook your head, determined “The lines have never lied before, remember?” you mentioned, and he couldn’t argue with that, as the prediction you’d spoke of last time you found yourselves in this exact situation came true barely a few weeks afterwards “You will be king, Aemond.”

You stood up quickly, barely brushing the skirts of your dress as you did.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You took off before he could question you, rushing out of the courtyard in search of your mother. You had a matter most important you needed to discuss with her, one you’d already brought up with her many moons ago, but which at the time felt more like a distant childish dream.

Aemond hadn’t spoken to you again until it was time for supper. He had caught a quick glimpse of you sometime after you left the courtyard, speaking in hushed whispers with your mother while Daemon looked thoroughly vexed. But before he could approach you and inquire about your sudden departure earlier, both you and your mother took off to one of your chambers, he assumed, leaving his uncle to stare murderously at him. While Aemond wasn’t frightened by Daemon, he would even go as far as to say he admired the man, something about the way he was staring at him deeply unsettled him, so he decided to leave and wait for a better opportunity to speak to you, alone.

Now, during what surely was to be one awkward meal, he could see you from the other side of the table where you sat next to Baela. You looked positively radiant, smiling with your step-sisters and occasionally jesting with your brothers. From time to time you’d catch his eye, your smile turning mirthful, as if you knew something he didn’t. More than once throughout the night he caught you and Rhaenyra sharing a small, quick nod to one another, and Daemon rolling his eyes whenever he also noticed it.

After King Viserys congratulated Jacaerys and Lucerys on their betrothals, Jace leaned over Baela and whispered something to you. While he looked sullen, Baela had a small understanding smile as you tried to sooth him. His face softened as you grasped his hands, trying to reassure him of something, Baela supporting you quietly. The overjoyed smile that took over your features as Jace nodded lit something in Aemond’s chest, his heart skipping a beat.

At a certain point, after the King’s speech and Rhaenyra and Alicent’s toasts, Aegon got up and leaned over to “whisper” something to Baela, catching the attention of all those around her. Aemond couldn’t hear what his brother said all the way from his side of the table, but whatever it was Jacaerys looked like he was about to drive a dagger through him. But you and your sharp words were quicker.

“At least he can stay sober long enough to get it up.” you spoke, your voice loud enough for the entire room to hear “Can Helaena say the same about you, uncle?”

Several reactions could be heard around the table. Helaena herself snorted into the wine she had been sipping, Daemon laughed loudly from his place at Rhaenyra’s side and even a small, tired chuckle could be heard leaving the King’s mouth. Aemond couldn’t help but smirk as his brother all but crumbled back in his seat, a frown unveiling his embarrassment.

Jace took his time toasting both his uncles but there was something… different in the way he addressed each of them. Whereas Aegon’s name was said with mocking admiration and contempt, Jace’s tone as he said Aemond’s name was laced with quiet resignation. And the tiny grin he directed at Aemond took him by surprise.

Helaena, a little bit tipsy at this hour, also took the opportunity to congratulate Rhaena and Baela in their betrothals, also taking a jab at Aegon’s already wounded pride. While he felt his chest fill with pride for his sister, Aemond couldn’t help but notice the moment you shared with your mother once again, the questioning look on her face and the determined nod you gave as answer to whatever question you found in the depth of her eyes.

“Speaking of marriage,” Rhaenyra started as she stood up and turned to face the seats of his father, mother and grandsire “my only daughter is now of marrying age as well.”

Aemond felt something twist painfully in his chest at the thought, turning his eye to glance at you and was surprised to find you already looking at him, the corners of your lips turned up in a soft grin.

“I would like to make a proposition.” your mother continued, turning to look at him, bringing his attention back to her. He felt his heartbeat increase as she stared at him for a moment longer, some heat climbing to his cheeks, before she turned to address his family once again, her eyes locked onto Alicent “I would like to propose we wed her to your second son, Prince Aemond.”

He barely registered anything else over the thunderous flow of blood against his eardrums, reflecting on the speed at which his traitorous heart was beating in his chest. He glanced back at you, watching as you smiled warmly at him. Something in him just felt right. He felt as if everything was falling into place within his life.

Aemond had never let himself want. He realized quite early in his life that he would only ever be the second son, and considering how much his father favored Rhaenyra over any other of his other children, he didn’t really matter much in comparison to his siblings. So he had learned never to wish for anything for himself, he had never dared hope that good things would come to him. And now here you were, the only one who has ever truly cared for him, offering something he never allowed himself to dream of.

“And�� Rhaenyra continued, drawing his attention back to her. There was more? What else could she possibly offer that could be worth more than that? He allowed himself a quick glimpse at Daemon, who once again looked bothered by what she was about to say “once I have come to pass and it is time for her to take over as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he would be crowned king alongside with her. He would be not a prince, nor king consort, but a true king. They would rule as equals, and eventually their children would sit in the Iron Throne after them.”

What?

As soon as the words were out of her mouth his mind simply ceased to work. They were thinking of… what? His head quickly snapped to look at his family, wanting to gauge their reactions as well and assess if they were just as confused as he felt.

