#harwin strong x reader

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing her. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. Her brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in his eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. "I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[fairysluna]

HERE AGAIN

43. “Go on ride my thigh.” WITH HARWIN

knight in shining armor.

When the Red Keep is attacked, Ser Harwin is the one in charge of your protection. Spending the night by your side, he finds it hard to keep his emotions under control.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Harwin Strong x Targ!Fem!Reader.

TAGS — fluff (a bit too much, I'm sorryy), smut —thigh riding, nipple play, oral fixation, praise, virgin!reader, dirty talk—, sexual tension, descriptions of nudity, mentions of blood and violence, murder. If something is missing let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — small context: here the dance of the dragons doesn't happen, Rhaenyra never fucked Harwin and the greens and blacks are a lovey dovey family. Long live fanfiction for this. A big, big thank you to @bucknastysbabe for beta reading this!! Ilysm!!🤍

My baby bel, i think i put a bit too much fluff into the mix while writing this, but i hope you like it and enjoy it. Ilyy🤍

WORD COUNT — 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

A thunderous sound woke you up from your peaceful slumber. By looking around in the darkness of your chambers, you could tell something was wrong; a strange atmosphere appeared in the air, something odd that brought an inexplicable chill in your spine. You arose from your bed, walking barefooted towards the nearest window and peeking outside - the cold wind that entered the room sent shivers through your body, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. It had to be the hour of the Wolf, you could barely see a thing.

There was a group of guards marching towards the entrance of the Red Keep; you heard them bellow, but you were not able to make sense of their words. They ran from one side to another, picking up their swords and shields, giving commands to one another. You grew curious to know the reason behind such a fuss and the answer came quicker than you expected. While you were observing a knight standing beside the arsenal and keeping guard on the perimeter, another man silently approached him- wearing all black, camouflaging in the darkness of the night.

A small part of you told you to look away, but you stood there - eyes fixed on the guard. Curiosity killed the cat.

Out of the blue, the black-clad specter reached for the knight, and before you could discern what the man had done to him, you saw red flooding out under the moonlight - staining his prestigious white cloak. You froze in your place as you saw the guard falling to his knees before his entire body reached the dirt on the floor. The air escaped from your lungs as you witnessed such a gruesome scene, feeling your heart beating frantically in reaction.

It only became worse once the unknown man looked up, right at your window. Right at you, steely eyes glinting.

Immediately, you took a few steps back - your hand covering your mouth and muffling a squeal as soon as you realized what had happened. Chills traveled around your body, and before you realized, your cheeks were soaking with tears of horror and fear. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your chest feeling heavy and tight. That man saw you, he would certainly come after you now.

Your feet kept moving, eyes fixed in the window as you walked backwards, as far as possible from that frightening scene. In that moment, you felt your back hit something cold and hard before two strong arms wrapped around your body and squeezed you between them. You yelped, screaming hysterically with the thought that it will be your turn now - squirming desperately as you tried to be freed from the arms of the person who was holding you down.

Then you heard his voice.

“Princess, it's me!” The familiar voice exclaimed, loosening the grip around your body and allowing you to turn around to see him. He removed his helmet, throwing it onto the floor. “It's me, my sweet princess,” he repeated, this time more calm and with a soothing tone in his timbre. He placed his big, calloused hand on your cheek.

The relief washed over you as you saw your beautiful knight in shining armor standing before you, tense shoulders instantly relaxing as you locked your lilac eyes with his deep brown ones. His gaze was soft, but it still showed signs of his preoccupation for you. His thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. You leaned towards his touch and he sighed.

“You're safe with me,” Ser Harwin murmured. “Everything will be okay…” His impressive frame towered over your smaller one; you had to look up at him as your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Harwin was taken aback once he felt your trembling arms wrapping around his armor. You hung from his neck as he picked you up from the floor. One of his hands held your waist, while the other went to your nape - keeping you close to him. The coldness of the metal was pressing against your cheek, and you closed your eyes - silently crying against his shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest once he tightened his grip around your body; you felt safe in his arms.

“Shh… it's fine,” he cooed against your ear. His lips pressed against your head. “No one will hurt you if I'm with you, princess. No one will harm you.”

“What happened? What's going on?” you asked between sobs.

“Some miscreants managed to go through the gates, they're now being secured in the black cells. They’re trying to find those who are inside the Keep,” he explained while he slowly put you back on your feet - a soft whine involuntarily left your lips once you stopped feeling his warmth. “I've come as soon as I heard.”

“Is my family safe? My mother, my siblings? Rhaenyra and the children?”

“They are all being guarded by members of the king's guard,” Harwin replied.

You nodded before you took a look around his face, as if you were trying to search for some wound - just in case he needed your help. “Are you hurt?” A little smile appeared on his handsome face once he noticed your worry. “Did- did they hurt you?”

“No,” he answered. “And you shall not worry about me, princess…”

You pressed your lips in a thin line before murmuring - a bit embarrassed, “you know I'll always worry about you.”

Harwin paused to take a look at you; his heart beating fast with the mere sight of you, feeling like a green boy whenever you were around, staring up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours. So beautiful, so precious. It was no secret between you two that your feelings had flourished like roses in Spring. Yet, even when the deep affections were obviously mutual, both of you were scared to act on it. It was forbidden, and - somehow - that made it even more tempting for both. How scandalous, King Viserys daughter has the Hand’s son as a paramour.

“Mayhaps your royal highness should go back to sleep,” Harwin suggested. “On the morrow all this would be just a faint memory.”

“I don't think I will be able to do it,” you told him, taking a step back and wiping your tears away. “I lost all my sleep with what I've just seen…it was awful, terrible…”

Harwin approached you again as he noticed your despair - your voice breaking in the middle of your words and your eyes glistening once again by a layer of new tears. He cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.

“It's okay, my sweet angel,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours - you closed your eyes. His closeness made your heart beat faster, and the syrupy way the name that came out of his plump lips almost caused you to sigh. “Come here, let's sit down for a second, alright?” Harwin motioned.

Obediently, you grabbed his hand as he guided you through your room, finding a comfortable spot in the large settee right in the middle of your chambers. Once Harwin turned around, he finally noticed what you were wearing; a thin see through nightgown. His eyebrows twitched and mouth went dry. He knew that the right thing was to look away, give the privacy you needed - yet he couldn't manage to take his eyes off of you, his lovely princess. He followed a path from your face, going downwards towards your neck and collarbones - he even imagined how they would look with small marks from his lips printed on them. He continued shamelessly eyeing you, finding your breasts; he felt his throat getting dry once he noticed your pebbled nipples peeking through the white fabric of your nightgown. His mouth watered, resisting the urge to think how they would feel against his tongue. Unexpectedly, he felt his pants getting tighter.

That's when he knew that enough was enough. You were a princess; his princess. You deserve the utmost respect. He couldn't allow himself to think of you in that way, especially on a night like this one.

Harwin cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch and tapping the empty spot by his side - once again, you obeyed. Your body curled by his side, clinging into his armor, laying your head on his chest as his arm went around your shoulder to keep you close. You squirmed a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling between your legs - the one that grew more intense once you noticed the desire on his eyes.

“Close your eyes, try to rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he promised.

You nodded, making yourself comfortable and doing what he told you to do - and you really tried, yet it seemed impossible for you to take that horrid image off your mind. Your whole body would tremble with the thought of being murdered in the same way. Each time you would close your eyes, that was all you could see. It was torturous, a bone chilling fear that didn't let you rest.

That scarlet blood seeping down white cloth played over and over again in your racing mind.

Before you noticed, you were sobbing again. Harwin, chivalrous as always, grabbed your quivering body and placed you on his lap, rocking your body from side to side as a desperate attempt to try and calm you down. It wounded him to see you like this, so scared and defenseless - he even wondered what he could do to make your anguish go away.

“He saw me… he'll come and try to- to kill me!” you whined - your lower lip shaking uncontrollably. “I cannot- I cannot stop thinking about it all.”

Growing up as a princess left you inside a bubble. Behind the thick walls of the castle you never had to watch or see something as such - the evilness of people. Harwin has always told you that you had a pure heart and soul, always oblivious to the wrongdoings of the people. You never knew how cruel people truly were, and now that you saw it you couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Nothing will happen to you, not if I'm here,” Harwin softly whispered. “I will always protect you, my precious angel.”

But then he thought of his words again; he might protect you from the enemies, from the dangers of the world, but how was he supposed to protect you from the torment that was caused by your own mind? How could he possibly make you forget about it?

He knew the answer, but he knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Come here.” Harwin invited you to sit on his lap. In any other occasion you would doubt a bit before assenting to do it, but in that moment all you wanted was to feel safe, to feel him against you as he got rid of all your fears with his mere presence - you couldn't resist.

His hands grabbed your hips as he lifted you up and motioned you until you were sitting on top of him - your arms around his broad body as you laid on his shoulder. His hands went to your head, his fingertips softly caressing your scalp while he soothed you again.

For him, it was quite hard to ignore the fact that the only thing in the middle of your nudity was a thin piece of fabric that did nothing to hide your body. He could see it, but you could feel it. At first you just sighed - the coldness of the metal covering his thigh would touch the heat between your legs, which was growing more intense with every passing second. You shivered, holding back a gasp when you accidentally moved your hips.

Out of the sudden, a thunderous sound similar to the one that woke you up was heard again. Your body jumped due to the shock, and your eyes widened with terror.

“Harwin…” you mumbled his name, almost as if you were begging him to make it stop, even when you knew he couldn't do anything more than stay by your side.

“Look at me, Princess,” he replied, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his big hands went to your hips. You felt how he started to pull your nightgown upwards - he had given up his hesitation to do this, defiling the pure little angel. How your doe-eyes and small body contrasted against his large frame, Strong was ensnared. The knight no longer fought against the carnal urges. He needed to take your mind elsewhere, and this was the only way he could think of. You tried to look down as he kept pulling the only layer of clothes that would cover your body - the only thing that separated your warmth from the coldness of the metal on his thigh, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “Don't look away from me, angel…”

You obeyed, slightly parting your lips as the fabric brushed against your flesh, and once your cunt was laying naked on top of his leg, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Harwin’s honeyed gaze did not tear from your face at any moment, reluctant to see your most vulnerable places. He felt unworthy of it. He wasn't going to see you, he wasn't going to touch your vulnerable petals - he was just going to let you use him as you please.

“Ser Harwin…” you repeated his name in a gasp as his hands moved your hips on top of him. Gentle movements at first, just to see how you would react; that's when you moaned, feeling metal rubbing directly against your clit. It felt odd, but extremely good.

“Don't stress your mind any further,” he whispered, almost feeling breathless. “Forget about everything, just focus on what you feel…”

With your eyes closed, you placed your hands on his shoulder in order to find some stability when he slightly quickened the pace. The whimper that left your lips would be carved in Harwin’s mind forever, haunting his nights and increasing his need for you. You were there, in front of him looking so angelic, yet so sinful - he was tightening his grip on your hips, digging his fingertips on your flesh as a desperate attempt to hold back; the urge to rip that nightgown was almost unbearable. He needed to touch you, even when it was awfully wrong to do so.

One of his hands left your hip, moving upwards until it cupped your face. Your cheeks were burning beneath his touch, too flustered and shy to hold his haze for too long. You weren't stupid, you knew what was going on and you knew what it meant, yet it was hard for you to care when it felt this good.

Involuntarily, you started to move your hips on your own, growing needy and aching to feel more of him. You longed for his hands on your skin, touching every inch of you until his scent was spread all over your body - yet, he denied you of that, too scared of not being able to stop if he got to fondle your curves.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky, almost making you purr like a kitten between his arms.

“S’good…” you whined in response, mouth agape and letting gasps fall from your lips.

Harwin shifted his position, trying to find some comfortable posture that would make him forget about the ache inside his breeches. He laid back on the settee, spreading his legs and letting you place your hands on his chest. You soon started to move your hips again, moaning his name.

“Fucking hell…” he groaned, now getting a full view of your body. “Go on, ride my thigh…” Those words slipped his lips before he was able to stop them. He felt ashamed, but you loved to hear them, driving your pace harder in reaction.

Your eyes opened and you found Harwin looking up at you as you used him for your own pleasure. He sat there, your weeping cunt coating his armor with your slick as you rubbed yourself on him; you quickly noticed how hard it was for him not to look down - not to look at the sinful view of your swollen bud brushing against him. Instead, his eyes remained on your face, lost in your glossy eyes and swollen lips. He was bewitched with the way your face would express the pleasure you were feeling; Blessed may be the gods for giving him the opportunity to see you like that.

His thumb moved closer to your lips, and you were quick to trap it inside your mouth, sucking and nibbling at it while your movements became more intense. Harwin couldn't resist, and he moaned once he felt your tongue swirling around his digit, imagining how that very same tongue would feel on his cock.

“This feels better than your pillow, doesn't it?” He suddenly groaned. On any other occasion, he would be too ashamed to mention that - the fact that he has heard you pleasuring yourself, yet he couldn't help it… the words slipped out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back. “Do you think of me when you do it?” He asked, almost begging to admit it, longing to hear you say it.

Though you were in no position to speak - too overwhelmed already, you manage to mumble a positive answer, humming as you nodded. A little smirk appeared on the knight's face, making him look even more charming than he already was. You felt your body melt in his arms.

With the motion of your body becoming more intense - faster, your nightgown slowly started to fall down your body, exposing your pebbled nipples to the hungry haze of the man beneath you. The struggle inside his mind was killing him, he wasn't supposed to touch you yet his body craved for it. His mouth watered at the sight while you kept moaning around his finger.

“Touch yourself for me, my angel,” he murmured, as if that would cease his cravings.

He removed his hand from your face, grabbing your wrist and relocating it to your breasts. You moaned at your own touch as you pulled your nipples and played with your own flesh. You leaned forward then, pressing your forehead against his, open-mouthed as you gasped when he grabbed your hips to control your movements once again. Harwin closed his eyes, groaning when you whined and mewled.

You sounded so beautiful.

“Come on, my princess,” he breathlessly said. His lips were merely a few inches away from yours. He fought the urge to devour your swollen lips. “Fucking hell… my angel, keep rubbing your sweet pussy against me. It feels so good, doesn't it? Bet you can’t think of anything else…”

“Harwin, I- I feel…”

“Sh… just let go. Fuck yourself on me, use me as you please. Let me help you empty that pretty head of yours.”

Harwin gave one last look at your trembling body before he started to bounce his leg, thick thigh adding more stimulation that almost made you scream. It was too much - the possessive grip around your hips was making it hard for you to think about anything else. You fantasized about him, about his hands, about his mouth… you longed for his touch, to feel huge calloused hands on your silken skin. You wondered how it would feel to have him inside of you, to let him defile your body. You wanted it so bad.

The thoughts soon started to push you over the edge. The metal covering Harwin’s thigh was soaked with your slick, it was slippery enough to fasten your movements until you couldn't hold it any longer. Your body weight fell forward, your hips twitching as your release oozed out of your weeping cunt, his name falling from your lips like a chant - as a way to thank him. Harwin felt his cock aching underneath his trousers, painfully hard, too damn close to coming undone.

“So good, my beautiful princess…” he whispered as he caressed your hair. His touch burning against now sensitive skin. “Bet you're not thinking about that bad man anymore, are you?”

You could only whine in response. Tired, overstimulated, and sleepy.

“Let's get you to bed now, shall we?”

Harwin grabbed your waist, lifting you up effortlessly as you leaned on his shoulders. Ever the gentleman, he fixed your gown and covered your nudity as he took you to the bed. He placed you delicately over the soft mattress and you hummed when he wrapped your trembling body on the silk sheets.

He leaned back then, but you grabbed his hand before he could go further away. “Please, don't,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Stay with me… Lay here.”

“My princess-”

“Please.”

And he couldn't say no.

You heard how he started to get rid of his armor, slowly detaching the pieces of metal from his body until there were just thin layers of clothes covering his body. He cautiously laid behind you - not wanting you to feel the hardness under his trousers, yet you grabbed his hand and forced him to wrap his limbs around your body, feeling the need to have him as close as possible.

Silence fell on the room, just hearing his calm breathing as he closed his eyes and smelled the sweet perfume lingering in your hair. But then, you spoke again.

“Ser Harwin?” you uttered his name so delicately it almost felt like a caress.

“Yes?”

There was a small pause, a moment of doubt. You continued regardless.

“I… I think I might be in love with you.”

Harwin's heart skipped a beat on his chest, and a smile appeared on his face. He felt a joy that he had never felt before.

“Princess?” Now it was him calling your name.

“Yes, sir?”

“I am in love with you.”

TAGS — @islandfantasydream

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[aelenavelaryon]

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Reader

Summary: Daemon finally finds love

Aella Targaryen was nothing like the rest of her family. She couldn't be. Many would often said she was a sweet girl whose only mistake was to have Valyrian blood cursing through her veins. House Targaryen had been on the Iron Throne for over a hundred years, she could remember the throne, it was rather beautiful she would admit. But, House Targaryen was a cursed lineage. Aella thought it was because they were all related. Brothers married sisters, uncles married nieces, cousins married cousins.

When Aella was brought to court she was nothing but a babe. Only one perhaps two moons old. Daughter of Saera Targaryen and her brother Rhaegar Targaryen. Rhaegar and Saera had both been wild and untamable. The two ran away after Saera escaped Old Town and they were never seen again until now. Aella Targaryen was born in the year 105. Rhaegar brought his daughter to court, to present among the realm. Saera had died in her birthing chamber. Viserys, who had lost his wife a nearly two years prior welcomed them both. Aella grew up beside Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra's children.

Aella although growing up with her cousins she preferred to be alone, sitting in the gardens or her room and reading a history book. Her father wondered where she had gotten all of that, she was not like her mother or him. But, there were things he did like singing, poems and song writing much like his daughter. Aella had the basic training, in case she had to protect herself but the young girl no matter the circumstances could never and would never bring herself to hurt anyone. It wasn't in her blood no matter how much her father tried. But Rhaegar would protect his daughter no matter the cost. She rode Meraxes, queen Rhaenys dragon, the princess died that day but her dragon lived.

As the years passed, Aella Targaryen grew into a beautiful maiden. "The Realm's Angel" or "The Realm's Desire" surpassing her cousin Rhaenyra in beauty and everything else. Aella had reached her ten and five name day and was yet to be unmarried. Her father was the reason for that, although he was no king he saw that no one was fit to marry his only child. No one would ever be good enough. Alicent thought it would be a good idea to marry her to Aegon or Aemond if she wished. Rhaenyra thought she would be a great match for Jacaerys or Lucerys. Rhaegar Targaryen refused, once again. But, a few moons later he passed from a swollen belly, leaving his only child at the mercy of her family.

