#and later when shes in her dragon dress she curtsies~!

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

| When One Possesses A Thing | Aemond/Married!Reader

Summary: She arrives to the Red Keep immensely dissatisfied with her marriage. Aemond proposes an alternative | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: mentions of being in an unhappy marriage, universe canon aversion of homosexuality, mentions of homosexuality being a sin, mentions of fertility, threats of death, voyeurism, breeding kink, size kink if you squint really hard, p in v sex

@ewanmitchellcrumbs Ty for reading this through first 😭

When Aemond was informed by his mother of the arrival of one Lord from the Riverlands, of whose name he could not even be bothered to remember, he’d merely turned his head away, resisting a shrug of his shoulders and expressing immense disinterest.

That was until, Aemond clapped eyes on his Lady wife. 

He observed as she often held back behind her husband, hands clasped at the front, her fingers glimmering with golden rings and wrists with intricate bracelets, as well as one particular necklace that hung daringly around her neck, the pendant lingering above the cut of her dress with the shadow of her cleavage beneath.

They had, of course, arrived in celebration of King Viserys’ upcoming nameday. Not an event Aemond could say for himself that he would enjoy with any degree of certainty. He knew Aegon would find any excuse to drown himself in his cups and leer at the accompanying wives of the elder Lords, and that Helaena would simply attend, but be preoccupied with her thoughts and imagination as she so often was.

The Lord himself was tall, but slender, as if he had not broadened from age. Aemond observed that he seemed sprightly but aloof. Several times he forgot to make the proper pleasantries and introduce his own wife. Her gentle, warm face did not flounder with embarrassment, but she simply smiled, curtsied and introduced herself with a smooth, honey-like voice. 

Her husband gave her a nod of the head, his mouth set into a frown as he whispered something to her as his companion threw his arm around the Lord and dragged him off to the closest place they could find wine. 

The look on her face made it seem like this was a regular occurrence. Her husband snubbing her in favour of spending time with his male friends, not really even bothering to ask what she would do to occupy herself in a new, strange environment. 

She slipped away like a whisper, a cloud of silks billowing behind her as she made for any spot within the Red Keep that might entertain her. Alone.

Several laps through the decorated hallways, brushes through the gardens and wanderings past the Library later, she soon found herself face to face with the skull of a dragon, hung high above a table thick with candle wax, hardened from the years of merely replacing them. The stench of tallow was overwhelmed somewhat by the dampness of the cavernous space, and the smoking incense placed at each corner of the table.

The skull was enormous. Bigger than any animal she had ever seen on land. Those big sockets where its eyes used to be staring down at her, sucking her into its world of rich histories and conquerors. 

“My Lady”

The echo of Aemond’s voice did not make her jump, but it did steal her attention, her waves rolling over her shoulder as she turned to see the source. 

He could not help but marvel at her grace and the way her dress, so traditionally worn, happened to hang off her body in the most tempting of ways, emphasising her womanly curves. Though he had one eye, he himself could not miss the pressing of her breasts against the front of her corseted garment. 

“My Prince” she greeted in the same manner of tone as him, her lips turning upwards almost indistinctively as she gave a polite curtsy. He gave her a small bow back, intrigued. 

He took wide, calculated strides towards her into the candlelight. And she watched as his form came out of the darkness, his silver Targaryen hair illuminated by the warmth around them.

“Do you know his name?” he asked, in a manner that insisted he might have been testing the young woman.

“Of course” she answered calmly, “Balerion. Ridden by Aegon the Conqueror, was he not?”

Aemond bowed his head, one eyebrow twitching, as if he had not actually expected her to know. This Riverland bound beauty was a surprise at every turn. He did not respond, feeling his expression was enough.

And it seemed she understood, as she smiled.

“I am no historian, my Prince. But it is difficult to feign ignorance to the victories that have been written of Targaryens”

He bit back a grin. Feeling his ego inflate somewhat.

“So you read then, my Lady?”

She cocked her head, “You seem surprised”

“Not surprised” he answered immediately, standing a good distance from her, “Merely intrigued”

He watched with further interest how her eyes were level with his chest, and how they dragged from the dragon-embellished doublet, over his neck, and to his gaze again.

“I do indeed enjoy reading” she mused, as if the suggestion she did not would have offended her.

“Only history?”

“Of all genres” she adds, with a knowing smile, “All such subjects are of interest to me”

They fell into comfortable silence, listening to the wafting of the candle flames whipping in the soft breeze. 

Her shoes clicked in a satisfying way as she turned back to the great skull.

“The King rode the Black Dread, did he not?”

Aemond fought back the urge to kiss his teeth, feeling as if at this moment, as he was lusting for the woman stood beside him, how much he did not want to think about his father.

“He did”

She turned to him, perhaps recognising the lack of affection in his reply.

“I suppose it is of no great merit to you, my Prince. As you claimed Vhagar after all”

“Vhagar is my pride” he answered, feeling warmth inside him as she recognised his efforts, one which cost him his eye. 

“As all dragons should be to Targaryens” she offered, “she is certainly a marvel. My Lord husband can barely tame a horse”

He laughed through his nose at her quip. Being able to envision the moment exactly as she described it. 

“And pray tell, how long have you been wed, my Lady?”

He almost regretted asking, seeing how her smile suddenly disappeared from her face. Like the sun had gone behind a cloud. She looked down, preoccupied with smoothing down her dress.

“Several years now”

“And no children?” he adds, watching the way she bites her lip, thinking he cannot see it.

“My husband does not enjoy the act of procreation”

His head tips at her reply. Perhaps not having expected her to be so honest.

“And what does your husband enjoy doing?”

Sighing distantly, her eyes ticked over to him, “Riding”, she replies simply.

His lips part to reply, and yet he does not have time to interject.

“Other men at least”

Silence falls between them at the weight of what she’s said. 

"A fact he conveniently kept hidden from me until marriage, I may add".

For a moment he is unsure what to say, as she stands, a sad, resigned smile on her face, waiting for him to reply.

“I see”

Absentmindedly, she wanders along the table, her hand running over the hardened wax.

"I care not of his affections for men. I only care that he does not conjure up the respect for me as he does his bedfellows" she sighs, “though as I am sure you understand, my Prince. As his wife, I must support him”.

“Even if what he does is a sin?”

It’s like she had expected that question. Something akin to a grimace appearing, “Even that”.

She sighs, “I must bear the brunt of the rumours surrounding my fertility and commitment to my marriage. Protect myself, where my husband cannot”.

“He does not protect you?”

“If we are speaking plainly, my husband rarely acknowledges my existence” she answers, her fingers playing nervously with one another, “more a hindrance than say, a life partner”.

“Then, if I might be so bold to say, you are doing more of your own duty than he is. The scales are unbalanced, so to speak”.

Her head raises to look at him, something playful lighting up her features, “And what is a husband’s duty?”.

“To protect his wife, of course”

She pauses. Knowing she cannot disagree to that. 

In any normal marriage, that is exactly what she would expect.

“And a wife’s is to provide him with children”

“That is no fault of yours, if you are to be believed” he raises an eyebrow. Attempting despite his nature, to be somewhat comforting.

She smiles again, laughing half-heartedly, her hand slipping from the table to wander about the room, trying to free herself from the stifling feeling of being close to him.

He remembered reading a book of loose morals, which at the time he recalled feeling indifferent towards, about the late Lady Coryanne Wilde, detailing her multiple escapades of lovers, indulging in the desires which had long been suppressed by women before and after her. 

“And you do not seek pleasure elsewhere?” he asked, hoping the suggestion would not offend her. But if he had studied her well enough in this short time he’d known her, he was confident it would not.

She smiled, her head lowered to the candles on the opposite side of her table. Her face illuminated warmly.

“Gossip is a ghastly thing” she stated, “Once a small fire is started then my dishonourable actions only fan the flames. I do not wish to be the subject of such disapproval, as I already am in my Lord’s eyes. And perhaps the Gods too”

“And yet, your husband has a lover”

Not a question, and her gaze averted at the tone of the statement. 

“His advisor. And childhood companion” she nods.

“In my view, it is only fair that he allow you to seek one”

“Perhaps that is where you are mistaken, my Prince. For I am the one with the womb” she responded, “therefore, I must bear the humiliation along with it”. 

Her gaze longingly lowered, and it did not go amiss that it happened to graze over his tall, broad form.

"In any case, it does not matter. Any children we would have had would be his, not mine"

That was true as well, Aemond mused. 

"His heirs. His future.

"By refusing to allow me to give him children, he is only doing more damage to his own house. 'Tis of no consequence to me".

She had done one lap of the large, candle adorned table. 

"You seem perfectly resigned to your fate, my Lady"

She hums. Standing before him, his eye raked over her, yearning for her, having had such an intelligent conversation with her. 

"Perhaps I am. My husband is young. Barely half a decade older than I" she says, "it stands to reason, I may be tied to him for quite some time".

Aemond cannot argue with that, try as he might.

Everything she has said so far, has been sensible. 

So he nods, "now, that is a sad thought" he muses.

It was only then either of them had realised how quiet their conversation had become, and how low his voice was when he spoke to her. It was difficult to deny how close they were to one another, in a manner most unbecoming of a single man and a married woman. 

And yet neither of them moved away.

It was unfortunate, her situation. And though he knew it might have been wrong of her to simply sit idly by, while her husband amused himself with his male lover, he could not find it in himself to reproach her. 

“Am I not how you envisaged, my Prince?”

He fought the urge to chuckle, “Not in the slightest”.

She bit her lip, to fight back a smile, realising perhaps she was doing so too much in his presence.

“That I was an intemperate wife, refusing to perform my duties? That I am barren, and incapable of giving him heirs?”

He felt his hands form fists behind him. 

“I would not think such things”

“Hm” her eyes once again went over him in a way that made him go all warm, “You are not how I envisaged, either”.

“How so, my Lady?” Aemond asked, amused that she had formed her own opinion before properly meeting as well.

"Many at court say you are tempestuous. Stubborn. Proud" she says, "and you very well may be all of those things. All pejorative descriptors. And yet…there is something else".

He wanted to laugh at that. Of course the other Ladies at Court had opinions of him that were unsavoury, given his common disposition. 

"I can be all those things, it is true" Aemond replies, "above all those, some say I am too particular. That I require too much in a person to respect them".

She tipped her chin up, meeting his gaze head on, but also emboldened by what she perceived was an intimate conversation.

“And what is it you require?”

He licked his teeth, smiling, watching her eyes as she stares at the way his lips turned upwards. As if entranced. 

“A wit” he states, “a passion” he purrs.

The tone does not go unnoticed. Aemond watches with satisfaction as she swallows thickly, now seemingly uncomfortable standing still on the spot. Her breasts pressed repeatedly and steadily against the corset of her dress as her breathing picked up.

“"And is that what you desire? Someone to match your wit? Your passion?"

All the air was thick in the room as he took one careful step forward, leaning over her, now able to see more of the shadow of her cleavage beneath the silks. Her cheeks bloomed with colour, but she dare not move off her spot.

“Perhaps”.

He could hear her breath. Like he was tuned to it already. The humming of her blood beneath her flesh felt invigorating, and for one brief moment, Aemond allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to sink his teeth into her, to taste her. To try and sense who she really was, what her desires were.

She shivered at his warm breath at the side of her face.

“"I could protect you, my lady" he whispers, blinking longingly, voice like the purr of a cat, "your husband cannot".

"If you were mine, you'd not want for desire. Nor affection. I would keep you round with child, you’d be such a beautiful mother with my heir inside you”.

She gasps at the blatancy of it, for they had for several moments danced around such a subject, in favour of decorum and manners. And now her chest rose and fall steadily with every utterance, "I am a married woman-"

"To a man who does give a shit about duty. About you" he counters, “nor your desires”.

“‘Tis not my husband’s nocturnal activities that vex me, my Prince, it is his lack of respec-”

"I would have you. Respect you. Ravage you"

For a moment, her mouth slams shut, fearing that her reaction to his flagrant desire for her would expose her.

“A good gentleman. A good man…rises above such mortal things as lust".

There she goes again, trying to be the ever-good wife to her husband, who even now, perhaps does not even know her true whereabouts. 

"Then perhaps I am not a good man" he replies, "and perhaps it is not merely lust".

"What then?" she asks quickly. 

There is a beat. Aemond wets his lips, watching as she trembles at his proximity. Each breath wafting the curls either side of her face.

“Intrigue”.

She swallows again, attempting to brush off the heavy tension with a half-laugh, “I'm afraid intrigue does not free me of my situation, my Prince".

Aemond hums, righting himself to full height, not stepping away from her, but rather using his size to his advantage by having her crane her neck to meet gazes. With a simple shuffle of his boots, he manages to manoeuvre her body without touching her, doing exactly as he planned and forcing her own feet to stagger backwards.

"Then how unfortunate it would be, for a terrible accident to befall your husband".

Her wide eyes caught the light of the candles as her back met the adorned table.

He did not stop coming towards her. 

Not until he was so close, that one exhale, and he would be pressed flush.

Her cheeks bloomed once more for him.

Aemond feigns a thoughtful expression, “Infection, as a result of injury?” he questions, “No. Too slow”.

The air felt humid and she felt her core clench around nothing realising what he wanted. 

Aemond’s large palms, even through the layers of silks, felt as if they were branding the very skin of her thighs as he lifted her onto the table. 

"Perhaps paying a servant to poison his wine?"

She made no protest, her eyes glimmered with anticipation when she felt his calloused, sword-worn fingers drift along her calves to lift her skirts. The air, though warm, prickled at her flesh merely at the idea of what he planned to do to her.

“I know” he smiled, watching as she gasped sharply as he pulled her thighs towards him, standing between her outstretched legs as they squeezed his hips.

“Thrown off his horse and trampled to death?"

He dragged his nose over her cheek, watching her eyelashes flutter at the sensation, his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs, dying to rip her smallclothes to shreds.

He whispered, placing a loud, open-mouthed kiss to the space between her ear and neck. She shivered in his touch, though not revealing any intimate part of her body, she felt very much as if he had peeled back her being, and stared into her soul.

“A fitting end”.

She exhaled with difficulty, feeling it catch in her throat as Aemond teasingly wrapped two fists around her smallclothes and tore without mercy to the fabric. 

He raised his head only slightly, to see the reaction he had extracted from her.

Her eyes were shut, her lips parted for breath.

"Gods, you look like a maiden when I touch you" he whispered appreciatively.

A pitiful moan fell from her lips as Aemond drew two digits up her womanhood, collecting the slick he knew would be there on his fingertips. Her hand tightened on his leather-clad arm, needing somewhere to express this overwhelming feeling.

"It is because it is you who has touched me like this for the first time".

His eye darkened, the colour eclipsed by black.

“Your husband has not even touched you?”

She shook her head softly, now revealing what embarrassment she had desperately kept inside for so long.

“The marriage was consummated…but that was all…” she answered through hurried breaths as Aemond drew patterns on her pearl with the aid of her wetness, "he would not touch me after that..."

"And you did try, didn't you? To tempt him? Like a good little wife?"

"Y-yes...but he refused..." she answered, her voice wavering, "...he would not even share a bed with me..."

He chuckled, "Then we had best make this a memorable occasion, then. My Lady”.

Having used his other hand to unlace his breeches, he released his cock, groaning with relief as he stroked himself, squeezing arousal from the ruddy tip.

Nobody was more surprised than Aemond, when his lady reached down between them to stroke him with smooth, languid motions, her hand in opposition to his, barely encircling his length. 

Their hedonistic expressions met. His breath coming in short bursts with every squeeze of her palm around his throbbing arousal. 

“I do not wish for him to die” she breathed, her voice heavy, “only for him to disappear. So that I may pursue my own happiness”.

He cocked his head.

“I do not wish to be a murderer”.

She was quite a woman, Aemond thought. Having gotten him this close to having her, and only now making demands, as if he could refuse her.

He smirked.

“Then it shall be done”.

With the promise sealed, she guided his length between her legs, angling her hips up for him as his cockhead kissed her slick folds. Impatient as Aemond was, he moved forward in one motion, watching her throw her head back as he sheathed the entirety of himself within her. 

Her cunt squeezed his cock like a maiden, and yet she did not protest to his harsh treatment of her, in fact, spurring him on with the sounds she was making, clutching onto the front of him with every sharp, true and deep thrust of his cock into her. 

"Gods - you are as tight as a maiden - squeezing my cock so tightly - "

One hand stayed around her back to keep her flush to him, sliding up her spine, long fingers threading through her hair at the base of her neck and pulling on her for leverage, using his hold on her body to fuck himself into her. Her breasts, beneath her dress, ached to spring free from their passionate movements, jolting the gold necklace held snugly there.

Aemond was entirely entranced by the image he saw when he looked between them, his cock driving into her with fevor, glazed with her arousal and meeting her fleshy hips with a wet smack each time. 

“I’ll have my heirs inside you in no time, Princess” he whispered, pressing his lips against the column of her throat, parting them once in a way to nip at her tender skin, “you shall have everything you desire”.

Her half-lidded eyes opened, the pressure in her core building excessively at the force of him driving so quickly into her, in this position, pulling her onto his length aggressively, bullying a rough, pleasurable place inside her she was not able to reach herself. 

“What is it you desire, Princess?” he asks, his thrusts becoming somewhat stuttered and messy, his eye screwing shut as his body wound tight, ready to burst at any moment. His hair stuck irritatingly to his forehead and face, from the exertion of fucking her.

“You…Aemond - you...”

He grinned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, watching her warmed cheeks and body jolting with each smack of his hips. He felt her cunt flutter around him and reached down to apply the same pressure as he had before to her bud, to which she let out a near choked-moan, one hand tightening onto his doublet and the other white-knuckled holding onto the table, emboldened by the act and the fact that they could be caught at any moment in such a disastrous position.

He watches with excitement as she peaks around his length, her cunt sucking him within her from the pressure of her destructive orgasm, just begging for him to spend inside her, and hopefully, in nine moons time, round and large with his heir.

With a choked, staggered moan of his own, Aemond grips her so tightly, she would surely bruise, as he spills himself inside her hot, wet cunt. Filling her impossibly and entirely with his hot, sticky spend, thrusting shallowly to ensure it is as deep inside her as possible. His cock throbs with utter desire, hearing the little mewls of moans still falling from her glistening lips. 

She whines softly when he pulls out of her, watching with intense satisfaction at how his arousal as well as hers has made her womanhood glisten.

“You will really do it?...” she asks, still catching her breath.

Aemond huffs a laugh, tucking his softening length back into his breeches, “For your sweet cunt, I am confident I would do anything”.

His Lady smiles back, exhaustedly, pulling her tattered smallclothes off her legs, watching with both confusion and brief fear when Aemond smoothes his silver hair down and walks away.

“Where are you going?” she asks after him, pulling her skirts down.

He half turns, flashing a signature smirk.

“To ask your husband and lover to join me on a hunt. My dear Princess”.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[countrymusiclover]

6 - Here's to Aerys Targaryen

Part 7

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Hearing the chamber door open behind me where I turned my head around seeing a young girl who looked to be the right age of 15 or 16 with auburn hair tied up in a bun and gray Stark eyes staring directly at me with confusion written on her face. “Who are you? This is my chamber, not yours.” 

“I'm your new lady in waiting, my lady.  My name is Clarrise Arther.” I curtsied before her with a weak smile hoping she would find me alright. 

She clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “How long have you been a lady in waiting?” 

“I actually just started today. But I am a quick learner.” I said with confidence in my voice. 

The Stark girl paused walking towards me. “Who hired you?’ 

“Tyrion Lannister, Lady Stark.” 

Sansa clicked her tongue sitting down in the chair by her vanity. “Alright. Could you brush my hair?” 

“Of course.” I replied doing as she asked and I found myself thinking about Amber when doing so.  I wish my father hadn't sent her off to another area of the castle to work rather than be able to hang out with me. 

Hours later it was daytime when I began to stroll the hallways on my own. I could make note of how much everything had changed inside my former home.  The family portraits and Targaryen flags had been torn down and burned leaving no existence of my family's rule.  Somehow with the swaying of my dress I could see the bits of fire ash on the stone floor on the now clean floor before me.  This wasn’t anything like my home growing up was. 

“You monster. Myrcella is my only daughter. Do you really think I'll let you sell her like a common whore?” I heard the Queen's voice coming from the shut chamber door that I had passed. 

I backed up pressing my ear against the wooden door to listen. “Myrcella's a princess. Some would say she was born for this.” 

“I will not let you ship her off to Dorne like I was shipped off to Robert Baratheon.” Cersei growled in his face. 

Tyrion responded back. “Dorne is the safest place for her.” 

“Are you mad the Marvel's loathe us.” 

He said back. “That’s why we need to seduce them.  We're going to need their support in the war your son started.” 

“She'll be a hostage.” 

He corrected her. “A guest.” 

“You think the piece of paper father gave you keeps you safe.  Ned Stark had a piece of paper too.” She bared her teeth. 

Tyrion replied softly. “It's done, Cersei.” 

“No.” 

His voice moved away from the door. “You cannot stop it.” 

“No!” Cersei must have knocked over things on the table because I heard glass shattering. 

“Just how safe do you think she will be if the city is sacked. Do you want to see raped, butchard like the Targaryen children. Make no mistake they'll mount her pretty little head on a spike right beside yours.” Tyrion warned her and I shook in fear when he mentioned the death of my siblings. 

Cersei shouted at him. “Get out!. Get out!” 

“Vaella.  I didn't expect to see you out here.  What's wrong?” Tyrion bumped into me when he rushed out of the room. 

I responded by rubbing the back of my neck not meaning to spy on the young lion and his sister. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spy.” 

“Don’t apologize for spying. That is one of the key things you must learn when you play the game.” 

Knitting my brows at him I asked. “The game. What do you mean?” 

“The game that is surviving this world of politics and fending for yourself.” Tyrion responded looking up at me. “Always know as many people as you can.  You have to be one step ahead of everyone you encounter.” 

My father had taught me that lesson the night he died. 

“You wanted to see me, father.” I slowly walked forward with Jaime standing near the bottom stairs, hand resting on his sword handle.  

My father sat on his throne scratching at his bleeding hand that he had cut on the metal chair when he say down. “You will be Wed off to Tywin Lannister.” 

“What! No, I won't.” I sharply snapped back at him. 

My father raised his voice. “You dare defy my orders, child.  I have already claimed your brother Rhaegar a traitor but I never expected you. Guards, seize her!” 

“Your Grace, surely you can spare her. She's your daughter.” Jaime softly spoke to him. 

My father sent him a glare. “Be quiet, Lannister!” 

“Father, please don't do this.” I winced when two guards grabbed my arms and held me tightly in their grips. 

Aerys Targaryen rose from his chair shouting down to me with such furry in his voice. “You have betrayed me, daughter. You are no longer loyal to me and for that I sentence you to die.” 

“My king, she's your daughter.” Jaime attempted a second time doing his best to not let too much emotion cross his facial expression. 

He didn't care not change his mind. “Shut up! Vaella Targaryen I sentence you to die. Burn her like the others.” 

“Your Grace, Robert Baratheon has reached the gates.” Another guard entered the throne room. 

My father sat back down on his throne waving his hand. “Let her go.  We have other traitors to attend to.” 

“How do you plan on doing that?” 

Horrifying words that would haunt me for the rest of my life came from his mouth. “Burn them all - burn them all!” 