His father was positively delighted at the prospect of uniting his fractured family once more. His mother, on the other hand, looked irked at Rhaenyra for having sprung this proposition in front of Viserys, as he’d obviously agree, and she wasn’t looking forward to having a possible bastard as her son’s wife (even if she knew he once cared deeply for you). And his grandsire… he looked conflicted. Otto Hightower wasn’t an easy man to read, but he had been so caught by surprise that he was wearing all his emotions on his sleeve. While he, like Alicent, seemed bothered by the timing of this proposal, he also looked… intrigued?

“We were thinking of passing Dragonstone down to Aegon and keeping both Aemond and my daughter here in King’s Landing so they can learn with me and the council the ways of ruling, so they are well prepared when it comes their time to rule.”

“And what of Lucerys?” Alicent questioned warily.

“He would live in Driftmark with Jace, learning the ways of salt and sea, in hopes of one day becoming my, and later his sister’s, Master of Ships.” Rhaenyra completed.

Silence ruled over the room for a moment, nobody daring to utter a word. Not even the servants, watching from the corners, made a single sound.

“And who was the one” Viserys spoke slowly, getting more tired as the night progressed “behind such a wonderful idea?”

“I-” your mother started, but Daemon quickly cut her off.

“The girl did.” he nodded his head towards you, a smug smile growing on his lips at the prospect of possibly throwing you under the carriage.

Aemond’s head snapped towards you, your smile never wavering. So that’s what you had been speaking to Rhaenyra all day. After your talk in the courtyard, you’d gone off to find your mother, to express your wishes not only to marry Aemond, but to also make him king. Just like the lines on his palm told you. But… why?

“And just what” Otto questioned, as if reading his grandson’s mind “has led the princess to decide to break hundreds of centuries of tradition and wish to share the Throne?”

Rhaenyra turned back to you, sending a silent question in your direction yet again. You shook your head and stood up, as if deciding to face the judgment of the Hightowers all by yourself.

“While my family has resided in Dragonstone for the past few years, my lord,” you started, an eloquence that indicated you’d been preparing, and maybe even rehearsing, this speech in your mind for a while “I have taken to flying around the realm on dragonback, visiting all of the Seven Kingdoms. I’d wished to see for myself and understand the people I’d one day rule over. However, being away from King’s Landing for so long also means I am not versed in the matters of court. Prince Aemond, on the other hand,” oh, how sweet your voice sounded when you said his name accompanied by his title “has lived his entire life here in the Red Keep. He’s been in these halls, around the lords and ladies of court, for quite a while and knows how such matters are supposed to work. I believe our knowledge combined will give us the strength, as a unity, required to rule over the realm together and establish a peaceful and prosperous reign.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you paused, your expression souring.

“And” you chuckled mirthlessly, your previously warm smile falling to a resigned one “I am a woman. The lords of the noble houses of Westeros may support my mother’s claim as they have sworn an oath to his grace, the King, but many of them are already of advanced age and may soon come to perish, some have already died even. While most of these houses are righteous and their sons and grandsons will likely honor their ancestors' wishes and support me as my mothers heir, there is no telling what will happen. They might not take kindly to yet another woman ruling over the realm, and especially one they didn’t technically agree on. So as much as I loathe to admit it, having a man by my side, supporting me as an equal, would strengthen my claim and prevent anyone from questioning me as queen.”

It made sense, all of it. Change as impactful as this tends to happen over time, not all at once, and it was known the men of the realm would not so easily accept a woman on the Iron Throne, something Aemond knew his grandsire was counting on to bring Aegon to power eventually, so it was a smart move to have a husband at your side. Your arguing was solid, and Otto Hightower seemed to agree as he reclined back on his seat, somewhat impressed.

Alicent, however, looked like she still wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“And why would you wish to marry my son?” she questioned, her tone stern.

Your smile faltered briefly, betraying your confusion.

“Why, your grace, I believe I have already explained-”

“No,” she cut you off “you’ve explained why this union would be beneficial for you as a representative of the Crown. I want to know why you wish to marry him. You could have any man in the realm, hells, there have been rumors that Cregan Stark himself has requested an audience in Dragonstone, possibly to request a courtship for your hand.” That was before anyone knew Rhaenyra planned on making you her heir and it was believed you’d inherit nothing at all, Aemond caught himself thinking “So why do you want to marry Aemond?”

That had him leaning forward in his seat. He knew, logically, this marriage stemmed from convenience. He knew he, and you as well, were mere pawns in your family’s schemes. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind your proposal. Even if it was just a political move, he would have accepted in a heartbeat but he dared to wish, no, hope that you actually wanted this, that you wanted him.

“I…” you fumbled for a moment, averting your gaze before steeling yourself, eyes locking with his mother’s once more “My uncle and I were close once, many years ago. We used to share a connection that has since been lost to time.”

You took a deep breath, as if preparing to reveal your deepest secrets to the whole family.