Aella didn't know who to choose as her family had given her the choice to marry who she wanted between the four boys. She was dutiful, whoever her uncle had chosen she would have married but she did not want to disappoint anyone by choosing wrong. The council knew that Aella marrying either of her nephews was a tragedy waiting to happen, so the young girl offered a marriage between another house but Rhaenyra, Alicent and the king denied her. Daemon who had recently lost his wife asked her to marry him, to unite themselves and protect each other. Aella was young, only fifteen summers old what did she know about love. She knew more about duty than love.

So, to stop any family issues or more drama she agreed and secretly married Daemon, consummating their marriage, now it could not be broken. The news reached King's Landing the morning after, creating chaos in the court. The king was fragile in health so he did nothing, besides they were married and they had consummated there was no breaking anything. Rhaenyra stayed in King's Landing, while Daemon, his wife and two daughters remained in Dragonstone. Nearly a year after their wedding Baelon Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen were born. Strong boys. On their second named day, their sisters Rhaella and Visenya had been born. When the boys were five, their sisters three Aemma and Viserys were born.

Baela and Rhaena quickly accepted Aella as she had this motherly warmth the girls loved and she had glady taken the role as their mother, not that she would try to replace the girls mother but she did her best to love and care for them as she did for her own children. Aella with Daemon's approval let the girls ride their dragons to Driftmark to visit their grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were grateful that the young girl allowed them to visit their mother's family as much and as often as they could. The six children had been kept a secret through out the years. Aella was near her one and twenty name day. As a result, the king had invited her and her family to celebrate as a family.

Her arrival had been expected, Aegon was now married to Helaena and had two children, twins. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond was unmarried but as far as she knew he was bethroted to a Baratheon girl. Jacaerys was to marry soon but his mother and father were looking for a suitable match. When she arrived, Daemon and the girls were waiting as her and the children had sailed there due to the young kids. Rhaenys and Corlys who were there watched their granddaughters run to their new mother. They saw the love the two girls had for her. King Viserys recovered and went back to being the peaceful king he was. He waited with his family as he watched Daemon help his wife.

She had turned into a beautiful woman, everyone could agree. She seemed happy with Daemon. And she was, he treated her good and with respect. "My king, my queen" she  greeted with a nod. "Princess Rhaenyra, Laenor" she said with a smile. She greeted everyone. "Now, may we present our children?" she asked and everyone turned to her. They were surprised. The king nodded and Daemon signaled the maids to bring them. "Baelon and Rhaegar, our oldest. Visenya and Rhaella out second oldest. Viserys and Aemma our youngest" Daemon introduced as the four oldest made their bows to the king and queen. The youngest were only one.

"May I?" the king asked as he took Aemma, she had her eyes. Rhaenys took Viserys. "Baelon looks like our father, and Rhaegar looks like Aemon" Rhaenys nodded in agreement. Everyone cooed over the Aella'a children and all she did was smile. During the feast for her nameday, Daemon and his wife could see the tension between Alicent and Rhaenyra. "I would like to propose an alliance between our families" Aella began. She had spoken with Corlys and Rhaenys, and of course her husband. "A bethrotal between Jacaerys and Baela. And Rhaena with prince Lucerys" she said with a smile. Rhaenyra smiled. "I think that is a great idea" Daemon held her hand and nodded. "In addition, if Aegon and Helaena agree Jaehaera could marry Baelon and Vinseya Jaehaerys" the table was quiet but Alicent smiled. "I think that is magnificent idea" the king nodded in agreement. "Our house will be united" she smiled happy with the outcome.

Aella Targaryen was a woman many remembered, she had given her family peace but that peace nearly broke when Otto Hightower deemed her dangerous, sending for someone to kill the princess. The princess perished on top of her dragon as a scorpion hit the beast right in the neck, killing it instantly. She received the same fate as queen Rhaenys. The lady didn't survive the fall. Daemon Targaryen never remarried but once he found out who killed her, the Hightowers, more importantly Otto, he was killed soon after. Alicent was pardoned as she didn't know anything. Rhaenyra was crown queen and the princess match's were honored as Baela married Jacaerys, Rhaena Lucerys, and once older Baelon and Visenya married Aegon's children.

The Sweet Summer Child died but her memory remained throughout the years. Aella Targaryen iii married her brother Rhaegar, giving him the heirs he needed. House Targaryen didn't end with Daenerys Targaryen, it went on. It prospered. From Aella Targaryen the first, came the prince that was promised and the realm lived in peace.

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[aemondsbabe]

What is Owed

summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom

pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it. 

Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath. 

You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny. 

Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed. 

“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching. 

“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”

“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. 

“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door. 

You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks. 

One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system. 

You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”

“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street. 

You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about. 

“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back. 

“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases. 

“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!” 

He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority. 

“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”

Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked. 

“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”

His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont. 

“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”

A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long. 

Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight. 

“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”

“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”

“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal. 

Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”

Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it. 

“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”

A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of. 

It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.

Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room. 

“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand. 

“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”

“But the Commander sai–”

“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”

“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away. 

“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse. 

You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.

Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands. 

Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot. 

With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.” 

When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe. 

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length. 

“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”

“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”

Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?

The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more. 

Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”

He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”

You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.

The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”

The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”

“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”

“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”

You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?

“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”

“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”

“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe. 

“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.

“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.” 

“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.

The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held. 

As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now? 

“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”

You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men. 

“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer. 

“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.

“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt. 

With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”

“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”

You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.

“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely. 

“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.” 

“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”

“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.

“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well. 

“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”

“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”

The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room. 

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did. 

Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?” 

“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically. 

Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth. 

You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours. 

“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you. 

“O-Oh!”

“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?” 

You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you. 

“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”

Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor. 

“Is this okay?” 

All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been. 

Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”

“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”

Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours. 

You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years. 

He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest. 

The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine. 

“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist. 

“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point. 

“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you. 

With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length. 

You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head. 

Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock. 

Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips. 

“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length. 

Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair. 

It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm. 

Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants. 

Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins. 

Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock. 

“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth. 

“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time. 

“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels. 

You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?

Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his. 

“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back. 

Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched. 

“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.

“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts. 

Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap. 

The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length. 

“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”

Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”

Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more. 

You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts. 

Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”

You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord. 

Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you. 

“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”

You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.

The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.” 

“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”

He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod. 

The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you. 

“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.

The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully. 

Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.

Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. 

“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you. 

The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.

Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside. 

A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem. 

“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest. 

The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.

Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”

Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you. 

“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue. 

Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end. 

“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”

His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame. 

The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend. 

As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud. 

“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from. 

“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”

You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp. 

Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you. 

The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments. 

It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes. 

Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed. 

“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”

You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave. 

It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions? 

“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”

They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly. 

“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”

You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin. 

“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

[axelsagewrites]

Hello, dear reader. I'd like to make a wish for Rhaenyra's little sister, maybe a year or two. And she never liked Alicent, who after marrying the king tries (along with Otto) to demote her to bastard status (but Viserys loves his little girl too much to do this to her). Of course, things get even worse when Rhaenyra's sister gets engaged to Harwin...

Thank you for your attention, I like your stories 🫶🏻. Another thing, can I stop by more often? I wish I had more of my ideas adorned with your writing

Harwin Strong*Suitable Match

Pairing: Harwin x f!reader

Word count: 1320

Warnings: Step parent hating step child, secret relationship, kind of implied smut

a/n: ahh thank u sm for being so sweet and ofc request as much or talk however much u want. sorry i didnt reply sooner i just didnt want to lose the request x

Masterlist Here

A life of a princess was something to envy. Well so many had claimed however after the death of your mother life felt like an ever falling spiral. Your sister began to grow closer to Alicent after the death and while you were happy for her to have a friend Alicent had always been unkind to you.

It had started small with her asking Rhaenyra not to let you join in their games to her unpicking your needle work whenever you would wander off to stretch your legs. Soon you gave up on even trying to be nice to her. anytime she was invited to dinner was met with loud sighs from you.

“Why does she hate me?” you pouted one night as Rhaenyra upbraided your hair.

Your sister rolled her eyes as she began to brush your hair out, “She doesn’t hate you. she’s just not used to a little sister,”

“She’s mean,”

“Cmon she isn’t that bad?”

-

You didn’t want to say I told you so when Alicent was betrothed to your father but the look on your face said it for you. at least Rhaenyra was able to marry and move away. you were instead stuck living at court with your evil stepmother and her spawn. Well, the children were kind to you, but Alicent constantly used them to get under your skin.

She’d send toddler Aegon running over with pretend crown shouting that he was going to be king. Or she would have a 2-year-old Aemond claim he was your husband. She tried to make Helena spill wine on your dress one time, but the poor girl burst into tears and confessed to you instantly.

Instead Alicent settled on insisting that your chambers were given to Aegon. Something you managed to convince your father against from at first but soon you were moved to a wing of the castle usually just for guests. You would’ve complained about longer if you hadn’t realised your new chambers window overlooked the kings guard training ground.

From your window you’d pretend to be doing needle work while secretly watching break bones fling any man that challenged him like a rag doll. Eventually Harwin caught onto your staring and would send his own glimpses up between sparring. It was also handy that your chamber was only a short walk from the guards’ sleeping quarters and Harwin soon became a frequent private guest of yours.

-

“Ser Barros is coming to court next week,” your father told you over a family dinner, “and I heard his son is looking for a wife,” he said, shooting you a hopeful glance.

“I heard he’s a fine man father,” you said kindly knowing full well it didn’t matter. Somehow every match they tried to make for you was sabotaged. The tall dark Baratheon boy was ever so keen for weeks for your hand then one day disappeared like a ghost. The gorgeous Lannister man that would bring you fine jewels suddenly decided a dornish match was of more importance. Even the Tarly boy you had courted had inexplicitly decided to join the nights watch. Every time Alicent wore the same twisted smile.

The only ones she didn’t send running were the incredibly old and decrepit looking men from minor houses, but it wasn’t hard to convince your father they weren’t suitable matches. “Perhaps we should set up a luncheon to great the boy,” Alicent suggested making your father smile widely. She really had twisted him around her finger.

-

“I wish I could stay here all day,” you pouted as you lay your head on Harwin’s bare chest.

His chuckle vibrated through you as his arm wrapped tight around your waist, “Me too princess but I have my duties and you have yours,”

“I thought your duty was to serve me,” you sighed dramatically, pretending to try get away.

Harwin laughed, his arms moving to cage you against the bed as he moved to lay over you, “I think I serve you just fine princess,” he said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw.

“Oh yeah?” you asked and Harwin hummed in response as his kisses grew lower.

-

As expected Borros’s son went running after only a week and now you were in another awkward family dinner however unluckily for you the children all had the cold so now you were sat in stoney silence with just your father and Alicent. “You should really think about your future dear,” she said with a fake sweet smile, “We worry for you,”

Instead of replying you grabbed your wine, drinking a hefty sip of it. Viserys sighed, “Alicent is right dear. You must marry. At this point we’re going to have to start considering marrying you to a tree!” he said, flinging himself back in his chair. “Honestly what even happened between you and the boy?”

-

The days that followed were awkward to say the least. Alicent walked around smug as all hell and your father continued to sulk. You decided enough was enough and when Alicent went out to the sept you decided to track your father down. Unsurprisingly you found him staring over a model of the city.

“Father?” you greeted, walking closer to the tired looking man, “May we talk?”

“Of course, sweet child,” he said, nodding for you to sit beside him before sighing, “You know I worry for you?”

“I do father, and I do appreciate it,” you lied but did your best to look sympathetic to your clueless father, “but I was thinking. Well. I found another match you see father,” you spoke, and his head perked up as he waited for you to finally spit it out, “He’s sweet and kind and his family is well respected. You even like his father, and I was just thinking- “

“Out with-it child,”

You took a breath before finally asking, “Have you considered Harwin Strong yet father?” Viserys sighed, his eyes turning away but you continued, “Think about it! I’d be able to be at court and help Helena with her studies. Plus, you have four more children so four more matches. You already have the Velaryon which secures the crownlands. Harwin and I would secure the Riverlands. Then after you betrothed Helena, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron you will have six of the seven kingdoms on your side. Your reach will go far especially if our children do the same,”

“You want to dilute the blood of old Valyria?” he asked, sounding exhausted as he spoke.

“No father, only strengthen it,” you said, moving to hold his hand, “Besides there is no other Targaryen or Velaryon to wed unless uncle daemon is brought back from exile- “you said but your father raised his hand to hush you.

He paused for a moment before nodding, “I will think about it. but for now, leave me. I have a lot to consider,”

“Thank you, father,”

-

Apparently Alicent must have missed this chamber meeting because somehow the news came back finally in your favour. Harwin would be your husband. You were so happy when your father told you that you instantly hugged him before rushing to find Harwin however that night at dinner Alicent shot you many dirty looks.

Finally, you had undermined her. you’d won. Well, that’s how it felt at first, but her glares began to sink into your skin till it itched. As the dinner ended, she tapped her cup with her fork, “A toast to my dear sweet daughter,” she smiled at you making your father beam, “May she have a marriage like ours,” she said, holding his hand tightly but you felt your stomach flutter.

“Here, here,” your father said, standing to kiss your cheek.

Alicent did the same, her arms twisting round your back into a bony hug, “Do not forget yourself darling,” she whispered sweetly in your ear, “You don’t win that easily,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

[criminalamnesia]

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

[simpingland]

Heyy beauty!

Can i request a Harwin break my back Strong x wife Targaryen reader fic where he beats the shit out of someone who disrespects her. He gets out of it with no consequences, reader looks after him & it ends in smut💋

(I'd appreciate it if u could do more Harwin fics cause lord knows I'm thirsty for it😭)

How to fix an aching nose.// Ser Harwin Strong x Targ!Wife!Reader. Smut.

Summary: Harwin cant believe his luck, married to a targaryan princess, being completely in love with her, her being madly in love with him...Not many believe his luck neither. Only his wife can prove him that its all real.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), a Lannister being punch.

Harwin was more than anxious to have you, his dearest wife, alone for more than the few moments you were allowed, to what extent could he reminisce about your wedding night? His mind was elsewhere during the hunt, listening only to his father's instructions, and ignoring the lords. Ever since he married you, he had felt the looks they gave him, full of envy of course. Few dared little more than stare, the stupidest could dare to vocalise it. And Lord Tyland Lannister was one of those fools.

"I see you are distracted, Ser Harwin," said the Lord with a mocking laugh as he watched the stag slip away from him at close range. "Marriage...always has the same effect on men."

He chuckled, a few laughed with him, but most gave him a dirty look, and Harwin set his spear aside.

"What effect do you mean, Ser Tyland?" he asked dryly.

"Well, the effect of women. They are a constant headache."

"I don't think you should speak so of wives when you haven't managed to marry a single woman since you've been at court, my lord." He wanted to leave it at that, but Tyland had taken offense.

"When one wields so much fortune, choosing a wife to entrust to him is a different task. I suppose you don't know what I'm talking about now, Ser Harwin."

Harwin walked toward him, towering over him. It clearly frightened him.

"I don't need to brag about money to show my wealth. And that I think if you are able to understand."

Tyland was silent for a second. Everyone had turned to watch the scene, except your father, the King, who was too sore to pay attention. None of them listened as your father asked for your presence to escort him to his tent without making a fuss. So Harwin turned to continue the hunt without being aware that his own wife was walking towards the scene. Neither was Lord Lannister.

"You certainly took a treasure for the little price you must have paid...you took a very possible wife from me." Tyland was whispering it to Harwin now, purposely irritating him. "Though...perhaps you did me a favor. A princess who chooses someone like you should not be driven by anything but lust and madness. Maybe your wife is a lot cheaper than we all thought."

Then Harwin exploded. With the first fist he knocked out two of Tyland's molars, and with the second he buried him in the mud. None of Ser Lyonel's orders were heard as he tore Tyland apart, only the insults towards you, raging. They tried to pull him away, but he was still there. And there you found him.

"HARWIN!" You shouted, running towards him. It took him a while to notice you, he looked at you, a little frightened that you had seen him be so savage.

"He insulted you" he said quietly, then looked at Tyland "YOU INSULTED THE PRINCESS!"

And he gave him one last kick before he was pushed away by the guards. He had to be pushed away until he was led out of the hunt, and he only looked at you, begging your forgiveness for the disturbance. Your father was disoriented, and only understood what was happening from the words of one of the guards. And you had to wait to get your father to his bed before you met Harwin.

"What happened?" you asked as you entered your tent. Harwin was waiting for you, on his back and standing. When he turned around you saw his nose was bleeding. You ran to wipe it. "Gods! Did Tyland do that to you?"

"He wishes it was him, my love...it was one of the guards."

"I suppose it's because you've hit him first, isn't it?"

He smiled, because he knew you as well as you knew him. And he watched your concern disappear with every second, seeing your smile again.

"I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me. Not me, not you," he said, kissing your neck as he hugged you, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against his chest.

"Oh, Harwin, and why do you say that?"

You wiped the blood from him as he told you the story. It was starting to bruise a little, but had stopped bleeding after he put a cold cloth on it, holding it patiently and letting it play with the ties of your dress.

"I don't want you to think I'm just a... a beast too. I hold my anger a lot more than you think. Only you make me feel at peace, wife." He ran his hand through your hair.

It certainly hadn't been easy to convince your father. The Strongs were beloved at court, but Harrenhal was not a place of good repute, and marrying the King's second daughter to a notorious brute like Harwin "Breakbones" Strong had caused much controversy. You succeeded after years of hiding in the corridors, and every night Harwin could only draw on his imagination to do more than kiss you, for he had always put your reputation and honour before his desires.

You had only been married a short time, but it had been a season since you two had spent time alone. Your elder sister Rhaenyra was keeping you by her side at night, uncomfortable with her first pregnancy, and in the mornings, Harwin was too busy catching up on his duties as heir to Harrenhal.

Still, it didn't take away a single ounce of excitement, you craved each other throughout the day, and Harwin always managed to pull you aside to talk or kiss you. Either was enough for him, but he really wanted you back in his bed.

"You don't look like a beast to me." You put your hands on his neck, sat on his lap, you could feel his bulge on your leg. "And even if you had looked like one, you forget I've never been the person who holds his reputation in the highest regard, remember?"

They smiled, Harwin remembered in fact, more than once he had had to push you out of his sight because you had guided his hand where maidens should not be touched, all before you were married. You kissed him first, and when he was training you watched him from your window, catching his eye and "accidentally" showing your breasts. In the dark of night he had to pick you up off the floor because you had knelt before him. And in between all those moments Harwin couldn't help but be captivated by you, begging the King for your hand.

"I remember everything. You are far more beastly than I, my wife..." His member began to grow as he remembered, your scent right there, he captured your lips.

"You have offended me," you faltered, pulling away from the kiss. "Show me who the beast is here, Ser Breakbones."

