#as jace’s soul leaves his?

[buffyspeak]

kat mcnamara gives an oscar-worthy performance in 2.20 btw. the way she begs jace to “please come back please come back” but you can barely hear the second “please come back” through her sobs…. chef’s kiss. also i need the podcast yo come back so she and dom talk about this episode because i would bet anything that was a Really Hard Day on set for her. like i’m sure very rewarding too but she was crying HARD and with such earnestness, it’s hard to imagine it wasn’t an Emotional Time

[winesharksea]

every so often jace sends kit very upscale hair care products because the herondales have a reputation to protect damn it

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Tethering Ties

Summary - Betrothed by the King's decree to repair a fractured royal lineage, neither finds joy in their union. Tensions flare at dinner, resulting in a violent altercation that leaves her injured. Aegon chooses an unconventional way to apologise, his mouth between her legs.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x Strong reader

Warnings - Sexual content (oral f!receiving), violence, mild language

Word count - 2485

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Her children are bastards and she is a whore."

The phrase slithered through the hallowed corridors of King's Landing like a serpent, venomous and unrelenting. It clung to my siblings and me like a second skin, an indelible mark of shame etched into our very souls.

I tried to ignore the whispers and stares, but their impact lingered, a heavy burden on my heart. 

My betrothed, Prince Aegon Targaryen, was displeased when he learned of the King's decision. Marrying his firstborn son to his firstborn granddaughter was intended to mend the fragile relationships within our family, but it brought him no joy.

As the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones, the Red Keep loomed ahead, its towering walls a reminder of past glories and present fears. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone. This was not just a homecoming, it was a return to the heart of a nest of vipers.

I accepted the hand of my brother, Jace who looked at me with a pitiful expression, which only deepened my misery. 

"Do not look at me as if I am a wounded pup," I murmured. "I refuse to wallow in despair."

Jace merely shrugged, unable to hide his concern. As I turned, I felt another arm slip into mine. It was my younger brother, Luke, his innocent brown eyes gazing up at me with unwavering trust. His presence was a small comfort.

There was no welcome party awaiting us upon our arrival, an absence that I expected. The grandeur of King's Landing seemed hollow, a silent testament to the tension that permeated the air. 

Instead, we were left to settle into our chambers, the hours dragging by until dinner, where the family would finally convene.

I absentmindedly fingered the pendant around my neck, a dragon, wrought in gold. It was a gift from my mother, a reminder of the legacy I was bound to but today, it felt more like a chain than a symbol of power.

As we entered the dining hall, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken animosity. The long table, laden with lavish dishes, seemed more like a battlefield than a place of familial gathering. 

My betrothed, Aegon, sat beside me, his face a mask of displeasure. Across from us sat my brothers, Jace and Luke.

"Princess," a voice called out, and my head shot up. My eyes turned to my grandsire, the King, who looked withered and worn. "I trust the journey from Dragonstone was well," he continued.

"Yes, Your Grace, the journey was well, tiring but well," I answered, and he smiled at me proudly.

My eyes flicked to my mother, who gave me a reassuring look and a tight-lipped smile. Not a single person in this room was entirely pleased with the arrangement the King had so eagerly requested.

This marriage was supposed to unite our fractured family, but all I could see were the chains it would bind me in. A future of duty, not of choice.

Next, I turned to the Queen, who was looking in my direction but not at me. Her expression was firm as she seemed to be scolding her son in a hushed tone, and he grumbled next to me.

"Princess, I hope you are well," he said, turning to me as his mother looked away. I held back a sigh, clearing my throat before responding. 

"Prince Aegon, it has been quite some time since we've last seen each other," I pointed out, my hand tightening around my chalice as he downed his drink in a single gulp, motioning for it to be refilled.

"Yes, that may have to do with the night your brother maimed mine," he said with a smile as if it were a simple jest.

"You are correct," I said, my grip on the chalice loosening as my confidence returned. "The same night the Queen demanded the eye of my brother in retaliation, the eye of a young boy simply defending himself from heinous accusations you informed your brother of,"

To my surprise, instead of getting angry, Aegon laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"I am glad to see that the match seems to be faring well," Viserys said, and all I could muster was a polite smile. If only he knew.

"I don't want this," I admitted quietly, feeling his scoff next to me. 

"And you think I do?" he retorted, his tone sharp as I rolled my eyes. 

"All I'm saying is that I am not going to be subdued," I added meeting his gaze head-on. He raised an eyebrow, urging me to continue.

"You may be a prince, but I am a princess," I asserted, my voice steady. "My mother is next in line for the Iron Throne, and if I wish it, I will be after her. I do not plan on being trapped in a castle, producing heirs," I finished, taking a deliberate sip of my drink.

"Oh, my sweet niece," Aegon began. "How you have grown, you do not know the joy it brings me to know my future wife is such a fierce and ambitious lady," he added sincerely.

"I quite appreciate the idea of having such a challenging partner," he whispered the words into my ear, his breath tickling my neck as he pulled away ever so slowly.

Aegon's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something that spoke of more than just duty. Was it resentment? Regret? Or something more dangerous? I couldn't tell, and that uncertainty only deepened my unease.

Dinner continued in strained silence, the earlier tension still palpable. Each forced smile and stilted conversation was a reminder of the precarious nature of our situation. 

My mind wandered as time went on.

It didn't take long until dinner had come to an end, and the adults began to retire to their chambers. Only the younger members of the family were left behind, the room now significantly quieter. 

The tension, however, remained.

Aemond, ever the provocateur, fixed his one good eye on Luke, a predatory gleam in his gaze. He raised his goblet with a mocking smile. 

"To the arrangement of my brother Aegon and my niece," he began, his voice dripping with malice. "You have all grown into quite respectable, charming, strong individuals."

My eyes quickly flickered to Jace and Luke, sensing the tension mounting. Jace clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around his goblet, but it was Luke who reacted first.

"What did you say?" Luke's voice trembled with barely contained fury. 

He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. Aemond's smirk widened, and he rose from his seat, towering over Luke. "You dare deny it?"

In an instant, Luke lunged at Aemond, fists flying. The room erupted into chaos as the two collided, their movements a blur of anger and violence. The sound of fists hitting flesh and furniture crashing to the ground filled the air.

"Enough!" I shouted, trying to intervene, but my voice was drowned out by the tumult.

Jace sprang to his feet, moving to pull Luke off Aemond, but the younger boy was relentless, his fury driving him forward. Aemond fought back with equal ferocity, a cruel smile playing on his lips even as he exchanged blows with Luke.

Before I could react, Aemond's arm swung out wildly, and his fist connected with my face. 

Pain exploded across my cheek, and I stumbled backwards, my vision blurring. Blood trickled from my split lip, and I could taste its metallic tang.

Aegon and Jace reacted simultaneously. Jace leapt at Aemond with a roar, fists flying, while Aegon pulled me back from the fray, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Stay back!" he insisted, his voice tight with anger.

The dining hall descended into utter chaos. Jace and Aemond were locked in a furious struggle, their movements wild and desperate. Aegon kept me shielded behind him, his eyes darting between the brawl.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked urgently, his hand brushing against my bruised cheek. The anger in his eyes was mixed with worry, a stark contrast to his usual aloof demeanour.

"I'm fine," I managed to reply pushing him away, though my voice shook.

Aegon stepped forward, his presence commanding enough to momentarily halt the fight. 

"Enough!" he roared, grabbing Aemond by the shoulder and pulling him away from Jace.

Aemond struggled against Aegon's grip, but the arrival of the Kingsguard finally brought the brawl to an end. The guards separated the combatants, their stern faces brooking no argument.

"Luke, Jace, let's go," I demanded, grabbing both of their arms. 

I cast one final glance back towards the dining hall, where Aegon was engaged in conversation with Aemond. Aegon looked over at me, and all I could manage was a solemn shake of my head.

Tonight, the fragile peace had shattered, and the consequences were far from over.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its silvery glow as I stood in my chamber, tending to the wound on my face with a hot cloth. 

I couldn't stop the flood of conflicting emotions. Anger at Aemond, frustration with my brothers, and a deep, gnawing fear of what this marriage would truly mean. Aegon's unexpected tenderness only added to my confusion.

Just as I was about to press the fabric against my skin, a firm knock echoed through the room. With a resigned sigh, I set aside the cloth and moved to open the door.

To my surprise, Aegon stood before me as I swung the door wide.

"What do you want?" I asked curtly, annoyance evident in my tone, I turned away, expecting him to leave.

Instead, he stepped inside, ignoring my dismissal. 

"I am merely seeing if you are alright," he said, taking the cloth from my hands and guiding me to sit. He dabbed at my injury, his touch surprisingly tender.

Aegon's hand reached out, brushing against my bruised cheek. I flinched, pulling back instinctively. He chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in the sound. 

"Do not pretend to care," I snapped, hating the tremor in my voice. He didn’t retreat, just tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Alright," he admitted, his gaze unwavering. "I came to see you. It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"What are you really after, Aegon?" I demanded, fixing him with a sceptical glare.

"You've caught me," he replied smoothly, closing the distance between us. "It seems time has only sharpened your wit and beauty," he continued, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

"You've grown so beautifully over the years," he murmured, his voice sincere yet unsettling.

"All I wanted," he murmured, his tone laced with suggestive intent, "was to see how you feel, how you'd make me feel."

Without thinking, I reacted, my hand snapping across his face in a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, breaking the tense silence like a crack of lightning

He recoiled, a hand flying to his stinging face, while I stood there, a mixture of disbelief and indignation flooding my senses. My own hand flew to cover my mouth, stunned by both his brazenness and shock at my own action.

"Aegon," I murmured, my voice barely audible as he chuckled softly. "I didn't..." The words failed me, hanging in the air between us. 

He tilted his head, his jaw clicking before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Tell me to leave," he said, his voice a mix of challenge and invitation. I wanted to, truly, but the words stuck in my throat. 

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop," he continued, taking another step closer, his gaze unwavering as it searched my face for any sign of resistance.

There was none.

"Okay," he murmured, his fingers threading gently through my hair. He loomed over me, a commanding presence as I sat in my chair.

Suddenly, he knelt before me, his hands hiking up my nightgown with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, his voice low and insistent. 

I shook my head, a barely audible "no" escaping my lips. His smirk deepened, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

His face disappeared between my legs, and he began trailing small, wet kisses along my inner thighs. The sensation sent shivers through me, making me squirm in my seat. I bit my lip, a soft moan escaping as his mouth moved closer to where I wanted him most.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need. "Don't stop."

Encouraged by my words, Aegon intensified his efforts. He started by kissing the sensitive skin at the crease of my thigh, his lips soft and warm. His tongue flicked out, teasing me with light, fluttering touches. 

He took his time, exploring the area with a deliberate, languid pace, savouring every reaction he elicited from me. Each touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me arch towards him, seeking more.

He moved closer, his breath hot against my skin, and then his mouth was on me. His tongue parted my folds, moving in slow, sensual circles around my clit. He alternated between gentle, teasing flicks and firm, insistent strokes, driving me wild with desire. 

I gasped, my hands flying to his head, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close, urging him on.

He was relentless, his mouth working skillfully, driving me to the edge again and again. My breaths came in ragged gasps as he sucked lightly, then harder, his tongue darting out to tease and tantalize. 

The intensity of the sensations built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure winding inside me, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aegon," I moaned, my voice breaking as I teetered on the brink. 

He responded with a deep, satisfied hum, the vibration sending a jolt of ecstasy through me. His lips and tongue moved faster, more insistently, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

With a final, shuddering gasp, I fell over the edge, my body convulsing in pure ecstasy. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its dance, drawing out my pleasure until I was utterly spent, collapsing back into the chair, breathless and trembling.

Aegon pulled away slowly, his eyes meeting mine with a smug, satisfied look. 

"Consider that an apology," he said, his voice a seductive whisper.

I nodded, unable to form words, my mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just transpired. His mouth was glistening with my release, and he licked his lips with a self-satisfied smirk.

With a final, lingering gaze, Aegon stood up, straightening his clothes with unhurried confidence. He turned and made his way to the door, each step deliberate, leaving me in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

I watched him leave, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of his touch. As the door closed behind him, I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to collect myself. My heart was still racing, my skin flushed with the memory of his mouth on me.

Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips.

A/n - Aegon's idea of a "warm welcome" involves more than just a friendly handshake, he's just really into making an impression x

[princessbellecerise]

cw: smut, mistaken identity, dragonseed!reader

oh nothing just thinking about jace finally deciding that honor be damned, there’s a war going on and he does not want to die a virgin. he has a plan to fix it but he’s so nervous that he drinks a few glasses of wine to calm his nerves. then, he sneaks into baela’s room and shuts the door, smiling when he sees what he thinks are her silver curls peaking out from underneath her sheets. as quietly as he can, jace gets undressed and climbs on the bed. it creaks a little under his weight, but baela doesn’t stir, surprising him since she’s usually a light sleeper. he thinks nothing of it though, because he’s so nervous and so excited and he’s a littleee bit tipsy from the wine so he doesn’t notice that baela’s skin is softer than what it should be. furthermore, her body isn’t as hard as a warriors body should be and she even smells different to jace. it’s an intoxicating scent that makes all the nerves in his body feel like he’s on fire. it spurs him on even more, the prince pushing the covers back to reveal baela’s barely clothed body. to his surprise, the princess is wearing a cute little slip decorated in flowers. its silky and underneath it, jace realizes that she’s wearing nothing. her pretty little cunt is on full display when he pushes the slip up to her breasts, mouth watering as her full body is exposed. in no time, the prince attaches his mouth to any skin he can find, growing harder by the minute as he tastes baela’s sweet flesh. as his lips trail over her neck, her breasts, and eventually the sweet spots on her belly, he can hear her whimpering and whining above him.

“jacaerys? what are you doing?”

her voice is a little different from what she usually sounds like, but the prince chalks it up to baela just coming out of sleep and to the wine.

“shh, sweetling. just relax. i’m going to take good care of you,” he whispers to her, before attaching his lips to her cunt.

almost immediately, baela begins to squirm underneath him, heavy pants and little cries leaving her lips. her hands come down to tangle in his hair as jace gets to work, finding her pearl and coaxing to her peak.

he’s doing so good, he thinks, and she tastes so sweet. jace wants to spend hours in between her legs if possible but he’s so hard that it hurts. the prince finds himself needing to be inside of her before he bursts.

hurriedly, he climbs on top of her and presses his swollen head to her folds. baela leans up, her sweet plump lips capturing him in a kiss just before he pushes in, groaning into her mouth as he sinks.

she feels wonderful jace thinks, so tight and warm that he wonders why in the hell he hasn’t done this before. there’s no feeling that has ever made him tremble the way he does now, buried deep in baela’s cunt. pleasure bleeds into his very soul, and he feels so euphoric that he needs to do something, anything to keep from losing his mind. he holds her, kisses her, sucks harshly on her breasts. does everything that lets him feel her, letting her sweet taste consume him to the point of oblivion.

and she lets him. gods be good, she holds onto him for dear life as his cock pounds into her, letting out the sweetest of sounds that he cherishes. he’s so full of love at the moment that jace can’t help that it tumbles from his lips. he whispers in her ear about how perfect she is for him, and how sweet and warm her cunny is. he tells baela that he couldn’t wait to marry her from the moment he saw her and that she’ll make the best wife to him. as he fucks into her, lewd sounds echoing through her room, jace feels her legs wrap around his back. he feels her pull him close and keep him there, hugging his body until there’s no space left between them.

it’s then that he asks, desperate as he fills an avalanche growing in his stomach, “will you take me? will you take my seed, my love?” when she nods, her own legs trembling and her cries blending with his, it’s then that jace pours everything that he has into her. everything that he is. sweet nothing after sweet nothing just seems to come out, as there’s no short amount of praises he gives as he snaps.

he’s on cloud nine, and it’s so overwhelming that jace cums harder than he ever has in his life. hot spurts of his seed flow from his cock and into baela, his balls firmly pressed against her ass to keep it there.

by the gods, he groans, “i wish to see you swollen with my children,” at least serval times. and he knows, jace knows that her sweet soft body will be the perfect place to grow his heirs.

in the morning, he’ll ask his mother for permission to marry her like he should’ve from the beginning. heaven knows that he’s too addicted to her now, too in love and cunt drunk to part. he’s can’t risk dying in this war without calling her his wife. can’t risk not being able to make love to her freely until their end. it’ll kill him inside, he thinks.

he holds onto her even as his cock softens. she winces a little as he pulls out, but he kisses her wet cheeks and is pleased to see that nothing spills from her cunt. it’s as if the mother herself has blessed her womb, blessed their union and allowed for not a single drop to spill. soon, her belly will swell with children that are perfect mix of their beautiful mother and their father. another reason for jace to fight, he thinks. another reason that they must win.