“I would like for us to get to know one another once more and go back to the way things were. Maybe even strengthen our bond.” you then turned to him, your eyes soft and warm and with the slightest of glimmer to them, as if you were willing yourself not to shed any tears “And I believe, with time, I could learn to love him dearly. I would love and cherish him for everything that he is, unwaveringly and unapologetically.” your lips trembled almost imperceptibly, so much so that had he not been paying close attention to you he’d have missed it “I’d be his as much as he’d be mine.”

Aemond felt his breath hitch, his heart hammering in his chest once more. He didn’t know what to think. This, right here, seemed so unreal. Deep down he knew this might just be the solution to everyone’s problems, it could be the very thing that mended the divide that had been growing inside of House Targaryen, but… could it be possible? Would his family agree?

“I believe this to be an amazing occasion.” the King spoke, looking happier than he’d been in a long while, before turning to his wife “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Alicent in turn looked to her father for answers and Aemond waited with bated breath for his response. Otto’s word was law in her eyes, Aemond knew, so he was the one who had final say in the matter. His answer came as a tiny nod and in that moment, as Aemond barely registered his mother’s next words, he had never been more grateful for his grandsire.

“I am inclined to agree that this will be a most blessed union.” Alicent said, her smile, always cold when it came to you, warming considerably.

“It’s settled then. Looks like we’ll have a wedding even sooner than expected.” Viserys then tapped his cane on the ground “Let us have some music.”

As the musicians started playing an animated melody, Aemond felt lighter than he had in years. He could hardly care for everyone around him, not even noticing anyone’s reaction to the news other than your own. With his eye focused solely on you he could see the relief settling in at his mother’s words as you beamed at him, more radiant than ever.

“Aemond, dear, why don’t you take your betrothed for a dance?”

He was out of his seat before Alicent could even finish her sentence, crossing the space between you in wide strides and extending a hand to you. You accepted gracefully. As you positioned yourselves to dance, you smiled bashfully at him, looking down at your feet, slightly embarrassed.

“I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for bringing this up all of a sudden, uncle.” you explained, looking back at him “I didn’t want to waste another moment and risk losing my chance.”

It was his turn to smile, not a smirk or a smug grin, a genuine smile.

“There is nothing to forgive, little niece.” the way he said the moniker this time, once used to mock you, was so filled with only affection and care that it almost brought tears to your eyes once again.

You danced for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then you leaned closer to him, as if wanting to share something privy to his ears alone.

“I told you once before, Aemond.” your smile turned into the tiniest of smirks “The lines don’t lie.”

His heart clenched at the memory, which seemed so distant yet so fresh in his mind. He tightened his grip around you, bringing your body even closer to his own, wanting to feel you close to him, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

“Indeed,” he whispered softly back to you, leaning his head against your own “I guess they truly don’t.”

And then everyone is happy, Rhaenyra and her family don’t leave for Dragonstone before dawn, meaning she’s there when Viserys goes to sleep forever, meaning she’s crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, meaning the Greens don’t usurp the Throne, meaning the Dance never happened, meaning no one dies and everyone lives happily ever after, hurray!

(About Daemon's behavior, he’s not mad at reader or Rhaenyra, nor does he dislike reader in any way. He’s just resentful Rhaenyra hasn’t thought nor has she offered to what she does to Aemond in this story. And as we know, when these Targaryen boys are frustrated, they tend to lash out. Hope this clarifies some things!)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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lokisprettygirl · 9 months

Text

Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: After five years of being together you broke up with Daemon for your own good but the link between you two stayed connected. As the City of Belfast is terrorized by a killer on the loose would your life intertwine with your old flame again or the case would only drift you further away from him?

Warning: 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination

Daemon was tired, he hadn't slept in three days, he was running on caffeine and on top of it his mother kept calling him all day long because she was worried about him. Tired was an understatement. He was exhausted in every possible way.

“Good night sir” his protege Jake said to him before leaving to which he responded with a nod and a grunted sigh. The amount of paperwork on his desk only made him feel worse. He loved his job, he loved being on the field and solving crimes all day long but he hated the administrative work that came with it.

As he slumped down in his chair he cracked his neck side to side to relieve some of the tension he was feeling but it was in vain.

11:59. He looked at the time and sighed again, as the clock hit 12 he was reminded of the day. It was your birthday, he wasn't sure if he wanted to call you today, you had broken his heart on the very same day two years ago.

You had called him on his birthday a few months ago but the last time he had seen you was at Torres’s birthday party, the only mutual friend between you both. It's been six months since he had seen you last and it's been two years since you had crushed his heart beneath your heels and ruined his life but you both had stayed in touch. Perhaps he'd give you a call tomorrow, he didn't want to come across as desperate by calling you right at twelve am.

He went through the files on his desk, his focus set on the case that was demanding all of his attention these days. It was about a serial killer who abducted, raped, and murdered multiple women in a chilling and unique manner. The case had stirred up a media frenzy in Belfast, bringing him the biggest and most challenging case of his career so far. He poured all of his energy and expertise into the case, knowing that a successful resolution would earn him that much needed promotion he had been working towards.