One swift movement and he unfastened the bodice of your dress, freeing your breasts, and brought one to his lips. And as it sank to your chest you giggled at his eagerness, enjoying the tingle that formed on your legs as you felt Harwin's saliva run over your tits.

"Do you find this amusing, my princess? Having me sit here?" He ran his hands under your skirt, stroking your pearl as if by accident, but you knew he wasn't, that he was doing it to ravish you.

"I do find it a bit funny, I'm afraid..."

He stilled your laughter by throwing you onto the bed they had set up for you. Remarkably smaller than the one in your room back in the Keep, but Harwin didn't plan to use it much. He removed what was left of your dress, leaving you now completely naked. Your body being a spectacle for him.

"Well I'm no clown, of the many tricks they know how to do, I doubt very much they know how to do this."

He rested one hand on the bed, circling you on top of you, and the other he used to turn you, your back, your ass facing the outside. He caressed your back, stroke both cheeck of your ass and finally touching your cunt. One finger entered first, stirring your discharge with your clitoris and eliciting a soft moan from you. He watched you watching him, mouth half open. He was so handsome, with his smooth coat but rugged features, Harwin was all man. He inserted a second finger, and the third was not long in coming. Then he began to shake his hand rapidly, lifting your entire pelvis to his rhythm. You couldn't help but cry out as you felt such continuous pleasure.

"No..." whispered Harwin, pulling his face closer to yours, "no one knows how to do this to you like I do..."

Pleasure engulfed you, and Harwin could see you come to orgasm, you moaned millimetres from his lips, which he felt as if it was feeding him. He let you rest, and before he could lick his fingers with your arousal, you took his hand to lick them for him. If he was already excited before, Harwin had to hold back a moan when he felt the friction of his own pants squeezing his erection.

"Now let me reward you, my Lord, for defending my honour..." you removed his shirt, and kissed his big abs. But you made him suffer as you reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them bit by bit, not until you had removed them completely did you focus on his member.

Fat and in proportion to your husband, his cock needed two hands to massage it well. First you gave him a little kiss on the tip, as if in greeting, and looked up at Harwin, who seemed impatient but loved your gaze as you knelt before him. You were beautiful from every angle, and your eyes sharpened from that perspective. He pushed your silver hair aside as an excuse to touch it, and he never pushed your head, you always managed to make him enjoy at your own pace. You licked the tip for a while, but before he could cum, you took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could, knowing which way to guide it so you wouldn't gag. You sucked slowly but intensely, using your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. You were just about to make him cum when Harwin decided to take the reins again.

He caught you by surprise when he pulled away from you to pick you up off the floor, placing you in his arms as he did when he rescued you from troubles you usually got yourself into. One arm around your back and the other around your legs, your hands resting on his shoulders and with the opportunity to kiss him right there. Indeed, you didn't need the bed very much. You didn't quite understand what Harwin was up to, but when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, your hair stood on end. He was moving slowly up and down you, preparing to bury himself all the way in.

"I am convinced that there is no better pussy than yours in all of Westeros, Princess..." his voice was husky, his scent captivated you, and he kissed you tenderly when he wasn't kissing you with tongue.

"So what are you waiting for to enjoy it?"

He lured you to his lips to distract you, but you finally felt him enter. Gently, but creating that special fraction you'd longed for for years before you were married. Harwin broke the kiss to moan, of course this was his favourite part of fucking. He didn't usually do it fast, he liked to pace himself, and for such a big, rough man, he liked to sink into your pussy delicately, whether it was his instinct to protect you, or his instinct to enjoy it. His hips set the pace, as he raised them, his arms lowered, and you felt his full length fill you. He began to speed up the rhythm, he had plenty of strength left, and when he increased you could hear him enjoying himself, making you enjoy yourself.

"I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum..." he announced.

Then he laid you back down on the bed. You had no plans to have children yet, so you liked to experiment a little. Harwin positioned your legs apart, and took out his cock to rub it against your clit, fucking your vaginal lips and causing you unparalleled pleasure. You had your second orgasm seconds before you felt Harwin's semen spilling out of your pelvis, with a sweet moan leaving your husbands lips.

He rested his forehead on yours, and you kissed his aching nose.

"Wow...you sure made me feel better, wife." He moved to your side, pulling a blanket over you both, cuddeling you in his arms.

"Yeah...I've missed you too."

"I meant the kiss on the nose...but the rest was good too."

You laughed before threatening to make it bleed again. Harwin was willing to take a million punches as long as his princess was there to kiss his wounds afterwards.

[missdrake]

Yan!HOTD CHARACTERS MEETING THEIR SOULMATES 

All thanks to @the-mechanical-angel for the idea & credit for prompts to @r-evolve-art

Viserys Targaryen + Meeting soulmate in dream every night

He was always looking forward to his dreams, looking forward to you. Initially, he believed it might have been one of his visions, one that somewhat always involved you. But he came to understand there were more than just visions.

Whether you two were lying in a flower field or strolling along the beach, Viserys loved the conversations and times he shared with you. The moment he opened his eyes in the mornings caused his desire for you to swell with each passing day. In the dreams, he begged you to tell him where you are, willing to sail to the end of the world just to see you. 

The intensity increased when he assumed the throne and realized that you were the only person with whom he felt at peace. The king was allegedly never to be awakened from his sleep by the servants. When there came a day, he looked up across the court and saw you. The lord and ladies all stare in surprise as the king leaves his throne to approach you, cradling your face in his hands, becoming teary-eyed.

Rhaenyra Targaryen + Sharing the same injuries as your soulmate

Your father brought you along to the coronation ceremony of King Viserys where named his daughter Rhaenyra as his heir. Your father decided to spend a few days at King’s landing, leaving you free to explore the castle. It’s there you could truly meet the princess and befriended her. 

During your many walks together, you trip scraping your knees only to hear the princess wince in pain as she lifts her dress, revealing a scrape on her knee. Could it be. It was expected that your soulmate would be a man.

The princess and you exchange a look before she presses her nail into her knee, making you flinch. This all confirms it. You weren’t sure how she would respond, but you weren’t certainly expecting her to reach for your hand, a smile showing on her eager face. Rhaenyra told your father that you’ll be staying at King’s Landing with her from now on. Her father agrees, happy that his daughter made a new ‘friend’.

Daemon Targaryen + Sharing your soulmate’s emotions 

You came to the conclusion your soulmate must be quite a violent person, often feeling their strong emotions-their bloodlust and rage, which left you feeling all the more frustrated. Daemon could feel your frustrations and it left him amused. With you, there was much more happiness in the air. Giving him a taste of what inner peace might be like.

Sitting among your family during the tourney. You felt it. The adrenaline, the unbridled excitement of your soulmate. But this time, the feelings were much stronger that it almost made you feel queasy. It's when the rogue prince comes riding on his horse wearing his black armor, do you make eye contact. 

And at that moment, you're sure he knows it's you. Sinking back further into your seat as the rogue prince gives you a smirk. Feeling your chest tighten as his horse got closer to you. His lance is right in front of you and he asks for your favor. And you do it all while he can sense your giddiness. Returning to your seat, you are well aware this isn't the last you'll see of Daemon.

Corlys Velaryon + Soulmate has a constellation that points to where they’re 

During his nine sea voyages, Corlys was said to return with countless treasures. Silk, jade, spice, ships, gold and so much more. But upon his return from Essos, he was said to have returned with what he told to be far more valuable than any of his treasure. When he returned, he had a princess by his side—who now is his wife.

Corlys knew what he wanted. And he set out to pursue it. He observed the constellations in the night sky and learned that the brightest one pointed in the direction of where he needed to be. Upon his arrival to your kingdom, the sea snake requested your hand in marriage. 

Once he had seen you. It had to be you. Corlys was certain. The sudden beat in his heart. An unseen string tugging him in your direction. And there, he gave you the most extravagant gifts with a ship big enough to carry half of a village, and a dress so plush that it felt sheer. And how could your father refuse upon seeing such devotion.

Rhaenys Targaryen + Touching your soulmate allows you to see glimpses of their future 

Soulmates. Seemed like a ridiculous notion to Rhaenys. But perhaps that notion was needed. In this world soulmates rarely cross each other's paths. And if they did, it was not as happily as all those tales portrayed over and over again. But what were the chances she’d meet you on this particular day.

After arriving at King's Landing, you spent some time getting to formally know Rhaenys. Many times, having her over for tea. But once, your hands unintentionally brushed against hers. Rhaenys catches a fleeting glimpse. Her hair blown by the wind. Sensing the touch of another. The aroma of salt and seaweed. When the haze clears, a face so eerily similar is seen. 

A cup breaking on the ground rouses her senses. A look of worry on your face. You can't help but ask if she's disappointed. Her expression, however, tells you otherwise.

Laena Velaryon + Sharing the same heart beat 

At driftmark, you attended the wedding of Laenor and Rhaenyra. The entire ride, your heartbeat has been slightly racing. It continues to bother you, yet you ignore it. As the door opens, it starts pounding rapidly and intensely, almost flopping in your chest.

 As you look at Lady Laena, you feel faint and short of breath. It seems she is also struggling, but her expression remains calm that perhaps you are only imagining things. All eyes are on her when she asks you for a dance. When your hand finally touches her, you feel as though you can breathe again. With each passing second, your body becomes more relaxed and at ease. 

As the two of you danced, you tried to hide your awe in the face of her breathtaking beauty. When the dancing comes to a close, she whispers in your ear how she would love for you to spend a few days at Driftmark. There was no way you could refuse.

Otto Hightower + Meeting your soulmate after the worst event in your life 

As any with common sense, Otto believed the concept of soulmates was utter nonsense. Believed duty to far more proceeds one’s desires and whims. And taking a wife who wasn't his soulmate-whom he loved deeply further solidified his convictions.

But all good things come to an end. Now left with the news of his wife's death. Days after, he still carried out his daily duties. That's when he finally took notice of you; a friend of Rhaenyra and Alicent. As soon you walk away, Otto notices his eyes start to follow.

Moments are spent where he'd ask you of your house or day, and soon the subject shifted to more personal manners. Right then and there, Otto understood his feelings, his gravitation towards you. You must not have known. Envisioning someone much more spirited and youthful. Surprise trickled through you when Otto announces his impending marriage and at the sight of Alicent's expression of betrayal.

Alicent Hightower + Soulmate marks are only visible after touching

In her younger years, Alicent found some solace in the prospect of soulmates, but that all changed when she was made to wed the king. Beginning to scoff at the notion, dismissing it as nothing more than a frivolous dream of little girls.

As she awakens in the morning, a new handmaiden greets her. The queen moves to stand as the handmaiden hastily dresses her. There, she felt fingers graze her skin. An intense stinging pain ran over her body, giving her skin a burning sensation. Holding her wrist. She sees it now. The mark.

A gasp is heard. The handmaiden grasping her own wrist. The implications cause the handmaiden's eyes to enlarge and her mouth to hang open. As they lock eyes, a knife-cutting silence permeates the chambers.

Aegon II Targaryen + A timer for when soulmates shall first meet

As far as Aegon is concerned, he couldn't care less whether he discovered a supposed soulmate—if they even existed in the first place. Looking at his wrist, the timer indicates a decade or possibly longer. And as he grew older, he became more detached to the prospect. Maybe not even his soulmate would have loved the man he came to be. 

A day at the feast, however, Aegon's vacant eyes drifted to his wine cup. Where he saw it. His wrist. His head tilted downward, eyes narrowing when seeing the timer rapidly decrease. Has it been that long since he last looked. His wife speaks, but it is all muddled to him. Eyes glued to his wrist, watching it still go down.

He hears more wine being poured into his cup. And then it happens. 0-Inked on his wrist. Finally, Aegon lifts his head at the servant who had stopped pouring his wine, and the prince is met with a horrified look in return.

Helaena Targaryen + Voices in Your Head is your soulmate’s 

As with her prophecies, Helaena's claims that she had a voice in her head were ignored. Servants have also claimed the princess is often seen smiling or humming to herself. 

With Helaena as your soulmate, you come to find her mind constantly wanders, whether it be the ramblings of the many bugs she found or the cryptic messages. Although initially overstimulating, you've adapted to it. And she didn’t seem to mind when you did the same. Your voice is soothing. Was her response when you'd apologize for your mental babbling. 

As long as she could still hear your voice in her head, the princess wasn't too concerned about finding you. But all of that changed when first saw you at her court. Her face softened, and her family had never seen her so delighted. And now, you spend most of your time in her chambers when her husband is away. 

Aemond Targaryen + One eye is your natural color, the other is your soulmate’s 

It was said the day the prince opened his eyes for the first time, only one violet eye was visible. Clearly seen in the other was his soulmate's eye. His eye will return to its natural color once he meets his soulmate, the master assured his mother. In this world, soulmates hardly ever cross paths. Still, young Aemond caught himself daydreaming about finding you-his other half.

Tragedy struck on the day Aemond claimed Vhagar. Gazing into the mirror with only a violet eye staring back at him. Throughout those years, he was persuaded that he no longer yearned for the dreams he once had. But that day when he first saw you. 

There was a momentary expression of surprise. Recognizing the eye he once possessed, the other mirroring his only to return to its natural color. A puzzled look was cast at the one-eyed prince, making him realize you’re oblivious to what had just happened.

Criston Cole + Reflections in the mirrors are the appearances of your soulmate

As a young boy, Criston had placed a mirror that faced his bed, hoping to catch glimpses of you. You had to be the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on-his love, his soulmate, his other half. But his chest tightened when he took in your surroundings and the dress you wore. It told him you were much of a higher status-a lady. But the young idealistic Criston still believed the two of you were meant to be. Destined to be like the knights and their pretty ladies in all the tales he had heard.

Even as he matured into a man, Criston always carried a reflection with him at all times. In his pocket, a mirror was safely tucked away. He pulled it out to look at it, and there, in the palm of his hands, was his soulmate—the center of his universe.

So what a coincidence that he was competing in the tournament where your family must be. There, a knight approaches you with a house sigil you've never seen before; asking for your favor. He was quite handsome, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of giddiness as you gave him a timid smile. When Criston emerged victorious, he requested one final favor. To be your sword shield. And you agreed, unaware of the consequences that would follow.

Harwin Strong + Touching your soulmate causes you to relieve each other’s entire lives 

At Harrenhal for the visit, you came with your father. Keeping pace with him as they lead you on a tour throughout the castle. There, you first encountered Harwin and Larys Strong, Lyonel Strong's sons. When it was your turn to greet Larys, you greeted him, and when it was Harwin's turn, he took your hand and gave it a courteous kiss.

Then it took place. All sorts of scenes pop in front of your eyes, one of a baby being born, crawling, taking their first steps, and speaking. Watching him grow into a boy, learning to hunt and wield a sword. Everything comes to a close with you facing the man whose entire life you just saw. For everyone else, it lasted only a few seconds, but for you two, it lasted a lifetime.

With his hand still in yours, Harwin now gazes into your eyes. A gaze of longing. When your father asks what's the matter, you pull your hand away from his, reassuring him that it's nothing. Lionel gives you a knowing look. His son certainly won't allow you to leave after this.

Jacaerys Velaryon + Soulmate’s name on each other’s wrist 

On his wrists, read your name. The prospect excited Jace. The idea of unwavering love, being one's other half. He'd study with the Septon intending to learn of other houses, asking them of their daughters. Perhaps he'd find you among them. Only to be left disappointed when your name was never mentioned.

Still, he remains hopeful. He knew his time was limited and that by now he must be betrothed. It's when his arrival at King's landing, did he hear something that perks up his ear as he walks across the hallways. Your name being uttered. Spoken by one of the servants. The said servants are taken aback when Jace approaches them like a madman, asking of the name. One of the servants steps forward. It's you. 

The other servants are to leave, leaving just you and him. Reaching for your hand, he sees a cloth wrapped around your wrist. Removing it, he exhales heavily upon discovering his name inked on your skin. It's you. At last, he found you. 

Cregan Stark + See color for the first time when you meet

The wolf of the north never bothered himself with the idea of seeking out a soul mate. More important than love or desire were one's duties. He has long since come to terms with the fact that the world he lived in will always be a shade of gray. When the princess and her brother, Jacaerys Velaryon, arrived on a dragon back.

Cregan’s protracted silence was recognized by everyone in the room. Wide eyes are fixed on the princess and she shares his expression. Colors suddenly flood into their world, and the two are suddenly overcome by the sensations that flooded their minds.

As she and her brother explain their arrival to the situation, the princess's voice is shaking as she still hasn't fully recovered from her recent overstimulation. There’s also a slight waver in Cregan’s voice as he speaks. As he pledged to fight for them, the princess swears she saw his eyes soften for a brief moment.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

I am his, and he is mine

Summary: You’re married off to Ser Harwin Strong by your lord father’s designs, and the prospect of a marriage consummation terrifies you.

Notes: idk man I just need more Harwin Breakmybones smut. Harwin obviously isn’t with our queen Rhae Rhae in this. Also, pretending not to know what we do abt Larys here.

Warnings: virgin!reader, reader is intimidated by Harwin, first time, reader is extremely innocent, vaginal sex, oral sex (f!receiving), Harwin loves eating punani

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to a taglist!!

Marrying his bride the day he met her was never what he wanted. Harwin didn’t consider himself a romantic, but he thought it cruel to be bound to someone you didn’t know for the rest of his life. It was more unfair to you, being a woman and forbidden from seeking out others for love.

His father had meant well with this marriage. Apparently, your father was a childhood friend, and you the oldest daughter of a great house. Though Lord Lyonel wasn’t ambitious, he was loyal to his friends, and the king, who encouraged the match. So in a whirlwind of affairs, the betrothal had been arranged by ravens, and the marriage planned.

You had married in the sept of King’s Landing earlier this day, and though Harwin had written you a letter to calm your nerves, the first time he got any impression of you was when your father led you to the altar.

He felt sorry for you. Whatever dreams you had held for the future had been crushed the moment the septon bound you in marriage. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure if you were scared of him or not. His reputation was true to his character, and next to his wide frame, almost every woman looked frail.

And now, while the wedding feast was in full swing, he saw your hands shake as you attempted to cut your food. He tried to distract himself, looking around the room and attempting to take his mind off of the fact that his lady wife seemed to find him unpleasant.

King Viserys was sitting next to his father, leaving Queen Alicent to put on an icy mask. She was better at hiding it than his wife. Perhaps because she had been in King’s Landing for longer. Princess Rhaenyra, on the other hand, was deep in conversation with Lady Laena. The two of them had grown closer since the rift between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and if Ser Harwin was not mistaken, the Queen looked almost jealous.

Prince Daemon was currently returned from his latest exile, trying to rile up Otto Hightower. Judging from the strain in the man’s jaw, the Prince was quite successful in his venture.