“Vaella! You need to get out of here right now.”  Jaime helped me up from the ground and I gripped his forearm for balance. “There’s an escape hole under the tunnels. Go to the tunnel and my brother Tyrion will be there. Look for blonde hair and he's short.” 

“What about you?” I asked feeling my heart trying to beat out of my chest. 

He holds my shoulders in his hands. “I'll make sure he doesn’t send the guards after you. But I just want you to be safe.  You are one of the only people I care about.” Nodding my head I ran up the stairs and around the corner yet I halted in my tracks hearing my father utter those words over and over. 

“Burn them all!” 

Hiding behind the nearest pillar I peaked my head around watching Jaime slowly stalk behind my father who had risen from the throne shouting those three words over and over repeatedly. “Oh my god!” I shrieked, clutching my eyes closed after Jaime’s sword was stabbed into the back of his back and his body collapsed to the steps after he drew his sword out. 

A few other guards and Ned Stark entered the room quickly with Robert Baratheon all stunned at the sight before them. “Crown who you damn well like.” Jaime grumbled sitting on the throne with his half stained in blood sword.  Holding my hands over my mouth I couldn't form words knowing the realm would never be the same. 

[darkestspring]

I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking about yandad Criston Cole and yanmom Rhaenyra. Maybe he always had a feeling that Rhaenyra firstborn was his , even if the child had the Targaryen coloring , and yearned to be a father to them. His resentment towards Rhaenyra would sky rocket as he feel like she stole his child from him , that if she had just taken his offer they could have been a family together.

You were Rhaenyra’s eldest child, born from a night of lust between two people who now hated each other. You were the spiting image of your mother from your pure white hair to your amethyst purple eyes but Ser Criston Cole knew. He knew you were his child, his baby.

But you were Rhaenyra and Laenor’s child, in the eyes of the public, to everyone but Alicent and Criston.

You were a lovely child. Kind, Bright-eyed with a love of history and sword. You worked hard and loved even harder. You were the apple of everyone’s eye.

You were also the only one of your three siblings to look like your mother and father, you didn’t mind. You loved your brothers, you would always care for them. But you knew something was off with the way your mother insisted on that you keep your distance from Ser Criston.

“Hello, little dove.” Ser Criston Cole smiled down at you as he came across you without your personal guard. Alicent had also looked very surprised to see you.

“Grandmother, Ser Criston.” You curtsied towards them, your gentle hands clenching the fabric of your dress. Your mother will be upset.

“My love.” A sweet voice called out to you and you swerved back. There stood your mother and father, your mother holding your red shawl. “You forgot your most important thing.” She smiled at you, with love in her eyes as she adjusted it on you.

Leanor was the only one who could tell the tension in the heir. He, himself, knew little but he knew that your mother wished to protect your from Criston Cole so, he obliged.

“Little love, your brothers are heading to the dragon pit, go on and join them.” Your father smiled at you, ignoring Criston angry look directed towards them.

You blinked up at them before nodding and leaning up to kiss their cheeks. “Okay, I’ll see you later on, mother, father.” You glanced back at the sworn knight of the queen before running off.

“Don’t come near my daughter.” Rhaenyra hisses as soon as you disappeared from sight. “You are sworn to the queen, my daughter is no concern to you, ser cole.”

“It is, seeing as my duty to the queen takes me all places.” He retorted, his eyes glaring at her with venom. “Especially when it takes me towards my daughter.”

“She is not your daughter, she is mine. Mine alone. My daughter.” Anger filled Rhaenyra as she thought back to your little eyes. Your eyes filled with every emotion you felt. You could never know.

“You will never be her father so please take your duties elsewhere.”

“We shall see about that.”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

yandere rhaenyra x sorceress fem reader (light yandere not really dark preferably) headcanons or another format if you like. -reader can possibly have kids w/ her (which might help when rhaenyra is with laenor is you make her a sorceress from descended from old Valeryia so has the targaryen look & later she can be the one to get pregnant if wanted) -she could also be a dragon rider at one point -viscerys may even love her no matter what the hightowers say because she has magic from old valaryia (might give her more influence than the hightowers do) -meaning rhaenyra could stay in the keep. - laenor stays or you make them get with daemon (or they get together privately if you want to keep laena alive cause the reader can save her)

- reader even be able to save jeoffry I'm going to stop with my ideas as they may go on and on, sorry this was so long I got carried away (I or someone else, or you if you want may be able to turn this into a full on story one day)! Some side platonic yandere shorts could be made from this

hey lovie! so happy to receive this request it was very fun to write :) <3 i would be happy to write more detail in a fic but unfortunately i couldn't go too in depth on this current post but if i do write one up i will tag you :)

pronouns: she/her warnings: both sfw and nsfw sections

SFW

now as a blueprint i'm going to go through a little thought process of reader & rhaenyra

i went down the route of reader keeping majority to Valyrian lore

and i think in this case Rhaenyra would be more of an obsessing yandere

lets say that reader is a descendant of Valyrian blood, perhaps her family escaped The Doom because they foresaw it, perhaps later aligning with Aegon I as he conquered Westeros so long as he kept their family a secret and so he ensured both their safety and their stay under his rule

however things sour after he has passed and they flee

they become a mere rumour and legend which King Viserys ends up telling to his children with fervent delight, dreaming of the day they might return

Rhaenyra drinks this up not only because it is intriguing but also because the beautiful artwork he shows to her look magnificent, fire encircling them and blood locking their promises

she will have pretended as a little girl to be one of these sorcerers, twirling with her mother in patterns befitting ceremonies and copying their olden styles

however as she gets older she pretends to forget the mysterious sorcerers and instead focuses on maintaining her title as heir, demanding the same respect she is sure her ancestors' dear allies must have

and yet one night, when she is tending to her courtly duties, she hears the most humorous little rumour

that there is a witch among the grounds, they whisper

and then it is brought up at a council meeting and her blood heats, a gasp drawing from her mouth in match with the Queen's

they both share a glance, recalling the games they had played as children before the pattering of feet

they expect to see a fearful lamb pleading for sanctuary but instead they find you

beautiful, regal you

Rhaenyra thinks you look more a Queen than either of them and she stands in respect, shocking the court

the men around you gape but you simply smirk in approval "Your grace," You greet, only holding contact with her as you curtsy only so slightly

Alicent coughs and stands also, determined to maintain composure

you explain that you have been orphaned and bring forth the written promise of Aegon I to care for your little family

Alicent requests proof with a concerned stiff expression and you gladly provide

with the flick of your wrist you summon a dragonglass candle from the skirt of your dress and stare deep into the spot in which a wick should be placed

in a flash it alights and broadens before your eyes

gasps enrapture but again you snap your sights on Rhaenyra and only Rhaenyra

she gives the barest of nod "we...hope you enjoy the comforts of court." she merely says and instructs her own personal guard to escort you to the guest chambers closest to her own

she can't get the image of your self-assured expression out of her mind

you are utterly bewitching with your snowy hair and tussled skirts

her sights linger on the ankle that peaks through as you hike up your said skirts

Alicent clears her throat and gives a pointed stare but it takes all of Rhaenyra's self control to settle herself back in her chair but everyone at the table share wary glances

she doesn't see you again until late the next day, requesting your presence for dinner and conveniently forgetting that her husband will be off for a hunt with his...dear friend

excitement shoots through her in powered waves

however she is disappointed to learn that her father too has requested your presence and her family have decided upon a collective dinner so that they may all meet the curious sorceress

Viserys is instantly engaging conversation with you the moment you sit down and before that, greets you in a warm embrace

he is a curious man who knows you too must carry the stories of your ancestors and he is eager to learn

for most of the evening Rhaenyra watches in curiosity, watching how your hair sways and your angelic features resemble her most ardent dreams

she has to restrain herself, grip tightening on her fork

it's that night that she makes her intentions clear to you and she's relieved to see your acceptance

Rhaenyra Targaryen is not one to hide her emotions nor her desires

your relationship is turned into a powerful storm of heat and danger, Otto's eyes narrowing everytime you enter a room

he proclaims you as a most unholy being and one to be banished which Viserys does not take kindly too

instead he is sent far away and Alicent is brought to the highest frustration as you attend almost every family outing or event with Rhaenyra proud at your side in the space her husband used to occupy

if anyone even slightly threatens or questions your presence at court she will be quick to scold and imprison them

going so far as to threaten their head

it's late in your coupling that you whisper sweet words in her ears, describing the imagery of her father's crown atop her head and a child born of you both

she knows all of your family's hidden secrets by now and while she and Laenor have not been graced with an heir by the Gods, you offer both a dream and solution

instead of accepting your offer of fertility in regards to her husband, she tucks back your hair and caresses your face

her lips dip down on yours and then breathes into your ear three sweet word "I want yours," she slips her kisses down your neck and presses your palm to her soft stomach

once the babe is born it doesn't matter whose dominant genes he inherits because with a gentle stroke of his hair it can turn as pale as winter snow

some may still question the child's true parentage considering the early birth and supposed consummation's circumstances do not quite align

but it matters not for your future Queen is determined to instil the confidence of a monarch

where Rhaenyra's tendencies come in I think she could become very smothering and clingy, sticking to you every possible moment that she is able

i could see this being a big relief for both Viserys and Laenor

Viserys' line will be continued and his daughter is happy, he wants to preserve this happiness, if you did request to return to your original home or to wander elsewhere i could see him suddenly developing a 'very important' project that he needs your assistance with

i think Laenor would also attempt to keep you close with his wife

i think i could picture Rhaenyra tricking you into a traditional Valyrian wedding or at least attempting to without explaining the possible repercussions of this

she's impulsive and devoted to you, nothing is out of her sphere of protection

her presence engulfs you with sweet words and soft promises

in this au i could imagine a much happier Rhaenyra in all aspects but it also means giving her the daughter she has always wished for

even more, she adores the fact that you are beside her while whichever one of you births the beautiful darlings with hair so regal and beauty gifted from you

NSFW

she's all too eager to pleasure you

you are the most magnificent beautiful and powerful being she has ever witnessed and she want to show you in every lewd and respectable way she can imagine

her most ardent desire however is the promise you whisper against her soft thighs, speaking of golden crowns and forsaking your duties in favour of delighting your Queen

her favourite though is when you sink your fingers between her lower lips and glide your tongue along her slick

the way your nails tickle her thighs and slide up to pebble her nipples and playing with those sensitive buds

she likes to let go with you

it's freeing to be finally enact upon the fantasies of her teenhood

she says often and plays with the words of you bewitching her, it sends a delightful shiver down her spine

tags: @gracielikegrapes

Hotd Taglist: (bold and italics means you need to check your settings, it didn't work)

@wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

[lady-phasma]

Steadfast

Aemond x Helaena

Part 1 of 3

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary-ish: Aemond’s a badass with only one person he truly cares for. Helaena is lovely and slightly disarming. Plot in later chapters. 

Note: I'm not new to writing fan fiction, I'm new to posting it on Tumblr. Here goes... (I'm sure the tagging and warnings are all wrong but I'll get better at that.)

Aemond watched her hair flow out behind her as she danced. There was no music. Or if there were, only Helaena heard it. His long fingers spun his wine goblet slowly by the stem. His back was straight, his muscles constantly taut as if wound tight and ready to spring. He was always on his guard. Even more so when she was near. 

His brother, the Blonde Twat, was most likely drunkenly plowing some poor whore at this moment. He almost felt sorry for whoever she was. But if Aegon weren’t oblivious he would be fucking her and that was unacceptable. Aemond was relatively sure that Aegon’s heirs were truthfully Aegon’s but, he grinned to himself, their silver hair and violet eyes couldn’t prove anything. 

She spun and smiled as her dress flared out around her. She stumbled dizzily and he tensed but she regained her balance and giggled. That sound passed over him as if she had actually touched him. His jaw clenched. She paused, breathless, smoothed her skirts, and looked across the room at him. Her cheeks were flushed from dancing. She walked a crooked, childish path to the table and gulped her wine. 

 “The moon whispers, brother,” she didn’t look at him. “It whispers all manner of things.”

He leaned on the table, blocking out the other sounds of the room to hear her low voice. 

“It whispered that lesser dragons sleep while greater dragons keep watch,” her eyes flitted to meet his and immediately dropped back to her wine. “Perhaps there are great dragons still in the kingdoms.”

Everyone dismissed Helaena. Aemond did not. He was the exception. He saw her not in spite of her riddles and oddness but because of them. He leaned back in his chair as she sat at the table. She was still trying to catch her breath but softly laughing at something that wasn’t spoken. He relaxed a bit now that she was seated and the hall was beginning to empty. 

“Is that right, sister?” he drank his wine as well. “I shan’t think there are many great ones though.”

She sat upright, dropping both elbows heavily on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. Her eyes gleamed conspiratorially.

“There is one at least Aemond!” She beamed at him. “Vigilant, steadfast, dark as night, and ever so fearsome.” 

“Oh? And which dragon might that be?” He had begun to feel the familiar ache that spread from his chest and he shifted his hips in his chair. 

“The moon didn’t say,” her smile fell. His eye darted around the room then back at her. He laid his long arm across the corner of the table, hand flat on the wood. She laid her hand on top of his. When he was sure that no one was observing them he turned his hand over and let her fingers rest in his palm. He stroked the inside of her wrist with his fingertips. 

Nothing in the seven kingdoms could warm his heart but her. Well perhaps Vhagar but in a different manner.

Aemond pulled his hand back as servants entered the hall to clear the table. The maid curtsied before removing their plates. He stood as she cleared the table.

“Princess?” he held out his arm to her. 

Helaena rose and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He led her from the room and down the halls to one of her favorite places in the Keep. The Godswood was the closest thing to nature they had within the walls. The gardens were more public, not what he wanted, plus the Godswood was ethereal in the twilight, much like his sister. Their hair seemed to reflect the early moonlight.  

He stood like a sentry just inside the colonnade. She sat amongst the fallen red leaves and ran her fingers through the grass. She found something and held it in her palm, examining it in the moonlight. His eye rarely strayed from her except to survey their surroundings. He watched her place the object back in the grass. She laid back, her hair fanning out around her head. She gazed up at the stars. 

“Brother!” she called. She startled him but it was a lovely sound, joyful. “Come, look with me.”

His face was stony. He wouldn’t deny her anything but he could never be as free as her. He compromised with himself and sat down next to her. He rested his forearms on his bent knees and looked around the Godswood. She knew him well enough not to try and coax him into laying down. But she did reach out her hand to him. He took it in his. She rubbed tiny circles in his palm with her thumb. 

“Do you think anyone else hears it?” she asked him softly.

“No, sister,” he answered looking down at her sweet face. “The gods only gifted that to you. The rest of us aren’t favored by them as you are.”

“Hmmm,” she mused, running her fingers through his.

He risked a glance at the night sky. The moon was bright, almost full, and the stars paled in its light. He looked back down at Helaena. She was lost in thought. He let her absentmindedly stroke his hand as he watched the colonnade around them. 

* * *

Aemond didn’t know how long they had been in the Godswood but when Helaena finally sat up he was stiff. He stretched when he stood and offered his hand to her to help her up. She took it and let him pull her up to standing. She smiled at him. He gently removed a few leaves from her hair as she dusted off her skirts.

He could read her mood easily and what she had said to him in the hall reverberated in his mind. He waited for her invitation. She slipped her hand inside his elbow and began to walk back inside. They moved gracefully together. He walked as straight as he sat and she flowed through every movement like a small breeze. It should have been awkward but he was her anchor.   

The Blonde Twat had separate chambers precisely for nights like this. Aemond’s jaw tightened at the thought. They walked to her private chambers. The large room resembled a maester’s study. There were bugs pinned on boards, jars of live bugs, books and scrolls stacked on tables and the floor. Even curiosities like a giant armillary sphere. There was a pair of chairs by the fireplace and a few small tables but no other furniture. Her bed wasn’t exactly a bed as much as a nest of sumptuous pillows and rugs and furs. All of them as soft as her. 

He closed and locked the door behind them. She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand. She led him toward her bed. She stood on tiptoes and reached behind his head. He dipped down just enough for her to be able to unfasten the straps. She gently took the patch off. She let it hang by her side while her other hand traced his scar just above the skin, not touching him. Her fingers moved down his face finally touching his jaw, his chin. He looked up from his bow, his violet eye meeting hers. 

Aemond always let her lead in this dance of theirs. He controlled everything about his world except her. Protect her? Always. Do anything against her wishes? Never. He only kissed her when she drew his lips to hers with her fingertips under his chin. She ran both of her hands over his hair while he kissed her. She smiled against his lips, kissed him back, and rested her hands on his shoulders. His arms encircled her waist and lifted her with him as he stood up to his full height. 

Helaena laughed and showered his face with delicate kisses. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he carried her onto the bed of pillows. She toed off her slippers before he set her down on the carpets. Her hands slid down to his chest and began to unhook the clasps on his jerkin. He unconsciously ran his hands up and down her sides.

She pushed his shirt open and he let it fall off his shoulders. Her hands flitted down his arms and across his chest like skipping stones on a pond. He pulled his tunic over his head. She touched him in no conscious pattern, moved across his skin in the same way she moved between thoughts. Aemond slowly reached for the laces of her dress while she occupied herself with the terrain of his chest and stomach. When his fingers started to pull at the knot she looked up at him and nodded. 

His fingers were adept and made quick work of the dress. He pulled it off her shoulders, down to her feet, held it while she stepped out of it, then laid it on a nearby pillow. As he stood up he grabbed the hem of her chemise and lifted it up. She raised her arms for him as she would her lady’s maids. He dropped it by her dress. He ran a hand down her side and hip, she shivered. Her body was always perfect to him. She was slight but her hips and belly were fuller after having borne children. He didn’t want to stop touching her but he stepped back.

Aemond took his boots off and moved back toward her. She starred at him with a gaze unlike any he ever saw on another person. Sometimes he felt he could read her thoughts and would never understand how the rest of the world couldn’t. She began to unlace his breeches, focused, intense. He watched her face, her hands. This was the first time he had let himself truly feel that deep ache for her this night. Her hands brushed against the silver hair on his stomach and he hissed. She smiled but didn’t look at him. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand. Helaena slid her hands onto his hips and stepped closer to him. She pressed against him and looked up. He held her face with both hands and kissed her so deeply that she sighed into him. He only let go of her long enough to step out of his breeches and scoop her up in his arms. He kissed her again and laid her down among the pillows. 

As he kissed her neck and shoulders she ran her hand through his hair, letting it fall over her fingers like silver water. She arched her back, pressing against him and let it slide against her chest. His fingers dug into her hip. He tried to be gentle, to go slowly. She was too precious to him. He kissed her breast, drug his lips across her nipple. She exhaled and pressed as much of her body against him as she could. 

“My brother, my dragon,” Helaena panted into his hair. He groaned and pressed his forehead into the space between her breasts.

“Aemond,” she whispered. He thought he would come undone. They had been together many times before but each encounter erased the world from his mind. He could think only of her and all the times before seemed so far away. 

He parted her legs with his knee and propped himself above her. She playfully pantomimed biting at his bottom lip and let out a breathy laugh. She did catch his lip in her teeth. He responded by pushing his other leg between hers. She tugged gently on his lip then kissed him, raising herself up to meet his lips. He parted her lips with his tongue and she let him. She stroked his face, his scar.

All he could think about any more was being inside her. He moved a hand between them. Smoothing his palm down her stomach he slid his fingers into her wetness. She moaned into his mouth and pushed against his hand. Her parted her legs wider with his knee against her thigh and she wrapped her leg around his hip as he did. His fingertips circled her clit. Her fingers tangled into his hair. She broke their kiss when he slipped two fingers inside her.

“Gods Helaena,” he groaned against her neck. She rocked against his fingers. She wrapped her other leg around him and pulled him toward her. She guided his face up to look at her. Her thumb caressed the line of his scar on his cheek. She felt how hard he was and stroked a hand against him, insistent. He pulled his fingers out and passed them across her clit again as she guided their hips together. 

He pushed completely into her. She nudged his hand away and he let her. He liked the feeling of her hand between them. Putting his weight on his hands on either side of her face he pulled out and pushed back in slowly. He watched her face unselfconsciously. She stared up at him. She slid her hand from his face to the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. She breathed heavily next to his ear. 

He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. He kissed her neck and the hollow of her collarbones. He slid his long fingers down her neck to her breast and circled her nipple with his thumb. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, cupping her breast in his hand. She pushed herself against his palm. The way she smelled, the way she sounded, the salt of her skin on his lips, all of it worked against his self-control. He couldn’t think anymore, only feel her, hear her. 

Aemond quickened his pace. She matched his rhythm with her hand and hips. He felt her tighten around him. She murmured his name into his ear and dug her nails into his neck. He could read her so easily. He knew she didn’t want to be precious and fragile tonight. He didn’t hold back. A low growling moan came up from his chest. He felt her begin to shudder and her breath hitched in her throat. 

As she clenched and tightened she bit down on his shoulder stifling the loud cry that had almost escaped her lips. Her teeth on him, the stinging of it, finished him. They peaked together. When he spilled into her he was silent but he shook all over. She ground her hips against his, feeling all of him as her spasms subsided. He groaned as her teeth left his skin. She moved her hand to his back and clutched at him with both hands until she stopped shaking. 

“Lovely,” he whispered in her ear. She relaxed under him. He kissed her softly. Her eyes were closed and her smile was blissful. 

He pulled away from her as she settled back on the pillows. When he lay down next to her he rested his unscarred cheek on her breast. He wrapped an arm around her and she tucked herself closely against him. He closed his eye as she smoothed his hair back from his temple. She knew his body by memory. He loved the way she could disarm him with just a touch. Laying there with her, her fingertips caressing his brow, his scar, his cheek, he didn’t have to be vigilant. Helaena kissed the top of his head. Her hand came to rest on his arm. 

“A very fearsome dragon is what I was told,” she murmured before she fell asleep. 

Part 2

[2plottwist]

The Dragon's Heir - Chapter Three

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC(Edrys)

Characters: The Albrecht Family

Warnings: Death, injury

Setting: Baldur's Gate, right before the events of BG3

Author: Emma:)

Word Count: 3.0k (woah Nelly!)

Series Masterlist

That evening, as she was being dressed by her maids, Edrys was lucky to have a lovely view of the moon from the gardens outside of her room. It had hung low in the city, casting silvery light across the well-kept flora.

The air always crackled with anticipation when Edrys and her family prepared to meet with visitors. Her mother most likely spent the day making sure everything was in pristine shape, including her husband. 

Travelers were constantly in and out of their main parlor for business, and it was the same song and dance every time Edrys was invited to join in. Curtsy when greeting them, smile constantly, and laugh when prompted to. The routine was almost as part of her as her magic was. 

Her mother and two brothers gathered around the polished oak table that took up the majority of the parlor as her father waited by the manor’s doors. A fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the richly decorated walls. Alaric and Aldous stood near the windows, postures relaxed but eyes sharp as they scanned the darkening grounds outside. 

The travelers visiting tonight had requested an audience with their family, though the exact nature of the meeting was rather vague. Lady Albrecht, ever the picture of elegance, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression the same serenity it always was. But Edrys, who knew her mother well, could sense the undercurrent of unease in the way she held herself, the slight tension in her shoulders. 