Serial killers were known for their signature patterns and this one followed suit. His targets were women in their early thirties, and he often stalked them in secluded areas before attacking them. But instead of choosing them at random, he took the time to learn their routines and kidnapped them only when the opportunity presented itself. Each crime scene was marked by a signature, he left a lock of their hair behind on the exact spot he had abducted them. Long luscious locks of hair, all of these women had that similarity with each other.

The media gave him the name 'The Barber Killer' which Daemon despised. Doing so only gave them more notoriety and motivation to continue. The killer always made sure their bodies were found, the women were scalped for their hair and stripped of their skin, teeth were also extracted. It was a horrific gruesome sight but this is what he had wanted to do all his life, not witness such inhumanity but put criminals like him behind the bars where they should be..

Seven years ago he was merely a traffic police officer, that's exactly how he had the fortune of meeting you.

Speeding, you were speeding and you were being very reckless. As you were tailed by him and asked to pull over he saw this young woman in her early to mid twenties.

“Do you have any idea how fast you were driving in a low speed zone?”

Daemon leaned down to get a look at you and you gave him a smile

“Yes I'm sorry?”

Sweet voice he thought.

“Can I see your driver's license and MOT mam?” he asked you so you hurriedly went through the glove compartment. As you gave the documents to him you couldn't help but take a moment to get a good look at him. With his striking eyes and full hair, it was easy to see why you found him so attractive. He had a calm but confident demeanor that only added to his charm. You couldn't help but wonder what he was like in person.

“So ummm Officer Daemon does that whole 'flirting with the officer to not get a ticket' thing works on you?” You asked him and he gave you a side smile as he looked you in the eye, you must have read his name on the batch.

“Doesn't work on me..your MOT is expiring in a week”

“I'll get it done i promise..I'm sorry I just really have to be at my sister's wedding or I'll be murdered and they'll probably call you to investigate my case so please can I go?” you mumbled with an urgency in your voice

“Not without a ticket.. besides I'm just a traffic officer, not a detective"

"Well..not yet"

You winked at him in a playful manner and he quickly tore the citation from the ticket book and handed it to you.

“I'd say it was nice to see you but you just cost me hundred pounds so no”

“Well I'm not going to change the law for you mam, speeding is dangerous not just for you but others as well”

“I know..I don't normally do that you know..I'm just really in a rush” you tried to explain yourself and he could tell that you weren't really the type to get caught like this.

“You can go now…drive safely.. and congratulations to your sister” you gave him a smile that took his breath away for a moment. It wasn't like him to be so affected by a woman like this, after the rough childhood and even worse adolescence, he was always focused on wanting to do something in life, dating and finding love wasn't the top of his priorities so this really came as a surprise to him..

“Goodbye officer Daemon”

You weren't the first woman he had busted for speeding but you surely were the only one he followed for a bit to see if you were driving safely or not. That should have been the end of your interaction with him but it wasn't.

Two weeks later he caught another vehicle driving under the influence and you were in the passenger seat this time, your friend Donna was the one driving the car. You had later told him that seeing him again was nerve wracking as you didn't want him to think of you as some reckless idiot but you were also excited to bump into him again.

As soon as Daemon approached her side of the window she batted her eyelashes at him which only annoyed him further.

“Wow look at you .. aren't you handsome officer Daemon?” She giggled as she tried to trick him with flirting and the annoyed look on his face made you smile, however you puckered your lips as he turned his attention to you.

“Id and driver's license mam” he said to her while his eyes were on you so Donna rummaged through her compartment and passed it to him.

“Please don't fine me .. it's her birthday, we just got a little excited” he shook his head in disbelief at the excuse and made her take a breathalyzer test which she obviously failed.

“Can I talk to you, miss?” He asked you so you looked at Donna and she gave you the eyes,

“I tried to seduce him” she mumbled as she leaned into you

“Yeah, how embarrassing for you” .

You opened your door and stepped out of the car, as Daemon saw you in your silver little dress he knew you both were returning from a club or something, not that he'd know anything about that. His social life was non-existent.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” his brows furrowed in anger as he spoke to you so you leaned your body against the hood of the car.

“I wasn't driving” you answered shamelessly.

“But your friend is drunk, do you understand the repercussions of your actions?” He asked you but you didn't respond so he cleared his throat and you finally looked in his eyes as prior to when you were audaciously staring at his lips.

“I'm sorry, it's just really really hard to focus on what you're saying. Your lips are very distracting when you're speaking with such ...passion”

He opened his mouth to give a sly retort but he was warm and flushed by the remark, he wasn't used to being flirted this way, not in a genuine way. He wasn't the prettiest guy as he had been told time and again so he was always a bit weird around women, especially women as attractive as you.

“Do you wanna go out with me ..Someday?” He asked you and the smile on your face indicated that you didn't mind.

“What about now? It's my birthday..you can buy me a drink or i can do the favour officer”

“My shift ends at 11”

“Then here's my number” you grabbed the pen from his fingers and then you grabbed his hand to write your digits on his palm, he was glad his partner wasn't around today to witness this, his breath hitched as you grabbed onto his fingers and etched every digit in clear numbers slowly.