“for you. for our child. i will fight with everything i have in me, i promise,” he tells her.

baela simply weeps into his arms, overwhelmed by their union as well and sniffles out her own promises.

“i will be a good wife. i swear it to you,” she tells him, and it’s these sweet words that lull him off to sleep. he can’t stay there forever, they both know it, but jacaerys manages to sleep with her and hold her a little while longer before he’s forced to get up and leave her.

the next morning, he can’t stop smiling despite being forced to train all of the new dragonseed’s early. baela isn’t up yet but the thought of seeing her afterwards is what motivates him, though jace is a little confused as to why the only female dragonseed is now following him around. she’s giggling and acting all lovesick towards him, but even though she is beautiful and a sweet girl, his heart belongs to another after last night. but baela is nowhere to be seen. and in fact, rhaenyra tells jace later on that she’s not even in the castle, having flown to driftmark to retrieve lord corlys. in the meantime though, she decided to give you her room until jace’s betrothed comes back. after all, out of all of the dragonseeds, you are the only noble that answered the call. and it would be rude to let you sleep amongst the others, would it not?

[lillithsalvatore]

million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“You belong to me and me only.” // Aemond Targaryen x Aunt!Hightower!Reader

MDNI

WARNINGS: dubcon, p in v sex, canon typical incest, breeding kink, noncon voyeurism, jealous!aemond, kinda toxic, tiddy sucking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia(?), rough sex, choking, reader's age is left up to interpretation. + not proofread // based on this request.

WC: 2k

You were reading a book in allotted chambers when you felt the noise of a stone slide, you sighed already knowing who it was before you got up and turned to face the intruder, arms crossed. Aemond was in your room before he came close to you and embraced you, “Aunt.” he whispers, nose buried at the top of your head before he takes in the scent of you, hair smelling like roses.

You push him away and put your book down on the table before putting some distance between you and Aemond, “You should leave.” you say and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What the fuck do you mean by that?” he grits his teeth and you sigh. “Aemond, I am to be married soon, I cannot continue this….whatever this is, with you.” you speak, “But I love you.” he replies.

“I know, and I love you too, but my sister has declined our betrothal.” you try to speak some sense into him.

“I do not give a shit about my mother's opinion on this matter, I want you. I want to have you, your body and soul.” Aemond says and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that but you quickly push them away before you shake your head.

“It is useless.” you reply.

“I would rather burn this keep to the ground with vhagar than watch you marry someone that isn't me, aunt.” he grits his teeth as he proclaims angrily.

“My dear, I know it is upsetting, but we cannot do anything about this-” you try convincing him but he lets out a sound similar to a growl before storming off.

Just then a guard informs you of the dinner you were supposed to have with all of the family, yes that included Rhaenyra and her family.

Your maids quickly get you ready for the dinner, donning you in a beautiful green down, with a squared neck cut and slightly puffed sleeves, gold lacing incriminated into the cloth, not extravagant, simple enough dress which was suitable for dinner.

You wore your hair loose, except the two strands that were braided and put together at the back of your head, and then you wore your most valuable gift of all, a valyrian steel necklace, thin braided, with a sapphire drooping down the middle, small and heart shaped.

It was a gift from Aemond, it's not he hadn't gifted you other things, it's just that this necklace was something that you liked the most and the one which held meaning to you, after all it was the necklace you had received after Aemond had confessed his feelings for you.

And just like that, you were ready for dinner.

You sat down on your chair and watched as Aemond talked to Aegon, Aemond had switched places and sat right next to you, which earned a look from Alicent who Aemond paid no mind to.

Dinner was going well, everyone seemed to be getting along, Luke and Jace were on their best behaviour today, it seems their mother had finally reprimanded them.

That was what you thought until you caught Daemon Targaryen staring at you, at first you thought it was a mistake, but he for sure was staring at you, or rather at your cleavage.

You watched as he took a sip of his wine, eyes flickering down to your breasts before up to your face, he gave you a small smirk before drinking.

You noticed how visibly uncomfortable Rhaenyra was and you felt so bad for her, you shrugged off and pretended nothing ever happened, until you heard your sister bring up the topic of Aemond's betrothal.

What shocked you most was that she had said that Aemond was the one who proposed it.

A marriage alliance to the Baratheon House.

Floris Baratheon.

You clenched your jaw in jealousy and anger, you knew you were both meant to part ways, in fact you were the one who bought it up in the first place anyways but that didn't matter, you were angry, at both him and yourself for feeling like this.

You simply gave him a glare from your side, before turning your attention to the man who was sitting across, he still shamelessly checked you out. And then you got an idea.

You leaned in front of the table, pretending as though you were fetching something, causing the flesh of your breasts to almost spill out, giving Daemon the time of the day, his face flickered over to your face and you gave him an innocent smile before sitting back, nobody seemed to have noticed except for Aemond at what you had done.

Then you felt something trail up the front of your leg and you looked at Daemon who now had a relaxed expression as his boot made its way upwards your skirts, trailing a path, and you pulled your legs back, and shot him a smirk, basically inviting him in.

Aemond had begun to notice all this, the way when your hands would linger longer whenever you would pass something to his uncle, the way he stared at your chest, it made him mad.

He proposed this marriage so that you would break and create a scene and get you and him married. But this isn't what he had expected.

He finally snapped when he heard your sweet laugh, which was drawn by daemon's joke, he slammed his fists on the table and before anyone can process it he's pushing the food off and slams you by your head on the table kicking your chair off forcing your legs straight. You were extremely taken aback by this.

“Since you want to parade yourself like a whore, I will treat you like one.” he growls before he hikes your skirts up and you panic, struggling and Alicent looks at this in horror, everyone looks as if they're scared.

“Aemond! Stop this right now!” Alicent tries to come over to help you but he shoots her a look and she backs down, scared that her son might hurt her as well.

He quickly undoes his breeches, he didn't care if everyone was watching him, that's exactly what he wanted, he slipped into your folds with such brutality that made you moan loudly and claw at the table, you tried fighting him off but he held your hands together at your back and let go of your neck, spanking your ass.

“Look at this, already so fucking wet.” he collects the wetness yout produced and smears it across your skin, and just then you were able to feel how wet you were.

“Fucking whore.” he says as he starts snapping his hips at a brutal pace causing you to moan, it was so humiliating, to have everyone watch you while he fucks you, they're too scared to interefere, Alicent closes her eyes at this act of depravity being displayed, and everyone seems to be looking anywhere but whatever was being displayed, and Aemond was visibly annoyed, he wanted everyone to look, to see how much of a whore you were, he wanted to humiliate you.

“Look at this uncle, wasn't this bitch just flirting with you moments ago? Watch how she is moaning underneath me now.” he grunts, thrusting, making your body jolt up the table, and Daemon stares at you, unashamed.

You burst into tears, feeling insulted and humiliated, “Dear aunt, are you crying right now? Don't, you were the one who wanted to act like a whore from the silk streets.” he coos mockingly and you sniff, his thrusts become sloppy before he pushes him to the hilt and finishes inside you, before pulling out and wearing his breeches, before smoothly walking his way out, leaving you unsatisfied and on the table, a mess.

Alicent comes towards you and pulls your skirts down, she seems to be at the verge of crying as well, fixing you up and giving you a hug and you just looked at everything in a daze, mad and humiliated.

But most of all unsatisfied.

Aemond didn't let you finish, but sought out his own pleasure like a cunt.

That's what made you mad.

“Let's pretend nothing happened here, and Aemond.. That mangrown… ” Alicent sighs and everyone nods, looking at you in pity and you just feel tears streaming down your face, and your sister wipes them away.

You left the scene, going back to your chambers, and the sight in front of you made you mad.

Aemond was in your chambers.

“What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” You say sternly and he turns to look at you, you close the door behind you before lunging at him, and he seems taken aback by this but he dodges, and grabs you by your neck before applying pressure, causing you to see stars as the oxygen was so slowly deprived from you.

He pushes you onto the bed, hand leaving your neck as he rips your gown apart, the material tearing, causing your breasts to spill out, he grips them tightly, nails biting into your skin causing sparks of pain, you gripped his hands trying to pull them off but he only held on tighter, “He was staring at these,” he growls, “But he doesn't know that they belong to me.” he takes your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple, causing you whine before he bites down harshly, making you arch your back and grip his hair.

He pulls away and trails kisses down your body, stopping at your cunt, he pulls your legs apart, revealing your folds to him, he moans at the sight, his previously stuff spend leaking outside, and coating your thighs, he licks at of it up before his lips descend onto your pearl, he sucks on it, tongue flicking up and down your bud, you throw your hand back and moan, hands coming up to grip his hair as you rut against his face, he moans into your cunt, relishing in the combined taste of you and him, he pushes his finger inside your hole as he kisses your bud, thrusting in and out, fingers curling upwards to hit your spot.

And soon, you come all over his hands and he moans at the way your cunt clenches around his digits, “Fuck- need to be inside you once again.” he pulls his fingers out and replaces it with his cock, pushing past your folds and sitting all snuggly inside.

He leans down to kiss your neck, biting at it to leave marks, he fucks you at a brutal pace, making your body jolt, and the bed creak against the floor.

He pulls away from your neck to watch your fucked out expression, drool dripping from the side of your mouth, which he leans in and licks it up before kissing you, your moans are muffled by it.

He felt himself near once again, “I can't wait to fill you up, maybe at the earlier display, and my son growing in your womb, she might wed us.” he tells you his plan easily and you nod.

“You'd be so pretty, all full and round of my child, trying to waddle around, trying to keep up with my pace— ah! fuck!” he moans as he spills himself inside you, all the thoughts only spurring him on further.

And you feel your band snap at the same time, cumming along with him, moaning extremely loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

He pulls out and watches his cum drip out of you, he scoops it up and shoves it back inside, and you wince from the overstimulation.

“You belong to me, and me only, do you understand?” he growls and you nod.

“I want to hear it.”

“Yes, Aemond, I understand.” you say.

And soon, Alicent weds you both, the entire family was quiet during the celebration, knowing the reason why, yet they all congratulated you.

Aemond finally got what he wanted at the end.

��——

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

[dipperscavern]

Assertive Cregan!!!!! FR though, he's the type to put ppl in their place literally bc u know the mans can lift a chick and verbally! You're going off on him about something, and he's just listening bc he knows better than to interrupt bc he lives u, BUT u say something and strike a nerve and he's suddenly staring into ur soul with his pretty eyes and he's like " Watch your tone" or " Dont forget who you're speaking to"

ASSRTIVE CREGAN ARG ARf arF

okay but fr. he’s the lord of winterfell, and a stark, man doesn’t tolerate any bullshit. at all. he’s not afraid to put people in their place.. y’all saw how quick he was to defend the wall when jace thought it was built to only keep out the cold.

AND THE ARF ARF THE ACRFF YOURE SO RIGHT

you could just be in a terrible mood, and he did something that for some reason set you off. he lets you get it out of your system, listening intently even though he knows you don’t mean half of it. then you strike a nerve in the middle of your rambling, and his eyes darken, face losing its usual softness around you & hardening right back up. he interrupts you right after you say it.

“Mind your tongue.”

and the worst part is it works. it works so well, every single time. it has you pausing and actually thinking about your words & how you speak to him. you sigh, offering an apology & backtracking what you said, explaining yourself much more clearly. lord stark leaves as soon as he arrived, and cregan continues to listen.

[maudeeloise]

God i need a part two of Sworn Enemies

The reader tells the whole situation to rhaenyra who is very disappointed that her son denies his own child because of an absurd rumor.

The reader wants her to dissolve the marriage but rhaenyra tells her to make jace beg for the reader's forgiveness and jace does anything for the reader's forgiveness.

I want the reader to be a complete girlboss 💋☝️

Pleas of Pardon || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

A/N : soooo… i changed some parts a bit, but the plot is still the same. this is the second part of this

You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Jace — not that you were protesting, but a small part of you hoped for him to at least apologize before completely disappearing.

When your family first arranged you to marry Jace, you were left with no choice but to accept. The only hope left in you was for him to spare a chance for the marriage to work, even though you knew it was far too impossible to happen. That hope instantly vanished the same night he departed.

Not a single soul in the kingdom knew where he had gone. You were too ashamed to ask so the best you could do was to eavesdrop the whispers of the servants when you had your morning and evening walks around the castle. It wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed of yourself.

I failed, you thought to yourself as you pictured how your parents would perceive you once they heard about the rocky marriage you had with Jace.

“Where had the smile I used to know gone?” Rhaenyra asked as she came to sit next to you one afternoon at the staircase. Her eyes were filled with pity. Her smile was small. “I have missed the joyful lady who loved to retelling our people’s myths.”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I’m alright.”

“The whole kingdom has heared, don’t you think I haven’t?” Rhaenyra hinted a sad smile.

You shook your head, still avoiding any eye contact with your husband’s mother. “Am I a bad wife?”

Rhaenyra smile instantly fell at your words. “What do you mean? Have you done something?”

“Not that I could remember.” Your vision became blurry as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’ve tried to fix our relationship, but it’s difficult when we both know we loathed each other. I’m sure you’re familiar with that too.”

“The marriage has been done—“

“I figured that it’s best for the marriage to be dissolved.” You looked up to Rhaenyra. Your teary eyes met her surprised ones. “For the sake of ourselves. I’ll leave the land if it is needed, but I’m asking for you to let me raise the baby.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth was agape. She blinked a few times as she processed your request. “I-.” Her gaze moved elsewhere. “I’ll talk to Jace.”

“And the marriage?”

An answer you longed to hear never came as Rhaenyra stood up and left you sitting on the staircase perplexed.

Her name was stuck on the back of your throat. You wanted to call her and made her stop on her track. But instead you let out a sigh in defeat. Your body leaned against the wall weakly. Your hoping eyes stayed at Rhaenyra’s figure as she slowly disappeared behind the walls.

Lost. A word which best described your state. You were so used to having your sister by your side, supporting your needs and guaranteed you the happinnes you deserved. Then when you were on your own, you could only pray to the Gods, hoping for everything to go well, but instead it went the opposite.

Your arms hugged yourself tightly as your body balled against the wall beside you. A symbol of fear and loneliness.

Tears were threatening to fall as your breathing quickened. Your mind rushed with voices, mostly telling yourself how you couldn’t do a simple job and how you should’ve lower your ego.

You held your legs tighter to your chest as you silently sob. The sound of your soft cries echoed through the empty staircase and hallway. You couldn’t careless, you just needed someone.

The voice on your head kept screaming in your head until it hit you. You were on your own. You had no one, but yourself and your infant needed you.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from yourself. Your legs stretched out carefully before bringing yourself on your feet. Your fingers grazed across the stone surface of the wall as you walked towards your chambers.

You needed to leave. You needed to run away. You needed to safe yourself for the sake of you and the baby.

You jogged around the room as you collected all the little things that you felt like you needed. All the items were shoved inside her pocket bag.

“What am I missing?” You mumbled to yourself.

Your eyes scanned around the room to bring yourself the answer you needed. They landed on the wine bottle which was standing on your nightstand. A lazy smile danced on your lips before you brought yourself towards the object.

Just as you were about to get your hand on the bottle, the door to your chamber cracked open. Your head spun towards the source of the sound. Your eyes stared in horror at the thought of getting caught in the act. A long shadow of someone walking in to the room made your heart skipped a beat then it stopped when your eyes met his.

Your body froze on it’s place. A look of horror masked your future, but you slowly calmed once you studied his face. His sad eyes and almost pouted lips made you barely recognize the man standing on the other side of the room.

“Jace.” You breathed out.

“Y/N.” He called under his breath.

There was a long pause, each waited for the other to continue, but neither said anything.

Jace knew he was wrong, despite how much he hated you. A small part of him kept telling him to talk to you after that night, but he had to big of an ego, so he chose to avoid you instead of apologizing.

What he didn’t expect was for his mother who loved him dearly to side with her. At that point he knew he had to talk to you. He had to admit that he was wrong. He had to apologize and maybe more or anything else to get you to forgive him.

“I-“ Jace cleared his throat, slightly avoiding your eyes. “What are you doing?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Anger slowly increased inside you as you feel your heart clenched. Is he bluffing?

“Nothing.” You kept your voice low, trying to control yourself from bursting out at him.

Jace awkwardly nodded before moving his gaze anywhere else but you. He suddenly found the chamber interesting whilst he studied the room.

Something didn’t feel right, he thought.

His eyes saw the small pocket bag on the couch, the cloak on the bed, and how your body kneeled too close to the bottle on the nightstand.