“This seems an unusual hour for a meeting, doesn’t it?” Aldous murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was low, but the concern in it was unmistakable.

“It is,” Lady Albrecht replied calmly, though her gaze remained fixed on the fire. “But sometimes business can’t wait until daylight.”

Aldous flicked his gaze to Edrys. “What do we know about these guests?” he asked her. “I don’t like surprises, and this feels like a bad one.”

Edrys shook her head. “Not much. Father didn’t mention anything specific, only that they were important.”

“We’ll hear what they have to say, and then we’ll decide how to proceed,” her mother said.

Edrys glanced at Alaric, who nodded in agreement. “Worry not, brother. We’ll be careful,” he added, his hand resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. “If anything seems amiss, we’ll act.”

A distant sound of hooves on cobblestone drew their attention, and Alaric moved to the window, peering into the night. “They’re here,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Edrys straightened, the air in the room thickening. Moments later, she could hear her father’s warm voice welcoming the visitors. As the voices drew nearer, the heavy wooden doors of the parlor creaked open, and a butler entered, bowing slightly as he announced their guests. 

“Lady Albrecht, Nightwarden Minthara Baenre, accompanied by Rhog The Proud and Bhomzaz The Barren.”

Edrys watched as three figures entered the room, their presence immediately unsettling. They were cloaked in dark, travel-worn garments, the hoods pulled low over their faces, obscuring the majority of their features. The one she assumed to be Minthara removed her hood, revealing a white-haired drow. 

“Albrecht family, thank you for receiving us,” Minthara said, her voice raspy and low. 

“Welcome, Nightwarden Minthara,” Edrys’ mother greeted them, her voice composed. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

The figures moved forward silently, their armored boots clanging against the polished floor. As they drew closer, Edrys felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, a deep instinct warning her that something was wrong. Her brothers, too, were on edge- she could see Aldous’ hand tightening around the arm of his chair and Alaric’s gaze narrowing in suspicion. 

The two figures flanking Minthara sat after she did but did not remove their hoods, which struck Edrys as odd. In her family’s home, such behavior was rude. But this took on a more unsettling tone. Who were these people who sought to hide their identities so blatantly?

Edrys’ father found his seat at the head of the table and inclined his head, though Edrys could tell he was wary. “Now that we are settled, may I ask the nature of your visit?”

“We come with an offer, Lord Albrecht. One that your family might find… advantageous,” Minthara answered Edrys’ father but never took her eyes off her. “But first, we must discuss matters of importance. Matters that are best kept private between us and Lady Edrys.”

Edrys’ eyes widened with shock. “Me?” she questioned, glancing from the drow to her father, who looked equally as surprised. Alaric pushed his chair back and stood, eager to protect her. “Anything you wish to discuss with our sister, you can discuss with us present.”

Minthara turned slightly, as if acknowledging Alaric’s presence for the first time. “You misunderstand,” she said, her tone smooth but lacking any warmth. “We have no intention of dividing your family. On the contrary, we seek to… strengthen it.”

Clearly there was a hidden threat in the nightwarden’s words, something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. Her mother’s eyes flickered with recognition of the same unease, though her face remained impassive. 

“Strengthen it.. How?” Lady Albrecht asked.

Minthara didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she motioned for one of the cloaked figures to reach inside their cloak. They pulled out a small, ornate box, made of dark wood intricately carved with symbols that seemed to shift and write in the flickering candlelight. They held it out to Lady Albrecht with a green hand. “This is intended to be a gift from our Master to Lady Edrys, but… perhaps this will help you understand.”

Edrys furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Her mother hesitated before accepting the box, her fingers brushing against the cold metal as she opened it, the lid creaking. Inside, nestled on a bed of dark velvet, was a small, silver amulet, the center of which was a polished, black stone that seemed to absorb the light around it. The moment she laid eyes on it, Edrys got the dizzying feeling that she had seen it before. Then, it clicked.

“My trances,” she whispered, the realization slipping from her lips before she could stop it. Minthara looked at her with a knowing smile. 

Edrys shook her head. “I’ve seen this. This ties to my trances.” She looked at her mother, panicked. “Mother, they’ve come to take me with them!”

Minthara’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she stepped closer, her presence looming over Edrys and her family. “You are correct, child. The Absolute has called for you and demands your return. You belong to us, Edrys Albrecht, and it is time for you to fulfill your true purpose.”

Lady Albrecht’s hand tightened around the box, her eyes narrowing in defiance. “She belongs to no one but this family. Whatever claim you think you have over her is a lie.”

Minthara’s smile faded, her expression hardening. “You are mistaken, Lady Albrecht. Your daughter’s fate is sealed, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”

Edrys felt a surge of panic rising in her chest. She couldn’t let them take her, couldn’t let them control her like they had in the past life she was only just beginning to remember. “I won’t go with you!” she declared, stepping back as her magic flared to life, crackling in the air around her. “I am not a pawn of the Absolute, and I refuse to be your prisoner!”

The room seemed to darken, the shadows growing longer as the tension reached a breaking point. Alaric and Aldous were at their sister’s side in an instant, their weapons drawn, ready to defend her with their lives. Lady Albrecht’s expression hardened into one of steely resolve, her own magic simmering beneath the surface as she prepared to protect her daughter.

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift motion, she signaled to the two figures behind her. “So be it,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “If you will not come willingly, then we will take you by force.”

The two cloaked figures lunged forward, and the room erupted into chaos.

Alaric moved first, his sword clashing with the blade of the closest attacker. Sparks flew as the two men exchanged blows, their movements a blur of steel and fury. Aldous spun toward the other figure, his dagger flashing as he parried a strike aimed at Edrys.

The room was filled with the sounds of battle, the clash of weapons and the crackle of magic as Lady Albrecht unleashed a torrent of arcane energy at Minthara.

But the Nightwarden was prepared. With a flick of her wrist, she deflected Lady Albrecht’s spell, the force of the counterattack sending Lady Albrecht stumbling backward. Edrys watched in horror as Minthara advanced on her mother, her dark magic swirling ominously in the air.

“Mother!” Edrys screamed, but she was intercepted by one of the cloaked figures, a brute of a man whose strength far outmatched hers. She summoned her magic, the familiar sensation of power surging through her veins as she unleashed a blast of fire at him. He grunted in pain, but before she could press the attack, she felt a sudden, searing pain in her side as a second figure struck her with a spell.

The pain brought her to her knees, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay conscious. She could hear her brothers shouting, the clash of weapons ringing in her ears, and her brother's dagger clutched between her fingers- but everything seemed distant, like a fading echo. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Minthara standing over Lady Albrecht, her mother’s body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap.

“No…” Edrys whispered, her voice weak and broken as the world around her faded to black.

When she awoke, it was aboard an alien ship hurtling through the hells. She was trapped within the confines of a flesh-like pod, her senses dulled and her movements restricted. She attempted to struggle against the tentacles holding her in place when she froze. An insidious presence loomed over an acidic-looking pool in front of her. A mind flayer, she realized, recalling one of her dad’s monster stories.

It carefully plucked what looked to be a tadpole, or leech, she couldn’t tell, out of the abscess and floated close to her. Slowly, her pod opened, revealing a horrid stench and another ten enclosures around hers.

The mind flayer stretched out its long, gray arm, dangling the worm close to her face. Rows of teeth bared, the creature lunged towards her face, eager to strike. Before she had time to struggle, the leech jumped into her eye and crawled comfortably behind it. She hissed in pain, grabbing at her face as the pod closed again. 

Suddenly, a loud roar erupted from outside the nautiloid, shaking it to its core. Edrys yelped as she saw the source of the noise glide by the opening on the flesh-like wall- a red dragon, ridden by an iron-clad warrior. 

A githyanki, she realized, relying on her knowledge from her studies. Mindflayers were their mortal enemies, and if they were after the nautiloid- she would certainly die aboard the alien ship. She cried out to her magic for help and began to feel its fiery tendrils surround her body. With a yell, she released a large ball of fire, shooting through the front of her pod and catching the pool of tadpoles aflame.

Edrys collapsed out of the pod and was met with the cold wetness of the floor. It almost squelched below her as she rose to her feet.  Before she had time to gather her bearings, the ship took a steep nosedive and began plummeting towards the ground. 

Hells, she thought. This is truly the end. The nautiloid jolted suddenly to the right, causing Edrys to lose her grip on the smoldering tentacle she was bracing herself against. Her body cascaded against various objects before being flung out of the side of the ship and into the inky black sky. 

She screamed, then. A bloodcurdling scream. But not out of fear- no, she was enraged. Angry at the unknown. Where was she? Why her family? She had always tried to do good, be good- why was this how she would die? 

Edrys realized she was fastly approaching a beach, where her body would surely feed local wildlife for several days. She refused to die in a foul mood- her mother certainly wouldn’t approve. She closed her eyes and calmed her mind, thinking about her brothers. Her parents. Her magic.

Seconds away from hitting the ground, a sudden force gripped her, halting her fall mid-air. Instead of the harsh impact she had braced for, she found herself suspended, cradled by an invisible presence that cushioned her descent. 

The relief washed over her in a tidal wave, stealing her breath away. She looked around in a daze, searching for the source of the magic that had saved her. Had the very forces of fate intervened? But in that moment, all thoughts of who or what had saved her were overshadowed by the overwhelming weight of grief crashing down on her.

As she floated momentarily, a powerful memory surged to the forefront of her mind:her family. What had happened to the others? Were they still fighting? Had they met the same fate as her mother? Tears streamed down her face as she felt the ache of their absence, a deep sorrow that threatened to consume her.

Edrys's heart clenched painfully at the thought of her mother lying lifeless, the way Alaric and Aldous had fought valiantly to defend her, and how their sacrifices had all been in vain. The darkness of despair wrapped around her like a shroud, stifling any semblance of hope. She had no idea where she was, but she knew that she was alone now, bereft of the love and support that had always surrounded her.

As the invisible force gently lowered her to the ground, she landed softly on a patch of grass, the damp earth cool against her skin. It was then that the weight of her loss settled in her chest like a stone.

Edrys knelt on the damp earth, the weight of her grief pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket, but amid the pain, something stirred within her. It was a familiar sensation, the ebb and flow of magic coursing through her veins. In the depths of her sorrow, she felt it awaken, a raw power that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.

With each breath she took, the magic intensified, swirling around her like a tempest. It was as if her emotions had tapped into a wellspring of energy that had long lain dormant, igniting within her. The air crackled with electricity, and the ground beneath her began to tremble softly in response to her turmoil.

Edrys clenched her fists, feeling the heat rising within her, fueled by the pain of her loss. The magic responded to her grief, wrapping around her like a cloak, whispering promises of vengeance and power. Her vision blurred with tears, but in that moment, she felt more alive than she had in days, a fierce energy igniting a spark of hope amid her despair.

She could sense the world around her shifting, responding to her emotions. The grass beneath her seemed to hum with her magic, the leaves of nearby trees rustling as if encouraging her to unleash the force building inside her. Edrys could feel the magic pushing at her boundaries, urging her to channel her grief into something tangible, something powerful.

In her mind’s eye, she saw flashes of fire, arcs of lightning, and the glimmer of ancient spells long forgotten. The memories of her training with her mother and brothers surged forth, the lessons they had taught her coming to life. She recalled the way her mother had smiled as she guided her through the art of sorcery, the gentle encouragement that had always fueled her passion for magic.

And now, in her darkest moment, that magic surged forth, a response to the pain of her heart. With a deep breath, Edrys focused, allowing her emotions to flow into her magic. She felt the warmth awaken her. The air around her crackled and shimmered, and she felt a flicker of control.

With a wave of her hand, she conjured a small flame, its flickering light casting shadows on the trees around her. It danced to her will, a reflection of her fury and determination, illuminating the path forward. As the flame grew brighter, she thought once again about her mother. She would want her to transform her grief into strength. 

Edrys stood with a newfound resolve in her heart. Magic surged within her, mingling with her sorrow, forging a powerful bond that she would not allow to be extinguished.As far as she had lost everything, and gained some sort of worm wriggling about in her skull, but she would not lose herself. The Absolute would pay for their cruelty, and she would harness her magic to carve a new path in the darkness.

As she wiped the tears from her cheeks, she felt the magic settle around her like an embrace, a reminder of her heritage and her purpose. She was no ordinary sorceress; she was the last of her kind, a high elf of draconic descent, and her journey was only just beginning. 

A lucky girl indeed. 

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

DARK!AEMOND OX OC (SNOW FALLS, CHAPTER 9: Slaughter of innocence.

CONCEPT: You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you.

WARNINGS: Sexism, anti-feminism, murder, mentions of blood, mentions of gore, descriptions of executions, discriptions of cutting bodies into pieces, descriptions of blood, mentions of pregnancy, aemond having a breeding kink, non-con- dark!aemond and dub-con, powerabuse, fake trials

One week later

it is cold in your room. Aemond has left. They brought you supper like he requested and you ate it upstairs without anyone else present. You then bathed and went to sleep. At some point he joined you because you woke up with his arms wrapped around your waist. You liked it. It was likely unintended but it felt nice to feel him hug you.

You sit up and groan as the door is softly opened. Your ladies maid enters and smiles brightly and fake at you before dropping in a curtsy. 'Good morrow my lady!' She nearly screams at you.

You cringe. You grunt at her. 'I am still tired and I do not want to go out.'

She laughs and perfections some of her darkish red hairs before ripping the sheets of your body, exposing your nakedness. 'My lady, it is a beautiful day. Your husband is meeting with the final few of his possible new allies. Isn't that exciting? The men of the North are curious how the Lady of the WyldeWoods is doing herself.' New allies? You bite your lips annoyed. He will likely convince other Northen houses to join the Greens. The Starks are declared, the WyldeWoods and the Warths. That leaves little to no big houses left.

Only smaller ones can be easily intimidated. FeverHyrt and CrestCave are the next and final two big houses. You try to remember everything you learn, but you learned so little.

You are bathed and dressed in an ugly green nearly seen through gown.

--- Aemond sits your father's throne when you enter, his sword near him. You think of what he did to the other traitors. Maeridth fetches you a nice breakfast while you wait for orders from your husband. You fold your hands in front of you and wait for him to acknowledge you. 'Aemond? You wanted to see me?'

He crosses his legs. 'Yes, I did.' He takes a moment to fully look at you and undresses you with his good eye. He has his eyepatch back on. 'Fuck, green looks beautiful on you. It's much better than orange and bright colours. Green compliments your dark hairs very well.'

You make a curtsy. 'Thank you, Husband.' He laughs at your puzzled face. He knows your body language very well.

His slim fingers tremble on the throne impatiently. You give a small shy nod before looking at his boots. There is still some blood on them. 'You wonder what I want?' You can guess. He needs someone to convince the Northern houses that he is trustworthy and that his cause is one to support.

He is not a Northern man and will never be a one either. So, he will use your Northern blood to convince the other houses. That, or he wants to fuck you again. He was very difficult last time he did that, insisting you begged for it like a whore.

You look down to his belt and gulp. He chuckles before getting up. You cower and scurry away from him. He grins as two of his guards grab each arm of you. He leans in your face and touches it before giving a soft, gentle kiss on your lips. 'You are not to be fucked. I want your help.' He speaks carefully and gently.

You like this gentle approach. You know it is fake and only a facade, but you will enjoy it no matter how long it lasts. 'With what could you possibly need my help with?'

He sighs a bit before turning to your fathers old map table. There are now green and black dragon shaped pawns on it. The foxes are still in the attached box and have dust on them. 'There is an old house coming over. They want to see how I have been treating you. You will tell them it was great and fun and that you love every moment of being my wife.' You don't understand. Why would they care how you've been treated? No one in the North cares. You were beaten and humiliated for roughly weeks now. No one came to rescue you. You don't matter enough to risk it.

You don't think you can lie about enjoying being his wife. You hate all of it. The new lessons in etiquette and the new dresses with more shimmers and heavy jewellery. 'They will never believe you, and why does my happiness matter? Men won't care if a woman is unhappy in her marriage.' You speak, and your voice sounds very unlike you. It's much sharper and yet more drained of the cheery undertone.

Your husband takes offence to that.'They value family. So you will lie to them and say you enjoy being my wife. Am I clear, or do I need to teach you a lesson?' You are fed up with his lessons. You are fed up with being his wife and being scared.

You glare at him. You don't realise you do it until he has grabbed your arms and drags you to the table, but you did so almost without realising it.

'No, no...' You cries become a little louder when he pushes you half on the table and takes stance behind you. You are very aware of the things he could do to you. You whimper softly and shake.

He laughs, a genuine dark and twisted laugh when he smoothens your hair and starts touching your cheeks. 'Shht. We don't have nearly enough time to make love, as you call it, my scared little fox. You will be on your best behaviour tonight. You'll be a pretty obedient and dumb girl. Just be yourself, I suppose.'

--- You make a curtsy and return to your seat close to Aemonds. You fold your hands on your lap and look at your hands rather than any of the new visitors.

You see the stone arrow banner and nearly gawk. House Wilde. House Wilde is claiming to be older than house Stark and your house combined.

You doubt it. But what scares you the most are the stories of their ancestry. They are from beyond the wall. At least their ancestors were. Wildlings who adjusted themselves. You eye Aemond. He needs to know. 'Husband? A moment of your time?'

Ehzra Wilde laughs at your terrified face. 'Do you two have secrets from me, Aemond?' He laughs. He knows Aemond needs his men no matter how little troops he has.

Aemond shoots you a glare like you are the problem here. 'No, not at all. My wife enjoys being a naughty girl. She knows I don't like it when she interrupts important negotiations.' You feel him softly and lovelingy pet you before very carefully glaring at you.

But you are offended and decide to not let him know about Ehzra's ancestors. And that the entire North; despises the Wildes. Your father would rather ride and fuck a Warth instead of a Wilde. That is how bad the hatred goes for that despicable house.

Aemond looks at Ehzra with a glance that says it all. 'Well?'

Ezhra smirks. 'I am very pleased to say that we will support your claim, Lord prince. You will receive our troops and in return...' Aemond doesn't know who Wilde is. But you know. You know very well who his ancestors were. Wildlings. He is a disgusting wildling.

He grins at you like some animal. 'I want to fuck your wife.' He slowly blurs out and grins cheekily at Aemond. 'You see, I am from beyond the wall. A outsider. Just like you.' He says.

Aemond keeps his face composed but you know him. He does not like people comparing themselves to him. 'I am a wildling. We take women. It is what we do. Let me and my house continue this Marvellous tradition and you'll have the half of our armies.' Half?

You nearly choke on your laughter and compose yourself quickly. Aemond looks beyond disappointed. He made a gamble with this alliance and he lost. 'I'm Aemond's wife. Not his slave. You-' Aemond Hushes you with a glare.

You whimper before silently crying. You feel Aemond glance at you briefly before deciding your fate. 'I am rich, powerful, and dangerous. Surely you want something else than my spoiled goods? She doesn't fuck nice anymore. She lost her tightness. There is little left to enjoy.'

That makes you even more upset. 'You don't know our feuds. The WyldeWoods are traitors. Let me fuck that bitch to please my ancestors or you can go try to kill your whore sister without my armies.'

Aemond sighs like it's all so difficult for him. He weighs the options in his head but you'll fear you'll lose. He does not love you. He does not value your pride or your consent. He does not care about your body. He wants to win no matter what. You sob softly because you know the outcome.t 'Willa, my love?' He asks. You shake your head. You sob. 'Willa, I asked you something.' There is a warning there.

'Get up, darling.' You obey shaking. He will let you get raped. He will do anything to win this war. He smiles. 'Good girl.' You keep your eyes lowered. You found Aemond attractive at some point. You liked his attention. But this wildling? This disgrace? You will never forgive yourself if he touched you.

You think back of the man that tried to touch you too in exchange for armies. Why would Aemond not try so a second time?

Aemond continues writing down a contract and you wait. 'Walk to the statue. The pretty fox one.' You shake and nearly collapse to the floor when clutching to the statue.

The wildling grins as Aemond continues the write. 'Sign your name here, please.' Aemond says. The wildling does so. 'I Don't mind her lose cunt. I will enjoy her anyway.' He boasts before scrabbling his name down.

Once that is done he nearly grins at you like some animal before advancing. You scream and pull free. He chuckles at that amused.

Aemond does not intervene.'Willa, look at your shoes until I tell you differently.' You find that a odd request but do so. Maybe this will make it less...worse?

You cover your mouth with your hand to keep from sobbing. Familair blooded boots suddenly stand next to the Ehzra in front of you. You watch as the boots make a round and finally stand firm in front of the cheaper fur boots of the wildling man. You hear the Wilding cry out.'What are you doing?!'

'Aah!' A cry that goes right through you. You look up from your feet and regret it right away. You watch as Aemonds sword Cuts of the man's hand. Aemond grins collecting his price. He folds the hand open and looks at it fascinated.

The Wilding screams much to your delight. 'You can't! That whore is mine! We made a deal! I signed a contract!'

Aemond chuckles dangerously. 'You can't fucking read, can you? You signed a contract, handing over all your titles and banners to me. You won't touch my wife if she was dying and you had curing hands blessed by the Seven themselves.' You find that a bit odd. So he would rather let you die? What an odd man.

Aemond grabs him before he can run off. 'I'm not done yet, Wildling. My wife's honour is one I take seriously. She will decide what we'll do with you.' He surprises you with that.

You never knew he took that serious. You never knew he cared. 'I-I will?' You stutter.

His eyes become gentle and soft just like his voice. 'Yes, darling. He insulted you more than me. He thought you a whore and touched you. You once told me that girls in the North break arms of men that they are touched by without their consent. Tell me what you want to happen to him, and It'll happen.' Even death.

You think. Death feels too harsh. You do not like the wildling but you need to live with yourself after this. The wildling spits in your face. 'That woman is too weak. She won't order my execution. Good attempt at swaying her. She will roll on her back again like the whore she is.' You wipe away the spit.

'Aemond, I made up my mind.' You say folding your hands and straighten your back.

Aemond has this grin again on his lips and patiently waits for your command. Two guards come over to restrict the man. Ezhra growls. 'Are you going to murder me, little bitch? You won't survive the guilt. I know a weak woman when I see one.' He is really stupid.

You shake your head. 'Death is quick and merciful. There is no suffering for the dead. Only peace. Do you not agree husband?'

Aemond licks his lips distracted and fascinated by you. You feel yourself blush and quickly hide it. 'I do.' He stammers.

You nod before speaking clearly and unchallenged. 'I want his tongue taken out. Maybe that will teach him something about proper etiquette to ladies.' Aemond's mouth corners break in a grin and the captain of the guard takes his sword ready to give you your tongue.

You freeze and change your mind. 'Wait. I want Aemond to do it.' 'He insulted you. This is your house and your wife he insulted.' His silver haired head slowly goes up and down as if agreeing to your words before he takes a small dagger from his belt. He grabs the wildling by his throat before slamming the man down on the map table.

He waits for you to come over so you can every single moment of what comes next. He grins. 'Ser Criston. I saw that the castles Blacksmith has a nice hammer. Please bring it to me.' A guard runs off for Aemond and not much later returns with a sturdy looking heavy hammer.

You are worried he might smash the man's brains in. 'I thought we discussed no dead?'

Aemond stops and kisses your lips and you are caught off guard. 'Yes, lovely. We did. I didn't made any promises about torture, however.'