“I'll wait for your call officer”

That's how he had found the woman he fell madly in love with, it just clicked, everything made sense with you but perhaps he wasn't what you really needed.

He slumped back in his chair, trying to get rid of the personal feelings he had at the moment, two years, it's been two years, he should have moved on.

Around 4:45 am as he finally got done with the paperwork he decided to go home and get his sleep but he wasn't able to sleep, he kept thinking about giving you a call but he didn't. It was 5 in the morning, you must be asleep he thought.

In the afternoon he woke up to his phone ringing constantly, it was Jake. He had requested him to come to the precinct immediately as another woman had been kidnapped in the barber killer case, he almost didn't want to get out of bed but he had to.

“Update me mate” he asked Jake as soon as he entered the station but the way Jake looked at him made him feel uneasy.

“You might want to sit down for this”

“Why?”

“He got her”

His skin went pale as he heard that.

“What?”

“Y/n..uhhh your ex..the girl in the picture which you keep in the drawer.. around 5 am in the morning she was on her morning run and she didn't return, her friends and family were trying to call her since it's her –”

“Birthday” Jake nodded as Daemon said that. He was really nervous giving this information to his boss.

He turned around to face away from Jake and braced himself against the desk to control his breathing, he couldn't freak out, he had to stay calm and he had to look for you, he had to find you. He stood there, taking slow deep breaths, fighting to keep his composure, at least he had to do so to not lash at the young nervous trainee next to him.

“Should have called her”

“Did you say something?” Jake cleared his throat as he noticed daemon mumbling under his breath.

“No i..just..let's go”

“She fits the profile sir..”

“What's the report on her cell?”

Daemon asked as they stepped out of the station to go visit the site you had disappeared from

“Phone is switched off, the last person who called her was some guy named Pierce–”

“Bring him in for the enquiry”

“Yes sir” Daemon halted for a moment to turn to Jake.

“Stop hovering over me”

“Sorry, are you alright sir?”

“Yeah I am fine…”

“He takes his time with them..i'm sure she's not–”

“I know mate ..I'm on the case” he sighed as he tried to calm down again “Look just focus on the job, there can't be another one, we need to get this maniac before he kills--" Daemon paused for a moment to finish his words "Somebody else”

As soon as he got inside his car and drove away from the station he chose a secluded spot to pull over and then he allowed himself to cry, a part of him felt guilty.

He thought back to last night, his mind couldn't stop coming up with scenarios where his decision to not call you had affected the outcome of the situation, maybe if he had called at night you'd have invited him over like you did last year, and maybe you'd still be here, safe and around him and not in some deranged psychopath’s lair.

Or if he had called in the morning perhaps you'd have changed your mind about running today, perhaps he could have done something to cause a ripple effect, but then he remembered that this wasn't some random abduction, if you were taken by the barber killer, it only meant that he was keeping an eye on you from a long time.

Once he was done feeling sorry for himself he went to your house and followed the track, cops had done their thing but he wanted to be meticulous, this wasn't just a job for him anymore, this had become personal, he found the lock of your long hair that cops had missed, his eyes welled up thinking about the times he had spent his nights running his fingers through your hair. .

He knew he had to find you before it would be too late.

“We are not getting back together –” he chuckled as you said that to him even though you knew his heart must have broke all over again at the sound of your voice.

“I know –’ he caressed your cheek with the back of his index finger and you leaned into his touch almost immediately.

“I just don't want you to misunderstand this invitation”

“I won't–”

You pulled him closer to you by grabbing his collar, you had missed him, it's been exactly a year since you had left him and broke both of your hearts but every part of you still loved him. Time heals all wounds you had heard then why were you still hooked on him? You found yourself thinking about him, dreaming about him - even though you knew it was wrong. You tried to tell yourself that you would eventually move on. But in that moment, you were reminded of just how much you needed him in your life, however you also remembered all the times he wasn't there for you when you needed him..

“I don't want to hurt you more than I already have -” you pulled away to whisper against his mouth but he pressed his thumb over your lips.

“You can't hurt me more than that..trust me”

He picked you up in his arms and pressed you against the wall, clothes didn't even come off your bodies , it wasn't needed, all you needed was his cock slipping in and out of you, nobody fucked you the way he did, nobody compared to him. It didn't take him long to make you crumble in his arms, he had no idea that you hadn't touched anyone since him, you broke his heart but your heart and body still stayed loyal to him, five years, you had been with that man for five years and you wanted fifty more but he brought you equal amounts of pain as he brought happiness.

“Happy birthday my scrappy girl”

You opened your eyes to a figure looming over you but your screams were muffled by the duct tape. You pushed and struggled against your bindings, but it was all in vain. Memories of the past flooded back to you, filling your mind with regret and longing.

If you knew someday in life you'd end up bound and helpless in a dungeon perhaps you'd have made different choices. Perhaps you wouldn't have broken the heart of the man you loved so deeply.

“Oh no you're all banged up, can't have that now can we? My son is rather brutish. I must say” you heard a woman's voice but you couldn't really see her in the dark. Her accent was thick and the perfume was strong.