Still, it was his wife that seemed the tensest in the room. The new lady Strong, and yet, you seemed to be anything but. From what he had heard from his father, you liked to read and was very well educated, but beyond that only quiet. You did not ride, or hunt, or keep an army of ladies around her.

For the latter, he was grateful, but for the others… It seemed you didn’t have anything in common. Harwin was as educated as a future lord needed to be, but he preferred to train and hunt. The first time he even heard you speak outside of her vows was to his brother.

“A gift, for the bride.” He said, offering you a book. At that, your face lit up.

“Thank you, Lord Larys.”

“I hear you tried to become a Maester once?” he asked, and you blushed.

“I was five and had not yet realized the Citadel accepted neither women nor children.”

Harwin smiled to himself. It seemed that, at the very least, you had some spirit. When his brother had left, he tried to find something to talk to you about.

“So, what topics interest you?” he tried.

“History and medicine.” you replied curtly.

“Yes, I imagine Aegon’s conquest is an interesting read.” He said. You tried to suppress a smile at that, and Harwin raised a brow.

“Is it not?” he asked.

“Forgive me, my lord, but every child is told the story of his conquest over and over. The histories of Old Valyria before the Doom and Nymeria’s conquest are much more interesting, especially since so much source material has been lost.” you said.

He could tell that you weren’t asked about these things very often, the words spilling out of your mouth so quickly.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Hunting and fighting.” He replied.

“Does that not get boring after a while?”

“It is to me what reading is to you.” Harwin said. He knew you were from the Westerlands, where people spoke more eloquently, and though he was from the Riverlands and had no use for flowery words, he tried for you.

Your silence returned when dessert was served. You dreaded the bedding, and Harwin didn’t think he had seen many brides that were as terrified of it as you.

When it was announced that the bedding would begin, you turned even paler. Before the lords attending could swoop in to grab you, Harwin quickly scooped you up into his arms. Wordlessly, he left, as the crowd let out disappointed shouts of protest.

He carried you all the way to their new, shared chambers, setting you down on the bed. Turning around, Harwin grabbed the pitcher of wine to fill up their glasses. You would need it for your nerves.

As he turned back around, he could see you lying on the bed, the skirt of your wedding dress hiked up to your thighs and staring at the ceiling stiff as a board. He would have laughed at the comical sight, if he hadn’t felt sorry for you.

Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, gently taking your hand.

“What were you told about the bedding?” he asked.

“My cousin told me it was painful, but my duty.” you replied.

“Sit up.” Harwin said, and you scrambled to follow his words, pulling the skirt back down.

“Your cousin must have a horrible husband.” He concluded.

“They- they do not value each other much.” you said carefully.

“Beddings don’t have to be painful.” Harwin began. He’d never been a woman’s first before, but he wasn’t inexperienced by any means.

“Oh.” Was all you said to that. It sounded more like a sigh of relief than a question.

“Did you not say you studied medicine?”

“The bedding was… seen as unseemly for me. It was forbidden.” you replied.

“I’ll be gentle, I won’t hurt you.” Harwin promised. Still, when he tried to come closer to you, you leaned away from him, trying to keep the distance. As if a kiss would kill you.

With a sigh, Harwin grabbed the dagger from his belt and your eyes widened even more.

“What…?” you asked.

“I won’t force you.” He replied simply, rolling his sleeve back.

“No.” you said, grabbing his wrist. It was the first time you touched him. “I- We have to someday. And I’d like to learn. I need to make my father proud.”

“Your father? This is about you.” Harwin tried. You gave him a half-hearted smile, and Harwin felt that he wouldn’t become friends with his father-in-law.

“If you want me to bed you, you should start by kissing me first.” He said, and you nodded.

“Will I be your first?” he asked. You blushed, lowering her gaze, and Harwin carefully tipped her face up.

“Good. Less pressure.” He joked.

“I suppose so.” you replied. “I promise, it wasn’t while we were betrothed.”

“And if it was, I wouldn’t blame you. Whoever he, or she, was they got lucky.”

You smiled at that, blushing due to his compliment rather than shame. With a determined look in your eyes, you put a hand on his face, pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t the chaste kiss they had shared in the sept, and it wasn’t heated with passion, but it was more than the trembling leaf of a woman that had sit next to him at her own banquet.

Harwin deepened the kiss carefully, his hands finding your intricate braids, impossible to tangle into. So he held you by the small of her back instead, kissing you until you broke apart for air.

“That was… dizzying.” you said. Your cheeks were flushed pink, and your pupils had grown dark, and Harwin could feel desire begin to grow for you. Carefully, he seated himself against the cushions, sitting you down in front of him, and beginning to take out the pins in your updo.

While he worked on the tight braidwork, he began to kiss up and down your neck, careful not to go too low too fast. You let out a satisfied sigh, clapping your hand against your mouth afterwards.

“They’re all gone by now. We were too boring, I suppose.” Harwin joked, and you nodded.

“You don’t have to keep quiet.” He encouraged. “It tells me whether I’m doing the right thing.”

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trust me.”

When he was done, your hair fell down your back in soft waves. Harwin briefly wondered if it was because of the braids, or if your hair was always like this.

Then, he moved onto your wedding dress. It was laced in the back, gold and cream embroidery hiding the strings, and you began to tense when he opened them.

“It’ll be more comfortable if you can breathe properly.” Harwin said, slowly pulling the stiff part of the dress over your head. The long skirt followed, until you were left in a thin shift. It looked like it was meant to entice him, barely transparent enough to see your shape, but nothing beyond that.

Harwin took his time laying the dress over a chair in the room, returning with the pitcher of wine. When he offered to refill your glass, you shook your head.

“I’ll be drunk then. I want to remember for the next time.”

“Already planning ahead?” Harwin teased.

“I don’t know. In case this time doesn’t get me pregnant.”

“You do know there’s more to this than getting pregnant, right?” he asked. You raised a brow, as if you did not believe him. “It’s… it’s supposed to be fun as well.”

“Can we start with kissing again?” you asked shyly. Harwin leaned over, kissing you softly. Your hands were unsure, cupping his face, roaming around his hair and awkwardly landing on his arms. Harwin readjusted them, putting one on his jaw and the other on his shoulder the way he liked it.

He really tried to hold back, but when you let another whine slip, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. You squealed, surprised, but once you were there, you continued with more enthusiasm than before.

Breaking the kiss, Harwin saw that your lips had become a little swollen. Mindlessly, he tucked a strand of hair back to where it had fallen out of place.

“I’m ready.” you said, lying back against the pillows with a look of determination on your face. Harwin snorted.

“You are not. If I do it now, it’ll hurt. Have you ever even touched yourself?”

Your mouth fell open at that, as if he was accusing you of fucking a horse, and your blush took ahold of your ears as well.

“I’m only asking to make you comfortable.”

“Never… inside.” you managed.

Harwin nodded, making his way down your body until he reached the hem of your shift. Gently, he began to pull it up and automatically, your legs crossed over.

When he tried to pry them open, you pulled away.

“I have had my maidenhead inspected.” you said, voice high-pitched.

“I wasn’t inspecting anything. Just… trust me on this.” Harwin asked.

It took you a moment, but eventually, you opened your legs back up, allowing him access. Harwin knew better than to stare (for now), and began kissing the inside of your thighs, making his way towards your cunt. When he finally tasted it, he felt like he was ready to die – until his lady wife scrambled backwards, trying to gather her bearings.

“This is wrong. It’s sinful.” you whispered.

“Not really. Asked my septon when I was a boy, and also, it feels good.” Harwin replied nonchalantly.

“I’ll take you by your word.” you said seriously.

You lied back down, and Harwin held your thighs, trying to make a squeeze somehow feel reassuring before he started again, slowly lapping up the wetness your cunt had produced. He could feel you writhe beneath him, but better yet, he could hear you moan.

Muffled pants and cries reached him, spurring him on. Very cautiously, he pushed in one finger, continuing to lick your clit to ease the way. It went in easier than he thought, and so, Harwin crooked it to make you feel even better.

He wanted to be your first in this as well, and he didn’t care if that was greedy.

He had to push you down by the stomach when your back arched. Harwin chuckled to himself as he worked the finger inside you, knowing exactly what he was doing.

After a while, he could feel your body begin to shake, and your legs wrapped around his head, pushing him down. He almost felt proud of you, even as he began to run out of air, but Harwin kept going, until you came, licking you like a starving man.

When you went limp under his touch, Harwin dared to come up from under your shift.

“And?” he asked.

“Whatever that was… I think I caught a glimpse of the Seven Heavens.” you sighed.

“You… came.” He replied, half-asking.

“Yeah. It was wonderful.”

“Did you never?”

“No. I didn’t dare.” you said.

“That’s a pity, to go so many years of your life without pleasure.”

“I see that now.” you quipped, and Harwin laughed with you.

You sat in silence for a while, you leaning against his shoulder with your eyes closed. Harwin felt that he was hard for you, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He could bed you some other time.

Sated with the knowledge that he had already done this for you, Harwin took off his wedding suit and changed into the long linen trousers that were laid out for him. He could feel your eyes burn into his back. Just to tease you (and not at all to inflate his ego), he flexed his back- and arm muscles.

He settled back into bed, staring at you until you realized you had been caught.

“Does my lady wife approve?”

“Mhm.” you mumbled, shamelessly staring at his chest. “I want another.”

“Another?” Harwin asked.

“Bed me. Make me feel like that again.” you mumbled through gritted teeth. Hesitantly, you let her hand wander under the blankets and into his trousers. His cock was still hard from before, and your eyes widened as you felt the girth of it.

“How will it fit?” you asked.

“You managed two fingers. I’ll help you work it out, but there’ll still be a small stretch.” Harwin tried.

Your hand was still frozen on his dick, so he carefully guided it to stroke him. All word about you rang true, you were a good learner.

Harwin closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall to concentrate on the sensation for a moment, before he stopped you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Please.” you replied. There was still a residue of nervousness in your eyes, but Harwin wasn’t going to say no to such an invitation.

Slowly, he pulled your shift over her head, tossing it aside carelessly. For a moment, he could only stare, causing you to cross your arms over your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Harwin said breathlessly. He wasn’t used to being gentle, but Gods be damned, he’d try for you.

Taking his pants off again, he began to kiss your tits, lavishly sucking more bruises into your perfect skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down towards you, and Harwin tried to suppress a groan.

“Good?” you asked.

“Yeah. Really good.” Harwin replied. Your response was to lightly tug his curls, a smirk on your lips. He kissed you again, this time forgetting everything about gentleness and going slowly, swallowing your sounds up with a kiss, desperately holding your face with his hands, dwarfing it in comparison.

His thumb stroked your cheek, trying to convey the awe he already held for you, and you raked your hands through his hair in response. His resolve was melting by the second.

Carefully, he angled his dick up with your cunt, teasing your clit with the tip for a moment, before he slowly sank into you. One of your hands landed on his hips, and Harwin froze.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, before you nodded.

“Just need a moment.” you managed. Excruciatingly slowly, Harwin sank in further, waiting for you to adjust, until he was fully inside you.

“Can I…?��� Harwin began. You nodded, and he pulled back, before thrusting forward with as much self-control as he possessed. He expected you to cry out in pain, but instead, you met him with an unabashed moan.

“Fuck.” you panted, before catching yourself.

“I don’t believe you’ve sworn before.” Harwin managed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he thrust again and your answer was swallowed by another moan.

He tried to put all of his newfound devotion into his thrusts, to make you happy. To satisfy you, so that you would not grow to despise him, at the very least in this way.

All of his intentions of being slow and loving disappeared when you began to beg.

“Please, I need more.” you whispered. Even through the dim candlelight, Harwin saw you blush, but who was he to deny you?

So he picked up the pace, his thrusts turning almost brutish. He would have worried for you, if your eyes hadn’t been in the back of your skull, and your nails weren’t digging into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so.. didn’t expect this.” Harwin managed. You gave him a laugh, which immediately turned into a wanton moan under his ministrations.

“My pretty little wife, legs open only for me.” He praised. Harwin felt your legs wrap around his hips, desperate to create more friction, more intensity.

“Only for you.” You repeat, and Harwin can see the change in your expression, from tense to relaxed. Your posture is open to him (in more ways than one) and his heart almost sings at the thought that you might not despise him or be terrified of him after all.

Harwin manages to steady his mind into looking at you, and Gods, you look fucking angelic. Hair splayed out like a halo, mouth parted and face contorted in pleasure, trying so, so hard to keep your long-lost composure. Nothing feels more right than trying to break that composure, to make you melt into his arms even more.

To give up any thought of propriety and be his.

His thoughts run wild, his heart pounding in his chest with crazed abandon and he can feel himself coming close to the edge. He searches for the bundle of nerves between your legs, hoping to make you scream and when he finds it, it works so well he’s worried the entire Red Keep will hear you after all.

Desperately, he begins to rut into you, watching all coherent thoughts disappear from your eyes as he brings you over the edge a second time. Only then does he allow himself to cum, grabbing your hips harshly until he, too, is spent.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolls off of you, lying next to you and only grabbing your hand.

He turns to face you after a while, you doing the same. Your eyes meet and a smile appears on your flushed face.

“My body feels like it’s filled with lead.” You whisper.

“My lady wife. I never knew I could get this lucky.” He replies. Harwin got out of the bed, trying to find a washcloth. For once, you did not ask any questions, eyes closed in bliss. You let him wipe off the remainder of his seed, burrowing into his side as he lies down next to you.

“You are mine.” You whisper, hearing him chuckle at your words.

“Indeed. I swore it before the Seven just this morning.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Ser Harwin.” You sigh.

“So am I, my love.” He replies.

[50shadesofrossi]

Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child. 

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it. 

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear. 

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms. 

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit. 

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes. 

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground. 

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out. 

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen. 

A dragon. 

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment. 

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt. 

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred. 

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him. 

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer. 

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be." 

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did." 

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same." 

"Princess," he tries again. 

"Breakbones." 

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns. 

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra. 

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up. 

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel." 

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him. 

"Never take your eyes off your opponent." 

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-" 

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child. 

"Ser Criston Cole." 

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea." 

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. 

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn. 

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen. 

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago. 

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning. 

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it." 

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt." 

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you. 

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword. 

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking. 

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you. 

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No." 

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced. 

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury. 

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?" 

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you. 

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front. 

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second. 

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more. 

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself. 

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him. 

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?" 

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it. 

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him. 

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth. 

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer. 

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you. 

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers. 

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart. 

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it. 

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today. 

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave. 

She doesn't. 

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?" 

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures." 

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it." 

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back. 

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry." 

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me." 

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?" 

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him." 

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities. 

"Are you going to listen to father?" 

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think." 

-

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies. 

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over. 

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control. 

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him. 

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep. 

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities. 

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes. 

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson. 

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions. 

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid. 

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness. 

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe." 

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion. 

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him. 

"My stupidity?" He repeats. 

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant." 

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms." 

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?" 

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him. 

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere. 

"Shit." He curses. 

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up. 

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes. 

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours. 

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation. 

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face. 

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling. 

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips. 

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are. 

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head. 

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more. 

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features. 

"I know." 

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop. 

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower. 

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out. 

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology." 

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk. 

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself. 

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice. 

"Taking a walk," 

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells. 

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?" 

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin. 

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will." 

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No." 

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me." 

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding. 

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you. 

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions. 

You can't. 

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels. 

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep. 

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son. 

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?" 

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you. 

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?" 

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you." 

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content." 

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest. 

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow. 

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body. 

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard. 

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance. 

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap. 

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you. 

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath. 

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state. 

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire. 

"Go to bed, Princess." 

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward. 

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty." 

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?" 

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband." 

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take." 

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him. 

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion. 

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers. 

But your status halts him. 

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other. 

Painstakingly obvious. 

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly. 

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively. 

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind. 

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me." 

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess." 

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage. 

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught. 

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release. 

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?" 

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel. 

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it. 

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat. 

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off. 

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips. 

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him. 

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly. 

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this. 

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump. 

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over. 

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert." 

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man. 

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs. 

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead. 

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you. 

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out. 

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white. 

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you. 

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free. 

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high. 

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is. 

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles. 

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour." 

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in. 

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing. 

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch. 

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in. 

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders. 

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open. 

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with. 

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug. 

That will be for later. 

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach. 

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact. 

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm. 

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips. 

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm. 

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind. 

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it." 

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words. 

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore. 

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning. 

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you. 

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment. 

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am." 

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole. 

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for. 

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it. 

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you. 

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist. 

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls. 

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions. 

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't," 

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it." 

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again. 

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time. 

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh. 

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls. 

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess." 

-

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable. 

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra. 

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you. 

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache. 

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty. 

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival. 

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer. 

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch. 

It's the only way you know to protect yourself. 

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess. 

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did. 

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros. 

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors. 

"No." You answer plainly. 

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are. 

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing." 

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours. 

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown. 

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind. 

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care. 

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin. 

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect. 

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine. 

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best. 

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind. 

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you. 

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers. 

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you. 

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull. 

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you. 

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them. 

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate. 

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself.  You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance. 

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you. 

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name. 

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges. 

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you. 

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't. 

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace. 

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed. 

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything." 

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?" 

"What do you want me to say?" He grits. 

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?" 

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog." 

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?" 

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you. 

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences." 

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?" 

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged," 

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-" 

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me." 

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand. 

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely. 

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight. 

"If I may, Princess?" 

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave. 

You feel sick. 

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant. 

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence. 

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance. 

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building. 

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand." 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words. 

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter." 

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!" 

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors." 

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done. 

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel," 

"A trait that runs in the family." 

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine. 

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies. 

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do. 

"I'm in love with you." 

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff. 

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night." 

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me," 

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?" 

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy. 

"What do you know of being a whore?" 

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you." 

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer. 

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping. 

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly. 

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality. 

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions. 

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you. 

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you. 

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself. 

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me." 

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands." 

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is. 

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him. 

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have. 

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you. 

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you. 

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you. 

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you. 

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth. 

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you. 

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting. 

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax. 

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head. 

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone. 

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him. 

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me." 

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties." 

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity. 

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock. 

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch. 

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him. 

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last." 

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair. 

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?" 

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine." 

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself." 

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth." 

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward. 

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue." 

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his. 

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure. 

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers. 

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon. 

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over. 

You wonder if the same applies to him. 

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters. 

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth. 

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you. 

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you. 

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself. 

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?" 

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to. 

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps. 

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours." 