Aemond lifts the Hammer and hits the man's kneecaps instantly breaking each of them. The man screams much to your delight. Your husband chuckles before slowly touching the eyes of the man before pulling a few hairs from his eyebrows. 'You know, I like collecting eyes. I have a jar full of eyeballs sitting at my desk, bloodied and fresh. Some are rotten and some even have little creatures in them but I find it comforting. My sister likes the creatures.' He says before slowly taking his knife.

He places the edge of it in the socket of the man before pressing just a little bit. The man screams. Aemond only leaves a small wound near his eye rather than on the eye like you expected. He did not blind them.

He grabs the hammer and easily breaks the feet and the remaining hand of the wildling. He puts the hammer aside and takes the dagger. He opens the man's mouth and you already see his tongue. Last chance to back away.

Except you don't. You don't want to. He tried to assault you. He tried to buy you. He should suffer the consequences. You watch as Aemond takes the tongue between his fingers and starts cutting it lose as Ezhra screams before it becomes deliciously quiet except for his groans and him gargling on his own blood. You hear him gulp and swallow and try to keep up with the blood in his mouth. Your husband takes his dagger away and grins at Ezhra. 'Your tongue, my dearest.' He says before handing the red bloodied little piece of meat to you.

'Thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to cut it in pieces. Send it to your enemies and mine. Let them see what happens when you defy us.' You speak and you don't know who or what has taken over but for some reason you are insanely mad.

Aemond nods and cuts the tongue into pieces. 'We have lots of enemies. We should take another part of his body just in case.' He says and eyes the legs of the man. 'Hmm...' You need to stop him.

You gently take his hand. 'No, if you take more he won't learn his lesson. Let him suffer first a bit.' You say with a grin. The man groans and spits blood at you.

'Who will punish him for that?' Ser Stone asks. In blind anger you raise the hammer and stumble to Wilde. You nearly lose control dropping it. You lose control and let go of the hammer on his head.

Your intentions didn't matter. Your plan to retreat didn't matter. The momentum, the pressure and the weight are too much for the human skull to carry.

The head of the man... It smashes open like a fruity ripe watermelon. Blood splashes everywhere, and you watch as part of his brains stick to the end of the bloodied hammer. You scream in horror and disgust. What you did...

Cannot be undone.

[mandosaur]

Dance of the Mythosaur and Dragon (3/?)

Fandom: The Mandalorian, House of the Dragon

Pairing: Din Djarin / OC

Chapter: III (Daenys)

Word Count: 5,258 Words

Estimated Reading Time: 19:07

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It had been Daemon’s idea for Rhaenyra and Daenys to wear dresses. He told them on the starship that riding with dresses would show Daenys off as feminine while still having the spirit of the dragon inside her. Unfortunately, the entire flight to the palace had been uncomfortable as Daenys awkwardly tried maneuvering the skirts around the saddle while still keeping modest. Her legs burned from where her bare thighs and legs had been clawed by the Cannibal’s sharp scales.

Regaining her balance, she turns her attention to the procession before her. Mandalorians line up in various rows donning full armor. Some remove their helmets when she and her family approach out of respect. Those that don’t merely incline their head forward in a brief nod or thud their first once against their chest plates.

Daemon walks with confidence forward, heavy armor clanking as he does. His armor is different from theirs, Daenys notes, his looks more outdated and covers him completely. The Mandalorians have more gaps between their pieces of armor to allow movement and the material is a metallic sheen that has been painted with colors and symbols of personal importance to them. She catalogs that piece of information for later.

Somewhere at the very back of the procession at the top of the flight of stairs are two figures. One is female covered in blue armor and the other is a man covered in silver armor with a long silver cloak on his shoulders. There is a hilt of a sword in one hand but no blade and his posture is tall and imposing.

She recognizes him immediately.

Din Djarin. The Mand’alor.

She had spent the entire trip reading about him. His files were few and far between, but Mandalore had graciously sent information of him to her for her viewing. She knew he was a new ruler, recently taking the role after the planet’s reformation, and that he had an adoptive son who she would be expected to mother although no informaron on the child was provided. She also knows that he had once been a bounty hunter and his skill with several weapons was renown although the sword in his hand seemed special.

“Highmesses, Mandalore welcomes you,” a female voice calls out over the quiet morning. The blue Mandalorian has walked down the steps to meet them halfway.

Daemon scans her from head to toe and is unimpressed. His eyes drift towards Din who has still made no move to join them. He does not appreciate a woman as a leader.

Rhaenyra dips into a low curtsy and Daenys follows. Her gaze drifts up towards Din in curiosity. His helmet trains on hers for a moment before he moves it to the side and looks towards the dragons standing further away.

A pit of nerves settles in her stomach. She had been warned about his helmet by the Mandalorian that had met them half way in space. It would be something to get used to, she realized, she would have to learn not to rely on facial expressions for her future spouse to convey his emotions.

“I am Bo Katan of House Kryze. I am the Advisor to the Mand’alor. We corresponded over our letters,” the blue Mandalorian extends a hand towards Daemon.

He takes it quietly and without much interest. Rhaenyra offers her a small smile in turn.

“I am Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne. Prince Daemon is my uncle,” Rhaenyra glances back towards Daenys with a subtle nod of her head.

Daenys moves forward and offers her own smile. She can feel hundreds of eyes trained on her. It is terrifying.

“I am Princess Daenys Targaryen the second,” she curtsies again holding up her heavy skirts to allow for her movement.

Bo welcomes them again and looks back towards Din Djarin. He finally moves from his perch. His movements are slow and tight as if bored or perhaps nervous. Daenys isn’t sure which it is.

“I am Din Djarin. Welcome.”

His voice sounds distorted, bizarre. He speaks with clipped words in a tone that sounds cold and detached.

Daenys resists the urge to wilt. The fear in her stomach grows colder.

“Shall we proceed inside?” Bo offers. She has the skill of a politician in diplomacy. Her words diffuse some of the tension slowly forming between their group, “Rooms were prepared for you three. You are honored guests-“

“I’d rather proceed to the negotiations,” Daemon calls out, “We won’t stay longer.”

An uneasy pause. Some of the Mandalorians in the procession tense at his tone. Daenys bites the inside of her cheek.

Daemon had been in a mood the entire trip. The more he learned about Mandalore, the more he grew irritated. Everything that distinguished it from Westeros seemed to grate on his nerves.

While Rhaenyra and Daenys had watched the stars in fascination, Daemon had glowered at the letters he had received from Mandalore and huffed at everything he saw. When Axe Woves had introduced himself for the first time and explained to them briefly what awaited for them in Mandalore, Daemon had coldly brushed past him and left the room.

Daenys suspects that he feels inferior. Mandalore had better warriors than Westeros, better technology, and a stronger military. It had accomplished so much without dragons or Targaryen strengths. It must kill Daemon to see an outside planet stronger than his own especially when that planet demanded one of the dragons he believed was rightfully Westeros’.

Rhaenyra’s voice dropped to a low whisper in High Valyrian.

”Kepus, keligon. Gamagon dar pryjagon bisa dīnilūks.” Uncle, stop it. Do not destroy this marriage. Her lips remain largely in a polite smile but there is no mistaking the warning in her eyes.

“Do you not wish to rest before beginning? Traveling through hyperspace for the first time must be exhausting,” Bo offers. Her own smile seems affixed just like Rhaenyra’s.

An uneasy silence spreads. Daenys reminds herself to keep her posture straight and her chin up. She wishes she could melt into the ground with how cold the entire first meeting seems.

Her future husband seems uninterested as he lets his advisor handle everything. His helmet turns every so often to peer at Daenys but then snaps back to another direction once she catches him looking. She wishes she could gain anything from his body language to asses how he feels.

Is she a disappointment? Was he expecting a warrior in armor with a sword in hand like Visenya had once been? A regal future queen full of confidence like Rhaenyra? Or perhaps a gentle and meek Princess like Helaena? It kills her not to know.

“We are a long way from home and have left our children behind. My uncle and I merely wish to return as soon as possible. Being away from our planet for so long is new,” Rhaenyra offers.

Daemon burns a stare through Din’s helmet. He does not like the fact that he has largely remained outside of the conversation. Din meets his gaze through his helmet but does not move from his spot.

Finally, Bo gives in. She motions with an arm towards the palace.

“Then let us begin. The Mand’alor and a few members of our council will finalize the negotiations. If the three of you will join us,” she begins to walk pausing only long enough to see them begin to follow.

Din finally moves and walks past her without a second glance at the guests. His shoulders are rigid and his steps are quick as if wanting to get far away from them.

Daenys exchanges a brief look with Rhaenyra. For the first time, her sister looks unsure. Perhaps now that she has seen this bizarre planet with its cold people and impersonal helmets she is starting to regret sending her little sister here. Especially given her future husband’s callous and closed off nature.

Nevertheless, it is too late. They’ve come this far already, so there is no choice but to continue forward.

Resisting the urge to sigh, she moves at a pace behind Daemon and Rhaenyra and lets her eyes sweep over the palace in a quiet curiosity wondering if this place will ever grow to become her home.

———————————————

The meeting room is small and only four people from the Mandalorians sit opposite from them. Din sits in the largest seat but remains distant the entire duration. His arms are crossed across his chest and his head is tipped down as if he were skulking.

Bo sits at his right and does most of the talking much to Daemon’s displeasure. She identifies herself as the last of the royal family of Mandalore but brushes past any questions the three have as to why she does not sit the throne. She shows her royal upbringing in her more diplomatic and political approach to the conversation.

The second Mandalorian, Axe Woves, sits at Din’s left and types into a bizarre tool called a tablet as they discuss things. He seems friendly enough if a bit aloof and seems to be Bo’s right hand. He is tasked with explaining things to the Westerosi side of the table whenever they grow confused or require more details.

The final Mandalorian is a man in white armor and a helmet with three small horns in the shape of a triangle. He introduces himself as Thorran Jast, Mandalore’s newly appointed ambassador to Westeros. He is the very embodiment of a diplomat and is careful to keep the room from descending into arguments.

Daemon and Rhaenyra do most of the talking. Rhaenyra is practicing her diplomacy for the day she ascends as queen. She also wishes what is best for Daenys and argues for her safety and well being.

Daemon, on the other hand, is weary of this bizarre planet and wants to ensure the best for Westeros. He is a tough negotiator who fires questions at a rapid pace and keeps the discussions going well into the afternoon. Most of his interjections are about Westerosi advantages or the way Westeros will be represented once the Mand’alor marries its princess.

Daenys quietly lets them take control and only answers when prompted by someone else. Din does not glance at her once. His head remains down the entire time. His lack of interest in her makes her bite her tongue in fear of displeasing him further.

“The Cannibal and its eggs will be property of the Mand’alor and Mandalore as a whole,” Bo scrawls on a tablet, “It shall never be returned to Westeros even in the event of divorce or death.”

“As discussed,” Daemon’s tone is cold, “But no other dragon shall dwell outside of Westeros. If the Cannibal dies without producing eggs, Westeros shall not give you another to make up for what was lost. My niece’s dragon is the only one of our dragons that this planet shall ever have the pleasure of owning.”

“Of course, and, in exchange for the dragon, Mandalore shall provide you with fighters should you call your banners to war with an official signature from the crowned ruler,” Bo moves further down the tablet, “We will pledge 1,000 troops.”

“1,000 troops mean nothing. There are small houses in Westeros who can boast more,” Daemon fires back.

“1,000 Mandalorians can take an entire planet. We have won battles with smaller groups,” Axe argues, “Besides, our numbers haven’t recovered since the purge. Mandalore was uninhabited for a long time and we are just now bringing clans home. 1,000 is already too high a number. We would put our planet at risk if we were to send more.”

“And the Cannibal is the largest dragon we own,” Rhaenyra counters, “A huge loss to Westeros. In a war, its aid could turn the tide. In giving him to you, we also put our planet at risk.”

“2,000,” Axe barters, “And any other volunteers that will be willing to take up arms for your cause whether that be 10 or 10,000.”

Jast soothes egos before an argument can break out, “Mandalorians are renown for their strengths. A single Mandalorian could rival an entire battalion. 2,000 is enough to defeat any enemy you have in battle. You will also get your volunteers. There are plenty of Mandalorians who would take up arms if it meant defending an ally planet especially if that planet had ties to the wife of their Mand’alor.”

“And weapons?” Daemon grudgingly backs down, “You have ships and other tools instrumental in wars.”

“We will provide you what you seek if the crowned ruler signs a request form in times of war. We can spare as many units as you require,” Bo promises.

Daenys lets her eyes drift towards the sky out the window. The horizon looks nothing like Westeros. A part of her feels homesick. She wonders if she will ever get to see her home again or the rest of her family.

“What about the wedding?” Rhaenyra asks, “We were told our Valyrian custom was not possible.”

Jast leans forward, “We will proceed with a Westerosi custom instead. Our Mand’alor observes a Mandalorian tradition of not showing the world his face. Our Mandalorian wedding custom will be observed in private between our Mand’alor and the Princess.”

Rhaenyra makes a face for a brief second. She worries that a man who never shows his face will be difficult to live with. Her hand discretely squeezes Daeny’s knee under the table as a way of reassuring her that everything will be fine.

Daenys pays her no mind. Everything else about the situation is so uncomfortable that the helmet is the least of her concerns.

“We will need to discuss the matter of the consummation ceremony. Do you have a room prepared for observation? How many witnesses do your traditions require?” Daemon leans back in his chair.

“The…consummation ceremony?” Axe blinks and Bo shares a look with him.

Rhaenyra steps in with a smile that looks a little too forced at the corners. Daenys realizes it wasn’t her idea to have a ceremony.

“In Westeros the royal family observes a consummation ceremony to ensure that the heir is legitimate. We require witnesses present on the wedding night who will watch the union be consummated and attest that any children produced is of the king’s,” she voices.

A look of alarm passes through the Mandalorians. Din raises his head for the first time.

“No.”

The single word is growled out in a harsh tone that seems to come from deep inside his chest. His body becomes tense. It is obvious this world does not share their customs.

“That is not necessary,” Jast recovers first and retains a diplomatic tone, “We do not have this tradition. The wedding night is a private matter in our customs. We will not question the legitimacy of any heirs produced.”

Rhaenyra relaxes as does Daenys. She had always been petrified of the consummation ceremony as a child. To have been made to perform it in this strange new world with a man she did not know would have been a nightmare.

“Will you at least require a purity test? Many houses in our world want to ensure that the bride is a maiden before marriage,” Daemon glances at Daenys in silent warning, “We can have one of our Maesters perform it-“

“We don’t need one,” Axe responds. He tries to keep his face neutral but a look of disgust flickers through his gaze anyway, “Her highness’…purity…is not a concern either for us.”

This time, Din does raise his head. His helmet points at Daenys before looking away as fast as he turned. A gloved hand tightens into a fist at his knee as if upset. For the life of her, she can’t make sense of what it means with his face hidden behind Beskar and his body so closed off.

Daenys stares down at her own hands in her lap.

Is this what her marriage will entail? A man who cannot stand to even look at her? A blank helmet with no expressions?

She wishes she could go back to the Red Keep or Dragonstone. Wishes she could stay with her family and remain in the lands of her birth. She could have married any other Westerosi house and would have enjoyed it more than whatever this strange land is. At least then she would have stayed in her home planet only a dragon ride away from those she loved…

“There is the matter of the dragon, of course,” Jast speaks up, “We will need our men trained for keeping the Cannibal safe. Our ancestors once rode the Mythosaur but we have since forgotten the way of keeping one contained.”

It is a weak joke meant to ease some of the uncomfortable atmosphere that has slowly crept up. No one laughs. He clears his throat.

Daemon glances at him with an expression full of gloating, “We have brought dragon keepers who will train your men. They are already setting up a space for the Cannibal. As long as my niece is here to control the dragon, it will serve her. The Cannibal may be a gift from us to the Mand’alor, but it will only obey my niece. In that way, our two people are different. We never lost our power over the dragons.”

Rhaenyra tenses slightly at his words and Bo’s jaw tightens. He has insulted them and seems smug. Daenys decides to step in.

“My dragon will serve me, and I will serve the Mand’alor,” she promises as a way to remind the Mandalorians she will be on their side in an alliance.

She glances at Din to see his helmet turned to her. He does not react to her words other than another tiny incline of his head. She feels disappointment but keeps it from showing on her face.

A squeeze from Rhaenyra’s hand on her knee, however, tells her she might not have been as discrete in her feelings of upset as she wanted. Din has also snapped his head away and the fist at his knee grows tighter.

Had she insulted him by showing her disappointment so openly? The pit in her stomach grows again.

A beep on someone’s helmet lets them all know the sun has set in this bizarre planet. The Mandalorians close down their tablets and rise from their seats. Daemon and Rhaenyra follow.

“We will conclude negotiations here for tonight. You must rest from your journey,” Bo responds.

“Of course,” Rhaenyra graciously accepts, “We will resume tomorrow.”

The Mandalorians tell them that a feast has been prepared for tomorrow to welcome them. Daenys is only half listening and presses herself to her sister’s side. She seeks her comfort exhausted from how poorly everything has gone.

Rhaenyra takes her hand discretely beneath their skirts in support.

Their rooms are close by. Daemon’s is across from theirs and Rhaenyra has an adjacent room to hers joined by a door.

Their belongings have already been brought for them and a gift has been left on a table.

Daemon disappears inside his room telling them that he needs to do some reading on the planet. He is still pouring over their files in preparation for the negotiations tomorrow. He tells them to rest and be up early.

Daenys changes into a nightgown as Rhaenyra leaves the room to change as well.

The room is beautiful. It is a large and spacious room with bizarre extraterrestrial flower arrangements and soft rugs in the color red. A large wall to one side displays any image she wants that is controlled by a small tablet on the bedside table. Daenys selects an image of the Mandalorian capital in its prime before the planet became uninhabited. It is fascinating to watch a moving picture of the sun rising and setting in the capital and people milling about.

On the bed is her small gift. A tiny box has an ingot of Beskar. It is heavy in her hand and decorated with metal striations on its surface. There is also a spoked wheel symbol surrounded by a dark ring at the bottom that she does not recognize. A small card provides the history of Beskar and what an honor such a tiny piece of its metal is to receive. She weighs the ingot in her hand and turns it over every which way watching as it reflects the light.

Rhaenyra returns after changing. She has a bracelet made of Beskar around her wrist. It is a thin, small bangle barely thicker than her pinkie. Daenys gets the feeling her gift is far more precious.

“How do you feel?” She drops her voice to a low murmur as if afraid to be overheard, “I know we have not spoken much about what this means.”

Daenys feels her eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Everything is finally becoming too much. The tension from the past few days rises within her.

This entire trip she has felt like her soul has been separate from her body. She doesn’t recognize the planet they are on, doesn’t know the customs of these foreign people, and her husband is an immovable wall of Beskar. If the Seven have planned this for her, she feels they are being too cruel.

“Must I stay?”

The question comes out in a tiny plea. She curls in on herself in the bed. Rhaenyra joins her and wraps an arm firmly around her back.

“Do not cry, byka zaldrīzes,” she whispers, “Daemon was the one who decided we should look towards another planet. I was fine with marrying you to Cregan Stark to solidify his vow. I have often heard of what an honorable man he is and know he would have treated you well. But of these people I have no clue. My only hope is that you will be safe and happy here.”

Daenys wipes a hand across her eyes. She hasn’t been called a little dragon by her sister in so long.

“The man I am to marry can’t even stand to look at me,” she protests.

Rhaenyra begins to take the pins out of her hair. The updo is growing uncomfortable on her head. When her hair comes down, some of the pressure she feels eases immediately.

“Arranged marriages do not begin like fairytales,” Rhaenyra murmurs, “You two will learn to live together. Their ruler is a good man, and you are the realm’s delight back home. He will love you someday. You have never needed to win a heart, my sweet. People often give you theirs freely.”

Daenys runs a hand through her now free hair. The white strands have some tangles from the dragon ride that Rhaenyra softly combs through with a small brush she brought from home. It calms her down until slowly her silent tears cease.

“We will demand close contact with you tomorrow. A way to deliver messages between our planets rapidly. I will be a ride of a starship away. Hear me, little one, I will make the journey myself and bring you back if you give the word. If that man ever raises a hand to you or mistreats you, you need only say the word and Syrax will burn this entire place to the ground. I will show the Mand’alor why it is that we Targaryens are considered gods in the flesh.”

Daenys sniffs.

“What will you tell our father?” She wonders.

Rhaenyra sighs, “The truth. We will tell him you married into a foreign planet. He will be furious, but we are already away from the palace. Hopefully that will count as an exile. Once your marriage has been performed, he will not be able to break the alliance.”

Rhaenyra begins to braid her hair. Daenys has not had her hair braided by her sister since the night before Rhaenyra married Laenor.

Rhaenyra had been so tense that entire night. She was not interested in the marriage and paced across her room the entire afternoon. Daenys had joined her to keep her company and the two of them talked well into the night about anything and everything.

Rhaenyra had braided her hair then and she had braided hers. The two sisters had spoken all night about their future and promised each other they would look after one other. A marriage need not be a death sentence, they decided, it would only be a beginning.

Now the roles have changed. Daenys is the one who will be wed off while Rhaenyra will be allowed to go home.

“How did you do it?” Daenys hears herself ask, “How did you marry Laenor and live with him for years?”

Daenys was a child when Rhaenyra married Laenor. Her sister had been married for half her life and their marriage was peaceful if not loving. The rumors about her nephews had never abated, but Laenor seemed not to mind the gossip. He had been a friend and confidant to Rhaenyra all those many years and one of her defenders. His loss still pains her.

Rhaenyra finishes the braid on Daenys’ hair and tucks the end into a strand with nothing else to secure it. She purses her lips together in thought.

“We had an agreement and became friends. We never were in love with each other, but we did love each other. It just takes some effort and common ground to have a happy union. Although, I hope your marriage will be much happier than mine. I hope you will learn to love your husband and he you,” she eases Daenys under the sheets and lifts them up to her chin. Daenys has not been tucked in, in ages. It is a bittersweet memory that makes her ache at the thought of losing home all over again.

“He can’t stand to look at me,” she frets, “He hasn’t even said a word to me. I think I angered him earlier.”

Rhaenyra stands from the bed and sets the ingot on a bedside table.

“You’ve known him for a few hours. Give it time. He is probably nervous too,” she reassures, “You will have the rest of your life to make this marriage work.”

Daenys bites the inside of her cheek with a growing sense of panic.

The rest of her life. Rhaenyra is right. For the rest of her life, she will remain in Mandalore married to a man that may or may not come to like her with strangers who will never see her as anything more than the blood in her veins and a throne that many will see her as unworthy of simply because she is an outsider.

All over again, she feels tears forming but fights against them. Rhaenyra never cried the night before her wedding to Laenor. Her sister has often been strong in the face of uncertain futures. Daenys wishes for a shred of her confidence.

She turns her head away to hide her unease as Rhaenyra bids her a good night’s rest and turns off the holographic wall. Alone in her room at last, she buries her face into the pillows below and lets out a silent scream from somewhere deep within her chest pouring all over her anxiety and despair into it.

———————————————

In the morning, Daenys dresses herself. Her procession has brought some servants with them to Mandalore, but she knows they will leave after the wedding. She decides to learn on her own to dress and do her hair. Thankfully, she’s had a lifetime of watching others do it and she manages.