You struggled again as she picked you up and made you sit down on a chair. What the hell was going on here? You didn't understand. Fear was all you felt in that moment, well that and regret.

He didn't even call you this year, was he ever going to call you again? You had no idea and maybe you'd not live the day to figure it out.

As the duct tape was ripped off your mouth you took a deep breath and then you screamed, wasn't really the wisest decision on your part because that earned you a sharp slap and then you felt a needle pricking your arm which immediately made you feel drowsy. The woman then walked away to leave the room, and when she opened the door you could see that she had long hair and that she was wearing a full length dress. You also heard another woman screaming. Were there others here?

The last thing you remembered was the entrance of a man into the room just before you passed out.

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

Young Daemon looked like this

Taglist @daddylokisqueen

#daemon targaryen #modern daemon targaryen #non canon au #tw kidnapping #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #dark themes #modern day au

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Note

Could I request Alpha!Rhaenyra x omega!handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even some soft smut? It doesn’t have to be omegaverse if you’re not comfortable with writing it

Rhaenyra Targaryen*Perzītsos

Pairings: Rhaenyra x handmaiden!f!reader

Warnings: mentions of loss, family death, grieving, smut, fingering, f!recieiving oral, nipple play, pet names, soft smut 18+

Word count: 3110

A/N: trying to pick between emma and millie for a Rhaenyra gif is a near impossible decision

also i wouldve done the omega and alpha things but i havent really read much like that so i didnt wanna accidentally butcher it so i hope this was okay!

Masterlist Here

Translations

Perzītsos (little flame) ñuha dōna (my sweet)

All the servants had lined up, backs pressed against the stone walls of the corridor, waiting for the princess arrival. Heads bowed, hands whipping sweat on their skirts, hushed whispers to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of her yet. The sound of dragon wings batting through the skies alerted you all to her arrival.

Rhaenyra barely looked at anyone, let alone the servants as she walked the halls of her new home. As she spoke to the lords of Dragonstone at the entrance you took the moment to take her in. Her long silver hair was windswept from the fight, cascading down her back, yet somehow not tangled from the flight. She didn’t wear what you would expect of a princess, instead clad in leather and bright red cloth for ease of riding. Her eyes were the softest of lilacs, staring at you like flowers.

Oh fuck! You thought as your eyes snapped to the ground. She had caught your stares and you could only hope from this distance she did not see your embarrassment. What you hadn’t saw was the slight smirk on her face or the way her eyes lingered on you as she passed you by. Your new boss had told you yesterday you would be one of her many handmaidens and not to expect any great things out of washing the princess delicates so to keep your head down. You’d only arrived last week, and you had already made the first mistake.

You had hoped to spend the rest of your life with your family in Old Town even if only as a servant, but a fire had made that impossible. You escaped with your life but had lost it at the same time. One of the lords of the manor you worked in took pity on you and had you sent here so to not have to suffer the memories. Yet Dragonstone was cold, its walls empty and dark, and its people sombre even when greeting their princess.

The princess had been practically locked in her chamber for the past week, barely saying two words to her servants at a time. her eyes would always watch your every move as you cleaned her room. She never even let you do half your tasks and wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her. she was cold but you could not blame her since you too missed home, even if home was so different for you both. “Take these to the princess for her bath,” the head maid shoved a small chest into your hands before stacking towels on top. “She’s in a right grouchy mood for someone who has everything,” the woman muttered as she stomped off.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you set off to the princess’s chambers. they had made you walk this path till your feet felt like they were going to crack to make sure you never got lost however as you stood in front of the door you kind of wish you had got lost. Taking a deep breath, you steadied the chest on your hip and knocked on the heavy wooden door. a moment passed before someone called out, “Come in,”

When your hand took the handle, you hadn’t expected the door to be so heavy. You shuffled forward, shoving the door open by your shoulder as you struggled to move the wood while balancing the chest. When you finally got in the room you were met again with those violet eyes. Rhaenyra smirked as she watched your head drop in embarrassment as you quickly shuffled in the room.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she stood from the bed she had been sitting on.

“It’s alright my princess I’ve got it- “you started to say as you placed the towels on the table beside the steaming hot bath when crash. The chest slipped from your hip and hit the ground, the wooden corner splintering and the top breaking over. “No,” you gasped as you knelt down to try put all the bath salts and fragrances back into the chest.

You heard footsteps but didn’t look up till Rhaenyra’s hand shot out to pick up one of the bottles, “Let me help you,” she said softly, ignoring the way you gaped at her. up close those eyes seemed even more magical, “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting you.

You realised she had picked up all the pieces and quickly went to stand, “Yes princess, thank you princess, princess I- “

“Rhaenyra,” she cut you off.

Pausing for a moment, eyes scrunched in confusion, before you nodded, “Princess Rhaynera I- “your sentence was cut off by her soft giggles.

“No please just call me Rhaenyra. In my chambers at least. Id like some form of normalcy at least,” Rhaenyra said as she stood up, but she did not move back as you began to lay out the bath supplies on the table. It seemed almost that she stepped closer. “What is your name?” she asked, her breath brushing the back of your neck.