“Are you planning to leave?” Jace asked, his voice was laced with a hint of dejection.

You almost gave in. Almost. The way his face fell and his lips turned down into a frown. How his eyes showed longing and regret. You almost changed your mind.

You inverted your gaze from him slightly and fixed your posture. As you turned to face him, you forced yourself to show no emotion. He needed to know he deserved it.

“And what if I am?” You challenged him.

“You’re taking our baby with you!?” The frequency of his voice hightened, making the sentence sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“That’s not fair.” You whispered. “You accused me of cheating and held to your beliefs that the baby isn’t yours! How dare you include yourself on deciding whether the baby should be with me or not?”

Jace opened and closed his mouth, stopping himself from taking the argument further. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“My apologies.” You raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have accused you despite how much I hated you. I was too blinded with my emotions and I forgot that you have feelings too. I deserve every second of your loath for the rest of my life, but I’m begging for you to stay. Please, don’t leave. Please don’t take the baby away from me. I’ll do anything, I promise!”

There was a long pause. You looked down at your hands as an excuse to dismiss him from your view. You didn’t say anything, as if you were waiting for him to say more.

“Please say something.” Jace took a step towards you hesitantly.

“I need a moment.” You said shortly without bothering to give him a glance. You stood up and walked past him, leaving your shared chambers.

———————————————————————————

@semisutopia @anehkael @kaiawolf @maddie-jayne @shadowmoonlight0604 @aemondwhoresworld @cedigz

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter two]

summary: After your grandsire's death, you fly to Winterfell with Jacaerys and find yourself nervous to treat with Cregan years after your heated moment together.

warnings: none i think

a/n: short chapter, just felt like a good stopping point. anyone want part three,,,?🤗

The actions of Alicent and her eldest son did not shock me, but they deeply wounded a sense of hope that I hadn't realized was still deep within my soul. I would always remember Cregan praising my kind heart, but sometimes it felt like a curse. I had believed at my core that our family could find it within themselves to forgive, to come together, to support my grandsire's wishes and put a woman on the Iron Throne... I had believed that Alicent had a spine, that Aemond had humility, that Aegon had a heart. And Heleana, my poor, dear aunt whom I considered a close friend - it pained me to think of her caught in the center of such a mess. I longed to see her and I longed to see my mother on her throne. 

I thought back to the dinner we had before leaving for Dragonstone again. We had been merry, since Jaecerys and Lucerys were newly engaged. I was happy for Jace especially since we had talked so often of hoping for happy marriages, and Baela was a wonderful girl who he already adored. It pleased me that there was a possibility for love between the two of them. 

Aegon had drunkenly wandered to my seat and leaned towards my ear. 

"Poor niece... Your only purpose to be married off and still yet to be engaged. You'll be running out of options soon." 

His amusement sickened me and I continued to pick at my food, trying to ignore him, but he continued. 

"If you don't pick you'll end up with some elderly lord with a thumb for a pecker. Best swallow your pride and pick someone to claim you. Can't be your own woman forever, girl." His breath reeked of alcohol. 

Jacaerys had noticed his advances and stood to intervene, only for Aegon to direct his attention towards Baela, which began a whole other mess leading to the night quickly unraveling. 

It had made you think about marriage, not only as a duty, but as a tool. It had always been an important fixture in politics, but after everything that has happened with the throne, I knew that it would be even more urgent for me to take a husband. I lay in my bed at Dragonstone, resting my eyes, considering the current predicament of betrothal.

When it came down to it, there was no one I wanted to imagine myself marrying except for the Northern man who had captured my heart so many years ago. I feared, however, that it was too late. I had already refused him, in a way, one time. In addition, I had humiliated myself with his advances and then fled. He very well may hate me; find me to be a tease, a whore. I shuddered to think about it. 

At that moment, Jacaerys barged into my room. 

"Sister," breathlessly he addressed me, "mother has requested us to go to Winterfell and treat with Cregan Stark." 

There was a hint of a smile on his face, although we both knew the task was serious. I had no immediate response to him, so he elaborated.

"I suggested that you come. I believe you should see him. Besides, it is the perfect excuse to go."

I turned away, suddenly emotional. I wiped at my face. "Perhaps he has already taken a new wife," I shook my head. "We only need one representative of the crown."

"You're coming," He said finally. I realized it was no longer a request, but an order.

"Does mother know?"

He shook his head. "This is for you to figure out. No interferences." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Except for mine, right now. I would hope that if we are to enter the Hell of war we can find at least some happiness within the chaos."

His words made me want to weep, realizing how much he has grown and how much more he will have to in the coming years. How much all my siblings would grow. I feared for the lives of my loved ones. Instinctively, I reached for my brother and pulled him to me. He hugged me back tightly. 

"It'll all be okay, little dragon," his old nickname for me made me chuckle into his shoulder, "tomorrow, we ride for Winterfell."

That night, I dreamt of Cregan. Brief, hazy glimpses of moments we shared in the past. Moments that made me fall in love with him. 

I saw him poised in front of Vermithor, no fear in those stormy eyes, his hand outstretched to stroke my beautiful dragon's scaled face. He had respected the authority of my beast, and Vemithor in turn had leaned into the Lord's touch. That moment had brought heat to my stomach and tugged at my insides. The Bronze Fury was not easy to befriend. 

I saw him across the altar in the sept where I took him on a tour, his head bent in prayer, dark hair framing his face. He had caught my eye and held it, unblinking, keeping it until I looked away.

I saw in the golden hour in the training yard, his gaze finding me between every attack. He moved like ice against his sparring partners: cold, calculated, hardened. No one bested him. When we walked to dinner together afterward, he walked behind me, and I had suddenly felt a tug at my hair. He gently pulled the ribbon holding my braid together - a braid commanded by my mother - letting my hair fall down my back. I like it down like this, he told me, wild and free, like you. 

Morning was unwelcome because it ripped me from the warmth of my dreams with him, but the realization that I was soon to be headed for Winterfell thrilled me. I quickly dressed and packed with my handmaidens before finding Jacaerys in the hallway. He said nothing, grasping my hand and nodding solemnly. We moved to the dragon pit together and prepared Vermax and Vermithor. When we exited the cave, I saw my mother and younger siblings watching on from above. 

"We should say our goodbyes," I told Jacaerys, "the Gods only know when the next time we will all be together is."

Jace nodded, and we joined with the rest of our family. I kissed each of the little ones on the forehead, pinched their cheeks, sniffed their baby skin, making every attempt to remember them as they were in case I was struck from the back of my dragon. Lucerys stood tall when I came to him, like the proud little fighter he was, and I gave him a tight hug and a squeeze of luck for his own journey. I worried for him dearly, but Lucerys was perhaps the most smart and capable of us Valeryen children, even at his young age.

"Good luck, raqiarzy," I spoke into his hair. He was nearly as tall as me at that point. "I shall see you soon."

My mother gazed at me with that look she always wore as I moved to stand in front of her. So diplomatic, so very regal. Sometimes I wished she would soften and just be my mother for a moment. But now, finally involved in diplomacy, who was I to her? Still her daughter, or some cancerous growth jeopardizing her claim?

I felt her arms around me. "Be safe," she whispered into my ear, "I love you, my daughter."

Tears filled my eyes and I hugged her back. I thought about all of our fights about my marriage. Who was I truly fighting? We were both shackled by tradition, still, I realized. Her claim had been an abstract future and now it had all come crashing down. She was still fighting the same battles against men that she believed to have won as a girl my own age. None of our past disagreements mattered now. Happiness and freedom were no longer mine to take for myself; they may be ripped from us all at any moment. 

My mother and I separated and she placed a kiss to my brow. Her stoic demeanor had faded and I could see wetness in her eyes. Jace offered me his arm and I reluctantly took it, turning away from my family and trying not to think about our uncertain future. 

The journey to Winterfell was long and cold, as many journeys on dragonback are, but I was comforted by the presence of Vermax and Jacaerys gliding back and forth below me. Our dragons, very different in size, flew quite differently. Vermax was nimble and slight, disappearing between clouds and darting in and out of sight easily. A formidable stealth opponent. Vermithor, on the other hand, was enormous and flew with simple, powerful strokes of his golden wings. He was fearsome, and I found him to be the most beautiful creature in the world. As terrifying as he was, our bond was strong. He never raised a tone at me; he grumbled and purred in my presence only, and awaited orders with undying loyalty. He had been my dragon since the time I was ten and four, and our relationship only strengthened by the day. 

The sky greyed as we flew further North and the air began to chill. I shivered not only from the cold but the impending reunion I was to have with Cregan. I had no idea what to expect. I had considered opening his letter but it was still too frightening to me. It left me even more unprepared for a conversation with him. 

When we reached Winterfell, Jacaerys and I circled Vermax and Vermithor a few times to signal our landing. We made no sudden moves towards the castle and its surrounding fortress, and landed in an isolated field. The wind whipped my long hair out from the veil I had tied around my head. It floated around my head like a halo as I squinted in the heatless sunlight. 

"Someone rides this way," Jacaerys called from the back of Vermax. He began to disembark and I glanced over to where he looked. A rider on a black horse, eighteen hands tall, came galloping towards our dragons. Vermithor let out a roar of distaste. He didn't like people coming near him - or me. I calmed him with coos in High Valerian and began to slide down his wing. The rider had stopped next to Jace and gotten off the horse.

As I crept closer, I knew it was Cregan. His stature was unmistakable. Tall and dominating against the bleak horizon in his furs. Gods, I had never seen him in his heavy Northern furs. It made me want to crawl within them, to feel the heat of his body around me. Coming closer, I saw him clap Jace on the shoulder with familiarity, and then turn his gaze to me. With no hesitation, he came towards me. I saw behind him Jace getting onto his horse, the ghost of a brotherly smirk on his face, and kicking the horse forward towards Winterfell. 

"What-" I began to question as Cregan came within arm's length of me, unable to finish as he pulled me to his chest in a tight hug. The furs were just as warm as they looked, and I melted into his arms. It had been so long since I smelled him. Like sap and smoke and ale and somehow roses. My arms snaked under the cloak and I could feel the hardened muscle of his body through his shirt. And then I realized - he was hugging me, as if he missed me, as if...

"I've missed you, my princess." He spoke into my hair. 

"You aren't angry with me?" I breathed into his cloak. He pulled back and took my chin in his calloused fingers, his face laced with confusion.

"How could I ever, my girl? You didn't read my letter?"

I flushed. "I was embarrassed. I thought you would have wanted me to keep quiet after I... lost control like that." He barked out a laugh, which would have made her feel ashamed had he not paired it with a gentle kiss to her cheekbone.

"I'll show you what losing control really is, someday," he kissed her cheek again and hummed. "Darling, I wrote you that letter and apologized for leaving so quickly... had it been up to me I would have stayed until you chose to see me again and asked for your hand right there. I had to get home to my son and my duties here but you have never left my head." Now it was his turn to flush as he recounted the contents of his letter. "I... I had begged you to someday consider me to be your husband if you ever found that marriage was something you wanted. None of my advisors could convince me to take another wife until I knew that there was no chance. I have held out hope for years, I have taken no other lover, and I beg you to end my agony and provide an answer," he dropped to his knee as if his body were giving out on him. "Is there a chance? Someday, that you would allow me to love you as I already do?"

It all became clear to me that my world was soon to fall apart, and standing in front of me was a man who was promising to stand by my side in the worst of times. As my family is torn apart and our power in the realm shattered. A smile crossed my face.

"You mean to tell me that the most eligible Northern Lord has been withholding his services from the ladies of the North, all because a faraway dragon rider was stuck in his dreams?" 

My teasing lilt was enough for him to look up at me and grin, standing to his full height towering over me. He grasped at my waist with one hand and cupped my face with the other. 

"They've been left wanting, I suppose." My Lord Stark said contemplatively. 

"As have ladies in the South." I told him, surprised by my own boldness and pleased by the delivery. 

He wasted no more time in capturing my lips, kissing me as if he were starved. He kept taking breaths to stare at me before continuing. His lips moved lovingly across my neck, my jaw, my throat, hungry to taste every inch of skin. After a while, I pressed against his chest and examined his face. It was even more beautiful up close than I remembered. His face an oval with hardened edges. Strong brows and thick pink lips that I was free to kiss. His hair pulled back haphazardly to keep from blowing in the wind. He kissed me one more time, this one softer than baby's breath, and held my head in one of his strong hands before nodding towards Winterfell in the distance.

"I let Jacaerys take my steed so we might walk together." He gestured back to the dragons. "Whatever they eat I will have brought to them."

"They'll eat anything. Even you," I poked his chest. 

"You just tell me if Vermithor ever starts feeling jealous. I shall begin to steer clear." 

We walked together, slowly, catching up after the last couple of years. I asked of his son and he told me that Rickon was nearly three years old. He stopped me for a moment. "I've already an heir. If we wed, I shall not force you to bear my children. You will never be just the mother of my children. You will be my wife." 

I smiled at that, saying nothing. Children hadn't crossed my mind. I supposed I was not ready to think about it. The way he spoke so definitely about our marriage gave me pause. 

"Cregan, I-" my words faltered, but I persisted. "I think you ought to know that I didn't come here just to see you." 

He chuckled. "I figured as such when you brought your brother and two dragons."

I blushed. "We need you and your army to stand by my mother. My uncle has taken her throne. My grandsire's crown was scarcely off his head before Aegon took it. My mother raises an army to stand against him. I am not a bargaining tool, I will not marry you for an army-"

"-I would never presume to trade you like an animal. The North will see your mother, the rightful queen, on her throne, you have my word. I want to marry you because I fell in love with you in King's Landing those years ago, and I wish for you to be free as you want to be. If marrying me is not how you will find your freedom, I will accept your answer." The concept seemed to pain him. 

Would marriage truly shackle me? Being with Cregan felt like being on dragonback for the first time. It felt like gliding over a lake of glass water, your arms outstretched. I had fought and fought for so many years to be free, but free from what? I now saw in front of me a new kind of freedom, away from the clawing hands that surrounded the crown always. I saw a man who chose me and respected my happiness. I looked around at the rolling hills and distant mountains. The cool wind on my face. Bustling people entering and exiting the gates of Winterfell. Perhaps I imagined it, but I heard laughter. Children. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt peace.

I opened them again to see the hopeful face of Cregan Stark awaiting my words. If what he said was true, would he remain here in front of me for the rest of my life, always waiting to grant my next wish?

I smiled. Reached out to him. Snaked my hands around his neck, brought his face close to mine. 

"I choose me," I told him quietly. "So, I choose you."

We sealed the betrothal with a kiss. 

[mythicmanuscripts]

I had a thot about our brunette king, Jace.

So, super sensitive after cumming, right? And you mentioned before that Jace had a pretty negative outlook on masturbating due to the hypersensitivity and bad feels after orgasming even if it felt good leading up to it. May I introduce: EDGING. Maybe before meeting his wifey or before the marriage, he tries masturbating without cumming. It feels good, he likes the build up, it's just how he feels after that sucks. So he tries to delay the inevitable. For as long as he can. This leads to a mind numbing orgasm after denying himself a couple times. Sometimes he won't even bother trying to cum, letting himself soften after not touching himself for a bit.

Now, he has his super lovely wife that holds him and wipes away his tears after he orgasms. He's laying in your arms one night, head resting on your chest as he listens to the beat of your heart, when he mentions his "past habit" to you, asking if you could try it together.

Subby Jace shenanigans ensue.

Anon I love you. I would die for you. I somehow never considered this aspect of the edging before and you are so so so right. I can’t believe how many talented followers I have!!

(Also I love how many people we have in the cult of sensitive!jace). Anyway, NSFW sub!jace below the cut!!

My immediate thought here was that Jace wouldn’t even know what he was doing at first? He just knew that touching himself felt good but after the orgasm felt bad, so he’d stop before the orgasm and then start again. It definitely did feel so much better, and he got really good with it.

Of course the main problem with this is that when he did eventually come, it would be absolutely soul shattering and leave him crying and whining out loud in an empty room, just holding a pillow and crying. He absolutely hates how it felt afterwards, always.

And he couldn’t always just not come, not only because he was a young man at the time but also because after being edged for so long, sometimes even the smallest bit of overstimulation can push him over the edge and then he has absolutely no control over it.

So edging really was like playing with fire for him, but he did it anyway because he was just too horny to do absolutely nothing.

This is something that Jace doesn’t tell you at first. He tells you about how bad he felt after cumming when masturbating, but he didn’t mention the edging. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit that yet.

But in the end he decides to tell you, because you’ve been so so good to him. He never thought he’d be able to actually enjoy an orgasm without worrying about how sad and sensitive he would be afterwards, but now? Now there’s hardly any bad emotions at all. He does feel a little unsettled at first usually, but that’s so much better than before and he can handle that because you’re right there.