She wears a long silver gown with dragons etched into the bodice in thin salt water pearls. The dress is a gift from Daemon and Laena from years prior. She selects it for the silver color so close the Beskar ingot she was given the night before.

The ingot is tucked at her side under neath the bodice. The heavy, cold presence is a nice way to ground herself amidst the stress of the day. Realistically, she doubts her future husband chose the gift for her himself. Likely, one of his advisors prepared it for her, but it is still nice to imagine that the ingot had once meant something to him and was selected for her by him.

Rhaenyra is still asleep when Daenys wanders over to Daemon’s room. He is sharpening his sword and is dressed in armor again when she opens his door. It seems he intends to mimic the Mandalorians and their armor.

“Niece,” he greets without looking up, “Are you ready for today?”

“I came for the gift we discussed,” Daenys moves towards the black box on the table. Daemon has it next to a tiny, Beskar coin. No doubt the coin was his own gift from the Mandalorians, “Is it ready?”

Daemon stands and opens the black box for her inspection.

Before leaving Westeros, Daenys had asked for a Valyrian steel dagger to be commissioned as a gift to her future spouse and a toy for his son. Din’s gift is a lovely knife which cost more than what she dares admit out loud while his son’s is an heirloom.

The knife is pure Valyrian steel and about the size of her forearm. The hilt has a dragon coiled around handle with its snout open in a growl. The blade itself is sharp and pointed ready to slit someone’s throat with a single swipe. The front of the knife has inscriptions in High Valyrian which read out “For My Husband” while the back is blank and ready for any future inscriptions. Daenys had asked Daemon to melt down some of her own Valyrian steel jewelry and dagger to form this blade. It is a beautiful gift and she hopes her husband will appreciate it. In the culture of warriors and weapons he belongs to, she hopes it is fitting.

Next to it on the box is the little boy’s gift. It’s a tiny Valyrian steel bauble in the form of a dragon that makes a metallic grinding noise that represents a roar when a small lever at the back is pressed down. It is a toy she had as a child that was commissioned by Viserys for her and has a tiny compartment inside for lighter fluid so that it can be turned into a lighter in the future when the boy is older. If lit, the dragon will actually be able to breathe fire. She hopes the little boy will love to play with it the way she did when she was a child and that it will be the first of many heirlooms from her family to Din’s passed on.

Daemon snaps the box shut and hands it to her. He drops his voice to a low murmur and risks a glance at the door as if they will be overheard.

“Do not try so hard for their approval, little niece,” he cautions, “Remember we are closer to gods than men. This planet should be grateful to have our blood on their throne. Our dragons and our steel is for our use only.”

“That is a poor mentality to have before negotiations,” Daenys frowns, “This is supposed to be an alliance. I will be marrying into Din Djarin’s clan.”

Daemon scoffs and crosses over to the door. There is an expression in his lilac eyes that she does not like. It makes her stomach twist.

“Little niece, do not forget what side you are on. You are a Targaryen, not a Mandalorian.”

(A/N: A High Valyrian translator was used for this chapter, so accuracies can not be guaranteed.)

[idk50000]

A Bride For An Eye

(part 3: )

[paring: Aemond Targaryen x o/c reader Searah velaryon]

Warnings: smutish, swearing, violence

Authors note: I’ve never wrote a story before let alone a smut story but I’m learning and working on it, if anyone has any pointers, tips or ideas to share with me feel free to comment.

Summary: As Rhaenyra and Daemon get ready to leave Aemond and begs you to stay in kings landing with him what will happen if you decide to stay.

It's been about a week of celebration honestly you don't recall much except dancing with Aemond and Aegon drowning in his cups.

Your walking down the hallway in your simple beige dress with a deep v neck with dragons and Targaryen symbols embroidered all over your dress, you run into Aegon

"My prince" you do a subtle curtsy

"Princess we've been looking for you, please join us for breakfast"

he guides you to the dining room, as you slowly walked in you see that the dining room is much larger then you remember. Your mother and daemon weren't there and neither were Jace or Luke just the greens, you saw Aemond staring at you, looking you up and down, you made your way over to him as he takes a sip of wine

"My betrothed" you say as you curtsy deeply for him to get a good view of you cleavage, you watched him choke on his drink as he looked a little longer before he realized everyone was watching the both of you.

You liked making him react to you, you bend over the table in front of him to grab a glass of wing by this point Aemond had caught on to what you're doing. By the time you looked back up at him he looked angry maybe you've gone to far, you sit down.

A few moments pass, you take your glass of wine and take a sip you felt a hand rub against your knee you choke and looked at Aemond the smirk on his face sent chills down your spine, he dips his hand between your skirts and touches your bear thigh, Searah jumps in her so he gripped your thigh and pushed you back down to your seat. Aemond looked at you as he brings his hand closer to your core, he brushes his fingertips against your core, you flinched, he brought his lips to your ear and whispered

"Meet me in my chambers later"

at that moment you froze in you seat your heart was thumping, your hands are sweaty and you have this nervous feeling down in your pit, you've never experienced such feelings.

as Aemond removed his hand you couldn't help but protest as you gripped his hand and looked at him he gave you a subtle "hmm" that made your arousal grow, you try to force your legs together but Aemond pulls your legs apart once more before sliding his fingers through your folds Searah lets out a gasp/moan and tried to recollect herself.

when she looked back up again she realized everyone was staring at her, she looked back towards Aemond who had a devilish smirk on his face.

" Your grace may I be excused I must find my mother a figure out what where doing next" you asked while staring into Aemond's soul

"of course Searah"

you walked down the halls flustered you knew the prince had affection for you and you had affection for him but you never thought he would do such a vile thing in public.

you remember the countless nights of you trying to pleasure yourself thinking of Aemond and what he would do constantly trying to reach that one feeling but constantly failing.

You knew you would go to his chambers not because he told you to but because you wanted to. You turned a corner and saw Rhaenyra

"Oh my darling there you are, where getting ready to leave"-Rhaenyra

"what?!, I don't want to go"

"why there's nothing for us here our home is in dragonstone"

"My home is here with my betrothed"

"if that is what you wish then I will talk to Alicent about it"

Daemon walk over to you and gripped your face in between his hands

"I have raised you to be a fighter since I saw the fire in your eyes, you be careful around here" he bends over and whispers in your ear "when you play the game of thrones you win or you die... be smart" he kisses your forehead before letting you go.

Shortly later mother comeback to tell you that Alicent has extended your hospitality for the next 2 years and after your marriage you will become lady of the court, princess of Dragonstone and the red keep will become your permanent home.

sooner then later night came around you walk down the quarters towards the princes room you were in your light beige low cut night gown. Once you approached the door you knock the hard door lightly but no one answered all you heard was Aemond's "come in."

You entered the bedroom to find dim candles lighting the room you looked around to find the king size bed on the left side of the room, you look towards the right to find Aemond sitting at the bedroom table infant of the fireplace with a glass of wine and a book in his lap.

As you got closer the dim lighting brightened his features perfectly you walk infront of him and curtsied as you said "my prince".

"princess, please sit" he hands you a glass of wine, you sat down in the chair next to him and took a sip of wine Aemond was still reading

"what are you reading?" you ask trying to see

"its a book about Aegon the conqueror and how he conquered the 7 kingdoms" was his reply

but you knew your history

"Aegon and his sisters" - Searah

"pardon?" - Aemond

"it wasn't just Aegon it was Visenya and Rhaenys too" - Searah

"Correct" you saw his face light up as he straightened his posture and faced towards you more

"Why am I here"

" I would hope you would forgive me for my intrusion, last night I passed you're corridors last night I heard sounds"

with that sentence you chocked on your wine

"forgive me for listening in on you but I do not regret what I heard, the ever so beautiful sounds of your moans, but I've never heard a more beautiful sound then the way you moaned my name 'Aemond' but you couldn't reach the peek you wanted could you?" he asked studying your face

"No I couldn't, my prince"

he only replies with the signature mhmm that belongs to Aemond

"I can help you with that"

"oh I don't know how to pleasure you though"

"do not worry about that, I want to pleasure you and when the time comes ill teach you how to pleasure me. come here"

you stood up not sure what to do you walked infront of him, you watched as he pat his knee

"sit here"

you gave him a confused look you didn't understand exactly what he meant, Aemond looked at you and noticed your confusion he grabs your hips and pulls you closer

"A-Aemond"

"relax love your fine"

he pulls up your skirts midway to expose your thighs he then pulls you so one leg in between his and your other leg is on the outside his legs

"I don't understand how thi-"

you where cut off by Aemond pulling your body down you felt your core brush on his knee and let out a surprising moan, you looked up at him in embarrassment

"don't be embarrassed"

he then pull you all the way down on him you core was on now on his knee making you grasp his shoulders

"now i'm gonna guide your hips back and forth till you catch on"

as he rocks your hips back and forth your core rubbed on his knee with just the friction you needed you moaned loudly

you lay your head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear

"can you go a little faster please"

with that he picked up the pace and went faster then you were expecting

you let out a cry as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, as you started to catch on and move your hips with his hands you looked at him and for the first time you actually saw how very handsome he is, you gently caress his scar and gripped his face between your hands and captured his lips, his tongue invaded your mouth it was intoxicating and desiring.

He seemed to like it when you slid your tongue along his, as he let out a groan you of satisfaction as you reaches your climax you let out a few hoarse groans your hands gripped his hair a pulled as you came down from your high with your chest heaving his hands lingered to your should straps

"May I"

not being able to talk to moment you nodded he pulled your straps down slowly exposing inch by inch of your skin when he finally pulled your dress down he gathered it around your stomach as he slides your other leg over so your now sitting in his lap

"you have been blessed princess not many have beautiful tits like yours"

your skin heats up at his comment, he brush your nipple with his wet thumb making you arch your back and plant your hands firmly on his shoulders, he captures and sucks your nipples till they swelled he then placed pepper kisses through the valley of your breasts

"A-Aemond" you moan out weakly

You begin to ride his thigh, he watches, memorized by your movements, he looks down and watches your breast bounce, he caress your sides to your hips, you continue to ride his thigh, determined to reach your high.

He pulls you closer and devoured your lips, sucking your tongue and with that you collapsed against him feeling absolutely euphoric.

Aemond takes two fingers and slides them between your folds collecting your juices before taking them to his lips and sucking them clean,

You watched him blissed out and you felt yourself get wetter watching him swirl his tongue around his fingers.

he kisses you once more before pulling your nightgown back over your shoulders.

"did you enjoy yourself princess"

"yes... yes I did, thank you"

"I want you to stay I don't want you to go back to Dragonstone with your mother and brothers I want you to stay here with me"

"well my mother has already talked to the Queen about it and she has extended her Hospitality to me so im gonna stay”

He pulls you in for a kiss before telling you goodnight.

[descendantofthesparrow]

When Mal bows back instead of curtsying

ight-thats cute-

i may not like her character or her as a person, but dammit i will admit Mal has cute moments, like this-i like her nose scrunchies, near all her D1 moments, and during this scene-she does a lil-wiggle when she stands up straight. Mal has cute moments, there- i said it.

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 5 - Wedding Grey to Gold

Part 6

Fire OF A Stark

@queenieala

A few weeks later

The next morning I am woken up by the sound of my sister and some handmaidens entering my chambers. Today was the day I couldn't escape, my wedding. But in reality it might be my escape from the horrors of this city and the people in it. The handmaidens tossed the covers aside for me before helping me pull my nightgown over my head, having me get in a bath. "Can you believe it, sis. You're going to look like a princess."

"Sansa swop out those pinchy shoes for my boots underneath the bed. I may not be able to not wear a dress. But I will get a say in the shoes." I told her staring at my wedding dress hanging on the door hook on the wall.

She nods going to get them, allowing me the chance to close my eyes and sigh the little bit of relief I will have for today. Father was now forced to walk with a cane and I'm even more frustrated that Jaime's words are running through my mind. I feel like he did it on purpose to drive me crazy. "It's a big day for you, Stark girl."

Shooting my eyes open I covered my chest with arms seeing the queen standing in the doorway she smirking in her dark red dress. "Your grace, I - uh didn't hear you come in..."

"You're little dove of a sister let me in. She's a fine young lady." She replied with her blonde locks falling over her shoulders.

Biting my lip in nerviness thankfully I was smart enough to not wet my hair because she would have seen the truth. I would have been brought before the king and probably executed. My father had told me that the king planned on trying to kill the mother of dragons that was said to be living across the narrow sea. The last remaining Taraegaryn, at least that's what we've made everyone think. "Yeah she is....have you come to check on me for some reason?"

"In fact I have..." She sits on the edge of the tub suddenly grabbing my chin in her right hand holding it tightly so I couldn't look anywhere but on her. "Don't think for one moment that my brother will love you. He isn't capable of such a thing. Not after my baby brother killed our mother. I just want you to know that!"

She dropped my chin where I kept my face turned away from her hearing Sansa coming back into the room with my boots like I asked. "I got the boots like you asked. Hello, your grace." She curtsies to her with a small smile.

"Such a sweet sister, little dove. I'll see you both later." Cersei exited the room without another word.

Running my fingers through my hair felt my heartbeat picking up and my chest tightening. "By the old gods and the new, is Tyrion the only normal Lannister in the family I'm about to marry into?" The next few hours seemed to go by so fast but maybe that is what it is supposed to do when your life is changed forever. Brushing my fingers over the long wedding dress it was white with gray scattered about it. Shrugging on a light clock Sansa had designed a direwolf head on the back of it for me.

Sansa was finishing putting some of my hair up into a crown on my head leaving the rest of it loose before someone knocked on the door. "Cadence, I have good news. I've been searching through the library and I finally found a book on dragons. Now I'm not sure if you are fluent in Valyrian. But there are pages that don't have it."

"Thank you, Tyrion. This is incredible." A huge grin crossed my face, taking the book from his hands in excitement flipping through the pages faster than I had probably any other book.

Sansa raised a brow holding the hairbrush in her hands. A little taken back by my excitement. A few minutes ago I was moping around like a child not wanting to go to bed. "What's so exciting about that book, Cadence?"

"Because it tells about the history of the Targaryens. They're my fam - uh I just found their family interesting is all. And Tyrion was kind enough to find me thi." Spinning around in the chair to face her, my eyes beaming with joy. "Do you speak Valyrian? I would really appreciate a teacher that isn't a septon."

The youngest Lannister smiled as he spoke something in the foreign tongue to both Sansa and I. "Mirrī puñila, riñnykeā cadence."

"I'm sorry but what does that mean?" I asked not expecting him to immediately start speaking the language to me.

He rests hand over mine that was holding the book turning to a page folded inside. I unfolded it and saw some translations of the language in the writing I could understand. "It means I am a little rusty, my lady. That paper has some of the more common terms. I wrote them down seeing that you could practice. Maybe someday you and I can write in the tongue."

"I'd like that very much. Nyke hope....naejot gūrēñagon." I stuttered out attempting to read the words he had written on the page. But it didn't sound right coming from my lips.

"Gūrēñagon isse jēda ao jāhor." (Learn in time you will) He smiled replying back in the tongue until someone knocked on the door so he went and opened it showing us our father.

He slowly entered the room and I slumped my shoulders in defeat watching his cane hit the floor. He had to put most of his weight on the wooden stick. He paused in his step focusing his soft gaze on me. "I'd like to speak with my daughter alone please." Tyrion and Sansa left without another word where I sat the book on the table closing it softly. "You look beautiful, my little dragon."

"I don't think I'm ready, father." I breathed out twiddling my thumbs together in my lap.

"What do you have there, honey?" He asked, noticing the dusty old book Tyrion had given me.

Turning my attention back down to the book I opened it to one of the pages seeing the word Dracarys with multiple question marks beside it. Tyrion said he was rusty at this language but it must be something important or powerful. "Tyrion brought it to me. I told him I was interested in history. But he doesn't know the - our secret. I'm just scared that I'm going to have to hide who I really am for the rest of my life. The queen almost caught me earlier. It won't be long before someone realizes that this is odd." Gripping the part of my hair where the white tips met up with the brown dyed top.

"There's something you should know about the Baratheon children. They are actually Jai-" My father cuts himself off hearing a loud knock on the door meaning that it was time for the wedding ceremony.

Looping my arm through my father's, he intertwined our hands together. We walked through the hallway until we watched two large doors open and at the end of a long isle stood my soon to be husband. "No matter how he treats you, little dragon. Just remember I'll always love you, Cadence Lynesse Stark Targaryen."

"I'll always love you too, Eddard Stark. My chosen father." I mumbled under my breath seeing that we had reached the septon and Jaime. He was wearing a dark red tunic and some even darker red trousers. The long blonde hair all neat which actually weirded me out considering I was used to seeing it a little tousled around.

"Who gives the bride on this day?" The septon asked, looking between the three of us.

My father squeezed my hand briefly placing it in Jaime's open right hand. His eyes focused on mine rather than on anyone else. "Her father, Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King." He stepped away standing beside my two sisters who both silently watched.

Shifting my eyes up to Jaime, he was glancing behind me so I slowly turned my head seeing a much older man with white hair. He sternly watched us with almost no expression on his face. "It's my father. He came here to watch this. The day I become his heir again...don't worry my offer still stands. I won't leave you here."

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The sept spoke softly. Jaime squeezed my hand before unlinking our hands so he could take off the red cloak with a golden lion banner on the back of it. Closing my eyes briefly, his hands placing it over the wolf where I didn't open my eyes until the septon spoke up. Wrapping a white ribbon around our intertwined hands. "In the sight of the seven. I hereby seal these two souls. Binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words."

Turning to directly face Jaime I caught sight of his green eyes pouring into mine. Biting my lip there was something about the way he looked at me now. The other day he was teasing me and we were sword fighting one another being so serious and closed off. Yet now his eyes held a more soft and almost comforting presence about them, it was a relief to see it even for a moment. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crown, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

The septon untied the ribbon allowing Jaime to cup my face in his hands and I felt myself lean into him a little. He leans down gently pressing his lips onto mine. My whole body stiffened at first until I let my shoulders drop rather enjoying it. Moving my hands up onto his shoulders he broke the kiss before it got too deep whispering as he rested his forehead against mine. "Will you come riding into battle with me, Cadence?"

"Y-yes." Was the best reply I could give him, still consumed in the kiss. The desire to keep kissing him again but at the same time I could feel some glaring their eyes into the back of my head which most likely was the queen.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[writingsofwesteros]

I don't know if I'm the only one but Viserys is one of my absolute hate characters. That's why I got something like this from your second born line. Y/N is always ignored by her father. She keeps trying to get his attention, but she can't. Daemon, who loves his niece more than only uncle and niece should, simply takes her on a journey. Where they get married and Y/N even gets pregnant. If 18+ is possible

AN: Hi, I hope you like it 

NSFW

Requests are closed

As the years passed; it became obvious that your father hardly ever thought or paid attention to you. You weren’t sure of the reason and you hated yourself at how much you desired to be seen by him. Your older sister never had to fight for any attention; both of your parents adored her and there was no love left for you.

Well, there was but they chose not to share it. They were waiting for a boy to give all their love and attention towards. Even as you knew all of this; you still tried to help and waited for the scraps of love you could receive. And sometimes they came, like now, as your father motioned you over.

When it was just the two of you anyway. “Father.” You whispered, moving to curtsy. “Y/N..” Viserys nodded formally. You nervously played with your fingers behind your back as his attention was on you now. “It seems your uncle is making a nuisance of himself. Take this letter to him.” Your King ordered.

Of course, he only spoke to you when there was need. It wasn’t a secret that you and Daemon shared a bond; his softness was only for you. There were rumours of something else between the two of you, and you wondered if your father believed them. “Of course.” You found yourself speaking and you gently took the letter from your father.

And then just like that; Viserys left you. You held back the reaction, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as your eyes followed him. It didn’t stop you from ducking your head for a moment and trying to collect yourself. A soft tear fell from your eyes as you wrapped your own arms around yourself. It was something you had good practice with now. A moment later you looked down at the letter with curiosity but fought against opening it. You looked out into the dark sky and realised where your uncle was going to be. A place you knew your father would know and still asked you to go. A scoff fell from you at the thought.

~

The moans of pleasure echoed around you as you kept the black, velvet cloak and hood around yourself; concealing your identity as you moved through. It wasn’t hard to find the Prince of the realm as you followed the talk. The soft silk dress underneath the cloak had your soft body humming at the feel of the material moving over you. Your soft nipples pebbled against the dress as you moved closer to the viewing platform. You nearly whimpered at the sight of Daemon behind an equally beautiful woman and his body moved. Her moans were loud and you hated the jealousy moving through you. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one affected.

Your eyes trailed his body and realised no matter the age; his body was so lean and muscular. The dragon riding must do him good, you thought as he finally moved from her and you softly gasped at the sight of his still hard cock. Subtly, your legs rubbed together as a flood of desire moved through you. Gods, this was so wrong, you thought to yourself as the gaggle of girls slowly disappeared once the show was over. But you couldn’t stop watching as he placed a silk robe around himself and you grew disappointed. You tried to remind yourself you were here for a reason and you moved easily into the room.

“Uncle..” You softly called out, near breathless as you gracefully stepped into the room. The cloak flowing behind you. “Y/N…” Daemon’s head snapped to you; shock moved over his face. “What are you doing here?” His precious Princess shouldn’t be in such an establishment, Daemon thought to himself. Those eyes of his moved over your body and for a moment you struggled to speak. Daemon smirked as he stepped closer; your body gently hitting the body. “Have you been watching, sweet Princess?” He purred into your ear as a soft gasp escaped you at being caught. “No..” You shook your head.

You knew more teasing was coming your way and decided on distracting your dragon. “The King wanted you to have this.” You whispered, gently placing the letter in his hands as he stayed impossible close to you. “Hmm, a little messenger now, are you?” Daemon hummed and began to open the paper. You tried to collect yourself; still leaning against the wall as you watched his reaction. Your uncle’s face moved to a mask as he read what was in front of him. “Is something wrong?” You whispered out. A beat of silence moved past you as Daemon moved to burn the letter on a candle at the side of him.

Your face screwed up in confusion. “My brother is exiling me.” Daemon announced. Your soft gasp escaped you before you could stop it. “No..he wouldn’t do that.” You began to babble and shake your head. He gently leaned in and cupped your face with both hands; your matching eyes locking. “He just has.” Daemon softly stroked your cheek and his thumb moved over your bottom lip. It was then that you remembered he was still naked as his open robe gave you a sight. “You should get dressed.” You whispered and kept your hands down your sides even as they twitched. 

“Should I?” Daemon hummed and his bare chest soon brushed against your. “Someone could see.” You whispered and your eyes moved towards the viewing platform you had just come from. “It’s true…but I don’t see you moving away.” The Prince purred and his hands moved up your sides.

“I thought as much.” He continued to whisper into your ear as his hands moved up your sides, taking your dress with him. “Turn around.” Daemon ordered and you couldn’t help but whimper. Your lips parted and he only raised an eyebrow before you turned away. Your identity would be safe; for now.

“Daemon..” You softly whispered when your dress was bunched at your waist. The cool evening air moved through the room and onto you. “You don’t want this? Want me?” He purred into your ear and you heard the robe fall to his feet. Your eyes widened as his hand snaked around your stomach. Your legs shook as your hand moved to the wall and his free hand joined you. “Good girl.” He whispered and soon his larger hand cupped your soaked pussy. His slender fingers slowly  moved through your folds, teasing your clit. “Please.” You hardly knew what you were begging for now.