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

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[maidragoste]

Forgive me

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Part 5 of this

Part 6

Serie Masterlist

Larys does not appear in this chapter but we have Alicent 😋

btw, there was going to be a little scene with Daemon but I felt like it didn't add to this chapter but if you want I can upload it separately

Comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖

Please comment if you like the chapter 🙏 🙏  , it always motivates me to write more 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"Get out," you demanded the moment you saw Rhaenyra with Jacaerys in her arms entering your chambers. You noticed how her smile seemed to tremble at your cold tone but you didn't care. If she didn't care about your feelings when she fucked your husband then you had no reason to care about hers.

You had to admit that Rhaenyra had been cautious enough to come when you were alone. If your mother had been with you you were sure that she would not have held her tongue and would have told the princess everything she thought of her. You could even see your mother dragging her by her hair to get her out of your chambers. A small smile appeared on your lips as you imagined the scene, that would be something to talk about in court. Although you would never let your mother lose her temper so much, she couldn't get on the king's bad side.

"Jacaerys wanted to meet his cousins," Rhaenyra said as if she hadn't heard you and sat down next to you. You moved as much as you could, wanting to make your displeasure clear. You couldn't go far since next to you was the basket where Aethan was sleeping there.

Of course, she was going to use her son as her excuse to see you. It wasn't the first time she had done it. Now that she knew that she had seen that you cared about Jacaerys—if it were up to you she would never have found out but one night the prince couldn't sleep no matter what Rhaenyra, Harwin, and Laenor did so your brother had the wonderful idea to take Jace with you, you managed to make him sleep by singing him the same song that you sang to him in the nursery before the perplexed gaze of your husband and the princess—I thought that through him he could get close to you again. But she was wrong.

"Jacaerys couldn't have told you that," you said, feeling Alyn begin to stir in your arms. A small part of you wished that he would start crying so the princess would leave but you knew that if he cried then Aethan would wake up and he would start crying too. You sighed and began to coo to your son, trying to ignore Rhaenyra's glare.

"But it's obvious that he's in a bad mood because he hasn't seen you in days," said the princess.

"Fine. He can stay, now you can go" you said, starting to think that you would have to call one of the maids to help you. You didn't like the idea but there was no way you could handle two newborns and a baby less than a year old alone.

"Y/n" Rhaenyra said your name with pure pain.

"What?" you said pointedly. You hated that she was doing this. You wanted to be calm with your children and she came to interrupt your little peace. No matter how many times you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with her, the princess wouldn't stop insisting. And now she wanted to make you feel bad for her when you weren't the one who ruined everything between the two of you.

"Forgive me. Please, I just want everything to go back to the way it was before," Rhaenyra begged, if you hadn't had your son in your arms she would have taken your hands and kissed them like the two of you used to do when you were young whenever one of you had said or done something that had hurt the other.

"Rhaenyra, that will never happen," you said, starting to feel pain in your head.

"I miss you" You closed your eyes as you heard the princess's voice falter. “I love you,” you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. You decided to focus on your anger and ignore any other emotions you felt.

"You say that and you still fucked my husband," you said, opening your eyes and looking at her furiously.

"I handled the situation badly," she admitted, hugging Jace, trying not to break down in front of you. "I'm really sorry," she apologized again, feeling her heartache at your attitude. "I know I was wrong but I need you. I can't stand you hating me."

You'd like to say you weren't affected by hearing the desperation in Rhaenyra's voice but you'd be lying. You hated her. And you hate yourself for stopping her from affecting you. A part of you feared that deep inside you were still the young woman who loved the princess and lived to see her happy. You forced yourself to remember the whispers of the court at Jacaerys's hair color to erase any trace of pity you felt for the princess. She alone had caused this. She couldn't expect that with a simple apology, you would forget everything she did.

“You'll have to live with that for the rest of your life, Rhaenyra,” you said that because it was the truth, you weren't going to ever forgive her, but you also said it because you wanted to hurt her, you hoped she felt at least a part of the pain that she and Harwin gave you. “You had to think about it before betraying me”

“You betrayed me first!”

Rhaenyra's scream caused the three babies to start crying. If Jacaerys had not been in the princess's arms, you would have thrown the object closest to your reach at her. Who the hell did she think she was to come uninvited to your chambers and yell at you? Not only that, but she accused you of betraying her. You couldn't believe her audacity. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since she apologized to you and now she was yelling at you.

If the babies' cries weren't drilling into your head, perhaps you would have asked her to explain what the supposed betrayal you had committed was, but right now you just wanted her away so you could calm the twins down.

“Get out” you ordered and for once Rhaenyra listened to you. Of course, she had to leave slamming the door, making your children's cries even worse.

“I don't like them,” Aegon announced, looking with obvious disgust at Aethan, who was in your arms, and Alyn, who was being cooed by Alicent.

Perhaps another woman would have been offended or bothered by the little prince's comment but you couldn't help but laugh at the pout of his lips and his little wrinkled nose.

“Aegon!” Alicent instantly reprimanded him, making the boy even more upset.

“It's okay, my queen,” you reassured her with a smile. “Do you want to tell me why you don't like them?” you asked in a soft voice and settled better in your seat so you could hold Aethan well with one hand and thus be able to caress him with your other hand Aegon's hair.

The boy felt a little better at your sweet caresses. “Because of them you can't spend time with me and Sunfyre anymore,” he grumbled.

Since you gave birth to the twins you didn't go to the Dragon's Pit with Aegon. Now it was the dragon guardians who taught him how to care for and bond with Sunfyre. He didn't like that. Aegon wanted you to be next to him, he wanted to see your proud smile every time he pronounced a word in Valyrian correctly, he wanted you to take him to fly with you over Nightwing like you used to do every time he finished his lessons.

The worst thing was that every time Aegon wanted to spend time with you there was always someone else with you and there were the babies. You couldn't play with him or pay attention to him for long because one of the twins would always start crying or someone would turn their attention to the twins. Aegon didn't understand what people saw as interesting about the twins, they were just annoying babies who didn't know how to do anything but cry. Aegon just wanted to have his time alone with you again.

“Oh, my little prince, I miss spending time with you too” You kissed his cheek several times until Aegon began to laugh.

Alicent watched them both with a smile. It always warmed her heart every time she saw how you cared about her children and how loving you were towards them. She was sure that you cared more about her children than Viserys did. She knew you loved her children like they were your own. She could see it every time your face lit up when the children came running to hug you. She could see it in how you listened intently to Aegon and Helaena's ramblings. She could see it every time she found you in the nursery singing to Aemond and Daeron. She felt grateful for all those moments. She was grateful that there was someone who genuinely cared about her children.

“I promise you that once I recover I will go with you to the Dragon’s Pit.”

"But just the two of us! No annoying babies!" Aegon said, looking at you "seriously" as he pointed at you. You laughed again, the little prince's attitude made you tender.

“Aegon, you shouldn't talk about them like that. They are your family,” Alicent reminded him sternly, making you stop laughing and making the boy have a pout on his lips again.

Sometimes you felt that Alicent took everything too seriously and forgot that Aegon was just a child. It was obvious that he was just jealous that he couldn't spend time with you and it was the first time you'd heard him complain. You didn't like seeing Aegon being reprimanded just for acting his age. A child his age should be free to say what he thinks, he should spend more time playing instead of being pressured to attend lessons just because they thought it would impress his father. You didn't like it nor did you want to take away authority from Alicent's upbringing but sometimes you couldn't help but intervene because you didn't like how they pressured Aegon.

“You can say that they are annoying or anything you want, Aegon,” you said poking his nose with your finger making him smile a little “As long as we are alone” you quickly clarified before the queen's gaze “Besides I am sure that once they grow up and you can play with them you will like them”

Before the prince could answer you, the maester appeared to take the boy away since he had to start his lessons. You managed to convince Aegon to leave after you promised him that he could visit you again once he finished his lessons and that you would be waiting for him with his favorite sweets.

“How are you feeling?” Alicent asked once they were alone. She had been furious when one of her handmaidens informed her that Rhaenyra had come to see you. She had also noticed the dark circles under your eyes. She knew that the twins weren't letting you sleep much, she more than anything wanted to be able to help you but she was the queen and people would notice if she came to your chambers in the middle of the night.

“I'm tired but now that I've seen you and Aegon I'm happy” you admitted, resting your head on her shoulder and you closed your eyes, missing the blush on the queen's cheeks and the sweet smile that appeared on her face at your words.

You smiled as you felt Alicent's lips on your forehead. Not feeling satisfied, you stopped leaning on her shoulder so you could steal a kiss from her. You felt your chest warm at the familiarity of the sweetness of her lips.

Any discomfort that Rhaenyra caused you was forgotten with Alicent's kisses.

Again another night of crying. You didn't know how many minutes ago Aethan and Alyn were crying. You tried to feed them but none of them wanted to take your breast, you had already changed them but they still kept crying.

You rocked Alyn in your arms and with your foot from time to time, you lightly pushed the crib where Aethan was, hoping that the movement would tire him out. All this while you sing to them, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. You feel worthless for not being able to make your babies stop crying. It shouldn't be difficult to put them to sleep if you are their mother.

You jumped when you heard the door open. Your body tenses as you see your husband enter. Harwin had not come to your chambers since the birth of the twins. He never made a complaint or a reproach to you about your relationship with Larys, he stayed by your side and presented your children as a proud father before the court but he no longer went to your chambers. And you were okay with that because you didn't want him to keep insisting that you forgive him.

“What do you want?” you asked pointedly, not bothering to hide your annoyance at his sudden presence, hoping that would make him leave.

You were surprised to see that Harwin didn't seem affected by your tone like usual. You noticed the determination in his eyes and wondered what the hell had happened. Was he coming to argue with you because of how you spoke to Rhaenyra? If he dared to come in the middle of the night while your children were crying just to defend his lover you would kick his ass and let your mother scare him with Meleys.

“I heard the twins crying.”

“I'm sorry that my children don't let you sleep,” you interrupted him with obvious sarcasm. Trying not to think that if Harwin could hear them cry, so should other people. You didn't want to think about how tomorrow the court would talk about your inability as a mother.

“I came to help you” You were surprised by his words.

“Why?” you asked clearly defensively. Although you two knew that you really wanted to ask him, why would you help me with them when you are not their father?

“Because I care about you,” he said but you both knew he really wanted to tell you because I love you. You told yourself that you felt nothing as you saw the obvious love in Harwin's eyes. “You haven't slept well in days. I heard them cry for days and I know you, I know that every time you can't calm them down you are insulting yourself. "I can see right now how frustrated you are because you can't also pick up Aethan and comfort him as you would like."

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You hated that he knew you so well. But you weren't surprised after all he is your husband. Of course, he knew how you thought and how your mind worked. He had seen you in your most vulnerable states.

He had been so good to you but he had to ruin it all.

“Can I pick him up?”

It was silly but you really appreciated that he had asked instead of directly taking your baby in his arms. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to come out shaky.

You frowned as you watched Harwin take off his nightshirt.

“Jace calms down when he feels my skin,” Harwin was quick to clarify and get Aethan out of her crib before you decided to kick him out for thinking she was trying to seduce you. He felt you watching him intently as he placed the baby's small body against her chest. Of course, his crying didn't stop instantly but he seemed to calm down a little.

Your husband started singing the same song you were singing a few minutes ago. His Valyrian was rusty compared to yours. Once you are sure that your voice is not going to betray you, you accompany him in singing. You don't stop rocking Alyn as you watch Harwin pace around the room carefully holding your son. You relaxed as you saw that Aethan didn't look uncomfortable and how as the song continued he became calmer and calmer. It doesn't take long for Alyn to calm down when he sees that you are no longer upset.

Your eyes meet Harwin's and the two of you smile at each other. And Harwin can't help but think that this is where he belongs.

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Stretch Marks

Aegon: He wouldn't care if someone he was with had stretch marks. He'd be too busy... enjoying you to really pay attention to them. After some time, he does enjoy it far more but still, to be honest, he wouldn't care if you had or didn't have them. I don’t think it'd even register with him.

Aemond: Stretch marks are a natural occurrence on a person's body, caused by skin stretching underneath pressure. He finds you are beautiful and he'd be thrilled to see you bearing the marks that testify to the many sacrifices you have made. He would have no problem with it if the person he loves was afflicted with stretch marks. He is not so shallow, that he would turn away one of the most beautiful creations the gods have brought into this world for something so inconsequential and natural.

Jacaerys: It is only a mark. Nothing more. A body is a beautiful thing, even if some scars are left behind. In truth, a person with marks on your body is as perfect as a person without them. Perhaps, with time. he would learn not to see them for the marks they are, but just another feature that makes you his.

Lucerys: If you developed stretch marks he wouldn’t be bothered by such a thing. They are a part of you, and he thinks your figure is beautiful with or without them.

Rhaenyra: I'll tell you what she'd think if she saw your stretch marks. She'd kiss them. She'd tell you that your body, flaws included, is perfect in her eyes. She'd worship you, because she is a lucky woman to be with you, and stretch marks don't make you any less beautiful.

Daemon: It does not make a difference to him. It would, all the same, be a testament to the person that he has decided to make his queen. It would be but a part of you, as all of you is part of you. He would not let something as insignificant as small scars bother him. In fact, he would even love such scars. It would show that no matter what happens, you are still beautiful in his eyes, and you are still his.

Alicent: She believes that stretch marks are an entirely natural part of the human experience. They are caused by a combination of factors, such as pregnancy, growth spurts, or simply due to natural body change. They should be seen as nothing more than simply that. Nothing about stretch marks is unattractive or unappealing in her eyes. In fact, it is quite the contrary. It shows the human experience and that beauty comes from flaws. She sees nothing wrong with them, and she doesn't believe anyone else should either which she makes clear as she shows pure adoration and kisses to those areas.

Helena: It’s hardly different. She would still feel the same. Stretch marks are natural. The only thing it signals is that you have matured. Grown. Changed. All very natural things. No person wants the same body as you had as a child, and she loves you all the same even developing a habit of running her fingers across your skin to relax her.

Harwin: Having a partner with stretch marks is an honor to him. He sees you as a strong and dedicated person if you have children, who have carried them into the world and given of your time and your body in service to your family. The stretch marks are not a defect, but rather a badge of courage and honor. They are the natural scars of something beautiful. He would not have his partner any other way.

Cregan: He sees no reason why it would make a difference. There is beauty in a person's curves. It shows him that you have no fear of eating and drinking. It is good to keep trim and in shape, but to have some extra curves on a person makes you more...pleasing to his eyes, one could say.

Criston: He would be remiss to ignore their presence. However, they are not cause for concern. They are signs of valor, not of weakness. He would comfort and assure you of his love and affection, which has never wavered. The scars tell of strength and commitment. They tell of a story worth hearing, and a person worth knowing or in his case bragging about.

[auroraborealyss]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 | 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞.

⊹ fandom house of the dragon

⊹ pairing ser harwin strong x reader

⊹ synopsis when the fight breaks out, ser harwin strong decides to get the most important lady in the room to safety

⊹ tags some sexual tension—sexual fluff is the term i'd use it; "who did this to you?" trope + wound bandaging; unexpected marriage proposal in the end because i can't control where my stories go

⊹ warnings fighting, hotd spoiler for 1.05

⊹ word count 1305

The crowd thickens on the dance floor. You are sitting off to the side, on your third cup of wine, watching with amusement as your best friend gets in a heated discussion with Daemon in the middle of the room for the entire crowd to watch. As interested as you are as to what will happen between them, you take a sip and divert your eyes away so if someone were to interrogate you, you’d be able to feign cluelessness.

Your eyes sweep over the room, taking in the attendees. There’s King Viserys, who’s aggressively moving his knife back and forth in a cutting motion except he’s missing the actual chicken because he’s too absorbed watching with scandalised eyes at his brother and daughter.

Then there’s Queen Alicent, who’s also watching, but more subtly. She’s gotten better at concealing her emotions, and much better at learning the subtle ways of the court. You’ll have to warn Rhaenyra about her old friend.

But like every time the two of you are in the same room together, your eyes are eventually drawn to him. Unsurprisingly, he’s already staring at you. Ser Harwin Strong stands across the room with someone talking to him, but it’s clear he’s no longer interested in them. You smile at him, and he bows his head in greeting. His eyes shamelessly rake you up and down, and to tease and appease his appetite which you know all too well, you lean forwards slightly so your dress gives him a much nicer view. You grin at his smile.

That is the crux of your relationship. Longing glances from across the room, a moment of flirtation that doesn’t lead everywhere. For now, it’s fun. Sneaking around, teasing each other in public, the possibilities of what could be existing in the inch of space between your lips when you have your back against the wall and his chest pressed against yours, never pushing further, but not pulling away. You’re both satisfied with it for now. But how long will it last before it’s no longer enough and you both must make the decision of either being together or forever apart?

A scream rises above the crowd, tearing your attention from him. Duty and loyalty to the princess takes over your body, and you stand in search for Rhaenyra immediately. You catch sight of her white hair and see as the thick crowd, now panicked, shove the princess aside.

“Rhaenyra!” you shout out to her, but no one hears you.

No one except for ser Harwin, who despite being so far from you and on the other side of the panicking crowd, sees you grab the knife you had been cutting your chicken with and head determinedly into the crowd to defend your friend. As frustrated he is by you endangering yourself, he can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your stubbornness, loyalty, and bravery. But worry overtakes him as you disappear into the throng of bodies, gone from his view.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his father motion for him to grab the princess. Harwin stretches his head to the left before shoving aside the person in front of him, then the person behind them and every else who stands in his way. He occasionally punches someone if they won’t move. As the crowd gets even thicker, he begins to use his body to barrel his way through. He does pretty much anything that needs to be done until he catches a glimpse of you again, now having made it to the princess’ side. Blood drips down your knife. The sleeve on your pretty blue dress is ripped, and he sees blood stains around it.

You turn and your eyes meet, as if you could just feel his presence when he came near enough.

“Ser Harwin,” you gasp out. “Take the princess to safety—OH!”

The floor disappears from under your feet.

You scream out as his large hands grasp your waist, and with barely a grunt, hoist you over his very broad shoulders. The heat from his hands is familiar, the grip on your waist drawing memories from two nights before, but in this moment, all you feel is anger and disbelief as you are carried away from Rhaenyra who is picked up in a similar position by another member of the city watch.

“Put me down, ser Harwin!” you shout. You slam your fists against his back, not that he’d feel it.

“Stop moving, my lady,” he says gruffly.

You twist around so you can see a glimpse of where you’re going. One hand is still wrapped around your legs to keep you from falling. His other hand is shoving people aside to clear a way.

“PUT ME DOWN!” You try to kick, but his grip tightens.

Then he slaps your ass.

“I said, stop moving!”

Realizing that this isn’t a fight you’re going to win, you huff and stay still as he fights through the rest of the room. Only out in the hall where it’s silent, empty, and dark, does he bend down to put you gently on the ground.