You always pull him into your arms and let him cuddle you and listen to your voice and feel you stroking his hair and kissing his head.

Maybe he comes clean during a random nightly conversation? Mild side note here but I think Jace would be a big fan of always having a little chat before bed. It doesn’t have to be about the day’s events if you don’t want it to be, anything will do. The goal is just to have a nice little reconnect before going to bed and it is genuinely jace’s favourite part of the day.

That night, you had sex with him and then he was pulled into your chest for cuddles and praise. He’s laying like that when he recovers and then the little chat starts.

Somehow you get onto the topic of first sexual experiences and poor Jace blushes a deep red as he admits he hadn’t been with anyone before you because he was much too water they people would make fun of him for how sensitive he can be.

Jace never thought he’d ever tell anyone about this, but he knows he can tell you.

It takes him a couple tries to get the words out and when he does, you immediately give him a little squeeze and a forehead kiss and promise him that you love him very much.

When you do try it, Jace absolutely loves it. You drive him insane with your teasing but it’s everything he wanted and more. Of course the resulting orgasm is also one of the biggest of his life.

For the first second after he came down, he panicked because he could feel himself distressed. But then you gently directed his chin up and gave him a soft kiss and kept your arms around him.

Make no mistake, he’s feeing a LOT of things, but he’s just so much easier when you’re there. He feels safe and loved and he knows it’ll all be okay.

And then just as a random tangent: this made me think of how Jace would love to eat you out while softly grinding on the bed? Not hard enough to make him cum, but just to feel good? He stops whenever he gets too close and then starts again. It’s truly his favourite way to do it.

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and Raven: Chapter 6 (The Wedding)

Chapter Summary: The day has arrived, the day the princess and her lord come to marry.

Notes: There is a steamy session, so MDNI !!! 18+ for this chapter,

Word count: 4275

Keep track of the story: masterlist

The camp was busy in the week leading up to Queen Rhaenyra’s arrival at Harrenhall and the Crown Princess’s wedding. Aemma herself scarcely saw Benji throughout the week, having to make quick preparations for her three ceremonies. They concluded Cregan would officiate the ceremony in front of the weirwood tree, Maester Gerardys would do the Seven Faith ceremony, and Princess Rhaenys would officiate for the Valyrian. Rhaenys, being the eldest of the Targaryen clan and grandmother of the bride, had the privilege and right to see her granddaughter bound her heart and soul to her new husband. Baela and Aemma worked on her maiden cloak. A beautiful black cloak with red accents that weaved along the edges, and in the middle is the sigil of House Targaryen, a three-headed dragon embroidered in red thread. To honor her Velayron's heritage, Aemma decided to replace one of the dragon heads with that of the seahorse. Alysanne Blackwood took the liberty to create Aemma’s marriage cloak, which the princess had yet to see, claiming it was her wedding gift to her and her nephew. 

Benjicot and Jacaerys finally seemed to bond with one another, with Benji helping Jacaerys train each day whenever they had the time. Aemma knew she should be happy that her older brother finally accepted her future husband. However, she was annoyed; she had hardly seen Benji this week due to the wedding preparations and any free time instead of spending it together. Benji is occupied with her brother or father. 

Aemma sighed in her bath. She got a letter from her mother stating that they were only a few days away and that she had a special surprise for her. She wondered what it would be; it couldn't be Rhaena and her three youngest siblings, for it was too risky. Maybe it was her wedding gown? Nevertheless, she would soon find out. Aemma stepped out of her bath and quickly threw on a silk chemise, for it was too humid for something thicker. As Aemma walked into her makeshift bed chamber, she gasped at feeling two strong arms around her waist. She soon leaned into the arms, catching the scent that can only be connected to Benjicot. 

“You shouldn’t be in here..” whispered Aemma, not meaning her words as she turned to face Benji. 

Benji smiled crookedly at her as he brought her closer and kissed her. Aemma threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body to him, deepening the kiss. After a while, Benji’s arms snaked down to her thighs as he raised her, with Aemma hooking her legs to his waist as he led them to her bed. Laying her bed, Benji kissed her neck, careful not to leave any marks. Then, to her cheeks before placing one on her forehead. They never went further than kissing, as much as they both wanted to. Aemma smiled at him; she would never tire of his kisses. Benji lay next to her, bringing her body to press against his as he drew imaginary circles on her thighs. This is how they usually spent the night: Aemma or him sneaking to each other's tents, sleeping in each other's arms, and quickly sneaking back to their own in the morning. So far, no one seemed to catch what the princess and the lord did each night. 

“How was your day today?” asked Aemma, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

“It was fine; your father and brother were explaining to me what to expect from the Valyrian wedding, but after a while, it grew awkward, and Jace practically ran out of the tent.” Chuckled Benji, remembering Jacaerys’s face turning bright red once Daemon explained the last portion of the ceremony. 

Aemma giggled. Yes, she supposed it would be embarrassing to hear that after the blood bonding and vows, Benjicot had to quickly bed her in the middle of the fourteen flames to ensure the gods of Old Valyria would bless her marriage. Usually, it would be done on top of the altar, but since they were in Harrenahll, after the vows, the flames would be taken to a tent, where Benjicot and Aemma would spend some time there before the feast. 

“What about you, my love?” Asked Benjicot as he pressed another kiss on her crown. 

Aemma sighed; she loved hearing those words come out of his mouth. 

“Aly and Cregan walked me through the ceremony that would take place in front of the weirwood tree…. They asked me who I wanted to present me… Jace or Daemon.” Aemma sighed; she was unsure. 

Technically, it should be Jace since her birth father was gone, but Daemon has been her father ever since. She did not want to disrespect Laenor, but she also wanted to honor Daemon. Benjicot thought for a second, knowing her words and concerns were valid. 

“Why don’t you let Jace do the Northern ceremony and have Daemon walk you to the Valryain one? That way, you honor both sides of your family without causing strain?” advised Benji as he was met with another kiss to his mouth. 

Aemma smiled at the kiss as she pulled away, laughing at him when he tried to continue kissing her. “You do know how much I love you?” 

Benjicot smirked, “Yes, but I never grow tired of hearing come out of your pretty lips.” 

Aemma giggled as she placed her head on his neck, “We should sleep if you are going to sneak out before the others wake tomorrow morning.” 

Benji, hmm, and he made himself more comfortable; he couldn’t wait until they could stop sneaking and sleep in the same bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, everyone was off doing their daily routines; Benjicot and Jacaerys were training with Daemon and Cregan. Baela was checking with Alysanne about the marriage cloak. While Aemma decided to patrol in the sky, she felt guilty about neglecting Sliverwing and decided to fly over the camp. Just because her wedding was coming soon did not mean the war had paused; they needed to stay vigilant. Aemma was about to turn back when she heard a  Dragon shrill, whipping to the sound. Aemma scanned the air around her… When then, a golden blur soared out of the clouds. Syrax, her mother’s mount, greeted Sliverwing and her rider’s daughter. Then came out the Red Queen herself, Meleys, with her grandmother on top and someone behind her grandmother. Aemma gasped as she commanded Sliverwing to land, seeing a crowd gathering to greet the queen and her party. 

“Mother!” exclaimed Aemma and Jace, each running to their mother. Rhaenyra, teary-eyed, embraced her two eldest children in her arms. Baela ran to Rhaenys, hugging her grandmother. 

Rhaenyra took Aemma’s face, caressing her daughter’s cheek. “Oh, how much I missed you, my Pearl,” whispered Rhaenyra as she kissed her daughter’s brow. 

“I have missed you as well, Muna…” replied Aemma as she looked behind her mother, gasping at the man hugging Baela. 

“Gransire?” questioned Aemma as she saw Corlys smile at the princess. Aemma squealed with delight as she ran to hug her grandfather, who welcomed the princess into his arms and kissed her crown. 

“My little Sea Dragon, you did not think I would miss your wedding now, did you?” questioned Corlys as Aemma stepped back with a massive grin. 

“Oh, I am so happy you are here!” exclaimed Aemma, truly happy that Corlys’s health became well enough for him to travel away from Driftmark. 

Aemma led her family towards the camp as the Vale, Northern, and Riverlands men bowed to the Queen and her royal party. Benjicot was highly nervous; Queen Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys, and Lord Corlys were all a force to be reckoned with, especially concerning Aemma. Luckily, before Rhaenyra reached him, Daemon walked up, bowing to his wife. Rhaenyra froze. She was still upset with his decisions regarding Blood and Cheese. Aemma looked at her two parents and sighed. She, too, was upset with the events, but she also did not want her wedding to turn ice cold with two parents awkwardly dancing around each other. 

“Please, can we not make this awkward for a few days? Allow me to have a happy wedding, and then, if you want, you can continue ignoring each other, just not during my wedding?” Aemma pleaded with her parents in High Valyrian. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, nodded to her daughter, and gave Daemon a strained smile. “Of course…. Now introduce me to the lord who managed to win your heart.” 

Aemma smiled as she extended her hand as Benjicot took it, being led to the Dragon Queen. Benjicot gave a nervous smile as he clumsily bowed to his queen. 

“My queen, House Blackwood is honored to fight for you.” he greeted shakenly. 

Rhaenyra smiled at the young lord, finding it endearing how nervous he was. 

“Lord Blackwood, thank you. Again, I want to express my condolences to your father and brother. House Targaryen grieves with you.” 

“Thank you, my queen,” replied Benji as he bowed to her again. 

Rhaenyra nodded as she addressed the rest of the camp, asking them to stand and dismiss them so they could return to their previous activities. Rhaenyra then turned and motioned for her family and the young lord to follow her. Once she entered a tent set up for her, she sat and asked how the wedding preparations were going. 

“They are all set for tomorrow, Mother,” replied Aemma as she held Benji’s hand on her lap. 

“Although I did want to clear up one more thing now that grandsire is here,” she further explained as everyone turned to her and waited for her to continue. 

“Since I have three ceremonies, I need someone to present me for each one, and now I feel confident with my decisions on who I want for each. For the Northern one, I want Gransire to present me, the faith; it will be Jace, and the last one will be Daemon… each representing the most important men in my life,” she whispered, staring at each man, all who seemed surprised but overjoyed in being a part of her wedding. 

Rhaenyra's eyes watered, knowing that Aemma was missing Laenor and Lucerys more than ever. They should have been here witnessing her marriage, but fate was cruel. Everyone else in the room agreed with these decisions, and Corlys asked when the ceremonies would begin. 

Benji cleared his throat, capturing the room's attention. " The first ceremony is based on the old ways of the north. We usually do them at night. It will be small, and only family will be present.” 

“Then we should rest; we have a long day starting tonight. We need to make sure we are not exhausted before reaching the last ceremony,” commanded Rhaenyra as everyone stood leaving the tent.

“Aemma, please stay; I have something to give you,” asked Rhaenyra to her daughter. 

Aemma nodded, smiling at her betrothed as he left the tent. Turning to her mother, she gasped. Her mother held a beautiful ball gown, a black dress with red accents and sheer sleeves. The dress was gorgeous and would greatly complement her maiden cloak. 

“Usually, Highborn ladies would wear white to their weddings, but you are a Valyrian princess; you do not need to follow the ways of the seven,” explained Rhaenyra. 

“It's gorgeous, Mother,” whispered Aemma as she ran her fingers on the red accents. 

“I’m glad you like it. Now go rest; your grandmother, Baela, and I will go later to help you get ready.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

At the hour of the wolf stood the Targaryen, Velaryon, and Blackwood families beside the weirwood trees, all holding torches to light the darkest hour of the night, with Cregan Stark standing before Benjicot waiting for the Princess. It did not take long before they gasped at the sight before them. Princess Aemma truly lives up to her moniker as the Realm’s Pearl. Her beautiful pale hair was pulled into intricate Valyrian braids, her dress showing off her shoulders as it beautifully flowed down her body. Her maiden cloak proudly shows her Targaryen and Velayron heritage. 

As Corlys walked his granddaughter up to the tree, his eyes glistened with tears. Once they reached Benjicot, Cregan cleared his throat. 

“ Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” 

Corlys puffed up, “Crown Princess Aemma, of the Houses Velayron and Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman has grown trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.” 

Cregan nodded as he turned to Benjicot, who glanced at him, gulping before nodding to continue. 

“ Who comes to claim her?” 

Benji inhaled as he stared at his princess and her grandsire, “Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, lord to Raventree Hall. 

“Who gives her?” asked Cregan, looking at Colrys. 

“Corlys Velaryon, of House Velaryon of Dritmark,  her grandsire in place of her father, Laenor Velayron,” stated Corlys. 

Rhaenys sniffed as she closed her eyes, remembering her sea dragon, as did everyone else. 

Cregan smiled at the woman he considered his sister, “Aemma, do you take this man?” 

Aemma smiled, looking in her beloved eyes as she answered, “I take this man.” 

Aemma reached out to grasp Benji’s hand as Cregan asked the couple to kneel and hold for a few minutes in silent prayer. Aemma and Benji both kneeled in front of the hearttree. Aemma stared at the face, closed her eyes, and prayed to the old gods, asking them to bless her marriage. After a few minutes, the couple stood as Aly Blackwood stepped forward, holding the marriage cloak that would replace the current one Aemma was wearing. Benji removed Aemma’s maiden cloak before handing it to Corlys, who stepped forward. Then Benji took the cloak from his aunt, smiling in gratitude, as she unfolded the cloak and draped it on Aemma’s shoulder. The Targayens and Velaryons gasped at the marriage cloak. The cloak was House Blackwood red, with a Black three-headed dragon in the middle; around the dragon were ravens that looked like they were flying around it. Rhaenyra, feeling moved, looked at Alysanne, mouthing a thank you as Aly bowed to her queen. With that, Aemma and Benji shared a sweet kiss, sealing their union in the eyes of the Old gods. 

As the families returned to the camps, Benjicot took hold of his bride and carried her bridal style through his tent. They would not consummate the marriage yet, waiting for the Valyrian ceremony later. Morning came faster than they thought, with Aemma changing her hairstyle to loose waves and wearing a tiara her grandsire brought from one of his expeditions. 

Both Aemma and Benji were nervous. This ceremony was the biggest out of the three, with everyone in the camp joining to watch the union of the Dragon Princess and her Raven lord. Maester Gerardys was waiting in the clearing as he would officiate the ceremony in the eyes of the seven. Again, Benjicot was waiting for his bride, feeling more nervous than last night with all eyes staring at him; he hoped he would not mess up the vows. 

Again, gasps were heard as Princess was led down the aisle, Prince Jacaerys walking his sister; both looked like dragon twins. As they reached Benjicot, Aemma kissed her brother’s cheek, whispering a thank you. Jacaerys kissed his sister back and clapped Benji on the back, nodding to him as he joined his family. 

Maester Gerardys clears his throat as he begins the sermon. 

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Once again, this allows Benji to cloak Aemma with her marriage cloak. 

Then Gerardys speaks to the crowd, “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The Maester then takes a cloth and binds the hands of the princess and lord as he says, “Let it be known that Crown Princess Aemma of Houses Velayron and Targaryen and Lord Benjicot of House Blackwood are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

After he speaks the word, he motions for the couple to begin their vows. Turning to each other, Aemma and Benji talk simultaneously. 

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days… “I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

Both staring at each other, Benjicot ends with reciting, “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” taking the princess’s face into his hands and placing a kiss, causing the whole camp to cheer for their princess and her lord. Benji flushes as he bows his head while Aemma bites her lip, trying to hold her giggles. 

As the camp makes way for the feast, the Valyrians walk towards a hill where all their dragons rest with fourteen flames in a circle. Rhaenys takes the center with Benjicot, and Daemon leads his daughter to the middle. Again, for the last time, Aemma is handed off to Benji; Aemma teary grins at Daemon and throws her arms around him. 

“Thank you for stepping up and being my Kepa,” she whispers to her father, 

Daemon huffs, trying to hold his own tears, and kisses Aemma’s brow. “I love you, my little sea dragon. Thank you for accepting me as your kepa.” 

Aemma turns to her grandmother, who hands her a dagger; Aemma creates a cut on Benjicot’s lips, taking the blood and rubbing it on his forehead after Benjicot does the same to Aemma. Then Aemma and Benjicot each cut their hands, pressing them together, allowing their blood to mix, creating their blood bond; then Rhaenys hands the cup of wine to the couple. As the couple drinks from it,  Rhaenys starts reciting the vows.  