“Hmm, I guess I should help.” Daemon purred as two of his slender fingers slipped inside of you. “Oh..gods..” You cried out as your soaked walls instantly tightened around him. “Fuck, Y/N..” He whispered, hotly mouthing at your neck. His fingers curled expertly and found a spot you could never reach. “There you go.” Gods, he really liked the sound of his own voice, you thought but your mind quickly became hazy. Which was Daemon’s plan all along as he played you so well. His precious Princess was his; you always had. Your soaked walls fluttered around him as Daemon cheekily added a third finger.

His free hand moved from yours and into your locks as he pulled. “So pretty.” Daemon whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Will you come with me?” The Prince whispered into your ear again. “I can’t…” You whimpered out, your stomach already tightening in pleasure as he continued to play with you. “Hmm, no?” He pouted and his fingers quickened; his palm hitting your clit again and again. You couldn’t answer back now. You leaned more into the wall as soft moans escaped you. Your cries of pleasure become louder. Daemon couldn’t concentrate anymore as he slowed his fingers before gently removing them.

“No..” You softly gasped and looked over your shoulder but it wasn’t long before Daemon was pushing his hard cock inside you. Your eyes widened as his thickness stretched you so deliciously; the pain fading to pleasure. “Fuck.” Daemon nearly growled into your ear as your face pressed against the wall. His hand snaked around you once more and quickly rubbed at your soaked pussy. The pleasure quickly became too much. Daemon hotly mouthed at your neck; marking you as your climax ripped through you. You squirted around his cock as he continued to fuck you. “Come away with me.” He purred and you had no strength of will to say no now.

~

The news of you running away with your uncle spread like wildfire through the court with many not surprised. Your father being one of them; it had been his plan all along when he gave you the letter. The contents of it would only be for him and his brother to ever know. And as the months passed; an invitation to their wedding came across his small council. He didn’t attend and neither did Rhaenyra. And when the news came of his daughter’s pregnancy and birth of a son; Viserys mourned what could of been for the first time since he felt the disappointment of a second daughter who should of been a son. 

“I love you.” Daemon whispered into your ear as his hands rested on your stomach; swollen with another child. “I love you too.” Your lips met and your fingers moved into his locks before you looked back at Dragonstone; your home and all was well.

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@kid-from-new-zealand

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) hosts a Halloween party! She's dressed up as a princess, which somehow automatically activates Malleus' dragon instincts.

'Kidnap the princess and put her in a tower,' his mind tells him — as cliche as it sounds — and so, he does exactly that.

I know it's not Halloween but the idea won't leave my head so bear with me aiqhsuaha

"Grim, have you put the cobwebs up, yet?"

You pranced through the lounge of Ramshackle, a big bowl of popcorn and bags of chips from Sam's shop under your arm. As best as you could, you made sure not to bump into the skeletons and hollowed-out pumpkins that stood around the room as decoration. Eventually, you arrived by the buffet table, where you threw everything in your arms onto the surface with a loud huff.

Who knew how hard it was to organise a Halloween party?

Grim came strolling in, his head held high and mighty as to not let the crown around his ears slip off his head. He smacked the bottom of his golden cane against the creaky flood of the Ramshackle lounge in exasperation. "Are you blind, or do you not see the crown on my head?" he grumbled, pulling the red cape over his shoulders with an angry huff.

"I'm sorry." You rolled your eyes, doing a curtsy for your ruler. Grabbing the billowing and swishing fabric of your (F/c) princess-gown, you said, "King Grim of Ramshackle, have you put up the cobwebs, yet?"

The cat hummed in satisfaction and began to laugh. "Much better, my princess." He marched right past you and grabbed a few cans of tuna you had specifically put there for him — but for later, not for now. You furrowed your eyebrows in irritation when he began to peel open a can; the party hadn't even started yet. The cat ignored your protests, merely replying, "And no, why would I put up fake cobwebs? There are plenty natural cobwebs there already."

You held your head in frustration, letting out a drawn-out sigh. Then, you lowered your hands again to glare at the mighty cat. "And have Ace and Deuce returned from getting Trey's tarts yet?" you asked, your fingers impatiently tapping against the surface of the buffet table.

"No, my dear princess," Grim said, putting on a posh accent, "the knights have not returned yet."

You were about to complain to the ghosts of the old building when the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed throughout the high ceilings of this place. Rolling your shoulders and putting on a smile, you happily announced, "Ah, the first guests have already arrived." Grim didn't look like he would be so kind and open the door — no, such a task was below the great king. So, it naturally fell to you. "Let me see who it is."

You made your way to the front door, making sure the little tiara on your head hadn't moved from its original position before opening the door. Your gloved hand rested on the door knob as you found the Diasomnia quartet standing on your door step.

Lilia, who was dressed like a vampire, flashed you a smile that showed off his pearly white fangs. "Good evening, (Y/n)—" he chirped, but stopped himself once he realised as what you had dressed up in. He had to hold back a chortle as he gazed you up and down. "Oh my, are you a princess?"

"A princess?" Malleus repeated, your costume somehow having managed to catch his attention. His pupils dilated into slits, and he suddenly felt something draconic awaken inside of him. A princess — perfect for kidnapping. Wait, what was he thinking? No, he couldn't do that. Malleus was snapped out of his thoughts when you stepped aside and allowed them entry to your humble abode.

"Indeed, gentlemen, I am Princess (Y/n) of Ramshackle!" you announced, doing a little curtsy that served well to entertain the three Diasomnia students. Upon straightening your back, you waved them inside. "Do come in. Do come in. I hope you'll enjoy the party."

You snickered as they walked past you — well, Silver wasn't with them since he had fallen asleep while getting into his costume. Sebek, who was dressed up as a real knight in shining armour, shot you small smile to thank you for the invitation. He immediately made a bee-line to the buffet table to get a drink for his young master, who very much fittingly, was dressed like a dragon.

You felt Malleus' stare lingering on your frame as you gently shut the door again. Before you could run off to scold Grim for not being a good host, Malleus had already grabbed you by your wrist. "You look— marvellous, dear," he drawled as he raised your gloved hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Like a true princess..."

Laughter spilt from your lips as you wholly turned around to face him properly, suddenly forgetting about how Lilia and Grim were having a sword-fight by the fireplace. "Thank you! Vil made the dress for me, and I love it!" you swooned, turning your torso so your puffy dress would dance around your ankles. The motion very much managed to entrance Malleus, and a mischievous grin appeared on his lips. "You look good yourself, Sir Dragon!"

Malleus laughed as you curiously peered around him to get a glimpse of the tail you had spotted earlier. It seemed to have a life of its own as it curled around your waist and pulled you closer to him, evoking a little gasp from your lips.

"I thank you, my precious princess." Malleus smiled, his eyes flashing in an eerie way; yet, his voice was so sickeningly sweet that it did a good job at hiding his intentions as he asked, "Say, could I kidnap you for a little while?"

"Kidnap?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side and causing your tiara to almost slip off. Malleus hummed in amusement as he let go of your hand, and extended his own hands to fix the tiara on your head. "You mean, if you could speak with me privately for a second?"

Malleus' smile grew to a size bigger than his face, and the aura he exuded turned almost cold to a point where you shivered slightly. "Yeah sure, that's what I meant," he muttered and shrugged innocently.

"Yes of course," you retorted, briefly turning around to find Lilia standing atop Grim, the heel of his boots digging into the latter's squishy stomach. Laughing and shaking your head in amusement, you returned your attention to Malleus. "I'm sure King Grim will manage just fine without me if it's just for a short while."

Malleus hummed in satisfaction, and his tail retreated back to its original position. Instead, he offered his forearm out for you to take, and you took it gratefully. He led you straight out of the front door, excited that you were coming on your own accord. "Great!" he chirped happily. "I have a fancy tower to show you."

After approximately half an hour, Ramshackle started to get fuller with guests of various dorms. Grim, being small as he was, had a hard time getting through the crowd that inhabited the lounge. He was searching for you, but no matter where he looked, he just couldn't find you. The cat was both irked and concerned at that — he just hoped you were alright.

Eventually, the cat found the first-year gang standing by the non-functioning chimney. All five of them had dressed up as knights in silver armour, even with helmets on their heads and swords at their hips — an entourage of courageous knights.

"My loyal knights," Grim yelled as he leant against Ace's leg, a little bit tired from having been pushed around by the crowd so much. They all shot him surprised looks, wondering why he looked so concerned. "Have you seen my princess daughter?"

"You mean (Y/n)?" Deuce asked, tilting his head to the side and causing the lid of his helmet to fall down with a loud clink. Everyone laughed at him, and he grumbled a few curses before turning to the king again. "No, none of us have seen her."

Sebek stroked his chin, his eyebrows furrowed like he was deep in thought. Jack, Epel, Ace, Deuce, and Grim all shot him expectant gazes, hoping he at least had a clue of where you were. Eventually, he hummed, giving in under the pressure, and hesitantly explained, "Last I saw her was when the young master led her out through the front door."

"Wait, wasn't Malleus dressed up as a dragon?" Jack asked, his ears twitching in curiosity — he was the only one who didn't wear a helmet due to his ears that would otherwise be squished against his head. Something akin to horror occupied his eyes, and the others felt a little bit unsettled by the worried look on his face.

"Yes, he was," Epel said with furrowed eyebrows. "Why are you asking?"

Deuce let out a little hum, understanding what Jack was thinking. "If— If he's a dragon and (Y/n) is a princess," he explained in a grave voice, remembering all the bedtime stories his mother used to read him when he was just a child. A worried look flashed across his eyes, and he crossed his arms. "Then Malleus might have kidnapped her! You know, dragon things; because dragons like to kidnap princesses."

"Yeah, we're not stupid." Ace rolled his eyes and punched Deuce's shoulder. Yet, his merely gloved knuckles hit the metal of the blue-haired student's arm guard, causing him to howl in utter pain as he cradled his hurt hand. The rest of the friend group snickered, but Grim looked concerned to death. It wasn't often that he showed any gratitude to his henchman, but he loved you dearly.

Grim threw his hands into the air, biting back cries of concern for his beloved human. The others shot him looks of pity that he returned with a fierce and determined glare. "A dragon having kidnapped my daughter?!" he hissed, slamming the end of his cane against the ground and startling everyone. "Unbelievable! Knights, retrieve her at once!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" they all replied simultaneously, saluting to their king.

Ace peered at Sebek. "You know where she is, right?"

Sebek's eyes widened in horror at the question. He couldn't betray his master, but neither could he lie to his friends. "Uh—" he stuttered out, his words never coherent and loud enough for anyone to understand.

Deuce's eyes darkened as he took a condescending step towards Sebek. "We'll just have to get it out of him, somehow—" Deuce said when Sebek stubbornly shook his head, having made up his mind to — under no circumstances — betray his young master.

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "I don't like threatening people— but we need to help (Y/n)." The wolf narrowed his eyes at Sebek as he quietly muttered, "If you don't tell us where (Y/n) is, I'll tell your young master about that one time you didn't join training because you were too lazy—"

"No! The young master can't know that I skipped training!" Sebek's eyes were wide in horror, and his legs began to shake — much to everyone's twisted amusement. He clasped his hands together while lowering his gaze to the floor in shame. Taking a deep breath, Sebek finally gave in and meekly announced, "I know where the young master might have brought her, if it's true that dragons like to hoard their treasures and kidnapped princesses in a tower."

"Lead," Epel yelled loudly, "us forth, fellow knight!"

"All knights have a horse," Deuce said while his gaze wandered across the other students dressed in armour. "Who's gonna be the horse?"

"Jack! Because he's the strongest!" Ace chimed as he shot around to look at the wolf with puppy eyes he hoped would make him look more convincing. He clasped his hands together and bowed as much as his chest plate would let him. "Jack, would you be so kind and turn into a wolf for us?"

Jack would have ripped Ace's head off right then and there for such a silly suggestion, but they all had a princess to save. So, pushing aside the annoyance that bubbled up whenever Ace asked him for something, the wolf sighed and complied. "Only because we need to save Princess (Y/n)."

The first-years bid a farewell to Grim before they marched towards the front door, weaving their way through the ever-growing crowd of partying students. They were pushed around here and there — especially Epel because of his height and fragility — but they eventually managed to make it to the exit... almost.

A Diasomnia student dressed up as a vampire barred their way, his arms sprawled away from his body. "Hello, children!" Lilia chimed, a big smile on his face. "Where are you going already?"

The knights shot one another a strange look before Ace turned to Lilia and said, "We're looking for Princess (Y/n), Lilia. Have you seen her?"

The ancient fae's grin grew to something scary, and a sudden gust of wind blew through the corridor that made everyone shiver uncomfortably. Then, Lilia stalked towards them, evil laughter spilling from his lips. "Muahaha, your princess is in another castle!" he exclaimed loudly, causing the others to shrink in surprise. It wasn't like he was scary — especially with his over-the-top villain behaviour — but Epel still clung to Jack like a scared baby-koala. "But before I let you continue your way to save her, I must battle you foes first!"

Sebek rolled his eyes at his fellow dorm member's behaviour and merely walked past him, waving his other friends after him. "Alright... bye, Lilia," Sebek said casually whilst he opened the front door for everyone to leave. Sebek just wanted to get this shameful act of saving you behind him. Although surprised, everyone dashed out through the door their friend had so graciously opened for them; before Sebek himself left too, he sent a little sigh to Lilia. "See you later. And don't have too much fun."

Lilia stormed out after them, but they had already disappeared, riding off into the horizon on a big wolf. "Hey, where are you going?!" Lilia yelled, disappointed that he hadn't been able to put the wooden sword on his belt to good use. "We haven't fought yet!"

Meanwhile, Malleus had brought you into a high tower at the Diasomnia dorm after a short nice walk outside. You let your eyes gaze around the interior of the tower while Malleus seemed to be busy with casting a spell you couldn't really decipher — something with 'thorns' and 'barrier'.

"That's a nice tower you have here, Malleus!" you chimed, a smile on your face as you walked around the rather small space. You approached the table placed in the centre; it was filled with sweets of all sorts, a kettle of tea and two tea cups. "And woah, you prepared tea for us?"

Malleus stopped his spell-casting, and the tower shook for a little while until everything calmed down again. Before you could ask what that was, he swept over to you and shot you a charming smile. "Of course, everything to make your stay here as comfortable as possible," he cooed and led you over to one of the two chairs at the table.

You followed him, albeit only hesitantly. "I'm afraid I can't stay for too long..." you said, a worried frown on your face. Yet, Malleus managed to coax you into sitting down by gently pushing down onto your shoulders until your behind hit the soft cushions. Still not assured that all was fine back at Ramshackle, you sighed in concern as he sat down across from you. "Grim needs me at the party."

Leaning forward to put his elbows onto the table, Malleus shook his head in feigned sadness. "Sadly, I can't let you go, dearest princess," he murmured, slowly tilting his head to the side while he let a smug smile bloom on his face. "You've been kidnapped just now."

You silently looked at him for while with a dumbfounded expression on your face, not understanding what he meant at all. Your confusion simply caused his amusement to grow even more; he basked in the way you furrowed your eyebrows at him so adorably — like a helpless little doe. That's when you shot up from your chair, an enraged scowl on your face upon finally understanding what he meant. "So you meant it literally when you asked to kidnap me?!" you screamed whilst glaring down at him with squinted eyes.

"And you said yes," Malleus casually remarked, hiding the big grin on his face as he lowered his gaze at the table to pick up the tea kettle. You watched him with disbelief-filled eyes while he silently filled your cup with tea. Finally, he looked up at you, grinning from ear to ear. "So, do you want one or two cubes of sugar, my princess?"

"Malleus! Let me go!" you hissed, stomping your way over to him so you could grab him by his shoulders. He let you shake him back and forth, simply smiling up at you innocently. "You evil evil dragon."

Malleus laughed like nothing was wrong as he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into an embrace, so that you sat sprawled out across his lap. "You flatterer~" he cooed as he snaked his arms around your mid-section to keep you in place despite your thrashing and protests. "Now, just sit still and drink your tea, dearest." As if you were a doll, he grabbed your abandoned cup of tea and pushed the edge of the porcelain against your lips.

You refused to open your mouth to take a sip, and merely jerked your head back. "But— you can't just keep me here!" You put your hands onto his chest to push him away, but you made the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes that stared at you like those of an adorable puppy. You had a hard time not swooning at how cute he was, and so, you eventually relented with a frown. "Fine. I hate your puppy eyes."

You turned your head to the side so he wouldn't see your cheeks redden in colour. He merely chuckled, elated that his simple plan had worked.

He set the cup of tea down before that now free hand cupped your cheek and tilted your face back towards him. "You're adorable when you're angry, dear," he drawled happily; you swore you could hear his tail wagging and dragging across the stone ground behind him. Then, he once again picked up the tea cup, about to raise it to your lips again — but then he noticed the liquid's lack of warmth. "Ah, I'm afraid the tea has already gone cold... but it doesn't matter. Let me rewarm it for you."

Malleus sighed in disappointment, but he knew just the solution to warm the tea up again. Turning his head to the side, so that you wouldn't be harmed, he raised the cup into the air and opened his mouth to breathe a blast of fire that was aimed at the porcelain cup. It was only the bottom of the cup that was engulfed by the green fire.

Your eyes widened in utter awe, and you brought up your hands to shield your face from the sudden warmth. "Woah! That's so cool!" you marvelled, breathing out audibly.

Malleus merely laughed as he stopped once the liquid inside started steaming slightly. The handle was still slightly heated, and the bottom was scaldingly hot, so he decided not to hand it to you, lest you injure yourself. "Don't burn yourself," he whispered as he brought the only slightly warm rim of the cup to your lips again, and this time, you opened your mouth compliantly to take a careful sip.

The sweet tea was at a comfortable temperature, warm enough to make a fuzzy feeling appear in your stomach but not hot enough to burn your throat and mouth. After a few sips, Malleus removed the cup from your lips and set it onto the table again. You shot him an amused smile, muttering a shy, "Thanks."

Malleus nodded with a smile on his own face, having the time of his life. Your face was so close to his own, and the moonlight cast an almost ethereal glow to your skin. Having lost himself in the moment, he dreamily proposed, "So, how about you stay in this tower even after Halloween is over?" He stayed serious even when you quirked an eyebrow to test if he was joking — that didn't seem to be the case. "I'm sure we could arrange—"

Your sudden laughter was what caught him off-guard and even managed to make him stop in his tracks. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you cooed, "Malleus, my dear and precious dragon, I absolutely adore spending time with you." Then, you took a deep breath and shook your head. "But I'm sure my friends are already on their way to rescue me from this evil dragon who kidnapped me."

Malleus grinned at your words, and he fearlessly brought his face closer to yours. You retreated slightly, not having expected such a reaction from him. "They can try to get past the thorns on the door to this tower." His grin adopted a determined and a slightly unhinged look as he condescendingly continued, "But it will be no easy feat, for I'm not going to give up my treasure so easily—"

In that exact moment, the wooden door to the tower room was flung open, and Malleus almost jumped in shock as his head turned to the entrance of the tower. A total of five knights streamed inside, making a smile break out on your face; your friends had come to save you.

"Are we interrupting something?" Ace asked, a big grin on his face. "A tea party?"

Deuce didn't seem nearly as amused as Ace, and he merely yelled, "Let her go, you cruel dragon!"

Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, not wanting to deal with such nuisances right now. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he lifted you up before gently setting you down onto the chair he had been sitting in. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he then turned to the intruders, his gaze suddenly not so soft anymore. "How did you get up here so quickly?"

A rare smile appeared on Jack's face as he pointed to the very nervous green-haired student next to him. "Sebek knew where the backdoor was — or better said, hatch."

Malleus looked a little bit betrayed as he turned his head to look at his very own retainer, whom he had expected to be on his side. Sebek squirmed a little bit under his young master's angry glare, and he felt shame boil in his veins. "They blackmailed me!" he cried out as he wanted nothing more than to hide under his blanket for eternity.

Jack patted the boy's head, quietly apologising that he had been so mean. Sebek didn't feel better when the wolf muttered, "I'm sorry, but it was the only way to save the helpless young maiden."

"What?!" You shot up from your chair with an angry scowl on your face. Putting your hands onto your hips, you screeched, "I'm not a 'helpless young maiden'."

Malleus raised a hand to silence you, and it strangely worked — your mouth automatically stopped speaking. "Don't worry, my princess," he murmured as he rolled his shoulders to prepare himself for a fight. "Let me defeat these weaklings so we can return to our tea party—"

He was interrupted by Epel, who had stepped forward and, without hesitation or fear whatsoever, extended a hand to slap Malleus across the face. Silence occupied the tower after the surprising sound of a hand making contact with a cheek. "Give (Y/n) back to us!" the Pomefiore student screeched, very much comparable to a barking Chihuahua, as everyone remained frozen, shocked that he had dared to slap the great Malleus Draconia.

Even Malleus seemed surprised and taken aback as he held his red cheek in pain. The little fragile boy was stronger than he thought he was. "You slapped me—" the great dragon mumbled, his voice full with disbelief and his eyes ripped wide open.

"Woah, Epel!" Deuce whispered, trying to hold back a smile. "I'm kinda proud of you..."

Ace didn't try to be as subtle, and immediately broke out into cheering when Malleus retreated to the table and lowered himself into a chair, still caught in utter disbelief. Ace, snickering, proudly proclaimed, "And thus, the dragon has been defeated by this courageous entourage of knights, and the princess has been saved from his evil clutches!"

You smiled at them, sending them a grateful nod. "Thanks, guys." Then, you shooed them out of the tower, not making any moves to leave this prison yourself. "Go on ahead and return to the party. I'll come later."

They all nodded in unison, too caught up in their victory to really care that you wanted to stay behind. In truth, it seemed like defeating the evil dragon was more exciting and important than saving the princess. "Fine, see you, (Y/n)!" Epel yelled as he was carried out by his fellow friends as a celebration of him defeating the monster. Sebek trudged behind them, his head hung in shame.

Once their cheering had died down to ensure you that they were gone, you turned to the dragon fae that sat alone at the table, a little frown on his face as he still clutched his cheek in pain.

You walked over to him, and, in an unexpected turn of events, wrapped your arms around him to engulf him in a sweet hug. Malleus seemed slightly taken aback as he slightly jumped when he felt your arms snake around his shoulders and your chin land on his shoulder. "Aw, my poor Malleus has been slapped..." you cooed in amusement while your thumbs rubbed circles of comfort onto his arm.

Malleus wasn't sure if it was the little boy's slap that hurt him, or if it was the notion itself of being slapped. He held back a sniff as he whispered, "It hurts, (Y/n)."

You temporarily pulled away from him to gently cup his one cheek with your other hand. "Ah, hush... don't think about it," you muttered before you leant forward to press a kiss to where Epel had slapped him. "There, is the pain gone now?" Malleus watched you wide eyes when you retreated once again, his fingers ghosting over the place where you kissed him.

"Yes... thank you..." he stuttered out, a smile spreading on his lips. "I'm sorry for kidnapping you."