You turned around, trying to stand tall, as you told her. “A beautiful name,” she said, her lips finally curved into a smile. It suited her face far better than her usual melancholy. “Are you here to ready the bath?”

“Yes pri- “you said, stopping suddenly with an awkward smile, “Rhaenyra. It will only be a few moments longer,”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, a slight laugh in her voice as she stepped away to begin taking her jewellery off.

As you poured the salts in you decided to try actually speaking to her, perhaps she just missed conversation you thought. “I can help you with that,” you said causing her to spin round, “if you give me a moment of course,” you said as you stirred the salts in before picking up the bottle of fragrance the king had sent in spades for her.

“I know how to take my own jewellery off,” she said, turning away again.

“I did not mean to offend you,” you said quietly as the sweet smell filled the room, “I just like to be of help,”

Rhaenyra chuckled as she sat her jewels down, small things that cost more than your life, “I don’t think anyone could help me truly,” she said as she began to tie her hair up.

“Maybe,” you said as you laid out the towels, “but you never know till you ask. My mother always told me that,” you said, pausing for a moment in the sweet memory. She had always been so positive.

Rhaenyra paused briefly before finishing her hair. “Mothers always seem so wise,” she said as she looked out the window, “Till they die that is,” she muttered as her hands moved to try unstringing the laces behind her back.

“You don’t miss the fire till it’s gone cold,” you said as you checked the waters temperature, deciding the bath was in fact ready. Rhaenyra turned round with a questioning look, abandoning her futile attempts to undress herself, “That’s what my lord told me when I lost mine. Would you like me to get the laces princess?” you asked, somehow managing to stay calm as you spoke.

Rhaenyra nodded and you moved to stand behind her, gently loosening the dress, “Do you miss her?” Rhaenyra asked as the dress was loose enough for her to slip off her shoulders.

“Everyday,” you said as you picked up the heavy fabric and attempted to fold it.

“Me too,” she sighed as she moved to help you fold the dress, “Does it get easier?”

“No,” you said honestly as you bundled the gown into a drawer, “but it hurts less, in time,”

Rhaenyra didn’t say anything as she walked towards the bath. You silently helped her slip into the hot water, her shift going see through in the water, but you quickly averted your eyes. “Goodnight Rhaenyra,” you said as you bowed your head and went to leave.

“Wait,” she called out as your hand rested on the door handle, “Could you stay?” she said, her voice going quiet as she averted her gaze, “You could brush my hair?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course,” you smiled back at her, “It would be my pleasure princess- “

“Rhae,” she said cutting you off. “Call me Rhae,” she said as she settled back in the water.

“Okay Rhae,” you said as you moved a stool to sit behind her bath and took a brush in your hand, “Lean back,” you said as you took down her hair and began to brush.

Rhaenyra began requesting you daily for certain tasks. You would be the one to brush her hair, help her dress, arrange her bath. At first Rhaenyra would listen to your stories as you did your chores. She was nearly always silent when you did so, asking maybe one or two questions the whole time but always insisting you continued when you stopped.

Then she began to tell you, her stories. About her first time on a dragon, about her father’s new wife, and her mother’s death. Slowly she opened up more and more. You began to see her outside of chores. She’d have you sneak out to join her dinners or even a few times let you meet her dragon with the promise of a ride on it one day. Your meetings got longer and her words sweeter. Her hand began to linger when she would pass you the brush or your hands rested a moment too long on her shoulders until the day you kissed her without even thinking.

You had been helping her dress and had moved to her front to adjust the material. “All done,” you said, suddenly looking up from where your head had been tilted down to fix the bodice when your nose brushed against hers. Her lips brushed yours as your head moved up, her eyes gazing into yours and without a thought or a word you leaned forward closing the gap. It was a short but soft kiss, and you pulled back, wide eyed and almost teary as you expected to be scolded when Rhaenyra stepped forward.

Her lips crashed onto yours, her hands moving to hold your back and press you into her tighter. Your hands had been trapped between your bodies and snaked up her front to rest on her shoulders. This kiss was desperate, hungry, and so needy that you didn’t part for air till your head grew dizzy. “You shall dine with me tonight,” she whispered, her forehead resting on yours, “and I will count down the minutes till I return to find you in these chambers,”

That had been weeks ago. Now you lay in a bed of fine silks and furs, a silver haired girl laying with her head on your chest as you stroked her soft strands. “Rhae?” you asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back. You couldn’t help but smile at her voice, “I’m just enjoying your company Perzītsos,” little flame, she whispered still in the quiet room only lit by a few candles. She had given you one of her shifts to wear as you settled into the bed with her, and it felt like clouds on your skin. “Is that wrong of me?” she asked as she brought your hand to her mouth to kiss.

“Not at all zaldrīzes,” you said, kissing the top of her head.

“Your Valyrian is improving,” you could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

You smiled down at the girl curled in your lap, “Only because of my teacher,” you said.

Rhaenyra shuffled and moved to sit up, her legs draped over your lap as she curled into you, her head resting on your shoulder, “It is easy to teach such a willing student,” she praised, kissing your check.