“Hen lantoni ānogar, Va syndroti vāedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdeoma iārza sīr, Izulī ampā perzī, Prūmī lanti sēteksi, Hen jeny māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozūndesi, Syndroro ōñō jēdo, mazvestraksi.  (Blood of two, joined as one, Ghostly flame, and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers, Forged in fourteen flames. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow is spoken through time, of darkness and light.”)  

Benji felt an immense heat grow in his stomach as the candles around them grew taller, signifying that the Valyrian gods approved of this union. Aemma and Benjicot kissed more passionately, knowing that their blood had to mix, and Benji couldn’t help but feel a hunger erupt within him, tasting his wife’s blood in his mouth. Soon, the pair separated as the Valyrians each took hold of a few candles and placed them around the bed in the middle of the tent. Rhaenyra, gave a quick kiss to her daughter as she took her husband's hand, laughing as Jace practically dragged Baela as he ran away from the tent towards the feast. 

Once the tent closed, Aemma, also feeling the heat, turned to her husband; grinning widely, she practically jumped him, kissing him with so much hunger that Benji led them towards the bed. 

~~~~~~SMUT WARNING!!!! PLEASE SKIP IF NOT 18+ or NOT COMFORTABLE~~~~~~~

Benjicot couldn’t understand the heat building up in him as he began fonding Aemma, moving from her lips and kissing down her jaw and then neck, spending time sucking and biting where her pulse was. Aemma gasped at the feeling, spreading her legs, allowing him to rest more easily in between her legs.  

Benji moved his mouth on top of her bosom, Aemma’s corset pushing them up for him to kiss. Aemma mewled, pulling at his hair and making Benji groan at the sensation. Sitting her up, he began to unlace her dress, pulling it off, exposing her body to him and the night chills; Aemma, in turn, took off her husband’s shirt as Benjicot kicked off his trousers, leaving him in his breeches. 

Laying his wife down again, he took one of her perky breasts into his mouth, his hands slowly traveling in between her legs. Aemma gasped his name, running her hands through his hair. 

“Ben…please… yes..” whispered Aemma, feeling his fingers slowly tease her soaking cunt.

Benjicot grins, enjoying the sweet sounds coming out of his wife’s mouth before moving his fingers away, which makes Aemma whine. 

“Please, what, my love? I can’t give until you ask.” taunted Benjicot as he traced her thighs. 

Aemma playfully glared at him, “Touch me, Ben; I want your fingers inside of mhm.”  

She couldn’t finish as Benji slammed his mouth to hers, slowly easing one finger in her and pulling it out, adding another, and pushing in and out until he felt he could add a third. Aemma was withering underneath him. The feeling of his fingers going in and out of her was overwhelming. She gave a loud moan once she felt him use his other hand to rub her clit. Benji grunted, his own hard cock twitching with everything delicious sound coming out of the princess's mouth. Aemma felt a growing sensation in her stomach, nearing her climax before Benji stopped. 

“No, Please,” gasped the princess, watching as Benjicot removed his fingers and placed them in his mouth, sucking on them.  

Then Benji kissed her, letting the princess taste herself, and he rubbed his clothed bulge on her soaking cunt. Aemma whined again, closing her eyes as she grabbed onto his shoulder. 

“ Tell me what you want, my princess, for I am just your lowly servant meant to serve you,” whispered Benji as he placed his forehead. 

Aemma shuddered as she forced her eyes open, staring into her husband’s eyes. 

“Take Ben, Take me, let the whole camp know I am yours,” commanded Aemma.

Benjicot growled as he ripped off his breeches, releasing his weeping cock, and rubbing it on her entrance. 

Aemma nodded and sharply inhaled, feeling him enter her; he was large and thick. It was painful and pleasurable at the same time. Benji waited for a moment, allowing her to get used to him. Closing his eyes, he nearly finished her; she was warm and tight. Afterward, Aemma permitted him to start moving, groaning, and feeling him move steadily. Benji also groans, her walls clenching him with every thrust.  

“Faster…” commanded Aemma, to which Benji was more than happy to comply; moving faster and harder, he grabbed one of her breasts, fonding it as Aemma began meeting him with each thrust. Soon, both felt warmth growing in their bodies and the room as they chased their release. 

Benji groaned, picking up one of Aemma’s legs and placing it on his shoulder, going more profoundly inside of her, making Aemma moan loudly. Aemma began whispering yes as she dragged her nails down his back, giving him painful pleasure; feeling his release, he lowered her legs and kissed her as his thrust started moving choppily. 

“Yes, Ben, please, please, finish inside me…. Give me your babe. I need your babe.” Pleading Aemma as her climax washed over her. 

Benjicot soon followed after, shooting his spend inside her walls, moaning out her name, picturing her heavy with his babe. During their Climax, the fourteen Flames rose exceedingly before extinguishing, leaving the couple gasping in the dark.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Welcome back~~~~~~ 

Aemma held her husband close to her, feeling incredibly warm. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew they had to make some appearance in the feast. As she moved his sweaty hair from his forehead, she kissed him before trying to get up. Benji whined, not wanting to move, huffing as Aemma explained that they needed to be at the feast. Sitting up, he gave his wife a quick kiss before dressing. 

Once the couple finished dressing, they walked hand in hand to the feast; once the Blackwood knights saw their lord and princess, they began whistling, causing Aemma to blush. 

The royal family smiled at the couple, with Corlys, Daemon, and Jacaerys not making eye contact, to the amusement of the women. Aly Blackwood embraced the couple, and Aemma joked as if she should call her lady aunt now. Rolling her eyes, she explained that Aly was just fine. 

Everyone was enjoying the feast, making toasts and jokes around the camps. Unbeknownst to them in the dark distance was a knight wearing green with a golden dragon, staring at the celebration before galloping away, never being noticed. 

The festivities went well into the early morning before anyone went to bed. Aemma decided to sleep in her husband's tent, feeling whole. In what seemed only minutes, Jace awoke Aemma harshly, staring at her worriedly.

“Jace, what’s wrong?” asked Aemma as she sat up, noticing Benjicot still sleeping beside her. 

“Get dressed, wake Ben, and come to our mother’s tent quickly!” he stated, rushing out of the tent. 

Aemma’s heart was beating fast with worry. She woke Benji, quickly explaining while dressing in a red tunic and riding pants. Benjicot also followed as the two ran to the Queen’s tent. Rhaenyra let out a breath, seeing the couple enter. 

“Muna, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” asked Aemma, looking around the room and seeing grim faces. 

Rhaenyra turned to her daughter. “A letter came in this morning. Lord Darklyn is dead, Duskendale has fallen, and Lord Staunton has asked us to help him. The greens are moving,” the queen explained to her daughter and good-son, seeing both pale. Let the Game of Thrones begin.

[daenysx]

For fluff ideas for modern!aemond, maybe something with aemond and the reader at the beach with his family and he thanks the reader for putting up with them but they remind him that loving his family is part of loving him, even if they're crazy sometimes? If that sparks anything for you :)

- aemond-apologist 🐭

thank you for requesting, angel, i really hope you like this!!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, please let me know your opinions if you like it guys <333333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

you hate the way aemond looks upset when he's supposed to have a good time.

he can't help it, not really. the beach days are lovely, when it's only you and him. he enjoys his time with you, he likes when you insist on sunscreen and snacks, he likes swimming and holding you close to his body under water. you still smile though, nothing stops your smile when you're with him. even his fucked up family.

everyone seems like they mind their own business but the air is tense. you catch them looking at each other with somewhat concealed despise. uncle daemon smirks at aemond's grandfather sneakily, alicent keeps looking at rhaenyra, jace and luke are thankfully mostly spend time with baela and rhaena, and aegon- he's busy getting drunk and no one pays him any attention. the only person who sits with you other than aemond is helaena. she reads a new book, looks lost in it.

aemond's father is whole another issue but aemond insists sitting separately from them. you find a quiet place, somewhere secured from sunshine. it bothers aemond's eye when it's too much, you make sure he wears sunglasses. he looks bored, sick of the dramatics of his family, and a bit embarrassed. you reach for his hand.

"hey." you whisper. "are you okay?"

he nods, gives you a reassuring smile. "i'm okay."

"you look sad." you say. "we can go swimming if you want."

he rubs the back of your hand. "i prefer waiting a bit longer, it's still sunny. i can come with you if you want now-"

you are quick to shake your head. "we can wait."

aemond pulls you to his chest. he kisses your hair with a gentle hand on your bare shoulder. at the beginning of your relationship, he was more hesitant to show any affection in front of his family. now, he doesn't care about any of their reactions. it's a nice thing, realizing his time with you matters more. you are happy with him being so comfortable with you, his hands always seek you, his lips always find an excuse to brush a small kiss on your face.

"i brought your book." you say, remembering you took the book from his nightstand when you're leaving the apartment. "it's in my bag."

"thank you, sweetheart." he mumbles against your head. "i can read it later."

you lift your head to see him. his hair loosely tied on his neck, sunglasses covering his eyes. you gently take it off to make an eye contact.

"we don't have to stay here, aemond." you say. "you're not having a good time, we could just leave."

"i'm enjoying." he says. "i have you. don't have to care about them."

"i mean, not because i'm bothered or anything, i like spending time with your family for you but- you look sad. i don't like seeing you sad."

aemond knows you mean it when you say you like spending time with his family. maybe normally you wouldn't wanna be in a room with so many troubled people, he knows his family is not easy but you endure your time with them for him. you're the kindest soul he knows and it's not your problem, he's a big guy and he should handle it if he doesn't want to spend time with these people. you smile knowingly, he kisses your curved lips.

"i'm not sad, i promise." he says. "i'll be better when we swim. i like being here with you, you know that."

you nod. he hides you to his chest, away from everyone. he's not gonna share you, he's got into his head too much but you don't mind. you wrap an arm around him to settle down.

"can we have a nap?" you ask. when you wake up he'll be your aemond again.

"of course." he says. the summer breeze is nice on his face, carrying the smell of sea. he waits a second before saying, "thank you for being here. for dealing with all this."

"i love you." you say before closing your eyes to cool wind on your skin. "i don't mind all this. i just love you."

aemond whispers the words back into your ear. he likes when you sleep in his arms, when you trust him enough to close your eyes with him. he holds you until you wake up, that's all he was meant to be.

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter IV - Where Lions Preen and Dragons Feast

Summary: Yours and Aemond’s relationship flourishes as you wait for your wedding to arrive. But when Jason Lannister steps out of line, insulting not only yourself, but also your mother and your future husband, you putting him back in his place elicits an interesting reaction from Aemond.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); Aemond being pussydrunk; Jason Lannister being a major asshole; Aemond is a simp through and through (I plead my case)

Notes: Hello my dears, how have you been? I bring you the next chapter of this series (this is also my second time ever I writing smut so bear with me please, I apologize in advance)

Just to explain some things, Aemond and Reader call each other husband and wife in High Valyrian even though they are not married yet because apparently there is no word for betrothed, fiancé, bride, groom or anything similar in High Valyrian, so they call each other that (it’s meant to be more affectionate than a indication of their relationship status anyway)

Also, I again used an online translator (if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far and that you enjoy this chapter!

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Things had been calm, albeit quite hectic all the same, at least for a while. On the very same night after the spectacle that was the hearing over Driftmark, King Viserys had passed away in his sleep. Your mother, bless her soul, was with him when it happened, and promptly called for the maesters’ help but there was no longer anything they could do, leaving his body in the care of the silent sisters. Her coronation, reluctantly, happened on the very next morning. Rhaenyra wanted time to mourn her father, but an heir had no time to mourn a king, for the realm demanded a new one. Or, in this case, a queen.

In order to remind the lords of all the great houses of the oath they’d sworn to King Viserys almost twenty years before, Rhaenyra sent out every dragonrider to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon flew to Riverrun; Jace paid the Lord Cregan Stark a visit; Baela, accompanied by Rhaena, was sent to the Vale; Aegon and Helaena took flight to Casterly Rock to negotiate with a promise of maintenance of Ser Tyland Lannister’s chair on the Queen’s Small Council and a future betrothal between Jaehaerys and Jason Lannister’s daughter, Cerelle; Luke headed to the Reach. 

You, on the other hand, were sent to speak with the Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell with a proposition to join the Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule, which he of course refused and practically laughed in your face. But you were nothing short of prepared, coming up with an alternative: should he recognize your mother as the Queen of Westeros, even if Dorne remained an independent kingdom, he could keep the Stepstones and incorporate it into Dornish territory. You’d even personally aid them with your dragon in driving away the Triarchy; the only catch was, after that, he’d have to maintain it of his own accord. If he was successful in keeping the Stepstones going forward, they were his to do what he pleased so long as he kept open commerce with the rest of the realm. He’d eventually caved in, an impressed smile adorning his features (and a proposition to warm your bed, which you politely turned down) as he agreed to your terms.

The only two great houses who gave any indication of trouble accepting your mother’s claim to the Iron Throne were Houses Baratheon and Greyjoy. Lord Borros Baratheon, although vexed at having to bend the knee to a woman, didn’t seem so bothered after negotiations with his cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, and a proposal to wed one of his daughters to the previous king’s youngest son, Daeron. Lord Dalton Greyjoy, on the other hand, was quick to bend the knee to Rhaenyra the moment he set his eyes on Vhagar flying above Pyke, the sheer size of her rumored to be bigger than the whole castle itself, and Aemond barely had to do any negotiations at all.

All of this, allied with the extensive gatherings of the Small Council (which Rhaenyra decided not to change most of its members for the time being, just rearranging their positions and reinstating Lord Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships) meant yours and Aemond’s wedding got pushed back several weeks, if not moons, the last thing on anybody’s minds at the moment. The betrothal itself was only announced after the return of the last of the dragonriders to King’s Landing, almost a whole moon after the death of your grandsire. By then, the expected date for the birth of your mother’s and Daemon’s babe was approaching, and so it was decided to wait until after the babe was born so as to not cause Rhaenyra unnecessary stress that came with planning a whole wedding feast.

In the meantime, you and Aemond would spend every waking moment in each other’s presence; wherever one was, the other was never too far behind. Especially after your betrothal was formally announced the two of you could often be found walking together around the gardens, your hand tucked on the crook of his elbow, or breaking your fast together. Sometimes you’d be found reading together in the library or you’d watch him train on the balcony above the courtyard. Your handmaids often jested with you calling him your shadow, as he never strayed too far, almost like a lost little puppy. 

What the ever watching eyes of court didn’t see, however, was the way you’d often drag Aemond by the hand to some deep alcove away from everyone, or to the darkest hallway of in Maegor’s Holdfast, holding tightly onto the lapels of his leather doublet and crushing his lips to yours. Sometimes the kisses were unhurried, soft and gentle, everything you’d once dreamed of in your youth when your father, Ser Laenor, would tell stories of knights and princesses. Other times the kisses were fervent, passionate, his hands locked on tightly to your waist to stop them from wandering elsewhere. He’d been getting better the more you practiced together, more deliberate, sometimes catching you unguarded with a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head upwards, or a hand on your head and nimble fingers tangled in your hair. These stolen kisses, stolen moments, you shared had become the highlight of your days, and you suspected they were his too.

Almost two moons after her coronation you’d, regretfully, turned down your mother’s offer to spend some time with her in the middle of the morrow, promising to do so during the afternoon’s tea.

“You just want to gawk at your future husband training with a sword, don’t you?” she spoke, not even trying to hide the smirk hanging from her lips, much to your dismay. You felt the tips of your ears burning but didn’t try to deny it, for she knew you too well and could spot when you were lying.

Scurrying off to the courtyard you were pleasantly surprised to find it was practically devoid of the usual onlookers, not even the ladies of court were perched on their spot on the balcony, probably due to the gray and chilly weather that had briefly taken over the capitol. 

Only a few knights occupied the yard, engaged in heated training matches. On one corner Ser Erryk, who had been appointed by your mother as your sworn protector, sparred with his twin, Helaena’s sword and shield. Jace was also present, slaughtering a hay stuffed dummy with his sword; normally Daemon would supervise his and Luke’s (and your own, in secret) instruction, having picked up where Ser Harwin left off, but with the late stages of his wife’s pregnancy he chose not to venture too far from her side should she need his assistance. And Aemond, dedicated as ever, found himself in a match against Ser Jason Lannister, who had been briefly summoned away from Casterly Rock by his brother for some reason or another.

Emboldened by the lack of people who would possibly berate you or gossip behind your back about your ‘unladylike’ conduct (and considering you didn’t particularly care for the opinion of the likes of Jason Lannister) you decided to join the men in the courtyard, sitting down on some crates near where your betrothed was sparring, meaning to watch him from closer than usual.

Aemond was good. He was more than just good, he was phenomenal. He moved effortlessly, swiftly around the makeshift battlefield, embodying the first rule your father ever told you when he began to train you: ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. He was one with the steel, moving with a graciousness that rivaled that of the greatest dancers. You could only imagine how many hours he had put into achieving such mastery, considering the incident had most likely completely changed his depth perception. Watching him fight, even as just a training exercise, winning match after match against Ser Jason, was doing funny things to your heart as it beat wildly in your chest, heat expanding from your cheeks and down to other places.  