You slap his chest. “You were supposed to get the princess to safety!”

“I was getting my lady to safety first,” he says unabashedly.

“You can’t put me above Rhaenyra!”

“Can’t I?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. You look down and see that his hands are still gripping your waist, as if he’s still keeping you safe. Silence passes between you, only the sounds of his and yours heavy breathing filling the air. Gradually, your anger ebbs away, but still his grip doesn’t loosen.

“You can let go of me now, ser Harwin,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He doesn’t. He steps forward, forcing you take a step backward. Forwards, back, forwards, back, your eyes never looking away from his until your back hits the wall. He takes a step forward. Then another. He’s much taller than you, and much broader. His entire presence looms over you, but you don’t feel terrified or small. If anything, you only feel protected. Secure.

Loved.

He reaches for his shirt and tears a strip from the bottom. You don’t protest as he dabs the blood on your arm before wrapping it over the wound. When he’s done, he bends down to press a kiss against it.

“Does it hurt?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. The scalding touch of him being so close to you yet not doing anything is more unbearable than the knife that cut you.

“Who did it?”

“Harwin.”

“People get hurt from fights all the time. No one will know it was intentional.”

You can’t stop the chuckle from escaping. He smiles softly at you and moves even closer so his forehead is resting against yours, his breath warm over your lips.

“You can’t do that again,” he says.

You look at him challengingly. “Can’t I?”

“No, you can’t. Stop risking yourself.”

“Rhaenyra is my friend, and I have a feeling that things are only going to get worse from here. I have to stay by her side and protect her.”

He sighs, and you know he understands that he can’t ask you to forsake your friendship with her. “Then I will stand by your side and protect you,” he says instead.

You raise your brows. “Oh, will you?”

“Enough of this hiding around and being on opposite ends of the room. I want to be by your side at all times.”

“And how will you do that, ser Harwin?”

He takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Marry me,” he says, and you feel everything in you stop until he is all you can see and think and feel.

“Marry me and be mine.”

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖽? 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗄 𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝗇𝗈. 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗑 + 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌? 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒.

𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽. 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 (𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇). 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

[starogeorgina]

𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole × reader

Warnings: Swearing, oral sex, fingering, titty sucking

1.02

It had been days since you left your quarters, and the feeling of isolation and loneliness was plaguing you while you got over whatever sickness you had. You spoke to Rhaenyra previously, and she assured you nothing was going on between her and Ser Harwin, that she merely invited him to her chambers so they could speak privately since he caught her in a compromising position with one of her most recent lovers, Lady Laena Velaryon. Which explains why Daemon would implicate your sister; his ego was bruised and he was mad. Lady Laena hadn’t ended their affair because she had been betrothed to another; it’s because she wants to be with Rhaenyra instead.

Although her confession made you feel ashamed for even doubting her, which was another reason you sought isolation.

You hadn’t seen your own lover or husband in just over a month. Harwin had returned to Harrenhal with his father the morning after you confronted him about why he was at your sister's quarters, and since he was vague, the questioning turned into a heated argument. And your father, King Viserys, had sent Daemon on some errand, which meant him leaving the keep.

You hear a knock at your door, and before you can call for it to be opened, someone enters your chambers. You raise a brow, seeing it’s Ser Criston instead of one of your handmaids. You hadn’t exchanged a word with the knight since you left his bedchamber after sharing a brief sexual encounter.

“Princess,” he bows.

“Ser Cristion,” you say, picking up your cup of wine and sinking down onto one of the plush red chairs. “What can I do for you?”

The knight begins to ramble some weak excuse on why he visited your private quarters when he had no business being there. You shut out his words as you focus on his gaze. The hunger in his eyes has caught your attention, as has the way he soaks up your appearance. The black dress you chose in the morning hugged your curves in all the right places, especially your breasts.

Ser Cristion didn’t come because he wanted to talk to you; he came because he wanted to fuck you.

“What is it you desire, my good knight?”

Standing tall, his eyes meet yours. “To please you, princess, That night we spent together, I focused only on my own pleasure and not on yours. I wish to rectify that.”

You don’t answer right away, deliberately leaving him hanging. When he takes a sharp breath, preparing himself for whatever you would reply, you slowly spread your legs open and bunch up your skirts, revealing your bare chest to him. Criston was a handsome man; his personality was questionable considering he was nothing more than a hypocrite, but who were you to refuse such an offer?

“You may please me with your mouth, but that is all.”

For a split second, you think Criston is going to leave when he faces the door, but instead of leaving, he locks it and then returns his gaze to you. You finish your wine as he kneels in front of you. He kisses your thigh, then moves his attention to your core and lets out an animalistic groan. Your eyes stay glued to him as he sucks on your clit, and your fingers tangle into his dark hair, keeping his mouth where it feels best.

You desperately wished it was someone you loved pleasing you, but yet here you are squirming around the tongue of a man you didn’t even care for, acting like a depraved whore.

—

The hour was late, and the sudden dip in the bed causes you to stir. Groggily, you rub your eyes, “Daemon?”

“My apologies for waking you, my love; I know the hour is late,” he shuffles closer to you in the bed. His bare chest is pressing against your back. “I was away much longer than I anticipated, if I had known—”

“I love you, Daemon Targaryen,” you whisper.

He seems taken aback by your sudden admission, and guilt swirls in your stomach. You had important information to tell him, but now wasn’t the time. Not when you were both exhausted.

“I don't deserve you, my sweet wife,” he says, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. “But I'm never leaving your side again.”

—

“I was merely training him on how to please a woman properly.”

When neither of you could find sleep, you had a jug of wine and a platter of fresh fruit brought to your quarters. You now sit curled beside Daemon on one of the plush couches.

“Hmm, perhaps he won’t be such an insufferable cunt,” Daemon smirks before sipping on his wine. He found it rather amusing that you let Cole lick your cunny, but nothing else. “So... did you enjoy him tasting your sweet little cunt?”

“Hmm, I prefer your mouth on me.”

He pulls the thin fabric of your nightgown down low enough for your breasts to be exposed to him. Droplets of wine still linger on Daemon's lips when he takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks on your flesh.

You giggle. “I’ve definitely missed you.”

Daemon moves his hand along your thigh, feeling the softness of your well-pampered skin beneath his fingers, before he reaches your wet core and sinks two fingers deep into your cunny. “I’ve missed you and your insatiable appetite. You’ve really got the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”

You moan at his words.

Greedily, he sucks on your breast while tapping at your clit with his thumb and spreading up his actions of sliding two fingers into your soaking core until the coil in your stomach snaps and his fingers are coated in your slick.

Smiling, you lean forward and nuzzle into his neck, his arms wrapping around you. “Hmm, I’m glad you are home; you have a task of the utmost importance to attend to valzȳrys.”

He rests his cheek against the top of your head while running his fingers through your hair. “And what would that be, ābrazȳrys?”

“You're going to need to find the perfect dragon egg to go in the cradle.”

It takes him a minute to process what you’ve just told him, then he smiles widely. “You are with a child?”

You place one of his hands flat on your stomach and say, “Yes, my love, I’m with a child.”

—

You nod your head and smile at the lords and ladies congratulating you. It hadn’t taken long for word of your growing family to spread around the house. Your father was ecstatic and insisted on throwing a grand feast to celebrate, which Daemon agreed to help organize. Rhaenyra had gifted you with the finest silk dresses to accommodate a growing body and toys for the baby. And all of the attention you received was a favorable distraction from missing Harwin so much.

When you reach the doorway to the library, you tell the knight accompanying you that he doesn’t need to follow you since nobody else has access to it aside from the royal family. Spotting the book Daemon intended to read to you next, you reach out to take it, but your arm is suddenly snatched.

A small gasp escapes your lips. “Ser Criston?”

Cristion’s grip tightens around your arm as he pulls you further away from the doorway room. With a devilish glare in his eyes, he asks, “Are you with the child?"

“Get your hands off me.”

You have been so busy since finding out you're pregnant that you haven’t even spoken with the knight since the night he came to your quarters. An unintentional slight on your end.

“Let go of me, or I will scream.”

He looks down at your arm to see how tightly he’s squeezing it, and let's go. “Are you with a child?" He repeats. When you don’t answer him, he takes your silence as a yes. “How far along?”

“That is none of—”

“How far along?”

Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, you sigh, “It’s been three moons since I last bled.”

His face falls.

“Criston…”

“Why?” he barks, and you immediately recoil. “Why did you need to drag me into whatever messed-up game you and the Prince are playing?”

“I will admit I made the first move that night, but you never turned me. And you are the one who tried to pursue me afterwards, so don’t play innocent.”

Cristion takes a step backwards, as though he's wrestling with something internally. He breathes angrily as his eyes move up and down, taking in the slightest swell in your stomach.

You clear your throat. “I know what you're thinking. That’s how long it’s been since we... Daemon knows.”

“And he doesn’t care?”

“No. He loves me, and he will love this child. His child.”

He remains silent as you brush by him. You were a fool for ever going to Criston that night, knowing how cruel he can be and how close he is to the queen. “I wonder how the king would feel if he heard his own precious princess wasn’t sure who the father of her child was.”

You laugh. “Why don’t you share that theory, Cole? I’m sure Prince Daemon would love to hear it.”

He glares at you.

“We all need to live with the consequences of our actions, and I have done things that I’m ashamed of, but if you ever utter a threat to me or my family again, nothing will be able to save you from the wrath of dragons. Do you understand?”

When Criston says nothing, you get the book for Daemon, and as you're leaving the library, you hear a muffled ‘spoiled cunt’ fall from the knight's lips.

—

Taking a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course, there was a very slim chance that Daemon wasn’t the biological father of your baby.

Entering your quarters, you immediately notice something feels different—a shift in energy. You call out, “Daemon?”

He appears within seconds, his expression hard to read. He kisses your cheek and says, “There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”

“Who?”

“Try as you might, you cannot hide anything from me,” he says quietly. “I sent a raven asking for his return.”

Your lips part slightly as the question of who he wrote lingers on your lips, but in seconds you turn a corner and come face to face with Harwin. Your eyes swell with tears.

He stands at attention, “princess.”

“Harwin…”

Husband - Valzȳrys

Wife - Ābrazȳrys

[aemondsbabe]

Hour of the Owl

summary: there's only one thing you want for your nameday and your sweet husband is more than happy to let you have it

pairing: dom!harwin strong x sub!reader x switch!daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors go away!), afab reader, reader is described as having some targaryen features (white hair, lilac eyes) but no other physical descriptors are mentioned, threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), handjobs, piv sex, brief spitting, cum play, brief breeding kink, choking, spanking, daemon ignoring the rules, fingering, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, facesitting, very brief mention of miscarriage (world building only, does not directly affect the reader), praise kink, degradation, aftercare included, some fluff, "good cop/bad cop" trope, hair pulling, creampie, bi!daemon and harwin (they're at least experimenting asdfgh), daemon whimpering!!! i repeat, daemon whimpering!!!

word count: 11.8k (genuinely HOW)

a/n: this is dirty, y'all, i won't lie. this is filthy, filthy stuff. there's literally about 7.2k words of just pure smut here. gird your loins, this one is a wild ride. godspeed.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A soft breeze blows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, filling the room with the scent of the sweet smelling flowers your older sister had planted in the gardens of the Red Keep a few moons prior. You busy yourself with removing the countless delicate golden pins your ladies had stuck in your hair that morning, silvery hair pooling around your shoulders as you undo braid after braid. Finally, you run your fingers through the last one, lost in thought as you walk out onto your balcony, your feet bare against the cool stone floors. 

You sigh as you lean against a stone ledge, looking out over the many fires and torches that light Kings Landing each night, spread out below the Red Keep like a field of stars. You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

You smile as you hear the heavy wooden door to your chamber opening, practically skipping to the door as Harwin slips inside, already unbuckling his leather armor.

“My love!” You call happily, giggling at the exaggerated groan he makes as you thud into him, practically attacking him as you wrap your arms around him, “I missed you!” You whine playfully, breathing in his scent as you bury your face in his chest, your cheek pressed against the tunic he wears. 

“I missed you too,” he laughs, his hands hooking under the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his middle. He walks you over to your large bed and gently sits you down on the plush fabric, “My sweet little wife,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning around and striding over to the mirror leaning against the wall next to your wardrobe. “What meanness did you busy yourself with today, I wonder?” He questions, smiling adoringly at you over his shoulder. 

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. “I simply assisted Aemma in choosing decorations for the princess’s upcoming nameday celebrations,” you start, standing from the bed and making your way over to Harwin, watching for a second as he struggles with the knot at the top of his trousers before you finally push his hands away and begin pulling at the strings yourself, “Then I aided her in welcoming some new maids, worked more on my needlepoint, and responded to the letter from our mother.” You shrug, finally pulling the ties free before returning to the bed. 

“A busy day indeed,” he smirks, running a hand through his curly hair as he stalks toward you, “Mine was much the same; we started training the new recruits today.” 

“My poor husband,” you pout, sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed, “Working so hard.” You coo, aching between your thighs as Harwin places his hands on your waist, feeling his warmth through the thin, nearly translucent Myrish lace of your nightgown. You press a soft kiss to the middle of his chest, the hairs there tickling your lips, before you bring your hands up to his shoulders and begin kneading the skin there, massaging around his neck and shoulders. 

He groans appreciatively, letting his eyes slip closed and his head tilt back as he allows himself to savor the feeling for a moment; your sweet hands, so small and delicate compared to his, still send shivers down his spine. He can’t help but think of the first day he saw you – you had looked so ethereal stepping out of your family’s carriage in the courtyard, draped in a fine silk dress in the sky blue color of House Arryn’s coat of arms. You had arrived the day Princess Rhaenyra was born and had made King’s Landing your home ever since.

He had been fond of you from that moment forward, offering to give you tours of the Keep and personally escorting you anytime you ventured from its walls. He had known you for nearly eight years and in all that time, he had yet to find a single fault with you. Were it up to him alone, the two of you would have been married within a week, although you had always joked with him that those were the exact sorts of thoughts you’d expect from the foolhardy teenage boy he was at the time. Eventually, your families finally came to a marriage agreement, Lord Rodrik Arryn pleased with the promise of you one day inheriting Harrenhal with Hawin. He smiles, thinking back to your wedding day, in disbelief that it was nearly a year ago now. 

Finally, he opens his eyes once more, finding your mesmerizing lilac ones already gazing back at him. “You are so handsome,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you lovingly smile at him, “The most beautiful man in all the kingdoms.”

He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his arms holding you tightly to him, wanting to feel as much of you pressed up against him as possible. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet smells of the oils you use in your baths, “And you are positively divine, my sweet love,” he murmurs, pulling back to gaze at you once more as he twirls a silvery strand of hair between his fingers, “The Seven have truly blessed me with the most heavenly of creatures.” 

You blush, lying back on the bed as he kicks off his trousers, his entire form finally bare to you. Your eyes roam his tanned skin appreciatively as you lean back against your pillows, fingers fiddling with a tie at the front of your dressing gown. 

“Would you do me the honor of joining me in the bath, my lady?” he asks, reaching out a hand to help you up from the bed. 

“Oh, I would be honored, my handsome knight,” you joke back, kissing his cheek before the two of you make your way over to the bath, separated from the rest of your chambers with a decorated screen you’d gotten from a trip to Dorne many years ago.

You quickly undress, draping your gown over the screen, as Harwin steps into the bath with a hiss, “Seven Hells!” He curses, wincing as his skin adjusts to the water, “Did you have your maids retrieve this water from the belly of the Dragonmont itself?” 

You snicker, gently easing yourself into the water at the opposite end of the tub, “After all this time one would think you would know how I take my baths, husband.”

He simply rolls his eyes, finally lowering himself into the rest of the water with a pained groan, much to your amusement, which earns you a splash. The two of you laugh together for a moment and you tell him all about the various decorations you’d chosen for Rhaenyra’s nameday as the two of you quickly wash. Finally, he beckons you over, resting his arms on the rim of the bath as you settle yourself against him, curling into the side of his long, burly body as you lay your head on his chest, creating swirly patterns in the hair on his chest with the point of your finger as you finish describing the decadent flavors you and Aemma had chosen for the cake. 

“Speaking of namedays,” he begins, chuckling as he hears you groan, “A certain someone’s nameday is a mere two days away and she has yet to tell me anything she wishes for.”

“I’ve told you,” you start with a sigh, peering up at him, “How am I meant to wish for anything when you spoil me so?”

“I do not spoil you!” He admonishes, a guilty smile tugging at his lips, “I simply give you all that you deserve for being such a sweet little wife.” he teases, punctuating each word of the pet name with a kiss to your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle – his favorite sound in the world. You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, still tracing various shapes and patterns onto his chest before he speaks again, his voice soft and questioning, “There must be something you long for, my love. Anything you want, simply name it.” 

You stay silent for a minute longer, pondering exactly how to voice your thoughts. There was something you wanted, or rather someone — Daemon, the king’s younger brother. Like Harwin, he had caught your eye quickly when you’d first arrived at King's Landing. According to Aemma, Viserys had even been considering betrothing the two of you for a time; though your sister had put a quick stop to that, she had never been the Rogue Prince’s biggest fan. 

Yet, still, there was something about him that simply drew you to him, something intriguing in the way he moved, the way he spoke. You loved your husband, more than anything else, but Daemon was…tempting, you couldn’t lie. 

You look up at Harwin, still silent as you stare into his soft brown eyes, before looking away again, unsure of how to even broach the topic. 

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

“Husband,” you start, worried he is upset with you, “You must unde–”

“I understand, my little love,” he soothes, pulling you closer to him, relishing the way your breasts press against the firmness of his chest, “You need not explain it to me,” you rest your head on his warm chest, your face buried in his neck, “Lust for him does not do away with your love for me, I know this.” He confirms, gently carding a hand through your hair.

Even with his reassurance, you remain silent for a moment still; this is new territory in your relationship – never before had you seriously considered the possibility of sharing yourself with another, your husband so adoring and protective of you that you never dreamed he would entertain the thought.

“You…wish to share me in this way? Truly?” You question, heart skipping a beat when you feel his cock beginning to harden between your legs.

“I admit I was wholly against the idea at first,” he starts, his calloused hands slowly running up and down your thighs, half-submerged in the warm water, “I am still not thrilled that the object of your desire is Prince Daemon,” he laughs, teasing you, “Of all the knights in all the seven kingdoms, you pick him.” He jokes, his chest vibrating underneath you as he laughs.

“Harwin!” You gasp to hide your own laughter, though you know the cheeky smile tugging at your lips gives you away, “Please, be serious!” You reprimand, playfully slapping at his chest.