You turned your head, resting your forehead on hers before capturing her kiss. Her hand moved to hold your cheeks while yours softly squeezed her hip. Without a word Rhaenyra moved to straddle your legs before crashing her lips back to yours, holding your face gently. The kiss was comfortable, the type of kiss you melt into. Your hands moved from her hips to her back, pressing her chest into yours as she led the kiss.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped down from your face between your bodies, resting over the thin fabric covering your chest. “Patience little one,” she giggled as she pushed back, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time Nyra,” you panted before rejoining your lips, your hands slipping down to squeeze her ass over her shift.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped off your body but only for a moment to pull off the thin fabric covering her body. “That’s better,” she said as she as she placed your hands back on the soft flesh of her ass as her hands began to gently squeeze your chest.

Her lips became more feverous, but Rhaenyra was careful not to burn you, always going softer on her favourite hand maiden. Rhaenyra’s hips began to grind down, signalling to you without words. One of your hands slipped from her back to her front, moving between your bodies to run a finger up her cunt, “So wet for me,” you praised with a slight smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me,�� she giggled as she pulled you back in.

Your fingers trailed up and down her wet folds for only a few moments before slowly pushing into her entrance. Rhaenyra moaned into the kiss as your fingers slipped in, your thumb positioned to rub slow circles into her clit which you had worked over so many times now. Rhaenyra began to slowly buck her hips on your fingers, fucking herself slowly as your fingers curled.

Her moans were soft and mixed with gasps as you began to kiss down her jaw and neck. The soft skin was like a drug as your lips moved down to nip at her collarbones. Your spare hand moved from her ass to her chest as you began to kiss her chest before taking one of her hardened nipples into your mouth, sucking on it gently, “Yes,” Rhaenyra moaned softly as your fingers began to trace her hardened bud, “Don’t stop,”

“Whatever you want,” you whispered before lightly biting the bud with your teeth.

“You,” she gasped, “I want you,” she moaned as your fingers curled into that all too familiar spot. The way her hips began to buck was a familiar sight. your hand moved from her chest to her hips to hold them in place as you helped her moan out in ecstasy, curling your fingers still as she rode out her orgasm before collapsing into your arms.

Rhaenyra’s head rested on your shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. Your hands moved to rub soft circles into her back, holding her close. After a few moments Rhaenyra lifted her head to leave a soft kiss onto your lips, “Your turn,” she whispered.

“It’s okay princess- “

“Let me take care of you,” she interrupted, brushing your hair out of your face, “Lay down little one. I want to hear you,” she said as she moved to let you lay on the soft sheets.

Her eyes raked over you body, the shift doing little to cover your modesty. Rhaenyra sat next to you, reaching out to trace your hardened nipples over your clothes, “So pretty,” she muttered before she moved lean over your body. She kissed your lips before trailing down your body, leaving kisses down your skin till she reached your thighs.

Rhaenyra left several kisses up the sensitive skin while you shivered from her touch. Her soft breath fanned over your wet cunt, already making your body tense. You breathed in sharply when she placed a sudden kiss to your clit, your hands gripping the fine sheets. “Relax,” she whispered with a teasing tone, “Trust me little one,” she said as she moved your thighs over her shoulders, “Let me hear your sweet sounds,” she said before licking a soft stripe up your folds.

Your hands tightened around the sheets as Rhaenyra began to lap up your juices, softly at first but with growing hunger. She moved her head till her nose brushed your clit, making your body jerk. Rhaynera hands wrapped around your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as she began to fuck you with her tongue.

You could feel the knot growing in your stomach and you did your best to stay quiet, but Rhaenyra was not making it easy. One of her hands released your thigh only for her to begin teasing your hole with her fingers. Rhaenyra slowly eased two fingers into you, curling them slowly inside you as her mouth moved up to place open mouth kisses to your clit. Her tongue massaged your bundle of nerves while her fingers began to brush over that one particular spot.

Your soft moans filled the chambers and the fear of someone entering didn’t even faze you as your body tightened. When you felt her begin to lightly suck on your clit you could feel your peak ready to tip so when her teeth grazed the bundle of nerves you began to crash on her tongue, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets.

Rhaenyra didn’t stop even as your thighs tightened around her head. You felt your body might break in half as her mouth seemed to get more determined to milk another out of you. it didn’t take long till your body was jerking as you tried to almost fight off the second orgasm, but it was futile once her fingers curled to hit your sweet spot and you came again on her face.

This time Rhaenyra came up for air as you lay in bed, half dazed as you stared at the ceiling. “You were so good for me,” Rhaenyra praised as she lay beside you, brushing the hair out of your face, “Can I hold you little one?” she asked, raising your hand to her lips and to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, shuffling slightly so that Rhaenyra could lay behind you, her arms wrapped around your front while her head buried into the crook of your neck. “Get some sleep darling,” Rhaenyra said, kissing your shoulder, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Okay,” you whispered as you felt Rhaenyra shuffle and suddenly a thick blanket fell over you both, “Gnight Rhae,” you said, already half asleep,”

“Goodnight Perzītsos,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @starkleila @valeskafics

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