The sun, partially hidden by gray clouds, was already high up in the sky when both men decided to call it a day. Aemond had already re-sheathed his sword and was making his way towards you when Ser Jason stopped him, trying to engage in some rather interesting conversation.

“My prince,” the man started, loud enough for you to hear, only getting an impatient hum in response “I hope not to take up too much of your time. I was just hoping you could maybe have a word with your grandsire.”

“What about?” Aemond’s eye barely flitted to the man in front of him, his gaze settling on you over Jason Lannnister’s shoulder as he talked his ears away.

“The changes in the Small Council.” he shrugged, as if it was the most trivial thing in the world “Lord Velaryon being named Master of Ships barely seems fair, especially with the state of his health.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you see my prince, with a new reign just beginning I was hoping to be named Master of Coin.” he explained, finally gaining Aemond’s attention “But with the announcement of Lord Corlys for what was once my brother’s post, Tyland has now been appointed Master of Coin instead.”

You could see Aemond pursing his lips in thought, somewhat amused with the whole tirade Ser Jason was making.

“But you are the Lord of Casterly Rock, my lord. Shouldn’t that be enough for one man?”

“Ah, but to be granted a seat at the King’s Small Council is a great honor!” he kept on talking, not even noticing the slight jab aimed his way “Although the Queen’s Council just doesn’t have that nice of a ring to it.”

“Do you question your Queen’s decisions, my lord?” your betrothed asked, clearly meaning for Ser Jason to fall onto his trap and put his foot in his mouth. And oh, did he do it.

“I mean,” and that had you perking up on your seat “she hasn’t been known to always make the best decisions. My bet is she did this to appease Lord Velaryon about the death of his son. I simply don’t buy this tale of him being murdered by his squire. I am most sure she and that husband of hers had him killed so they could be together, she always had eyes for him in her younger years.”

He was speaking as if you weren’t even there, not noticing or simply not caring for your presence. You’d always known Jason Lannister was a fool, but you never took him for an idiot.

“She is a woman after all. They are more emotional creatures, thinking with their hearts rather than their brains.” he chuckled maliciously “Although a woman like Rhaenyra Targaryen probably thinks with her cunt more than anything.”

You were on your feet in an instant and even Aemond seemed surprised as the man started bad mouthing your mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, calling her every possible name under the sun.

“She would fuck any man who even glanced her way. Who knows who the father of all of her children even is? It might be one father for each offspring, we might never know.” Aemond’s expression got increasingly darker as the man talked about your brothers and you “The ones sired by her uncle are more likely to have purer Targaryen blood than the other three. What was she thinking, naming one of those counterfeits as heir?”

One moment you were watching the whole thing go down from afar and the next you were between the two men, holding Aemond back with both hands on his chest.

“You dare speak lowly of my betrothed, my future wife?! Your future queen?!” he tried lunging at Ser Jason but you stopped him, using all your strength to keep him from strangling the moron “I should have your tongue cut out and feed it to Vhagar, then feed her the rest of you along with it!”

“Aemond!” you held his face in your hands, firmly yet gently forcing him to look at you instead of the object of his ire “Ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys! Issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla.”

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the effort of calming down, until you eventually felt him nod curtly against your hands.

“Might I remind you, Ser Jason, that the one you speak ill of is none other than your Queen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and that the last man who called her a whore lost his head for it at the hands of that husband of hers.” you spoke over your shoulder, throwing his words right back at him, smirking mockingly “And if my memory serves me well, Lord Lannister, you actually sent in a request to take her hand in marriage when she was younger, a request she herself rejected. So, by your own words, she would fuck any man who even glanced her way except for you.”

Aemond stared at you wide eyed, and you couldn’t decipher if his expression was one of indignation or awe. As for Ser Lannister, whereas any smart man would have stopped talking by now, Jason Lannister was no smart man, and it seemed his wounded ego and pride only fueled his loose lips.

“You hide behind a woman, my prince? I never took the One-Eyed Prince for a coward. What next, are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?” he chuckled cruelly before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the both of you to hear “Maimed freak.”   

The ringing in your ears and the way your name fell off of Aemond’s lips in a warning tone were the only indication of your next moves, and the next moment you found your hand wrapped around the handle of his sword. He couldn’t react fast enough, for you had already unsheathed his sword and turned, the tip of the blade pointing at Ser Jason’s neck. 

“How about you kneel?” you hissed at him, noticing the other two knights and your brother intending to move forward and intervene, but they stopped with a gesture of your head.

The sword was longer, heavier than you were used to, but it would do. You held the Lannister’s stare daring him to move. He, in turn, unsheathed his own sword, clashing it against yours and proceeded to try to attack you. 

One lesson Ser Harwin had taught you that had stuck with you for the rest of your life was that most of the knights in the realm were physically stronger than you. It was a given fact. But you were faster, more agile, not wearing several pounds in steel armor that slowed you down meaning you were light on your feet in turn.

“The realm isn’t a nice place for ladies such as yourself, princess.” you remember him saying, a wink thrown your way “The world will not play fair, so you must use every advantage you are given.”

So you waited, dodging Ser Jason’s every blow. You waited for a moment, for just one small falter on his part. It didn’t take long; he was angry, humiliated even, and thus he was reckless, giving you a large window of opportunity to strike. In an instant, while his arm was pulled back way above his head to strike down at you, you twisted your wrist, hitting him square on the nose with the pommel of your sword. He tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his now bleeding nose and the other blindly feeling around for his sword, which had fallen out of his hand during the fall.

“Yield.” you pointed Aemond’s sword at his neck once more “Yield and those present might just be merciful and overlook your transgressions, forget your treason.”

Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk had their hands placed on their own swords, prepared to defend you at a moment’s notice and arrest the treacherous lord should you just say the word. Jace, on the other hand, looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the situation, a strained smile painting his face.

“Why don’t you control your wife?!” Ser Jason spat at Aemond, gurgling on his own dripping blood as it ran down his face.

“She is not yet my wife. And besides,” Aemond smirked playfully at you, despite you not being able to see him “no one can control her.”

Seeing as he was vastly outnumbered, Ser Jason couldn’t see any other option than to accept defeat, raising his hands. Once you were sure he wouldn’t try anything funny again you turned back around, giving Aemond back his sword before stalking off, fuming at the man’s audacity.

You didn’t get very far, however, feeling a large warm hand wrapping around your wrist. You turned around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, but you faltered once you realized it was Aemond who had reached out to you. His expression was firm, determined, as he started dragging you by the wrist, finding one of the secret doors that lead to the hidden tunnels in the Keep and pulling you behind him with a steadfastness similar to the one he held himself with on the training yard.

“Aemond?” you asked while he pulled you deeper and deeper into the secret passages “I’m sorry.”

You feared you might have offended him. When you started approaching the age suitable for marriage, your mother had sat you down to explain what you should expect and to prepare you for what was to come. She told you most lords expected their wives to be proper, never speak out of turn and bend to their every whim with a head bowed. You replied, indignantly, that what they wanted then was a servant they could sire children with, something that prompted a full belly laugh from Daemon who had been standing closeby. You were worried that, by putting Ser Jason Lannister back in his place for insulting not only yourself and your mother, the Queen, but also your future husband, your actions reflected poorly on Aemond himself.

He only stopped walking when you were very far into the tunnels, turning you around and pushing your back against one of the stone columns. He was standing so close to you, staring at you so intently, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

“Please, uncle, forgive me! I do not know what came over me, he started insulting you and I just-”

The force with which he crashed his lips against yours was so intense it almost sent you tumbling backwards; your head would have surely been slammed against the wall behind you were it not for his hand gently cradling the back of it to prevent you from hurting yourself. He kissed you fiercely, and by the Gods, had he gotten good at it. His tongue moved against your own with rapid movements, his fingers tangling in your hair and tugging, electing a small breathy whimper out of you, to which he hummed in return, nipping at your bottom lip. He shoved one leg in between yours, keeping them apart, crowding you even further against the wall as his slender fingers pulled at your hair again to tilt your head to the side, allowing his lips to trail a path down your neck to the junction of your shoulder.

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes,” he groaned against your neck, nibbling softly at the skin “ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio.”

Arousal pooled in your core at his words, not even realizing your hips had started mindlessly moving back and forth against his thigh. It was over all too soon, however, as he took a step back from you, to which you whined at the loss of contact. But what he did next surprised you even more.

Aemond sank to his knees in front of you, his hands caressing from your hips to the back of your thighs. 

“W-what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly.

“Proving some of Jason fucking Lannister’s words right.”

It dawned on you then what he meant, as he started bunching up your skirts.

“Are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?”

“Hold these for me?” he asked softly, holding the front of your dress bunched up against your navel, and the way he was looking up at you with so much adoration almost broke your heart.

“Aemond, I told you, we can’t-”

“Fear not, ābrazȳrys, this will not break your virtue.” he mentioned, hoisting one of your legs bend over his shoulder.

He spoke with so much conviction you wanted to believe him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Aegon may have mentioned something of the sorts.” he said casually.

“Are we trusting what Aegon says now?” you asked, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“My brother may be an idiot, but his expertise lies in two places:” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “his wines and the pleasures of the flesh.”

Your laughter echoed in the empty halls.

“Aegon does not strike me as the type to know how to please a woman.”

“I said he knows the pleasures of the flesh, not necessarily how to do it right.” he chuckled along, before his expression turned serious once again. He turned his head slightly, laying a kiss on the side of your knee “But if you really don’t feel comfortable, we can simply forget this ever happened and just wait for our wedding night.”

You pondered for a moment, not wanting for this moment with him to end. You were rather quickly realizing that there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him, and that thought brought a light fluttery feeling to your stomach.

“No no, I trust you.” you smiled reassuringly at him “If Aegon says it is fine, then I trust your judgment.”

“Good.” he inched closer to your core, pushing your smallclothes to the side “But please, stop talking about my brother. His name is not the one I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I feast on your cunt.”

As he was about to dive in, a hand holding onto his locks prevented him from doing so just yet.

“Would you rather I chanted Daeron’s name instead?” you jested, giggling at the annoyance that took over his features.

“I​​ksā iā ōdres.” he pinched the skin on the back of your thigh where his hand was resting, his other hand snaked around your leg perched over his shoulder, helping to keep you balanced “Ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon.”

“I mean, you did agree to marry-” your jesting was interrupted by a soft moan that left your parted lips, the feeling of his tongue licking a broad stripe between your folds catching you off guard.

Never in your entire life had you felt anything like it. A tingling feeling spread across your entire being, starting from where his lips and his tongue were diligently moving against your soaked slit. He worked smoothly against you, alternating between gentle strokes of his tongue over your entrance and soft kitten licks on your little bundle of nerves on the apex between your thighs.

“A-Aem…-” you tried uttering his name, now completely lost to the blissful sensations he was eliciting out of you, your fingers knotting on his hair and pulling hard.

And then something in him changed. Like a switch had been flipped in his mind, his grip tightening on your thighs as he started devouring your cunt with renewed vigor with a groan, its vibrations against your skin sending your toes curling from unbridled pleasure. You couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused it, if it was the way you tightened your hold on his silver strands, the breathiness in your voice or, as you’d later be reminded, the accidental use of a long forgotten sobriquet you hadn’t given a second thought to in several years. 

Aemond feasted upon you like a man on a mission, desperately leaving open mouthed kisses and broad licks against you cunt like he was starved. It felt like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you should he perish tomorrow, pulling moan after moan from you. Had anyone been venturing these tunnels, they could have surely guessed what was happening, the wet noise of his mouth against your cunt and the way you weren’t even trying to muffle your cries of his name giving it away. 

The way his tongue worked in vigorous movements, swirling swiftly around your clit and then down to your entrance again, had you shoving his head even closer to you, canting your hips against his face. The motion caused his sharp nose to bump against your clit, prompting a sharp whine to tumble from your lips.

You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his lips, feeling something warm and almost tangible, like liquid fire, steadily pooling in your core. You felt the pressure of it mounting higher and higher, like a coil threatening to snap, streams of pleasure climbing up your spine and turning your mind into mush. Your thoughts were hazy, like a fog had taken over your thoughts, and you could barely register that Aemond was murmuring something on your skin, but what you couldn’t tell. 

Opening your eyes again, for you haven’t even realized they had fallen closed, you stared down at him in between your legs. He looked ethereal, his eye closed as he savored you, some strands of his normally neatly groomed hair messy from where your fingers had pulled. You wanted to see him, for him to gaze up at you, so you grasped his fingers which lay upon your thigh and gave them a little squeeze. His eye fluttered open almost lazily, violet hue half-lidded as he stared up at you. For just a single moment, your traitorous mind was reminded of Aegon, for Aemond looked like he was honestly drunk on your dripping cunt, like it was the finest of Dornish reds he had ever tasted, expression fogged up as if his mind was far away. The small pang of guilt you felt at the comparison was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure as he, upon you smiling down at him with quivering lips, wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked sharply.

Then that coil snapped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. That liquid warmth spread over your body like a tidal wave as your muscles trembled, and had he not been holding you up you’d have surely dropped to the ground, consuming every part of you and leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. He switched back to gentler motions as you rode out your high, eventually coming to a halt when you finally stopped twitching. He dropped your leg and climbed to his feet, a glazed sheen against his chin and lips as they found yours, the tangy taste of your cunt invading your senses as he kissed you softly, so very different from just moments ago.

Aemond pulled back, resting his forehead against your own, both of your breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

 “I’d get on my knees every day if you asked it of me.” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered at his words, clenching in your chest. 

As he embraced you, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his trousers, but as your hand started to untie its laces, he stopped you, intertwining your fingers together.

“Later.” he whispered, laying a soft peck on your lips “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Let me assist you, like you have done for me.” you pleaded, voice a bit hoarse from how loudly you had been chanting his name in pleasure.

“Tis’ but a small inconvenience. I will take care of it by myself later.”

You pulled back only slightly in his arms to look down between the two of you and couldn’t help but jest.

“It seems like quite a large inconvenience if you ask me.” you smirked.

Aemond stared at you, expression blank, for but a beat before bursting out laughing, and you decided right then and there, in his arms, that it was your favorite sound in the whole world. You’d get on dragonback and watch all of Westeros succumb to dragon fire if it meant he’d never stop laughing. You could only hope on bated breath your wedding arrived sooner rather than later, for you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

High Valyrian translations: - ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys - let it go, husband - issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla - he is just a little man, you are better than him (meant as in ‘it isn’t worth it’) - ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - my fierce dragon - ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio - my little dragon defending me from a little lion (‘little dragon’ meant affectionately while ‘little lion’ is meant with condescension) - ābrazȳrys - wife - iksā iā ōdres - you are a pain (meant as in ‘you are a menace’) - ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon - my name will be the only one you scream

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[the-heartlines]

ablaze

jacela | {e. 1.7k}

just some smutty jacela consummation post their secret valyrian wedding 😌

"My prince," his princess whispers in his ear, sending a shock of pleasure down Jace's spine. He bit his sliced lip dried with blood, remembering how hers had tasted. Bittersweet, twangy with copper and he longed to taste more, which causes him to tense under her hand.

Her hand that has a firm fist wrapped around his cock...entirely. 