“I yield, I yield,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Eventually, the two of you settle down once more, a quiet calmness descending over you, “But I see the way you look at him,” he smiles, indicating that he isn’t upset when he sees worry cloud your soft features once again, “Very different from the way you look at me…only lust. And I see the way he looks at you,” your head shoots up at this, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks at this knowledge, “Lust, yes, but also a certain softness,” his hands come to rest on your hips once more, gently rocking your slick heat against his length, “Like you are something sacred to behold.”

He finishes finally, taking pleasure in the way you shudder against him, small whimpers and whines escaping your lips as your bud is dragged up and down his cock, his hands gripping your waist so tightly there are sure to be bruises in the morning.

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

“He should look at you in that way,” Harwin grunts, thighs bending under the curve of your rear as his knees come up out of the bathwater, giving him more leverage to rut against you, “Like you are, fuck, like you are something divine.” He groans into the hair at the crown of your head, big hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs swirling against your sensitive nipples, “You are, my love,” his words come out in breathless, broken gasps, “Divine, sacred, a gift sent straight from the Seven.”

You nod wordlessly, whines and moans getting caught in your throat as your hands roam over the firm planes of his chest, lips busying themselves against the column of his throat. No further words are needed between the two of you, a common understanding being enough for now as your bodies press closer together, nearly melding into one beneath the warm, sweetly scented water. 

Golden morning light shines in through the sheer curtains of your chambers as you busy yourself with dressing for the day, your maids flitting around you as they button, tie, and lace you into your dress. 

Harwin had left much earlier than you, already strapped into his leathers before the sun rose above the horizon. Just like every other morning, he had gently kissed you awake to let you know he was leaving, telling you he promised to be safe when training and that he would see you at supper. Unlike every other morning, however, he had added, “I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

At the time, you had simply mumbled sleepily, head too clouded with sleep to truly process his words. Now, though, you could not keep from wringing your hands with worry, fidgeting uneasily as your hair was pinned up, half your hair braided and wrapped up into a bun at the crown of your head, the rest left to cascade down your shoulders like a pearly waterfall. 

Your maids finally finished, leaving you in your chambers with your still steaming breakfast, which you could only bring yourself to pick at, the nervous knots in your stomach keeping your appetite at bay. 

What if he thinks me perverse? You worry, staring out at the morning sky, watching as puffy clouds blow in from the winds of Blackwater Bay. You know this is nonsensical — if even half the rumors of Daemon’s various appetites were true, he had no justification to call you of all people perverse. What if he tells everyone? You wonder, halfheartedly sipping at your tea, but even this you know was absurd. He was brash, incredibly rude at times, but the prince knew when to be discreet, and if he truly gazed at you in the way your husband claimed, you had no doubt he would keep your secret. 

After exhausting your list of worries, you finally stand up from your small breakfast table, intending to find Aemma and ask for her to accompany you on a walk through the gardens. 

You make your way into the hallway, winding your way through the various passages of the Red Keep in your search for your sister, saying polite thank you's to anyone wishing you a happy early nameday.

“Auntie!” You hear a small voice call behind you as you step out into the Godswood, the stoic face of the weirwood tree there peering at you from under its canopy of red leaves. You turn on your heel, smiling brightly when you see Rhaenyra running at you at full tilt.

You scoop her up at the last second, grunting a small “Oof!” as she barrels into your arms, “If it isn’t my favorite little niece!” You chirp brightly, her small arms hugging around your neck, “What wickedness are you up to?”

“Training!” She answers, excitedly squirming in your grasp, perched atop one of your hips.

“Training?” You question with exaggerated interest, “Whatever for?”

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

“How exciting,” you nod, setting her down before crouching before her, “She is growing quickly indeed,” you add, motioning for her to turn around before you begin braiding her hair, the same pale shade as your own, “Are the keeper’s training you as well?” 

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

“Ñuha dārilaros,” you nod in return, quickly finishing Rhaenyra’s braid before standing and turning to face him, “I trust the morning has found you in good spirits.” (My prince.)

“Oh, it has indeed,” he says, eyes flashing with mirth as he smirks at you, his head cocking to the side, stands of pale hair contrasting against the dark metal covering his chest, “Eman ryptan mirri udir, ñuha riña.” He drawls. (I have heard some news, my lady.)

This catches Rhaenyra’s attention, her Valyrian lessons clearly paying off as she gasps excitedly as she bounces between the two of you, “What news? What news?” 

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

Rhaenyra nods happily, twirling a small yellow flower around in her hands as she practically skips from the courtyard, singing, “A treat for Syrax, a treat for Syrax!” as she disappears down the hall.

“Ao jorrāelatan naejot ȳdragon lēda nyke?” You question once Daemon returns his attention to you, politely clasping your hands together. (You needed to speak with me?)

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

“Gōntan ziry?” (He did?)

“Konir sagon paktot,” he continues, voice nearly patronizing as he slowly paces around you, circling you like a shark in the water, “He says you want me to fuck you.” He finishes, coming to stand before you once more, a proud smile on his face once he sees the shock on yours. (That’s right.)

“Iksis bisa drēje?” He asks once it becomes clear you don’t know how to respond. (Is this true?)

“Kessa.” You say simply, inwardly wincing at the wobble in your voice, though you try your hardest to appear confident. (Yes.)

Daemon snickers, “Naughty, naughty girl,” he tsks, shaking his head teasingly, one hand casually perched on the hilt of his sword, “He tells me I’m meant to be your nameday present; quite the honor, I must say.” 

“Mērī lo ao agree naejot se jiōragon, ñuha dārilaros.” (Only if you agree to the offer, my prince.)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

You flush deeply at his nickname, only used to sweet praises from Harwin, “That is most acceptable, my prince.” You nod.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

“Very well…Daemon.” You tease, feeling proud when you see his eyes widen just the slightest bit. 

“Perhaps this sweet little kitten has claws after all,” he smirks, eyes looking you up and down once more, “Very well,” he says with a nod, “I’m needed at the dragonpit, but I shall be seeing you and your husband later this evening.”

“Hen rhinka.” You nod as you watch him leave, your entire body relaxing, releasing unrealized tension, as soon as his back disappears from view. You allow yourself to breathe for a few moments, standing in the silent courtyard as your heartbeat returns to normal, before you leave, once again going to try and find Aemma, or really anything else to keep yourself occupied until the evening. (Of course.)

“I promise, sweet girl,” Harwin says, watching from the small sitting area in your chambers as you pace back and forth across the stone floor, “I told him all he would need to know. About you, about what you like, all of it.”

You nod, half listening, as you walk back and forth, feet bare on the large, plush fur rugs that cover the floor in front of the fireplace. The warmth of it on your skin was usually a welcome feeling, although tonight you only felt overheated. Outside, the sky was dark, the sun having set quite a while ago. King’s Landing once again sprawled out like a sea of stars beneath the Keep, mirroring the stars in the black sky overhead, the bright light of the moon reflecting off of the waters of the bay – the hour of the owl was drawing close. 

“We do not have to do this if you’re having second thoughts, my love,” he says, standing and striding over to you, “If you wish, I will simply tell Daemon to fuck off.” He jokes, chuckling as you relax in his arms.

“I do want to!” You sigh, tilting your chin up to peer up at him through your lashes, “I’m simply nervous, I suppose. We’ve never done anything like this before,” you bite your lip, looking away from him as you resume speaking, “Honestly, I’m still shocked you agreed to it at all.”

“I want to share you,” he shrugs, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head, “Show off what’s mine.” He says lowly, chuckling when he feels you shiver against him – he knows very well that his possessiveness gets to you.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the thick wooden door of your chambers, making you jump, which makes Harwin chuckle as he stands to open it; he had dismissed the guard that normally stood at your door in the evening, insisting that he take the night off. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you merely stand in front of the fire, nervously fidgeting. 

Your husband gives you one last look, his eyes questioning; you nod to him, signaling that it was okay, that this was truly what you wanted, and he opened the door. 

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now. “Kirimvose.” you say, trying your hardest to keep your voice from trembling. (Thank you.)

Daemon comes to stand in front of you, his eyes searching yours for a second, looking for any hesitation you suppose. When he finds none, he hooks a finger into the delicate ribbon tied around your waist, the one keeping your silk dressing gown shut; again, he catches your eyes, and again you suppose he must find what he’s searching for because suddenly he’s pulling the bow there undone. 

“She looks ravishing all the time,” your husband said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he seems to materialize behind you, rough hands skirting up your arms before coming to rest at your shoulders, “The most beautiful creature.”

“A beautiful creature,” Daemon agrees, his hands, not as rough as Harwin’s though still battle-worn, settling on your hips as he looks at your body appreciatively, his light eyes growing darker by the minute, “And a naughty thing.” He finishes, smirking when he hears a small, barely there whimper escape your lips. 

“Is she?” your husband asks, gathering all your hair over one shoulder, exposing one side of your neck before he kisses you there, relishing the sigh he gets in return. You gasp as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast, warming your skin through the thin lace of your nightgown, “She’s such a good, obedient girl.”

You lean back into Harwin, your back against his firm chest as he kneads your breast, sending sparks flying down between your thighs. “Only bad little things fantasize about being taken by two men.” Daemon practically growls. Your eyes are only half open but you still don’t miss the look he gives your husband over your shoulder, nor do you miss the way the brunette subtly nods against the column of your neck. You moan when Daemon’s lips finally press against your own, his mouth soft and warm, tongue already licking into your mouth. 

The motion presses you further back against Harwin, pressing his half-hard cock into the small of your back, the feeling making you near dizzy with lust as you realize that he truly wanted this just as much as you. Daemon’s tongue eventually wins its battle for dominance and the two of you kiss for a moment longer, the only sounds in your chambers being being yours and the prince’s lips moving together as your husband kisses, licks, and bites along your neck, causing you to mewl softly into Daemon’s waiting mouth like a puppy. 

“Are you a bad girl, sweet little thing?” The prince growls against your jaw as he finally separates his lips from yours, trailing kisses down the opposite side of your neck. 

When you neglect to answer, too caught up in the men’s attention, Harwin suddenly palms at the plump flesh of your rear, roughly grabbing and squeezing it enough to have you whining, “I believe Daemon asked you a question, my love,” he chucked, his other hand pulling down the neckline of your nightgown, nearly ripping the delicate lace, to reveal your breast, “It would be rude not to answer.”

“Gods!” You moan, sucking in a breath when you feel the blond’s lips wrap around your exposed nipple, his teeth teasing at the sensitive, peaked skin, “I-I’m a good girl!” You gasp, your fingers carding through silky hair, the same silvery shade as your own, “Harwin says I-“ You start, only to be brutally cut off as one of Daemon’s large hands wraps around your throat. 

“Harwin may claim what he wishes,” he sneers, nose touching yours as he speaks, “But to me, you’re nothing but a lovely whore.” 

You gasp, having never been called such a thing before. A part of you knows you should be offended, yet you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together at his harsh treatment, knees nearly buckling beneath you. 

Your husband tenses behind you, his kisses freezing on your neck before he lifts his head. Narrowing his eyes at Daemon over your shoulder, he grabs his forearm and pushes his hand off of you, “You are not to speak to her in that manner,” he growls, jaw squared, “Nor handle her so harshly. We discussed this earlier.” 

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.” He nods his chin at you, noting the blush on your cheeks and the way your chest is heaving. 

Harwin’s eyes shift to yours, his hand tilting your chin up as he peers at you. Before he can speak, though, the large bells at the top of the Keep begin to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Finally, the hour of the owl had arrived, and with it your true nameday. 

“Well, well,” Daemon drawls, abandoning you and Harwin to perch at the edge of your bed, helping himself go to the pitcher of wine sitting at your bedside, “You know, the girls in Flea Bottom have quite the… interesting nameday tradition.” He smirks, studying you and Harwin with amusement as he takes a sip of wine. 

“What is it?” You ask, pulling your husband behind you as you approach the bed, accepting a glass of wine from Daemon. Beside you, Harwin shakes his head, glaring at the other man.

“We talked about this. I told you that I would be taking the lead–”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

“Decide what?” You inquire, looking between the two men.

“Who will be giving you your birthday spanks, naughty girl.” The blond smirks, gazing at you appreciatively, “One for each year you’ve graced the realm with your presence.”

You looked back and forth between the two men again, Daemon looking at you as if you were a piece of prey, a prize to be won, and Harwin looking at you concerned, as if you were a precious treasure in need of protection. You deliberate for what feels like a long while in your mind – on one hand, Daemon was new and exciting, but you also knew of his unpredictable nature; on the other hand, Harwin was comfortable and safe to you, but wasn’t the entire point of this endeavor to branch out?

“Can…” you begin hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two men, “Can both of you do it?”

“I think that can be arranged, my sweet girl,” your husband says huskily, excited at the promise of exploring this particular act with you once more, “Why don’t you be a good little girl and kneel on the bed for us, hm? On all fours, as you normally do.”

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

He can’t help but admire you for a short moment, cock hardening at the soft blush that settles across your cheeks, the way your chest heaves as you gasp with pleasure, tits bouncing as you writhe against the other man’s hand. Finally, he comes out of his reverie and strides to where you and Daemon stand, taking his place on the other side of your body. 

He begins toying with you once more, guiding your mouth to his while his hands roam over your curves before one finally settles on your breast, the one unoccupied by Daemon’s tongue. His tongue battles with yours as his palm gently squeezes your breast, fingers teasingly pinching at your nipple, causing him to groan in satisfaction once you start mewling in the way he loves. His other hand joins the prince’s at your core, two of this thick fingers teasing at your opening, “Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, “So wet, my love.” His fingers slide into you with a practiced ease, knowing exactly what you like after having spent nearly a year taking you apart on a practically daily basis. 

They crook up perfectly, rubbing against that spot within you with the perfect pressure and accuracy. If there was one thing Harwin was determined to perfect from the moment you were officially declared his in the eyes of gods and men, it was bringing you pleasure in greater amounts than you’d ever thought possible. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across his bearded face as the sounds of your whimpers and whines grew more and more desperate, telling him once more that he was successful in his mission. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

“Getting close, naughty thing?” the blond asks teasingly, lilac eyes peering up at yours as he continued stimulating you. 

You nod frantically, whining as Harwin begins tracing his lips down your jaw, right to that spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. “Let go, princess,” he husks, the tips of his fingers zeroing in on that small rough patch within you, “Give us your pleasure.”

You can’t help the noise that leaves you, a loud, desperate, whining moan that would leave you horribly embarrassed at any other time, but right now you don’t have the ability to care. The ministrations from the two men, along with the utterance of the one pet name Harwin only dared utter in private, send you tumbling over the edge. You feel your knees buckle, although you aren’t worried about falling, too dumb with pleasure to think but still reassured that two pairs of strong arms will surely hold you steady. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you feel your center contract around your husbands fingers; the two men groan when they hear the slick sounds pouring out from between your thighs multiply nearly tenfold as your peak takes you, soaking Harwin’s fingers and wetting Daemon’s hand. 

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

Again, Daemon’s words send a shiver up your spine, the knot that had just come unraveled in your stomach tightening once more. “She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

Your head spins at their words, head swimming as one man degrades you, clearly gaining pleasure from the way his teases and rude remarks affect you, while the other praises you so lovingly, proud at way his tender words affect you so after months of perfecting them, learning exactly which phrases drive you to madness and fully exploiting them. 

“Are you ready for your sweet spanks, my good girl?” Harwin asks, brown eyes shining with love.

You nod breathlessly, still leaning on both men for support. Beside you Daemon chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ask for it properly, naughty girl.”

“Ask us, sweetling.” Harwin nods encouragingly. 

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

Daemon growls lowly in his chest, satisfied at you finally learning your place and addressing him the way he feels he deserves, “Get on the bed.” He commands easily, leaving no room for backtalk or questioning.

Blessedly, your sweet husband still sees fit to help you arrange yourself on the edge of the bed, taking your shaky legs into account as he helps you move. You’re indeed kneeling on all fours, your legs tucked up under you as your feet dangle off the bed, your ass in the air, though still covered by the lace of your gown.

You feel the air shift behind you as they move, both standing behind you still but Harwin to the left and Daemon to the right. The one of Daemon’s hands strokes down your back, you can feel him leaning over you as he trails his hand down from the very top of your shoulder blades all the way down to the small of your back, right where the curve of your ass starts; you can hear him hum appreciatively. His other hand drags up the back of one of your thighs and slowly, he slips his fingers under the hem of your gown. He pulls it up over your ass, letting the soft, silky fabric pool in the dip of your spine; your walls clench around nothing when you hear both men groan behind you.

“Gods,” Harwin breathes, rough fingers lightly tracing over your skin, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“Ready, princess?” Harwin murmurs behind you, hands soothing where Daemon had grabbed you.

“Please!” You nod, hands gripping the furs spread across the bed. 

Suddenly, a hand comes down on the left side of your ass, harsh but not overly painful; you whimper at the impact, walls clenching from the pleasant sting left behind. Harwin. You were sure of it – the two of you had only experimented in this way a scant few times but enough that you knew the feel of his blows. 

Again, a hand comes down, this time making you jerk as a palm strikes the right globe of your rear. A sharp cry leaves your lips, back bowing for a second before the same hand is pressing harshly at the small of your back, “Keep that back arched, naughty little thing.” Daemon hums. 

Harwin gives you a moment to breathe, a gesture you appreciate very much, before striking you once again. Again, you mewl as you feel the welcome heat spread across your skin. You turn your head, burying your face into the soft furs beneath you, only to practically inhale the wolf pelt there as Daemon brings his hand down again, making you gasp. Another cry leaves your lips, louder and harsher than the last as tears pool in the corner of your eyes, some already leaking onto the coat. The right side of your ass practically feels as if it’s on fire, the sting so harsh it makes your ears ring. 

“That’s two,” Daemon taunts, smiling wickedly as he sees an outline of his handprint already blooming on your ass, “So many more left to go.”

Harwin leans over you, brushing the hair from your face, brows furrowing with concern when he sees your tears, “Are you alright, my love?” He asks, smoothing a hand down your back, “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to continue.” He reassures you, smiling lovingly.

You shake your head, determined to see it through – determined to impress Daemon, really. “N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Daemon cuts in, gripping your cheeks harshly once again as he spreads them, tugging them somehow further apart than before as he clicks his tongue, pleased, “You love this,” his hand wetly smacks against your slit, making you whine as Harwin further soothes you, glaring daggers at the prince, “Little cunt’s soaking the bed.”

Your husband knocks his hands away, the ferocity of it making you gasp and peer over your shoulder, “We’ve discussed this,” the brunette hisses through his teeth, knuckles white as he grips Daemon’s wrist, “You will not handle her in such a manner, we agreed on this.”