You began laughing, shaking your head in amusement. "No no, it's alright." You appreciated his apology — at least he was polite enough to do so. Playfully wagging your finger in front of his eyes, you teased, "Just be so kind to kidnap me when I'm not busy next time, alright? So, how about we return to the party?"

Malleus' eyes widened in surprise at your proposition. "You still want me at your party?" he asked, his gaze downcast in embarrassment and shame at his actions.

"Of course!" You grabbed him by his hands and tried your best to pull him up with you. Malleus chuckled slightly, and then he finally relented, letting himself be pulled up to his feet. You hummed in satisfaction as you led him out of your tower, happily exclaiming, "Who else am I supposed to dance with if my favourite dragon isn't present?"

[tallbluelady]

Slow dancing! Slow dancing! \(*^o^*)/

Soooo this ended up being about Aymeric, and also 2.8k XD. Takes place right after the Falcon's Rest portion. Enjoy!

"And you're sure you're still up for the ball later this week? You were poisoned," Aymeric asked.

"I think I can manage a ball after a sleeping draught, Aymeric," Rowan said. "Besides that, if we act as though we're afraid of every single act of opposition, then Ishgard will be bullied into a much poorer state than it started in."

"I just know how draining social engagements can be on you, especially after..." he trailed off when he saw her expression change. He shook his head. "I'll pick you up at the Fortemps manor at the agreed time, then."

*   *   *   *

Rowan couldn't get how concerned Aymeric was for her out of her head. Yes, social engagements were draining for her. They had been since she was old enough to attend them in any real capacity. But she was always able to shoulder that burden. She'd need to retire and recharge and reclaim herself, sure, but she could do it.

So why did it bother her that Aymeric wanted to shield her from that burden?

It was enough that she actually called her mother about it.

"You were never one to back down from a challenge, darling," Mama said when she reached the surface. "Even when it was at a great cost to yourself. You've been that way since you were young. Since you regained your ability to speak, honestly."

Rowan couldn't find any words to dispute that. That... sounded like her.

"It worried me to see you go into those hard things you felt obligated to do, whether or not you actually were obligated to do them," Mama continued. "But your Papa always saw the determination in your eyes. The way he saw it, twas always best to bolster you in the things you chose to do than to fret over how hard it would be on you. Obviously, he stopped you when he felt there was true danger..."

"And most of the time he'd offer aught else for me to do," Rowan said. "Like teaching me how to use a lance if he didn't want me in the Lancer's guild."

"Exactly. Just remember that not everyone can treat you like your Papa did. There are many ways to love, darling," Mama said. "Don't chase off Aymeric because of it."

Rowan sighed. "I'll try not to, Mama."

*   *   *   *

Despite moving the majority of her things back to the Rising Stones, there were a few odds and ends she kept in the Fortemps Manor. Well, it was just all of her formal wear. She hadn't worn anything that would pass as formal since she had her growth spurt. Not until she became a ward of House Fortemps. She had even forgone wearing a gown to the ill-fated banquet in Ul'dah, going for her most formal polished armor instead. Which actually served her well, thinking back on it.

Rowan looked between her gown that she bought with Haucherfant, and the suits she had made for other formal events she had to attend. She remembered the warnings that Lord Edmont had given her - that she was sending a message and possibly alienating herself more if she didn't conform to tradition. She would always have his support, of course, and he even hired the tailor to get them cut to her measurements.

But she wasn't attending this particular ball for her sake. She likely wouldn't ever attend a ball for her own sake if she was being honest... Rowan was going to support Aymeric and Ishgard's future. And sometimes, that meant conforming to tradition. She called for the maidservant to help get into the gown properly.

She decided it was all worth it when a genuine smile broke out on Aymeric's face. She smiled and gave a curtsy before taking his arm.

"I do hope I get to express the dragon's share of compliments tonight," he said. "Because you look ravishing in that dress tonight."

"Ha. Most of House Fortemps have seen me in this dress, so they know to scoop their jaws off the floor. And I suspect that the other houses are trying to court your favor more than mine tonight," Rowan said.

"They might find that courting your favor would have a better effect."

Rowan gave a groan at that. Aymeric patted her hand.

"I can easily whisk you away at your first sign of distress, Rowan. Just say the word and we'll rush to the dance floor."

She sighed, trying to order her conflicted thoughts on that. She gave into the idea of him comforting her. "Promise?"

"Upon my office in the House of Lords."

*   *   *   *

Talking to the various lords and ladies at the ball was about as terrible as Rowan had expected it. That is to say, she was able to keep her foot out of her mouth but it was exhausting to do so. Aymeric would usually catch on to her fading fairly quickly and deftly move the conversation so they could conclude and move on. Or, at the very least, give her hand a squeeze as various lords droned on about this land claim or that order of knights.

Eventually the musicians started to warm up their instruments and actual dancing was to begin in earnest.

"Ready to open the dance floor for everyone?" Aymeric asked as he lead Rowan to said dance floor.

She sighed. "Right. You're head of the House of Lords; you get that - ah - 'privilege'."

"Mayhap one day you'll see it as one," Aymeric said, lifting her arm into position.

Rowan caught her breath as if to reply, but found that she didn't have one at the ready. Before she could say aught, Aymeric nodded to the maestro and started to lead her in the waltz. It was at a steady tempo and she found herself enjoying the smooth movements of the dance. Down, up, up. Down, up, up. Aymeric lead her around in large circles across the entirety of the floor. He held his proper tension and Rowan could always feel his intention without him ever saying aught of it aloud. 

It was about all she could ask for in a partner. A dance partner, that is. Well - Rowan felt a genuine smile come across her face as Aymeric spun her - she had to admit that there was a lot of overlap between a welcome dance partner and a welcome romantic partner.

Aymeric finished the waltz with a dip and the look in his eyes made Rowan's heart flutter. There was applause - hopefully more for the band's expert playing - and other couples started to fill the dance floor.

"I think we may be afforded one more dance together before others can cut in," Aymeric said.

"Gods, I sure hope so," Rowan said.

If Rowan wasn't as persistently aware of all around her at all times she would have said this second dance was just as special and intimate as the first. Alas, the crowd with their sounds and heat and presence rubbed at her patience. Still, having Aymeric as her partner made it all worthwhile.

He was right, of course, about having only one dance before others felt it was appropriate to ask for their time. At least it was Artoriel who asked first, and not some one trying to curry favor with the Prime Minister of the House of Lords or the Warrior of Light.

"Does it get easier to attend balls as you go to more of them?" she asked as Aymeric whisked away a forward thinking lady.

"Some of the politics are easier to navigate if you get familiar with them," Artoriel mused. "Of course, if you get more familiar with the politics you also get more involved with them and lines get drawn then."

Rowan sighed. "No neutral parties in Ishgardian politics then?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Artoriel said. "Aymeric is one of the better men in all of Ishgard, so I wouldn't fear about getting on the wrong side of politics by being with him."

Rowan was caught trying to make a reply to her dance partner again that night. She could only sigh and shake her head as she was given an emphatic push to be spun.

Overall, it wasn't a bad experience. Aymeric would always come to rescue her after a few too many strangers wanted her attention and they would dance at least one dance together before he parted with her again. She wished she could be left in a corner and read for a while, but being Aymeric's date for the night placed a target on her. If she sat, she'd have to lend her ear to a number of people. And if she wanted to dance, she'd only get a few turns with someone familiar before a stranger decided it was all well and good to have their first conversation be one where they were literally holding her close.

Rowan had to bite her tongue as an older gentleman came and took a chair next to her. She was tired enough that she needed to rest her feet from dancing, but the timber of his voice grated against her ears that she considered finding Artoriel for another dance to escape it. The man didn't have very long to ramble before Aymeric strode up and took her hand.

"Weren't you dancing with someone else just now?" Rowan asked after Aymeric quickly dismissed the man.

"I was. But I glanced over to where you were and saw how miserable you looked. Laniaitte insisted I come save you when she saw," he said. "We should get you back to the Fortemps Manor."

"Oh, no, it's not that bad. I just need to be left alone for a while, that's all."

"I insist. You were poisoned earlier this week, after all." Aymeric's eyes gave Rowan a look she couldn't refuse.

Rowan sighed. "At least let me apologize to the host. Else my mother would never let me hear the end of it."

Their host was gracious and gave the two of them well wishes as they snuck through the back door, surprising a number of servants. Aymeric gave them all a smile and thanked them for their service while Rowan tried her best to not appear cross at them.

Finally, they exited the estate and found themselves on a well light street. Even bundled in her coat, Rowan felt the instant relief of the bracing Ishgardian night.

"And now I regret not taking a carriage," Aymeric sighed. "Lucia will kill me herself if we get accosted by anyone in the streets."

"Ishgard has a working aethernet, doesn't it?" Rowan asked, a little bemused.

Aymeric pinched his nose. "Why, yes, of course it does. There's one right there, isn't there?"

They shared a small laugh together as they walked across the street to the closest shard. With a woosh and a whistle, they were at the Last Vigil, and only a few yalms away from the Fortemps' home. Aymeric was ready to take her to the door, but Rowan lead him to the small outdoor sitting area next to the manor.

"I'm not ready to say good night yet, Aymeric," Rowan said. 

He nodded and sat next to her. They sat in silence for a while, admiring the stars above the Holy See. It was nice to not have to speak, even if her speaking partner was someone she liked.

"We should get you inside before you catch a chill," Aymeric said after a few extra moments. "We can't have you getting ill."

She took his offered hand. "I suppose not. Thank you for sitting out with me."

"My pleasure. I needed the time to unwind myself. And you always have a calming presence. One I am ever grateful to be in."

Rowan hummed and looked away bashfully. If her cheeks weren't flushed from the night, they were now. She found the key in her skirt pocket and turned back to him.

"Despite my need to escape the ball early, I am glad that I was with you," Rowan said.

"I feel the same way. Mayhap when you are more hale we'll enjoy the next one together as well," Aymeric said.

Rowan gave a weary small nod to that. The thought of another ball at this moment was enough to make her feel ill.

"Ah, I shan't keep you out any longer. Good night."

"Good night."

Aymeric took her free hand and kissed it, a smile in his eyes. Rowan was definitely blushing then and struggled to keep her mouth closed until he turned and left. After fumbling with the key a few times, she finally got through the door. She locked it behind her and pressed up flat against it. She had to give a silent scream of sorts before she could peel herself off and go to her chambers.

Even after undressing, she found herself too wound up from the night and the kiss to even consider sleeping. She wandered into the kitchen to find Edmont with a mug of cocoa, chatting to one of the staff.

"Lord Edmont? Shouldn't you still be at the party?" Rowan asked.

"My leg started acting up and Artoriel bade me to return home before it got too bad," the former count said. "I felt it right to reward my responsible son by following his wishes. But I could ask the same of you. Shouldn't you and Aymeric still be at the ball?"

"Similar to you and your son, Aymeric saw fit to take me home before I faded entirely." She took a chair next to him, and thanked the maid who gave her a mug of the same drink.

"Tis a good sign for his fitness in leadership - being able to see the problems of the one without disrupting the needs or wishes of the rest," Edmont mused.

Rowan nodded, swirling her cocoa. "I just wish that I wasn't the one with the problems."

He gave her a sigh of exasperation. "None of us do, child. But problems can and do arise. Even with the strongest of all of us. Even in you."

She nodded and took another sip of cocoa. "I also don't want him to have to chose between me and Ishgard every time a need of mine arises."

"What do you mean by that?" Edmont asked. "Politicians have wives. Wives they take care of and cherish."

Rowan turned to watch a candle flame. "Ishgard needs him, Edmont. So many people at the ball vied for his attention. Some where just sycophants as far as I could tell, but there were others who really needed to express to him their problems and issues. And... I would get tired of listening to them both. You can't tell them apart until you listen to them, so you have to listen to them all."

Edmont leaned back in his chair and Rowan could feel him plan his next words carefully. "Are you certain you cannot learn to tolerate it? Even for Aymeric's sake?"

Rowan sighed. "I couldn't ever learn to tolerate it for my mother's sake. And the parties she had me attend as a youth were smaller and far less noisy."

"He could, of course, retire from politics once Ishgard is stable," he said. "And you two would be free to live an adventurer's life together."

"I... I don't know if I want him to. Part of why I admire him is his dedication to this place."

Edmont's brow furrowed in thought. "You two haven't made anything official, as I can recall. A gentleman may take a lady to a ball or two without declaring any sort of intentions with her past friendship."

Rowan nodded, keeping Aymeric's kiss on her hand to herself for the moment.

"And while I am fond of the idea of you two being together, I am more fond of the idea of the two of you being happy," he said. "It may serve the two of you to avoid courting any farther than this."

The words stung Rowan like a vilekin's bite. She just stared into the light brown of her drink as her tired mind tried to pull itself together.

Edmont sighed. "You shouldn't make any decision right now, tired as you are. Believe you me, it's brought me more troubles than not to make a decision before the morrow. But pray give it some thought. I don't want you resenting Aymeric for doing what he loves, for doing what  you admire him for doing."

"Thank you," Rowan said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Pray get some rest if you can. I'll be here in the morning, and if you have choice words for me then, I'll be more than willing to hear them."

She nodded again and took her mug of cocoa to her room. She was so tired, but her mind was buzzing. Aymeric had intent with that kiss, as chaste as a kiss on the hand is. But she didn't know if she had it in her to attend more balls.

But she didn't know if she had it in her to refuse him, either.

[letsasoiaftogether]

Targaryen #12

Word Count: 2,063

Warning: Just Aegon IV being a little creepy shit for the first 1000 words or so

A/N: I didn’t really care to write for Aegon IV once i got like half way through, so I hope you all don’t mind that he’s only present for just over half of this and then he’s just talked about for the second half! I hope you all enjoy it otherwise!

When you were first told, you thought it was a joke. How in the known world could your Father and Uncles agree to such a thing? They knew who the King was; they had been at court and watched the corrupt way he ran it. How could they agree to give you to the man? What could they hope to gain from it?

You had never been to court until that secret agreement between your relations and King Aegon IV. Your mother had refused to let you anywhere near King’s Landing, and you were so very grateful for that. Still, even with you not being at court, you knew how bad things had gotten since the death of King Viserys - you had been only a girl when he passed, but it was easy to see the differences in his reign and that of his eldest son’s. 

Your parents argued for a moon before you finally agreed, tears streaming down your face as you finally got fed up with the two of them constantly screaming at each other - your father hit your mother and that was the final straw. It was also when you realized how badly your father hadn’t wanted to go along with it; you had seen the fear on his face and heard it in his tone in the urgency he spoke to your mother in.

“The King does not take no for an answer. He will have what he wants when he wants it.” Your Father had whispered after you finally, tearfully, agreed to go to court.

You didn’t want to know how the King found out about you. Perhaps one of your uncles had described you to him. You didn't want to imagine your father had been the one to have broached the topic of you. Sure, he was often neglectful toward you, but that didn't mean he had gone and told the King about you - he seemed far too scared about sending you and saying no to Aegon to have willingly told the King all about you.

You were taken to the capital a month later dressed in reds and blacks of House Targaryen instead of the colors of your Father’s house as you would have preferred. Your uncles met your father and you in the courtyard and showed the two of you to the throne room. 

The castle was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, but it was packed full of people who just looked shifty from the get go. It made your skin crawl and you stood just a little closer to your Father. 

The throne room was expansive, the dragon skulls handing on the walls had your eyes widening and your mouth dropping open in awe. You had heard of it, of course, but you never thought you would see it for yourself.

This whole thing is awful, but at least the place is nice to look at . You thought dryly with a small eye roll.

“Y/L/N,” the King shouted as your party neared the throne, and you felt your father tense beside you “Hahaha! Look at her! What a beauty!”

You clenched your hands into fists at your side.

If the King had been attractive, it would have been easier to bear the fact you had been practically sold to him. But he wasn’t and it had nothing to do with how heavy he weighed. 

His personality was awful, his level of corruptness and the level to his whoring knew no bounds.

“Your Grace,” You curtsied as soon as your father did, dropping your gaze to the floor

Breathe, just breathe. One, two, three...out...one, two, three...in…

It was taking everything you had not to run for the door. The only reason you were going along with this stupid ordeal was to make sure nothing happened to your mother or younger siblings.

Your name was spoken, softly, and you clenched your jaw, lifting your head slowly to look up at the King who had stood from the throne and was now staring at you with a greedy look in his eyes.

“Such a fucking beauty, isnt she?” Aegon chuckled, reaching out to grab your chin

It took everything you had not to slap his hand away. That definitely wouldn’t have gone over very well.

“She’s young...curvy...and this color looks delicious on her.”

Your stomach rolled and you didn’t even stop the look of disgust from tugging onto your lips as you took a step backwards, toward your father. 

The King’s gaze narrowed and your father’s elder brother hissed your name.

“This is madness! Are you out of your mind? Why the hell would I want anything to do with this..this old, gluttonous King?” you cried out as your uncle grabbed your arm, tightly, and pushed you forward, onto your knees. “Let me go! I want nothing to do with this!”

You knew the punch was coming before the pain ripped through your cheek. 

“You insolent, ungrateful little bitch.” your uncle hissed, leaning down to scream in your face, “Do you realize what this could mean for you? What it could mean for the family? How dare you speak in such a way in front of our great and noble King?!”

You laughed and pushed him away, “What does this mean for me? What is that uncle? A bastard in my belly and no good prospects of marriage afterwards? Who would want the leftovers of a King?”

“Your Grace...she...she’s just a little hysterical. It’s just been a great surprise for her! To be...to be given such an opportunity as this one.” Your father was trying to remain on the King’s good side as your uncle tried to reason with you. 

You never thought your father truly weak until that moment. You shouldn’t have been surprised. He had always played second fiddle to those bigger and better; it had made him useless. 

Your gaze locked on the King’s and the two of you stood glaring at each other.

This wasn't going to end well for you, you knew that going into it. You were only a girl. You held no armies or knights who were loyal to you and only you. And besides he was the King. Even the most loyal could bulk at the wrath of the royal family should the King even suspect an insult.

The King went to say something, probably to sentence you to death, when a deep but gentle voice sounded from the balcony to the left, soft foot falls and the clank of armor drawing your attention and the attentions of the others in the room. 

“Your Highness,” people whispered, bowing out of respect as the Crowned Prince of Westeros, Daeron, moved forward.

It had been Prince Daeron who had asked what was going on and it was the Prince who moved to help you to your feet a handkerchief was pulled from his sleeve and pressed gently to your split lip. 

“Have her taken to my wife, Princess Myriah will see to her injury.” the Prince ordered the knights who had arrived with him. 

You smiled up at him grateful for his assistance and didn’t argue as you were escorted from the hall. The knights with you weren’t of the Kingsguard; they were dressed in various colors and some weren’t even dressed in armor. Their clothing showed sigils from various Westerosi houses; quite a few belonged to those of Dorne. 

“Oh dear,” the Dornish Princess and wife to Prince Daeron gasped some time later when you were allowed into her apartments. Myriah quickly dismissed her handmaidens and waved you over. “The rumors were true then. Daeron and I had feared this.”

You were speechless, still trying to grasp the suddenness of being ripped away from the King, your father, and your uncles and being shoved into the hands of the beautiful Dornish Princess who would one day be Queen.

Princess Myriah looked just as most Dornish did; dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes with a mischievous glint to her eye that was strikingly beautiful against the gentleness that was also shown. 

“You...you knew the King was...was importing his new whores?” you snapped, tears of anger prickling in the corner of your eyes as you looked down at your lap

The Princess tsked at your use of the word whore but otherwise said nothing to dissuade you from talking. “It has been some time since the lords and knights have brought their daughters to court; those that are here have already been had by the King or have already been over looked as to...not be pretty enough. Your Uncle is on his Small Council and has always been a stark supporter of Aegon’s. Word began to circle weeks ago that you were being brought to court. Daeron and I knew what that meant immediately.”

“I wont let him bed me!” you cried, grabbing the Princess’ arms, “Please, please help me.”

“What do you think we’re doing?” a soft voice came from behind you and you turned, blushing as you realized the Prince was witnessing you in such a vulnerable state. Moving further into the room, Daeron placed a loving kiss to his wife’s head and then turned to give you a small smile. “I have claimed you as a handmaiden for Princess Myriah and you will travel to Dragonstone with her in the morning. You will be under my control and out of my father’s grasp.”

It all...sounded too good to be true. And for a moment you wanted to laugh at them.

Daeron was only the crowned prince. He had power but it wasn’t limitless. And Princess Myriah even less so; King Aegon hated Dorne and you doubted he made court pleasant for his daughter in law. 

Despite how much you wanted to laugh in their faces, you just nodded in agreement. They both looked confident in the plan, and it wasn’t like you had any other option. 

“But...what if the King tries to summon me from Dragonstone?” you questioned, softly, some time later after you had been given some time to process the whirlwind that was the last hour or so of your life.

“What do you know about my father and his...appetite?” Daeron questioned as he bounced his and the Princess’ fourth son, Maekor - who was only two - on his knee.

You shook your head with a sigh, “I know its extensive. That he’s had a reputation since he was barely a teenager. He takes whomever he wants. And that he has...quite a few bastards.”

“More often than not, once a Lady of his interest is out of his sight, he loses interest in them. The hope is that he will do the same for you.” Daeron explained, a troubled look appearing on his face “If that does not work...I will have you sent to Dorne. It’s the one place I can absolutely guarantee you would be safe.”

“I have been planning a trip to see my family.” Princess Myriah smiled, retaking her seat beside you with four year old Rhaegel in her arms. “Y/n,” she whispered, taking your hand “Please do not worry. We will keep you safe and away from His Grace. We...we cannot protect everyone, it’s true, but we will protect you and your honor.”

You looked at her, blushing slightly at the warmth of her touch, before throwing a look at the Crowned Prince. You wanted to believe them; to believe that once you went to Dragonstone you would be safe. But you also worried for your mother and siblings. What if your decision harmed them? What if the King called your sister to court instead?

You were caught between being selfish and saving yourself, or being selfless and giving yourself over to the King to protect what could be for your family.

“Y/n,” Prince Daeron whispered, drawing your attention back to him “It’s alright. Everything will be alright.”

You forced a smile, “Of course, Your Highness. Thank you.”

You would go to Dragonstone and serve the future Queen of Westeros, and whatever happened to your family in your absence was out of your control. 

They didn't look out for me. Why should I look out for them?

You wanted to believe the petty thoughts, but your heart still hurt for them. 

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 10

Here's a chapter that was exceedingly fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :D

@legolasbadass I have officially tagged you in something, now, go back to writing 😂

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, the rest, special mention for Dwalin being a cutie

Words: 5,5 k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood, reference to bodily harm, reference to God, ALSO: I am a drama queen *shrug*

“I think you are being unreasonable.” Faith shook her head at him. “Who? Uncle?” Kíli sauntered up to them, bowing crisply to her and adding: “I came to check on you, but I see our own dragon is guarding you jealously.”

“Get dressed, woman, if that one is here, the others are not far behind.” Thorin grumbled and blocked the view of his much too curious nephew while Faith was huddled in the corner of her room, slipping into her chemise and an old rough spun dress she had found in the pile of clothes that were left to her.

Faith had to admit that Thorin might have been right when other dwarrows presented themselves as well in front of her door, “to check on her” as if she was as sickly kitten. “Dori sends me with tea.” Ori mumbled, holding a literal pot of tea in his gloved hands.