"How does it feel, my husband?" Baela repeated, licking her cut lip, eyes mesmerized by her husband's girth wrapped wonderfully within her hand. Jace could only gasp, his thoughts and words leaving him, as he bit into the meat of his tender lip harder when she squeezes around the base of his shaft, starting to milk him slow and steady now.

Baela quickly licked the blood that began to drip from it again, almost moaning when her husband's taste hit her tongue. "Tell me it feels good, Jacaerys." She said breathlessly, her cunt already wet, since the moment she eyed Jace hard and leaking, aching for her touch.

"B-Baela," he groans her name now, his eyes opening, staring straight into hers and he swears he can see the light emanating from her violet eyes, the pure blinding, burning brightness lingering beneath her skin; the depth of her heart and soul staring back at him. It makes his heart race faster, her hand stroke faster over him in tandem.

"Fuck," Jace curses, blushing, bucking upwards when she traces the crown of his cock, spreading his seedy fluids along his length to aid her precise movements. "You fit so perfectly in my hand, Jace. You were made for me. Say it, husband." Jace's stomach tenses, love and lust spiraling inside him like a huge storm ready to break. Her words are a balm for his wounded heart, each syllable sewing him back together, making him whole once more. 

"I n-need-"

You. Is what Jace wants to say but her lips are on his, her mouth stealing his kisses beautifully, sealing tightly to him, never wanting to let go.

"I know." Baela murmurs against his mouth, pressing her forehead to his, smiling stunningly against his lips, before her hand stills and she unwraps it around his length. 

"Wait," Jace whines, biting his lip once more, embarrassed at the desperation in his voice, because he was close; so, so to the purest and holiest ecstasy of his life.

"Patience, my sweet prince," Baela only laughs, playfully chastising him and the sweet sound echoes of his bedchambers, making his heart beat a hundred times faster.

Then her violet eyes are gazing fiercely back at him, full to the brim with a fire that threatens to burn through Jace-both of them-like the most delicious fever.

And Jace wants her to burn him, scorch him, set his skin ablaze, until his bones are anything except ash.

"I have needs as well, my husband." Baela steps away from him and swiftly discards her Valyrian robes, pulling them over her head along with her underthings, until she is as naked as Jace, her copper skin glinting a deeper golden color by the light of the flames. Jace's breath catches in his throat, for he's never seen a sight more beautiful, more brazen, than his wife with her silver-white hair wild and framing her face. The curves of her breast tipped with brown nipples beckon his mouth to them and he's swallowing, salivating with a need to wrap his lips around them, to suck and savor the sweetness of her. "And only you can fulfill them, Jacaerys."

Baela strides towards him gracefully to their bed and Jace hungrily eyes the sway of her hips, the crux of silver-white that matches her curls, that tantalizes him cruelly, hypnotizes him into the most blissful state of silence. His mouth gapes open, drool seeping down his chin, when she climbs astride him, licking the saliva mixed with his blood from his lip and chin, at the same time grasping him by his cock once more, pressing his head into her heat that threatens to suffocate him wickedly. 

"Baela, w-wait!" Jace hisses, but it's too late because she's wrapping her arms around him and sinking her tight, slick cunt onto him in one torturous movement which causes him to thrust all the way inside her, sheathe himself into her body to the hilt, until he's groaning, gasping, cursing at how wondrous, wonderful his wife feels wrapped wholly around him.

"Wife," Jace growls, hugging her breasts to him, placing gentle kisses into the crook of her smooth throat, murmuring his words of praise into her flesh. "You feel exquisite." Baela trembles against him, goose pimples raising along her golden skin, constricting her cunt around him even more and he jerks into her just slightly, barely.

"Oh, fuck, Jace, w-wait!" Baela cries out and Jace pulls his lips from her neck, eyes wide with concern when he sees pain painted onto her face along with tears shiny against her loveliness. 

"My brave princess," Jace presses his lips against hers gently, before his tongue licks away the salt that stains her cheeks, "my brave wife. Let me help you, sweetling. " He snakes his finger in between their bodies clung tightly to one another, joined for always, knowing how to ease his wife's pain, for he is his mother's son. Always observant, an apt listener, learning everything he can.

"Oh gods, Jace." Baela moans when his fingers stroke over her hidden jewel and Jace smirks against her lips when she relaxes her body into his, her body melting into his like lava. "It feels good doesn't it, my wife?" He watches her face relax, contort into one of pure pleasure, eyes opening, lilacs laced with the utmost lust, outlined in love. 

"I love you, B-Baela!" Jace confesses finally when her body lifts off his only to thrust down upon him once more.

"Then fuck me, my love." She hisses into his ear, all her fire and blood coursing through her veins and into him, making him tremble with the utmost need, to satiate and satisfy the dragons awakening beneath the surface.

And this time he meets her half way, with as much passion and intensity that burns through him; for he shall always burn for her, be the other half of her whole, completely, until the end of his days.

"Yes, wife, yes!" Jace cries, a loud sound that echoes off their bedchambers, along with the sounds of their bodies melding, becoming one soul, one heart. 

"Finish in me please, Jacaerys, please." This admission spurs Jace on as he grips Baela to him tighter, one hand pulling her hair back, one hand on the plush flesh of her hip, watching his cock disappear inside her slick heat, eyeing her creamy fluids upon him. His sac tightens at the sight, but Jace wants to see her shatter around him, to drown in the drenched honeyed juices of her cunt. "Fingers, husband. I need more." Baela begs, panting, hips humping against him desperately, and it awakens the feral beast lurking beneath fully, and he yanks on her hair harder, hard enough for his wife to whimper out. "Then use yours, my sweet wife. Touch yourself for me, my brave girl."

"You're cruel, Jacaerys Velaryon." Baela grits out, groaning, beginning to expertly rub over her clit, closing her eyes. But Jacaerys has other plans, latching onto one of her nipples, sucking and nibbling on it lightly with his teeth. "Ah! No teeth!" But her cunt clamps around him tighter so he bites harder, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a lewd pop. "Keep your eyes open, on me, wife." Jace wraps his mouth around her other nipple sucking it between his plump lips, fondling the other bitten one, watching his wife's hooded eyes, her lips part, if to cry out, so Jace bites into her other nipple, tearing a strangled cry from her lips, followed by his name.

"Jace!" Baela shrieks, rubbing over her clit faster and harsher, before she's reaching the highest point of her peak, body shaking, convulsing, clinging on to him for dear life, less she fall, crumble around him. 

So her dragon prince, her husband wraps his arms around him, hugging his princess to him, clinging to his wife for dear life.

"Baela, Baela, Baela," he grunts, against her tender breasts, "give me everything." And she does a second time, flooding him with her release, her honeyed sweetness that  takes and takes everything in him, milking him, and then her lips are on his stealing the breath out of his lungs.

"Yes, yes, sweet husband, now give me your son." Baela pants against his lips dreamily and Jace is the one shouting, gritting his teeth, crying out, convulsing against hers. Because he will give her a son. A son with his father's chestnut curls, with his mother's deep golden skin, with eyes the color of dark amethysts. 

"Our son," he croaks hoarsely against Baela's lips and tears of happiness spring forth from his eyes as the last of his seed is milked from his body, flowing and flooding into his wife's womb. One that will flourish, will bring forth their babe.

They fall onto their marriage bed together, into each other's arms, made whole by their union, their joyous love-making.

Jace's head is nestled in between Baela's chest, listening to her heart beat slow, his fingers lazily stroking over her toned belly, dreaming of it swelling underneath his hand.

"Lucerys," she strokes over his curls and Jace glances upwards, confused at her smiling, satiated face, until the realization dawns on him at what she means. 

"Yes," Jace mumbles, kissing the skin in between her breasts, running his tongue downwards over, dipping the tip of it into her navel, hearing her breath hitch. "Yesss," he says more hoarsely now, mouth watering and nostrils flaring, the scent of both him and her hitting his senses. "Yesss," and then his tongue is languidly licking her folds, tasting, savoring both seed and slick, ravenously beginning to devour the more of his wife's little noises that fill his ears.

And Jacaerys keeps his hand upon Baela's stomach the entire time, cock hardening at the thought of doing this a thousand more times, with his wife's belly swelling, growing with another strong seed. Another son born of fire and blood to replace one loss. Their Lucerys.

[ratgrinders]

**spoilers for latest episode of junior year**

alright so kalina saying "it's the only name i can say" when talking about ragh barkrock immediately paints the picture that kalina entered the spy's tongue curse with some co-conspirators and that ragh barkrock could theoretically lead the bad kids to figuring out who they are without naming them directly. also, kalina saying it immediately after the mall incident implies these co-conspirators have something to do with the dead god, which would explain why it would be on cassandra's mind as well when kristin communed with her.

so who are these co-conspirators? we know its not lydia because kalina was able to mention her by name back in sophomore year, and even if that was retconned, lydia was able to say kalina's name a couple episodes ago and the curse goes both ways. this is interesting because that leaves a lot less options for who kalina could be referring to, since there aren't a lot of options for people simultaneously associated with ragh barkrock, kalina, and with the dead god.

with a lack of any other information, i'm immediately suspicious of jace and porter.

it was stated in sophomore year that ragh saw jace in the room with kalina and arianwen during the whole nightmare king fiasco, and also that after the prompocalyse fight jace got porter to heal ragh with "barbarian healing" which then infected him with kalina. this to me implies that kalina, after talking to jace and/or porter, conspired to intentionally get ragh infected. (side note: this is interesting because to my knowledge this is the only instance of kalina deliberately infecting someone rather than it being incidental, which implies that kalina had some sort of plan for ragh).

so how could either of them be sus:

porter of course is the running joke of being sus, but as someone who is possibly part goliath AKA giant, while simultaneously being a barbarian who harnesses rage and a paladin with an oath to his ancestors, it makes sense that a possible god he worships would be a giant god of rage. honestly though itd be incredibly funny if after 3 seasons of being sus there yet again isn't anything wrong with him

jace has less evidence considering we know even less about him, but he is in a place of scrutiny seeing as he's been specifically made vice principal in the absence of gilear. and as a sorcerer, one possible subclass is divine soul, which makes it very possible for jace to derive his power from the divine source of a rage god. plus, the last name stardiamond can definitely be associated with the 21 point rage stars that the god has. AND, most importantly i think, yolanda badgood specifically went to jace stardiamond with her concerns over lucy frostblade and NOT principal grix, and then later ended up dead, which is a very suspicious series of events.

it still feels like we don't have enough information, but ultimately im curious about 1. why kalina would specifically enter a spy's tongue curse when she hasn't really done that with her other conspirators and 2. what she may have wanted with ragh barkrock

[sayafics]

Dragon of Dorne - Chapter III

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A tense silence had shrouded the hall shortly after, a thick presence that coiled around them all. Daemon watched his niece with a leering gaze. Try as he might, he could not withhold the infatuation that budded within him.

Despite Rhaenyra's persistent petting, the exasperated glances Jacaerys shared with his betrothed, and Lucerys' hidden smirks of horrified amusement, Daemon found his gaze could not be pulled away from the girl.

Daemon could not look away if he tried, even when she turned towards Aegon to share fretful smiles and indulge him with conversation so he may leave their nephews be.

Daemon leaned closer towards the table when Alaynha turned to Aemond, sharing hushed whispers and fruitive glances towards a quiet Lucerys.

Daemon's eyes softened when she laughed alongside Helaena, the two sisters conversed sweetly over insects and paintings, and he could not help but notice how the girl would preen at Alicent's every word, would smile shyly at Otto's nods of approval and would grin unabashedly at her father's acknowledgement.

Here was a girl who was surrounded by love from a family which was not wholly hers. Here was a girl bathing in affection - Daemon should have been jealous, his blood should have curdled with envy at the sight of someone receiving such outpouring, unconditional love.

Instead, his heart grew heavier with such great need he almost lost his breath. Daemon was not sure what he needed, just that there was an ache and an emptiness that lingered fresh beneath the scars and nightmares of his battles hard-won.

There was a part of Daemon that had awakened at the sight, to see such goodness able to exist within the walls of King's Landing.

There was a part of Daemon, dark and cruel, that wished to corrupt it and nurture it to feed the hole in his heart so he could feel anew.

Daemon didn't know what he wanted, but he would do anything to try and make the sinking feeling tearing at his soul stop.

It did not take long for the tense silence to simmer into an agonising echo of rage - with Alaynha far too distracted talking to Aemond, Aegon had grown bored quite easily.

His taunting words grated at Jacaerys' patient countenance. And when Aegon had stood between him and his betrothed and laid an offer, quiet and bare, with pride tinging him words, anger roiled within Jace's heart as he leapt from his seat.

The loud thud of his fists against the wooden table caused the room to hush, eyes fixed upon the seething brunette boy as he hunched over the table. Aegon did not even look ashamed when he returned to his seat, sharing an amused glance with his brother, who had taken Jacaerys' impulsive actions as a threat against Aegon and stood to his defence.

Alaynha watched on with cautious eyes, the hand holding her cutlery knife twisted it in her grasp as she tensed within her seat, eyes hardening as she prepared to move to defend her kin if she must - her gaze flickered between her nephew and brother, the grip on her knife tightening as she pursed her lips in an attempt to stay composed.

But with her twitching fingers, her trembling body and her raging eyes, Daemon knew. The girl looked like she was out for blood, the calming waves of naivety and shyness she had previously radiated were drowned out by the shrieking fire that begged to make itself known.

Daemon found himself enamoured at the sight of her restrained anger, wondering what potential hid beneath the walls she caged herself in. Wondered what her anger was like, what her violence held, what her touch felt like when the dragon in her blood burned all that came across its path.

He could understand the girl's vigilance. The last time one of her brothers had held their own against Daemon's children, and Rhaenyra's, Aemond had lost an eye. She would not allow her brothers to lose to them again.

Jacaerys spoke, his words strained as he toasted to his uncles, and then to his newfound aunt - pretending Aegon's words had only been in jest, all to keep his mother happy and his grandsire at peace. Jacaerys' eyes glimmered as he regarded her, only looking away when Aegon turned to him with a fierce glare.

No one spoke for a few moments, all silently staring into the depths of their empty plates and drowning cups before another voice spoke - a toast to Alicent, she said.

Rhaenyra's voice was thick with emotions, and a glance towards Alicent would show her eyes were full of unshed tears as she regarded the words of her oldest friend with the highest esteem.

The Targaryens - half-blooded and whole - sat in an amicable air of content despite the tense toasts shared in honour of Aegon and Aemond, and in rejoice for the cordial toast from Rhaenyra to Alicent.

There were tentative smiles shared between the women as food was passed around the table, but Alaynha did not fail to notice how her eldest half-sister avoided her with every laugh and every whisper.

She could not help the despair that settled in her heart, she had hoped she would gain another kin tonight but she was sure Rhaenyra would prefer to see her as an enemy. Perhaps as nothing, if she could help it.

Alaynha pushed around the food on her plate, much too anxious to try and sate her cramping stomach from hours of starvation as she traversed the skies upon dragonback.

There was a bark of laughter from across the table, Alaynha did not have to lift her head to know that it was her father's. A gentle smile pulled across her face as she peered up to watch him - at least he had found some peace in such a reunion. And truly, that was all which mattered.

Instead of her father's wilting gaze, her eyes caught the blazing fire that burned beneath the violet hues of Daemon Targaryen.

It was only then, seeing how concentrated he was, how his eyes singed her skin and his smirk sped up her heart, that she realised his eyes were not the only ones upon her.

A glance to her left showed the guarded eyes of Aemond, the stare growing more manic as he also realised the prey laying under Daemon's predatory gaze was none other than his sister.

Still, he kept mum - he did not want to ruin this for his mother, not when she was glowing in a way he had thought was diminished and extinguished, never to spark to life again. But it has - in this moment now, Alicent was set alight, talking with the woman who had everything she had ever wanted - choice.

Alaynha's gaze flitted back to her plate, cheeks flushed under Daemon's heated gaze, and she was not sure whether she wanted him to stop.

A flicker of guilt welled up in her throat, disgust curdling inside her gut - this was her half-sister's husband. This was her uncle. Although Rhaenyra may not acknowledge her, Alaynha was not half as cruel. She would not take what is not hers.

Daemon liked to think he could have taken his eyes off of his niece should he wish, but there was something tempting about her. There was a streak of Targaryen hidden behind her half-blooded soul that called to his whole one - where like searched for like.

She was quiet and meek, pretty and dainty. A doe in the wild, a lamb ready for slaughter. But when she spoke of her dragon, the High Valyrian slipping off her tongue with ease, there was a likeness which shone through.

There was something wild about her - something grim and feral that hid beneath layers of manners, polite greetings and shy smiles.

She was a gentle flame, a flickering candle yearning to be guided and fed to cause a roaring blaze.

Daemon's gaze eased off the girl as he followed Jacaerys' rounding figure towards Helaena - she sat next to her grandsire, lost in her world of dreams and insects. That is until a hand presents itself to her, and an offer for a dance is made.

Helaena reaches for Jacaerys' hand with glee, and although her brother's watch with irritated stares and suspicious eyes, Alaynha watched with an indulging smile that Helaena returns tenfold as she grips Jacaerys' hand tighter, allowing him to lead her.

Alaynha watched the pair in quiet admiration. She knew that Rhaenyra had previously proposed Jacaerys wed Helaena - her mother thought it mad. But seeing her sister's grinning face and hearing her joyous laughs, Alaynha feels she would have been much happier with Rhaenyra's child than stuck in a loveless marriage with her brother, both bound by a duty they do not want.

She remained stuck in her thoughts, smiling unconsciously at the sight of Jacaerys spinning Helaena around in buoyant moves. It was the touch of something rough and calloused against her back of her hand which snapped her out her reverie.

Her hand was resting against the back of her chair as she had twisted in her seat to admire Helaena's dancing with Jacaerys, and it twitched at the unfamiliar sensation. There was a sharp intake of breath, had that been her?

Her eyes darted towards what had caused the sensation, she thought it to be Aegon since Aemond sat on her other side - but her eldest brother's hands were soft and pliant, the hands that brushed against her own were worn, like that of a warrior.

Her eyes found fingers calloused by the use of heavy weaponry, scarred by light scratches and gashes, brushing against the back of her hand.

A soft caress that called to her.

She followed the hand up, up, up.

Oh.

Her gaze wavered for a moment, her vision wobbling as she looked up towards the man who thought himself brave enough, worthy enough to call to her. To ask for her. It was then she realised the room had plummeted into true silence, the guards much too hesitant to shift from their positions in fear the sound of their scraping armour would send the room into utter chaos.

Those around her watched as she regarded the man in front of her with a curious gaze.

Daemon Targaryen.

There was a part of her that felt she should not be surprised by his audaciousness, but she was sure her mouth had parted in surprise as she gazed into his eyes with a wide and curious stare.

Daemon did not dare to glance around the table, so sure he would be met with the sight of Rhaenyra stiff with wrath, his brother frothing at the mouth with indignation, and the suspicious gazes of her brothers and Alicent.

Instead he smirked softly, the feeling foreign upon his face, as he lifted his hand, palm facing up. Another offering - a chance to dance.

Alaynha reached up easily, as though she was reaching out based on simple instinct. But the stifling sense of hostility, which drowned the room, seemed to make her hesitate. Her eyes flickering between her brothers, as though she was almost asking their permission.

Daemon and his niece had not spoken again after their introductions, and even now he regarded her in silence. He knew he wanted to hear her voice again, to hear the High Valyrian slip off her tongue in rolling waves. There was a fascination that had seeded within him, one which slowly began to blossom and bloom.

He simply wanted to see where this sweltering feeling of temptation would go.

Daemon had a feeling he already knew, but a distant glance towards Rhaenyra's seething form had him feign ignorance to his own scheming desires.

Daemon did not wait for Aegon and Aemon to grant her permission, nor did he wait for her to accept his hand. He reached for her hand, holding it firmly in his grasp, "would you do me the honour, dear niece? I believe it is only right to offer a dance to the niece I have not known of in so many years."

His words were light, and he did mean every one. But he also held back on what his mind begged him to spill and confess. It seemed Daemon's words were enough to convince an aching Viserys, his voice strained as he prompted his daughter - "yes. Yes, dance with your uncle, dear. It would make me most happy to see my kin get along."

Perhaps Viserys should have known better than to encourage, but Alaynha had already been rejected by a sour Rhaenyra - perhaps Daemon's persistent acknowledgement of the girl would force Rhaenyra to accept her one day.

Alaynha relaxed at her father's words, assured she would not upset anyone as she stood and nodded in agreement.

Daemon led her close to where Jacaerys and Helaena still spun in graceful circles.

The sound of music faded into a melody that was new and bold. The violins were a layered chant of whispers and echoes that rung through the hall and enchanted the ears of its audience.

Daemon loosened his grasp on Alaynha's hand, letting it fall to her side as she simply watched him. A smile twitched upon his face, a brow raising in question - "well?"

Alaynha coughed, his words pulling her from her musings as she took a step back.

She glanced beside them, where Jacaerys and Helaena danced with child-like glee - holding each others arms like they were infants playing a simple game and not a man and a woman living in the ghost of their past.

Alaynha looked back at Daemon, her breath catching as she took in his fierce stare - she felt as though she was drowning in the vision of him.

The gentle tune reverberated across the hall, and Alaynha lifted a hand between her and Daemon. The tips of her fingers were so close to brushing against his jaw that they almost trembled - her palm faced him. Waiting.

His eyes glimmered with intrigue, his shoulders rising as he straightened his posture. He lifted a hand of his own, his left meeting her right.

In dances such as these, etiquette was key. That was what Alicent and her Septa had taught her, it was of modicum to stray from touching.

So when Daemon's hand brushed against her own, she had to suppress a flinch and fight off the shiver that crawled down her spine. His palm felt warm against the cold-bitten flesh of her own. Her hand dwarfed against his, and she could feel every mark he had suffered to earn his titles throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

The Rogue Prince.

Commander of the City Watch.

King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.

He had rejected all titles but one, and the Rogue Prince stood in front of her today - a tall and lumbering figure who bore the expression of a man starved.

She nodded at him, and they began to dance.

The tip-toed around each other with graceful steps, when they would let go of each other's hands during one step they would immediately find it again in the next.

"Why would you ask me to dance, Uncle?"

Her question sounded innocent, and though he had given Viserys a reason he deemed acceptable, it did not mean Alaynha found it believable.

She may be the youngest child of Viserys, but she had grown up with the boy who did not want to be a king, a soldier burdened by the sacrifices of his past and a dragon dreamer who did not know how to escape the fates she had forseen. She was young, yes. But not naive.

"Is it truly so hard to believe I simply wanted a dance to learn more of my niece?"

"When you have tried so hard to not associate yourself with my brothers and sister, you should understand why I do - find it so hard, that is."

He pursed his lips, and when they spun around each other before switching hands, he took a step closer. Daemon took a deep breath, the scent of citrus and berries coating his tongue as the warmth of Alaynha being stood so close burned him through his clothes.

"They are not the same as you."

"Because they carry the blood of Hightowers? Well, it would do you well to understand I am no different to them, Uncle. For it was a Hightower who raised me with love and affection, when all the 'true' Targaryens - as I'm sure you refer to yourselves - fled the Seven Kingdoms and left my father to rot on his deathbed."

Her words were tainted with venom, anger that was hidden deep and caged away had been sparked to life. Daemon found the sight amusing, but if he let that be known he was sure the girl would walk away from him now.

"My apologies," he whispered softly, "I believe I have some reparations to make then, if I am to get your approval."

"And why is it that you crave such a thing, Uncle?"

"There are many things I crave that I cannot explain away," he glanced towards her lips, relishing in how she flushed darkly at the action, "but I would be more than happy to show you instead."

His eyes now bore into hers, pupils dilated as his heart beat wildly in his chest. They had merely danced in simple circles, and yet he found himself losing his breath the longer he breathed in her scent. The longer he held her hand - the flesh was supple and soft, felt soothing against the calloused gashes of his own.

She parted her lips, tongue rolling as she got ready to answer. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder briefly as they spun around each other once more, and when she came to face him again, her expression was blank, and her lips held tight.

Daemon did not need to turn to know who had caused such a thing.

Still, he could not blame the girl for her reaction and instead gave her a nod of reassurance as his hands twitched in an attempt to intertwine his fingers with her own.

They continued like that, spinning around each other in slow circles as the melody began to fade and stretch with dramatic pulls and frantic strums played in a frenzy.

There was then a silence, an opportunity to breathe as they stood still for a moment. They were much closer than when they had started, and their dance had caught the attention of all those in the hall who watched with raptured attention.

Even Jacaerys began to stumble in his steps as he tried to watch one aunt at the same time he danced with the other.

Daemon drew closer in anticipation. His hand that was pressed firmly against the palm of hers began to drag down her wrist, and the sensation of his fingers brushing against her hand, and then her wirst and arm caused goose-flesh to rise. He bit his lip in quiet amusement. His hand in question had reached for her opposite shoulder, where he brushed back strands of pale hair before winding his arm around her waist.

He tugged her closer, a reassuring warmth funnelled through him. Her eyes darted between his earnest gaze and the raging form of her half-sister, but a soft jerk pulled her back to him, and a kind smile eased her racing heart.

A moment to breathe.

It was then the music came crashing back, what must have been seconds felt like hours but Daemon had been prepared.

He pulled Alaynha flush against his front, his skin growing heated as he felt her form press against his own. He kept his sneaking desires to himself, taking to spin around the hall with calculated steps as Alaynha wrapped her arms around him with wide-eyed surprise.

Daemon glided them across the floor, spinning and turning. They never missed a step, and Alaynha found herself lost in the vertigo of their endless dance. Their feet moved in synchrony as their breaths melded into one, and Alaynha had simply lost herself to this moment now.

A breathless laugh escaped her. The sound was an addictive melody that Daemon found he would drown himself him if he had the choice. He smiled, a grin so broad and free that it felt foreign upon his face.

A glance over his shoulder would show a simmering Rhaenyra, and it was the only thing that stopped him from joining Alaynha in her joy.

She clutched him tightly as she tried to move in step with him, her hands winding around his neck and brushing across the scarred flesh hidden beneath his collar. Daemon's breaths stuttered at that, but for once, in perhaps a decade, he felt no need to turn from a gentle touch and instead leaned into it.

A haggard cough broke through the music, the musicians trailing their notes off-key as Daemon and Alaynha came to a stop. She pulled her hands away from their place around his neck, and they came to rest at his chest as she pushed against him softly.

Her head turned towards her father, expression tight with concern as she saw the man unable to catch his breath. She would have tried walking to him, but Daemon's touch was unrelenting.

She spared her uncle a look and saw his eyes filled with the same unease that settled in her heart.

Alicent ordered the King to be sent to his bed, Otto chiming in to have him receive milk of the poppy to ease his pains. Alaynha watched with sad eyes as her father's ragged form was carried away by his personal guard, the man much too weak to raise his head and deign a goodbye.

Her eyes followed him as he exited the hall, fixed to the door even after it had been closed. There was a comforting brush across her waist, where Daemon rubbed light circles atop her dress.

But it was Alicent's voice which brought her back - "why not continue your dance, my sweet? I was enjoying it quite so much."

There was a pleasant smile on her face, but Alaynha could not dismiss the suspicion held in her eyes as her mother regarded Daemon. Her grandsire simply looked amused as he nodded his ascent.

"As you wish, muña."

She agreed with ease, already turning back to peer into Daemon's waiting eyes. Her hands were still pressed against his chest, and a shudder ran through the man as she dragged them up to wind around his neck.

They dance for a few moments more, their steps in line with the gentle strums of the violin. But their moves are much more stilted, the joyous atmosphere tainted by the truth of her father's health - the man could take his last breath any day now. Such a truth threatened to drag her down with misery and dread.

It must have been only minutes before they were pulled to an abrupt stop - a powerful thud echoes through the hall as the lean figure of Aemond Targaryen stood above those in the hall.

Rage poured off of him in tempestuous waves, but he composed himself - head held high as he regarded the swine placed in front of him with disgust, and the boy sat across from him with murderous craze.

"A final tribute - to the health of my nephews."

Alaynha tensed, so sure of where his words would lead him that even as she paused with Daemon instead of her arms dropping from his neck, they tightened. In gross anticipation, she held her breath, fingers pressing into the rough and scarred flesh of Daemon that he almost gasped at the heady sensation that tumbled through him.

"Jace. Luke. And Joffrey," he continued, his hardened eye moving to each nephew, "each of them handsome, wise..."

There was a long pause, and Alaynha could see Aegon's lips twitch in amusement as well as Helaena's earnest gaze. A glance back to her uncle, who watched Aemond with narrowed eyes, was enough to restrain a familiar twitch of amusement spreading across her face.

"Hmm. Strong."

Alaynha finally slipped her handa from Daemon's neck, taking in Jace's figure that trembled with anger at Aemond's words.

"Aemond-" Alicent's voice was tinged with exasperation, but Aemond did not allow it to stop him.

"Come, let us drain our cups - to these three Strong boys."

Alaynha watched as Aegon, ever the supportive brother after Aemond had lost his eye, raised his cup almost immediately. Helaena replied to his speech with a light round of applause and a tender smile.

Alaynha could only stand next to her uncle, unsure of what he would do to her should she so openly support her brother in front of him.

"I dare you to say that again."

Jace held his head high, a challenge.

Aemond turned to him with ease, "why - twas only a compliment."

He began to stalk towards Jace as the boy stumbled towards him with a wrathful temper - "do you not think yourselves strong?"

His words were met with a resounding punch to that of his unseeing eye - Rhaenyra called to her eldest son but he paid no mind.

Aemond had barely shifted, turning back to Jace with a bearing grin.

Where Alaynha had previously been hesitant, she now began to seethe as years of resentment over what these Strong boys had done to her brother came crashing over her in waves.

She watched as Lucerys marched for his brother, but Aegon got to him first - slamming the boy face-down against the table.

Jace moved to Aemond again, and at that, Alaynha moved forward, simmering in rage - a dagger falling easily from the clasp in her sleeve into her awaiting hand.

Aemond pushed Jace to the ground with ease, and a large hand wrapped around Alaynha's wrist to stop her from what would have been a glorious rampage.

Daemon tugs the girl harshly, throwing her behind his back as he watches the scene unfold with speculative eyes. When she tried to round his solid figure, he reached back - his hand scrapes across the pristine blade held in the princess' hand, and it closed over the blade and her wrist in a tight grip.

He paid no mind to the sting as his flesh tore open, and blood began to spatter upon the floor beneath them. But there was a moment of hesitation that overcame him when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he knew he must have cut her flesh open the same.

The two began to bleed freely in the hall of the Red Keep, a small pool of blood leaked between them as their blood mixed into one.

Daemon felt light-headed, his skin burning where his bleeding gash met hers. But he steeled himself, watching the scene unfold with unforgiving eyes.

It was when Rhaenyra stood with her eyes blazing as she watched him hold her half-sister, a hand on her swollen belly as she called to him silently, that he found himself reluctantly letting go.

He clenched his fingers around his gaping wound. Alaynha hid hers behind her back, hopeful that her brothers nor mother would see the blood that stained her gown.

They stepped away from the pool of blood with ease, stepping in opposite directions.

Alaynha walked to Aemond's side with graceful steps, and Daemon stood as a barrier between her family and Rhaenyra's.

They shared a weighted gaze, unsure of what it is they were searching for.

Daemon looked away first, staring passively into the bright eyes of Aemond instead.

The man hummed, a smirk painting his face before he rounded his uncle and walked away. He paused by the door, peering over his shoulder - Aemond watched Daemon as he spoke, a glimmer of a challenge in his eyes, "come sister, tis late. I shall see you to your chambers."

"Of course, Aemond."

She walked to her brother, holding Daemon's gaze with every step. As she walked past him, his injured hand seemed to reach for her own, but with Aegon taking Aemond's words as a silent order for himself, he stepped between the two and led his sister away.

Daemon didn't turn, lest they take his glances for weakness. But he stayed silent, listening to how the sound of her soft footfalls melded into the silence, which haunted the Keep during the late hours of night.

He stayed still for a moment longer, wondering if she would turn back.

Rhaenyra sent her children away, his own following them with practised ease. His eyes met Rhaenyra's, which wobbled with a darkness - an endless wrath that threatened to boil over should he make one more wrong move.

She turned to Alicent, her shoulders sagging with relief when her dearest friend took her hands - Alicent took a glance at Daemon, apprehension colouring her features as she thought her next words out carefully.

Rhaenyra plans to leave tonight.

Alicent did not want it to happen.

Daemon could not let that happen.

"You only just got here, Rhaenyra."

Alicent's voice was heavy with reminiscence, poisoned with the longing desire to relive the days of her childhood before she had been sold to Viserys like a brooding mare.

"You cannot leave. Don't."

Perhaps if Rhaenyra stayed, she would grow used to the presence of Alaynha. Of her other siblings, too.

Perhaps she would enjoy Alicent's company once more.

Perhaps she would be happy at the Keep, and she would love Alicent's children enough that she would not order them killed when it came time to claim the throne of the Seven Kingdoms.

Would it be Daemon who took a sword to their throats? Would she have them killed in their sleep? Or tortured for all the kingdoms to see, in fear of retaliation? Would she have them poisoned or stabbed or beheaded? Would she wish them away? Would she kill them with her bare hands if she could?

Perhaps.

Daemon wanted to stay. Curiosity poked at him with growing force - a gnawing and aching sensation that flooded his body when his mind flitted back to the girl he had only just met.

It had to have been her beauty - her moonlit hair, her glowing skin, her bashful laughs, her gleaning smiles.

It had to have been her dragon - Grey Ghost was a wild dragon, and for her to have tamed him with such ease and become his rider only sang to the idea she had dragons blood burning through her veins.

It had to have been her words - coy and hesitant, shy and calculated.

It had to have been her darkness - hidden within the depths of her soul, easily prodded if one knows how.

Daemon knew how. He remembers the look on her face when she mentioned his dismissal of her brothers and sister. She cares for her family, deeply and true. She had given away her biggest weakness, and Daemon could not let such an advantage slip through his fingers unsullied.

There was an ache growing within Daemon, in the very place his curiosity had seeded and grown.

Rhaenyra wantes to leave, but Daemon would do what he had to, to ensure they stay.

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