“That is ever so kind.” Faith smiled, pouring the rest of her wine back into the carafe and extending the mug to the sweet dwarrow hovering just outside her door. Apparently, there was indeed something unseemly about crossing the threshold of an unmarried woman as an unmarried man. She wondered if that would have been the same if the townspeople of her home had lived. As it was, she would never know, but there was something quite touching in the pile-up of dwarrows outside her room.

“Oh, you’re holding court like a real queen. What is uncle unreasonable about?” Kíli silenced the others by almost screaming.

“Mistress Faith was on her way to bed when you barged in like a fool.” Thorin muttered, obviously in a cantankerous mood.

“She was not, she was berating you!” Kíli replied petulantly. “I don’t think your uncle, the king, should be camped outside of my door.” Faith intervened with an explanation.

“Why don’t you just bolt the door?” The lad asked, scratching his head. When she explained that she couldn’t open the door on her own and that she didn’t like feeling locked in, he gave his uncle a short nod and shrugged: “In that case, uncle is not being unreasonable at all. Let me know if you want company, I can sit with you.”

Faith was speechless. “You are a guest, and we’ll keep you safe.” Kíli said with an easy smile.

“I am safe.” Faith protested. “You are now because you have uncle outside your door. And us.” Kíli winked at her with that youthful pride and confidence that made her heart swell. Oh, bless that kid, she thought, may the stars align for him and bring him endless happiness.

“There you are!” Dwalin came barrelling down the corridor. “Me?” She was taken aback and tiny bit startled.

“No, not you, Mistress. That oaf, the king.” Dwalin nodded to her with what might have been a smile, Faith was not entirely sure and conversed in low, murmured words with Thorin. Faith just sat and listened to the sound of it, weirdly calmed and comforted by the rough elegance of their very own, secret language.

“Mistress Faith? Ah, there comes Fíli.” Faith scrambled to her feet and curtsied for the heir to the throne who presented her with a small cake. “We apologise humbly for having led you astray and for risking your good name. And for annoying you about uncle, we didn’t tell mother everything, but she was not happy either way.” The prince laughed. Faith was impressed by how resolutely and soberly he admitted fault and tried to redress his potential missteps; she understood that their social life had been an unsteady and uncertain thing and that it had been a priority to make them valuable fighters rather than charming courtiers.

Nonetheless, she admired them for their light-hearted honesty as much as for their supposed prowess.

“You’ve given us sweets and now, we give you cake. That makes us friends, doesn’t it? Ah, I see Dori has sent his little brother with that disheartening brew of his.” Fíli declared, commenting casually on the scene he had stumbled upon. Amongst humans, this would have been a childish thing to say, Faith thought, but she realised that he extended an invitation to her, and she was thankful for it. As she was a stranger in their realm, the declaration of a bond between them would protect her, shield her, most probably keep her alive against all odds. It was easy to see them as children as they were the nephews of a man she called a friend, but their lives stretched far into the past and hopefully would extend into a distant future, and already, they knew more than she would ever learn.

With another curtsy, she acknowledged the gracious offer of his friendship and the privileges it brought. “Thank you, dear prince I would be honoured to accept both the cake and your good graces.” He gave her an answering bow that sealed the deal.

If they knew what scandalous actions she had been engaged in only moments ago, Faith thought, they would probably not be that courteous to her. The idea of losing their affection stung, which surprised her, but the idea of losing them, period, turned out to be utterly unbearable to her. Her mind shrank back from the mere thought as from an open, festering wound.

She had been alone most of her life, but the mere contemplation of never seeing the creatures in front of her again filled her with dread and a nameless pain that choked the light out of her heart. For their own people and their culture, they were young still and she couldn’t bear the thought of having such promising torches snuffed out before their time. Would that she could live another hundred years to see their mischief soften to quiet humour, to see them take wives and father children, to be their friend through the different stages of a dwarven life.

The limitations of her own body and life constricted her soul, crushing it to dust, and she wanted to rail against the injustice of being given a glimpse of perfection only to have it snatched away too soon by the ravage of time. No, she thought, she would be thankful to be granted that precious peek; she would be grateful to have known what others only dreamt of and she would treasure those memories and all she had seen until her eyes saw no more.

“Thank you ever so much.” Faith mumbled again, feeling the effects of the half-glass of wine she had drunk and wondering if the dwarrows could eat all the time. She had had more than her fill at the dinner, but she dutifully bit into her cake which was sweet and surprisingly moist.

“Do you like it?” Kíli asked eagerly. “It is like everything else of dwarven make I have experienced.” Faith grinned.

“Bulky, heavy and smelling kind of weird?” Thorin prompted, much to Faith’s chagrin; she had not noticed that he had finished his conversation with his friend. Maybe, she had been wrong and dwarven mischief never really abated, maybe, they just learned to hide their wicked humour under longer beards in time. “Beautiful, compact, and delicious.” She gave him a brazen look full of dancing sparks; she liked bandying words with Thorin almost as much as she liked being kissed by him.

“Delicious, ey?” Dwalin laughed, clapping his king on the shoulder, and promising to come back later to relieve Thorin in his guard-duties. Oh, this was absurd, Faith rolled her eyes, she didn’t need two prime fighters in front of her door.

She had trekked through wind and weather; she had tackled a man with a knife and had chased away another one; she could take care of herself. It seemed though as if Thorin had been mostly correct: if they had lingered in her room, someone would have come looking for them and she might have lost a name that was worth more in this settlement than it ever had before.

She was half a savage, she realised, unused to the social conventions and rules of a society. As a maiden, she should have waited for a husband to give up this most sacrosanct of female gifts, but she was past the marrying age, and she was not overly fond of the idea of dying a virgin.

It was highly improbable that she would ever be anything else than a concubine to anyone and much more believable that she’d end up taken by force…hence the armed king outside her door. He had saved her once from rape and violence, and Faith did not doubt that he would do it again without hesitating.

Until he left.

Looking at the young princes, Faith realised that she felt safe here. She had stopped looking over her shoulder and hence, had let down her guard too much; all these lovely people would go on a perilous journey, and she would be left to her own devices. Maybe, she would have to heed the king’s advice after all and learn to be demure and discreet again.

That would be a whole lot easier once his startling beauty was removed and she could breathe again without getting a whiff of that intoxicating smell. How far would he have to be removed for her to no longer feel tethered to his steps?

She would miss him. His presence had become solace and home to her, a place to rest, a warmth to sustain her, and she would feel more vulnerable with him gone than ever before. Oh, another painful thought she didn’t want to pursue in this moment.

“We should let you get to bed. Just scream if anything is the matter and enjoy the cake.” The youngsters ambled away in high spirits, mocking Ori and his teapot and squabbling about the last cake. She would miss them too; like everything she had experienced in this wondrous place, they were a curious blend of beauty – light, colour, and laughter – and strength – honour, courage, and faith. Yes, she could say that she was fond of them and that she would be looking forward to seeing them again; there was just no way to dislike their open-hearted…fierceness. They were striving towards a brighter future with such zeal and indefatigable energy that Faith was pulled along despite her own reservations.

“Can I offer you a piece, my king?” Faith sat down again on her side of the doorframe, offering the baked good to Thorin.

“Ah, yes, I won’t say “no” to that.” He nodded, breaking off a piece and shoving it into his mouth, crumbs raining down on his tunic which she brushed away casually, amused to find that the king had a sweet tooth. His hand closed around her wrist.

“I am sorry, Faith, this…it was a mess. I…” He sighed. “I want to do this right…”

Oh, how could she have forgotten? While she was obsessing about her own death as if she was a crone already, she had forgotten that he had seen decades more than her; the time for his retribution had come and, of course, he didn’t want more loose ends and false starts to burden him.

“I will make it right; I will…” His eyes had softened to a mesmerizing dark blue in the low light, intense and captivating.

Now that the fire in her veins had dulled into a sensuous warmth, a steady flow of earnest affection and deep longing, she could put aside the wounds her vanity had sustained and mumble: “Oh, you king of second chances, I am sure you will.”

“Have faith in me, sweet one, I will make good on my word.” – “I shall not be another burden on your shoulders, Thorin-king.” She protested softly, putting her hand lightly on top of his.

“You are not, neither are they.” He waved in the general direction in which his nephews had disappeared. “I will succeed where others have failed, because of all of you. I will bring you home: my sister, my nephews, my friends…you. I swear.”

The intensity of his gaze and of his determination sent shivers down Faith’s spine.

She was a woman without a history and, probably, without a future, but she could recognise the weight of his ancestors’ failures, of his people’s suffering, and of his own ambition bear down on him inexorably.

“Rest, sweet king, you have done me no wrong.” She reassured him. “Have I not?” His eyes narrowed, suspecting a subterfuge or a trick. “You are a stubborn but very honourable fool, and I am glad that you convinced me to come here.” She grinned.

“So, you like it here? You’ll like Erebor then. It’s full of gold.” He smiled. “You and your gold!” She laughed.

“It’s full of beautiful things.” He tried again. “It shall be, yeah.” She chuckled, bumping her shoulder gently into his.

“You…I wanted to say that I feel honoured that you’d…consider me for…” He nodded at the empty room behind her, which made her giggle again; he really was too upstanding to be real.

“You are the single most beautiful living thing I’ve ever beheld in my life. You’re kind, generous, and brave. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I see now that there are rules to be followed and I did not mean any disrespect.”

Thorin seemed to ponder her words for a while before nodding: “Yes, I guess that is true…I know that you are physically incapable of wilfully disrespecting anyone or anything almost, so no problem.”

“What are the rules, Thorin-king?” She had caught a glimmer in his eye that disquieted her considerably.

He looked purposefully away for a moment and then mumbled into his beard: “I’d court you and then…”

“What would you quarter me for? In that case, I do see why you think intercourse would be dangerous.” Faith hissed, aghast.

“Court you, not quarter you. Who do you think I am?” Thorin exclaimed, lowering his voice immediately.

“I am sorry that I do not have your sister’s supersonic hearing.” Faith grumbled, but she had to laugh when she saw his dumbfounded face. “Oh, Dís, she was born like that. It’s because she loves information that much. I call it information…”

He made a face.

“She sounds like a valuable councillor then, wouldn’t you say?” Faith teased him. “Kíli gets it from her, that wicked sense of humour and that…” His voice softened, “She has a fierce heart, my sister does, stay close to Dís, she’ll keep you safe.”

Faith believed him, but she wondered how he could be so sure.

“My sister loves me as I love her, you are my friend, you are her sons’ friend…She won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on the princess either.” Faith protested, flustered by the finality in his voice.

Thorin took her hand and murmured: “Can you do two things for me, please? One, go to bed, otherwise I will have to kiss you again and we have seen that it generally ends in…frustration; and two, promise that you’ll stay with Dís.”

Throwing a quick glance down the corridors, Faith stuck out her head of the doorframe and pressed a single, warm, lingering kiss on his stubborn mouth and whispered: “I swear to stick to the princess…and lay down my life if necessary for her protection.”

Mahal have mercy, Thorin thought, the two women he cared for most would try to die in protection of one another at the slightest provocation; they were both fiercely loyal and brave in their own way. Devoted and self-forgotten, Faith had no regard for her own fragile life that seemed to be entirely made up of service while Dís had ever been a pugnacious dwarrowdam who would not avoid a fight if she thought she could win. Dís always thought she could win. She was his sister, after all.

“Good night, king of kings.” She whispered, flipping one of his braids playfully over his shoulder and scrambling to get to her feet. Thorin watched her go, taking off her dress again as she went, and cursed himself for being such a fool.

As she slipped between the sheets though, Faith stiffened and cried out: “Wait a minute…what do you mean by court?”

It had taken some time for his words to sink in, but again, all her fatigue evaded her within a second.

“Well, courting gifts, braids, walking around with your hand in mine…more intrusive questions by my nephews, more teasing by my sister…” He enumerated and ticked off the fingers of his hand.

Marriage, Faith thought, that was what it all led up to. Courting led to weddings, in general, and she would not marry Thorin Oakenshield, king of the Longbeards, not if the almighty creator himself did not come down and grant her a life long enough to honour the bond she would enter into, and a blood worthy of his. Falling back hard into her pillow, she resisted the urge of burying her head in it and asphyxiating herself out of pure impatience and annoyance with the situation.

Then again, the idea of having his nephews and his sister, and ultimately of course him, around until her forever came, held such a sweet seduction that it tore her heart apart. The intensity of her longing made it very clear to her that she was reaching for forbidden fruit indeed. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling that started to swim and swirl in front of her eyes.

“Sleep, sweet one, tomorrow is another day. There will be time for you to decide if that is something you’d want.”

Oh, naturally, he would be a perfectly honourable man about that as well, Faith thought with something akin to disdain almost; while she fretted and fussed, he would offer his courtship and she would have the right to deny it.

Would he understand her reasons when she finally did reject his promise of tender and respectful advances? Or would he feel as miserably unsatisfied as she did now?

Again, she tried to remind herself of the fact that he did not care for her in that way. She had promised him her body and he was looking to find some justification for taking it; a man such as him would not simply despoil a woman because he felt like it, no, he would create the pretence of a mock courtship to explain why he had taken what he could never give back.

Time would tell. Time, her constant enemy, the shadow gnawing mercilessly on her hours in the sun, would decide if she ever got an answer to those questions.

“You can tell me sooner of course.” Thorin mumbled and she sat up in bed, her blanket a tangled mess around her legs.

“It is a discussion for another day, surely.” She replied calmly, falling back to hide her face and its expression from him.

“Are you very cross with me, Faith?” He asked then.

“Not in the least, Thorin.” She decided against a title, knowing that it would make him believe that she was indeed angry when, really, she was confused and considerably hurt by everything that had happened tonight and by the fears that swirled in her head and heart without surcease. “Good, I couldn’t bear to disappoint you as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Again, she shot up to stare at him in dumbfounded amazement. “I will do right by all of you.” He vowed anew and Faith wondered if he always took his own trespasses so seriously; of course, he would.

“Good night, Master Dwarf. I care for you, and you are beautiful.” She repeated the most important things of the evening, swallowing her rejection of his courtship and falling into a fitful sleep, constantly disturbed by her body that was as taut as a twisted piece of wire. Every time her thighs touched, a spark of pure agony shot through her limbs, a feeling she knew would subside but that made her intensely miserable, nonetheless.

“How’s the little lady?” Dwalin clunked down the corridor and was forced to sneak the last stretch so as not to awaken Faith.

Thorin loved his friend, but he would not tell him how he had spent the last hours listening to Faith mumble and moan in her sleep; more than once, she had whimpered his name and he had been sorely tempted to take off his clothes again and slip between the covers with her.

Somewhere between her body and the mattress lay heaven, he knew, and her soft groaning had worn out his soul and chafed his skin raw with desire.

“She’s not a little lady.” Thorin grumbled. No, Faith was fearless when it came to actual danger; despite her innate subservience and her sweet temper, she was a fierce woman he was honoured and happy to call his friend.

“You’re thinking about courting her, aren’t you?” – “If she’ll have me.” Thorin didn’t even try denying it.

Dwalin had his doubts about that; Faith seemed fond enough of their mutual friend, of their common king, but could she find that kind of love inside herself for someone who was not of her own race? Friendships were indiscriminate; they were based on mutual respect and understanding, but marriage followed a set of rules much stricter and more severe.

It was also probable that she’d die before him, but he was not exactly a young dwarf and they had years ahead of them that could be spent in happy union; if he lived, if she agreed. Did she know that? Would she want that?

“She’s very…kind.” Dwalin said carefully, for she had been nothing but nice to him despite the fact that even dwarrowdams had told him before that he looked like a raincloud pickled in vinegar and left to dry on a stony cliff. “She is.” Thorin agreed.

“What is with the door?” Dwalin then asked and nodded at the huddled form in the bed he could make out in the penumbra. “She can’t open it on her own.” Thorin explained and then, the epiphany hit him: he would not wait for his return or her joining him; he would start his tentative courting with the very basic gift of an appropriate door.

“I…I have something to do. Please do not turn around under any circumstance and tell Mistress Faith that I’ll find her as soon as I’m done.” Thorin spluttered hastily and, boots in hand, almost ran down the corridor in search of a carpenter.

He would have a door made that she could easily open and close herself, but he would make sure that it was sturdy, fashioning and applying the bolts himself. Would that this blasted wizard was around to help imbue the very slab of wood with spells for her protection. Yes, he would convince her of his deep affection for her in the only way he knew: hard work and presents.

Faith woke up to the broad back of Master Dwalin completely obscuring the doorframe.

“The king is…doing something and he’ll find you as soon as he has finished…doing whatever he is doing.” The dwarrow grunted as a reply to her cheery greeting.

Slipping back into her simple shift, Faith approached the stolid figure and tapped him on the shoulder. “Would you be so good as to let me out?” He shifted aside and let her pass, but as she took a step, he followed her.

“I’d rather keep an eye on you.” He muttered, a low, rumbling sound that she very much enjoyed. “You are a dear man, Master Dwalin.” She chirped and nodded slowly.

“Hmmm, me? Hmmm, thank you, Mistress Faith.”

If she had been a braver woman when it came to social conventions, Faith might have asked to hug him, but as it was, she didn’t dare presume. “You’re a funny little creature as well.” He chuckled after a moment which made her turn around in surprise.

“Where are we going?” He cocked his head. “First to get you some breakfast and then to the river, if that is agreeable to you.” She replied gently. As he was intent on shadowing her, she had to think of his well-being as much as he seemed to worry about hers; so, off to the kitchens they went in search of a fortifying meal for the big warrior.

While Dwalin was still munching noisily on his breakfast, Faith was already kneeling beside the river, digging her hands deep into the soil, and filtering out the clay in meticulous steps until she had a sizeable ball. Her guardian watched her work tirelessly, fascinated by her steady, soft movements. Thorin was right, he thought, she was a creature of mud.

Even though the king himself was, in this moment, hammering steel with ringing force, there was a parallel to be drawn between the rhythmic, almost dance-like movements both of them were performing to create something new. For one another, if Dwalin wasn’t very much mistaken.

“I’d ask the kitchens if you can use one of their ovens rather than the open fire of the furnace.” He commented when Faith started moulding and twisting her ball of clay into shapes. “It will be quicker and gentler on your creations.”

Faith nodded when a glint in the water caught her eye. A beautiful, iridescent pebble, smooth and shiny was sitting right next to a single coin. She knew not if it had been caught in the folds of her dress or if someone else had lost it in the river, but she took it to be a good omen for her sacrifice to find things so beautiful to add to her offering.

“Off to the kitchens we go again then, Master Dwalin.” She smiled, heaping her work into his broad palms and chuckling to herself as she watched him hold them carefully in his hands while he walked gingerly ahead of her. He was a dear fellow…and another soul to miss bitterly.

“Come quick, uncle.” Thorin looked up from the bolt he had been fitting on the wooden door meant for Faith’s room in surprise. “You have to see that.” Fíli, his nephew, his heir, was waving him along urgently and so he followed without taking the time to cross-examine the lad on the motivation for his peculiar behaviour.

As soon as they arrived at the side of his dear sister, Thorin could understand where the excitement came from. Faith was kneeling in front of a tree hugging the mountainside, laying out the earthen dishes she had made with her own hands this morning.

“Uncle.” Kíli yelped, just arriving, upon seeing Faith pull out a knife and slashing open her arm once again, letting her blood drip into one of the shallow vessels slowly. “Let her be.” Thorin muttered, closing his hand around his nephew’s wrist to restrain him.

“I come to you, oh great creator, guide of my steps, in prayer.” Faith started, touching her forehead to the ground.

“But, I come not for myself. I come to pray for the safe passage and blessed return of Thorin Oakenshield and his company.” Again, she bowed down, then lifting her bloodied hands to the sky and pleading:

“You who have many faces, allow me to address those I have known all my life without ever speaking their name. I have been told that the one Thorin calls Mahal and we may call “crafting face of the creator” has hewn the dwarrows from stone. Oh, father of all, remember those you gave life to and show them mercy once again. Oh, stone remember who you once cradled and mellow your bosom for them. May their steps tread safely on you and may you open your womb once again to give them refuge.”

Faith touched one of her dishes in which a single coin and an iridescent river pebble lay.

“Let not the fashioner of evil unmake your gift of strength and beauty to this world. For this, I pray.”

She turned to the second dish, containing seeds and herbs she had picked, offerings covered in mud and earth still.

“Oh, great creator, I cry to the part of you that is warm and motherly, to the face Thorin calls Yavanna under his breath. They are not made of stone; they are born, and they grow. May the protection of the mother fall upon them, the defence of all things that grow and thrive. Let the world I have cherished welcome them freely, oh great creator, oh manyfold God. May the rivers run smooth, and the trees grant them shade. Oh, earth you who have been my mother, hide their steps from foes and bear fruit to sustain them. I beg for this as a friend of all things living, may they be recognised by bird and beast, by heart and soul alive, for what they are: living, breathing, feeling creatures of this earth. Do not let them walk alone. For this, I pray.”

Finally, she lifted her own blood and poured it onto the soil in front of her.

“I am but a measly creature, a single life, but I understand that whatever blessing I might have known has had a purpose. I am a vessel and here, I surrender the mercy I have been granted to this greatest of kings. Take this blood into your bosom and see the flaws within it! May my life and the life of my kin be a cenotaph to guilt that spans over generations!”

She touched her forehead to the ground again before going on:

“Oh, great creator, carry the wisdom I have paid in blood and tears forth; may there be a gracious and brave child for every stubborn, unhospitable father, may the sons and daughters save their elders by their generous deeds. For this, I pray.”

Faith stood up again, bowing to her offerings thrice before lifting the knife to her throat.

This time, even Thorin jerked, but she merely cut off a strand of her hair to let it fall in the blood-stained dish.

“As for myself, I vow service, as I have before. I shall work tirelessly; I shall dig my hands bloody in search of fertile earth and I shall make plants thrive in your honour. From the day their feet fall into the first step of this most perilous of journeys until the day I shall gaze upon your blessed people again, oh great creator, I shall walk and pray in devout industry, only ever lifting my eyes to the sky to check if I am called forth. I yield whatever grace was placed upon and within me to Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and whoever goes with him; I offer whatever strength I have to please you, oh great creator, in all your glory.”

Faith was about to turn away when she fell onto her knees again, her head pressed against the blood-drenched soil, sobbing in a low voice: “Oh, I plead with you, oh glorious, almighty, many-faced one, protect the one I call friend, the one who promised more than his body to me, bring him home safely even if I never get to see him again. Do not cut short the life of princes so valiant and honourable either. Take home the weary bones of old warriors and give fertile soil to the young ones to thrive. You are the maker of all things, of things that never change and of things that never stand still; honour their steadfast courage, eternal as the mountain, and their beating hearts, ever-changing as the seasons.”

Remembering the excellent hearing of the dwarrows, Faith lowered her voice to a whisper as she finished: “For I love them, dearly, desperately, endlessly. May the love of a mere mortal be guide, shield, and sword to them. I ask for nothing for myself, not an ounce of comfort, not a single blessing, heed my love for it is my only need in this life! I beg of you, I’d give everything for you to hear me…for this I pray.”

She bowed one last time, pulled down her sleeve and turned around to see Thorin staring at her with unfathomable eyes.

And then, the pain engulfed her, and she collapsed at the same time as Thorin broke into an impressive sprint for a boulder.