“Oh, please,” the prince huffs, rolling his lilac eyes as he jerks his arm from Harwin’s grip, “She’s enjoying it, see?” You don’t have any time to react before his palm is once again smacking against your flesh, harder than the previous two hits combined. Your vision swirls, eyes stinging as tears blur your sight, a scream ripping its way from your throat as his hit shoves you further up the bed. You feel as if your entire lower half is radiating with pain, ears ringing once again.

There’s some commotion behind you, though it takes you a few seconds to get your whits about you enough to turn over, grimacing as the tender skin of your rear brushes against the pelts, ones that normally feel so soft now digging into your skin like dozens of little thorns. When you do finally clear your eyes, rubbing the tears away, your mouth practically falls open at the sight before you.

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

Harwin presses him down harder, chest heaving with anger, “You dare harm her,” he mutters, his other fist clenched at his side, “We trusted you for this and you harm her!” 

“She fucking liked it!” Daemon retorts, struggling against your husbands strength — although strong in his own right, he had nothing on Harwin, “Go look at her fucking cunt, it’s soaked! She loves being hit!” He positively seethes, nodding his head toward you. 

The brunette sneers, lip curling up in disgust as the other man continues to squirm in his grasp. You watch, worried, as the hand not pinning the prince to the wall shoots up and roughly grips Daemon by his throat, forcing his head back. 

Daemon whimpers.

The world seems to stop in a single breath, the three of you staying quiet and still. Your eyes are wide, not believing the small sound you heard, but there was no mistaking it. Harwin seems just as shocked as you, taking a half step back from Daemon as soon as he hears the noise.

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

The small sound seems to remind both Harwin and Daemon that you’re still there and their heads whip toward you. They remain silent for a moment but then your husband smiles, looking between you and the prince with a mischievous smirk. 

Harwin leads Daemon over to where you sit on the bed until both men are standing in front of you once again, the blond in the front with the brunette behind him, one hand holding his arms behind his back while the other remains wrapped around his neck. There is still a fire in Daemon’s eyes, though it’s merely a simmer now instead of a blazing inferno; you can’t help but be reminded of a tamed animal, of the dragons in the dragonpit — so much wildness choosing to be contained. 

“I think you need to apologize,” Harwin starts, pushing Daemon forward until his legs hit the side of the bed, the two of them towering over you, “For hurting our lady, hm?”

Your breath catches at his choice of words, our lady. You watch as Daemon nods, his eyes half closed, glazed over by some kind of fog, his breathing slow and calm, as if he’s in a trance. 

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

“Yes….” Daemon whispers, hardly able to get words out around the grip Harwin has on his throat. 

“Yes what?” Your husband asks slowly, words spoken through clenched teeth, his lips right next to the prince’s ear. 

Daemon sighs, his shoulders sagging as any fight that remained in him seemed to vanish, “Yes, ser.” 

“See?” Harwin teases, patronizingly tapping him on the cheek, “You can be good.” You see Daemon shiver at that. 

Leaving Daemon to stand at the side of the bed, your husband bends down and kisses you softly, “You still desire this?”

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes as one of your hands cards through his curly hair, “Yes husband,” you whisper, “More than anything.” 

“Stand.” Harwin commands simply, and you obey, coming to stand beside Daemon. “You,” your husband snaps, motioning at the man standing next to you, “Strip and lie down.” 

Daemon does as he says, with no fuss for once. You can’t help but admire the way he moves as he removes his tunic and pants, his movements still so fluid and graceful despite the haze he seems to be in. After a moment, his clothes lie in a pile on the floor as he takes his place on your bed, laying on his back, half hard cock lying on his stomach, already leaking and flushed. 

“Good.” Harwin praises simply, though you see Daemon’s brows flutter with pleasure. “My love,” he addresses you, giving you a gentle kiss, “Let me?” He asks, gesturing to your nightgown. You nod with a smile, letting him undress you. “Perfection,” he groans once you’re bare before him, dark eyes roaming your body. 

“I want you to do something for me, princess,” he says, leading over to the bed, motioning for you to kneel on your knees next to Daemon. 

“What’s that?” You ask, looking from your husband to the prince. 

Harwin grabs your waist, much gentler than Daemon had ever touched you, and you can’t help but whimper, loving the way he manhandles you into position. Before you know it, he has you hovering over Daemon’s face, your entire body flushing as you realize what he wants. 

“Sit.” He says lowly, letting you drop onto the prince’s waiting mouth. 

“Oh!” You say in surprise, your thighs clenching around Daemon’s head. Immediately, you feel a rumble beneath you, making you whine as you realize he’s groaning with contentment as his tongue meets your aching heat. “Gods!” You gasp, hips moving of their own accord over his lips as your fingers tangle in his pale hair, causing him to groan more underneath you. 

You pant, humping against his face like nothing more than the wanton whore he claimed you to be, mewls and whines escaping your lips constantly as your eyes squeeze shut. 

You hear Harwin shuffling next to the bed and open your eyes, peering over your shoulder and shivering at the sight of your husband undressing, his muscular body on full display for you. Finally undressed, he turns to you, stroking his cock as he stalks toward the bed, eyes scanning over your body. 

“Is he making you feel good, my little love?” 

“Yes, sir!” You pant, nodding frantically. The bed dips under his weight as Harwin kneels on the bed next to you, his free hand coming up to palm at your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipples before he pinches them, humming appreciatively at the way you squirm atop Daemon. 

“Good,” Harwin chuckles, leaning over to mouth at one breast while his hand continues teasing the other, “He must atone for earlier.” He finishes, letting go of his stiff cock to slap at Daemon’s thigh, making the man below you jerk and moan, his hands gripping at your rear tighter as his cock twitches against his abdomen.

You gasp, surprised by both the slap and the way Daemon’s lips seal around your bud in response, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his hot tongue as your hips grind down harder, “Oh, Gods, fuck!” 

Beside you, Harwin stands on the bed, bending to kiss the top of your head, chuckling at the way you cling to him for support. “Shh, little sweetling,” he soothes, standing up straight, the sight of his cock making your mouth water as he fists it in front of your lips, “I have something you can occupy yourself with.” He teases, moving closer to you. 

Smiling up at him, you softly lick the tip, pride swelling in your stomach at how much the slit is already leaking. You wrap your lips around the head, suckling softly as one of your hands untangles itself from Daemon’s hair to stroke the rest of Harwin’s length. You mewl around him as the prince continues feasting on your slit, plunging his tongue inside of you, deep groans vibrating through you every time he feels your walls clench around the muscle as he fucks it into you. 

Slowly but surely, you take more of your husband into your mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. He groans above you, half lidded eyes keeping contact with yours as he gently strokes his hands through your hair. 

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

Your husband’s sweet praise pushes you closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight as you rut against Daemon’s mouth, his tongue zeroing in your bud as he feels you moving more and more determinedly against him, his eyes rolling back in his head at the way you taste. 

“Are you getting close, sweet girl?” Harwin asks, gently fucking his hips into your mouth. 

You nod around his length, eyebrows furrowing together as you stare up at him pleadingly. Blessedly, your sweet husband can never bear to make you wait very long. 

“Find your peak, my love,” Harwin huffs as he strokes his length, “Cover him with it.” 

As always, you do as he commands. The knot in your belly finally snaps once more and you moan above Daemon, practically crying at the way each wave of your orgasm crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine. The prince slurps noisily below you, savoring your release as his cock twitches, leaking heavily onto his stomach. 

“Ah!” You cry, hips twitching as Daemon’s tongue persists against you, only stopping when you lift yourself off of him and settle back onto his chest, “Seven Hells.” You breathe, your wet slit pressed tightly against the center of Daemon’s chest. 

Harwin once again kneels on the bed and you peer over your shoulder, eyes widening as you see him swipe a finger through the pool of of arousal leaking from the flushed head of the prince’s cock, where it rests against his stomach, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which makes the man below you groan. 

“Seems he wants something,” Harwin teases, “Shall we let him have it?”

“Please, sir,” you whine, nodding pathetically at the chance to finally sink onto Daemon’s cock, “Let him, please!”

“Aww, sweet thing,” Harwin coos, tenderly caressing your cheek, “Thank you, although you are not who I wish to hear from.” 

At that, you can feel Daemon squirm beneath you, a determined set to his eyes, “Forget it.” He shakes his head, hands tracing over your curves. 

“Really?” Harwin asks, reaching behind you and grabbing Daemon’s aching length, stroking him slowly, making the prince’s body go rigid as he practically whines beneath you, “You don’t want to feel our lady’s sweet little cunt on your cock?” 

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

“I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” your husband taunts, shaking his head, “I know you want it, know you want to have your way with my little wife,” you can tell when Harwin begins stroking Daemon’s length again as the man underneath you tenses, his muscles pulling taut, “Simply ask nicely and you may have her.” 

You watch Daemon for a moment, studying the pained look on his face, his jaw still clenched and determined. You know he won’t do as your husband commands, still too proud no matter how true Harwin’s taunts are. So, you take pity on him, unable to reign in your own desire either. Bracing your hands on his chest, you move yourself back along the length of his torso, coming to hover over his stomach just above where your husband continues teasing at his length. 

Leaning down, you gently kiss along Daemon’s jaw until your lips are positioned just under his ear, “Tell him what he wants to hear,” you implore, your breath tickling his pale skin, “I want it as badly as you, please my prince, please just do as he asks.” You beg, rutting your hips against his firm stomach. 

Daemon opens his eyes finally, dark with desire as he looks at you, watching as you nod encouragingly, your own brows set in a pleading furrow. Again, the prince sighs, his body deflating, “Please,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper at first, growing louder once you dip your head down and begin teasing his neck, “Please let me fuck her, let me please her.” 

“Let you fuck who?” Harwin teases, finally releasing Daemon’s cock. 

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

“That wasn’t so difficult, hm?” Your husband chuckles, making himself comfortable at the head of the bed, his back against the plush pillows. He fixes you in his dark gaze, muscular arms folded over his chest, “Ride him. Tame our dragon, sweetling.” 

Our dragon. Again, his words make you shiver and you nod wordlessly, sliding further down Daemon’s lithe body before your center, dripping and aching, is finally positioned over his length. Once more, you look down at the prince’s face, his silvery hair spread in a halo around his head; he’s breathing harshly, his cock twitching against your center as he gazes at you, the animalistic lust in his eyes replaced with a glimmer that makes your heart twist — you’ve seen the same one in Harwin’s dark eyes time and time again. 

Before you have time to dwell on it, Daemon’s hands grip your hips, pushing you down slowly. Both of you groan, his length stretching you deliciously. You brace your hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your hips sink lower and lower, cursing as he’s finally pressed inside you completely, his cock filling every inch of you as your walls pulse around him. 

“Fuck,” Daemon grunts, his hands gripping at your waist and hips as his eyes roll back, “Tight little cunt, so good.” His hands suddenly grip your ass, making you whimper and grind yourself against him at the feel of his rough hands against your still tender skin. 

You can’t help the moans and whimpers that escape your lips as you begin rocking in Daemon’s lap, angling your hips in a way that causes his head to brush against that spot deep within you, the one that makes your head spin. “Gods, shit!” You can’t help but gasp at the way he feels inside you, his cock stretching you nicely — not as wide as Harwin’s but just a hair longer, filling you to the brim. 

“Does he feel good, my love?” Your husband asks, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. You nod as you meet his eyes, the brown almost totally taken over by blackness as he relaxes against the pillows, eyes sweeping up and down your body as he watches you grind yourself atop the prince, “How does she feel, your grace?” He addresses Daemon. 

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

You whine at the feel of his lips and teeth on your neck, your hands tangling in his hair. You whimper when you feel him bend his legs behind you, his thighs pressing against your bum; your whimpers turn to sharp cries as he begins thrusting up into you, spearing you down onto his cock over and over, the head nearly kissing your cervix as he does. 

Your cries rise in volume the closer you get, your thighs tensed against his movements as the knot in your stomach tightens, your walls clutching at his length. You gasp as one of his hands comes up, abandoning your ass to wrap lightly around your throat, only holding it instead of squeezing. His movements make your bud rub against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock, sending sparks throughout your body.

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

“Gods,” Daemon groans, feeling the way your walls keep getting somehow tighter around his cock. He pants as he moves his hips faster, punching his length into you relentlessly, savoring the way you gasp and moan into his mouth, “Yes, yes want it.” He groans brokenly, spiraling toward his own release as well. 

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

This time, thankfully, Daemon does not protest, both of you too desperate. “Fucking hell,” he hisses, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, “Please, fuck, please I need to make her peak, please!” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own, staring deeply into your eyes as he grabs at any flesh of yours he can reach. 

“Very good,” you do not miss the way Daemon shivers at Harwin’s praises, “Make her come undone.” Your husband commands. 

At this, one of Daemon’s hands buries itself between your two bodies, fingers frantically seeking out your bud and rubbing tight, wet circles into the sensitive flesh. Within seconds, you unravel, light bursting behind your eyelids as you cry out, fire igniting in your veins. Your walls pulse around Daemon’s cock as you cry out, your whole body shaking as your release flows over you in waves. 

Even through the blinding pleasure you can tell Daemon is teetering on the edge, savoring your orgasm before he allows himself his own. Harwin can tell too and his smirk grows, a devious idea coming to mind, “You cannot finish inside her,” he growls, shaking his head at Daemon, “That is mine and mine alone.”

The prince curses, his eyes squeeze shut as he manages to lift you up, pushing you back to sit atop his thighs as one of his hands comes up to strip at his cock a scant few times before a low, rumbling growl settles in his chest. A second later, he jerks suddenly, abdomen contracting as he finishes over his fist, pearly cum dripping onto his stomach, some of it shooting onto your chest and torso as well, making you gasp. 

The two of you breathe heavily as you collapse forward onto his chest, your tired muscles unable to hold you up; you whimper softly at the feel of his seed on your stomach, one of his hands stroking over your hair. “Thank you.” You sigh. 

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

You feel the bed shift beside you before a pair of lips descend upon your back, kissing up to your shoulder. Your husband pushes your hair back and you smile up at him shyly. “You are truly perfection, my little love,” he smiles, “Has our dragon tired you out?” 

You shake your head, reaching out for Harwin, “I want you,” you breathe, letting him flip you onto your back until you’re lying next to Daemon, “Please, take me, my love.” You beg, grabbing onto every part of Harwin you can as he positions himself between your legs. 

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

You shudder at his words, your core clenching at nothing, making you whine. Harwin shushes you lovingly, running his length through the slick still dripping from your center. “Shh, I will give you what you want, sweet one,” he says as he pushes his head into you, already deliciously stretching you, “As I always do, always will.” He grunts, sinking into you. 

Your eyes flutter, his cock still stretching your walls, causing your center to ache beautifully, your back arching on the furs. “Gods,” you breathe, moaning as Harwin bends down to lick into your mouth, your hands grabbing at his thick shoulders, “You feel so good inside me.”

He chuckles into your mouth before leaning back up, brown eyes gazing down at you adoringly, watching your chest bounce with every frantic breath you take as his hips finally press against yours. Groaning, he grabs at the backs of your knees, your legs bending as he pins them back, nearly folding you in half. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

The two of you move together for many moments, slick sounds from your center making you blush as you lose yourself in Harwin’s strong thrusts. He knows exactly how to unwind you after this much time together, and he wastes no time in doing so, a proud smile on his face as he feels your muscles tensing underneath him. 

“Close already, pretty girl?” He asks, his curls tumbling wildly as he moves. You nod, words catching in your throat as you clench around his thick cock. 

Beside you, Daemon, who has been watching with dark eyes all the while, slowly strokes his length, his other hand resting on your throat once more, his own breath growing more ragged each minute. 

Harwin’s gaze shifts to him, his thrusts speeding up as he looks over the prince’s lean figure, “Up,” he commands, motioning for Daemon to stand next to him, “Watch as I claim her, see her in the way I do.” 

Again, Daemon listens without a fight, rising from his place next to you as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Harwin as he continues pumping at his cock, breathing heavily as he stares at the place where you and your husband connect. 

Harwin bends down suddenly, the motion pulling his length from you and causing you to whine — though that quickly turns to a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue lick at your stomach. Tilting your head up, you look down in just enough time to see his tongue sweep through the pool of Daemon’s seed, still splattered on you. “Oh!” You exclaim, surprised as you watch your husband gather the other man’s spend on his tongue. 

Leaning up, Harwin once again spears you on length before hovering his face over yours, his eyes searching your gaze. Knowing what he wants, you open your mouth, smiling through moans at the familiar sight of him gathering spit in his mouth. A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

Your eyes roll back as you swallow, savoring the unfamiliar, heady taste of the prince as your cunt flutters. Above you, Daemon lets out a groan so loud he almost sounds as if he’s in pain. 

“Good girl,” Harwin praises, smoothing a hand through your hair as he resumes his harsh thrusts, his other hand bracing itself against your lower stomach, thumb toying with your bud, “My good girl.” 

“Seven Hells.” Daemon groans, fisting his cock harder and faster as he nears his own release. 

“I’m close, my love,” Harwin pants, his thumb pressing against your bud harder, making your hips twitch under him, “With me?” He asks, half lidded eyes watching your own. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

His words send you over the edge, your walls milking his length as you feel the heat of the two men’s gazes fixed on your cunt. You gasp as your peak washes over you once more, the strongest of the night, causing your entire body to spasm uncontrollably in Harwin’s strong grasp. 

Above you, Harwin grunts as his cock spasms within you, painting your walls with his seed. As he tips over the edge, he turns his head to Daemon, pulling the dragon to him, their mouths crashing together. Hearing their twin groans, you manage to open your eyes, the sight before you nearly making you peak again. Their lips battling for dominance, neither relenting as their tongues tangle together, grunts and growls filling each other's mouths. 

Daemon finishes at nearly the same second your husband does, his seed splattering onto the furs beside you as his chest heaves. 

Harwin comes to a stop within you, his hand softening in Daemon’s hair though he does not pull away. You watch them kiss for a moment more, surprised at the heat building within you at the sight. Your walls clench around your husband's spent cock, making him jump and finally pull away from the other man, facing you with a knowing smile as you blush, your eyes flitting between four others. 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

“Watching him with you.” You clarify with a grin. 

Happily groaning, Harwin withdraws his length from you, shushing you as you whine. You feel your husband's seed dripping from you a moment later and both men hum appreciatively at the sight. 

“Shall I draw us a bath, sweetling?” Harwin asks, brushing sweat from your forehead, “I know you do not like to go to sleep so dirty, though if you are too spent…” 

You shake your head, giggling as both men help you stand on shaky legs, “I would gladly take a bath, husband,” you look between the two of them before your gaze settles on Daemon, “With both of you?” 

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

A few moments, and kisses, later your husband confirms it’s ready. He steps into the bath first with a curse, “I do not know how you find pleasure in this heat,” he jokes, gritting his teeth as his skin grows accustomed to the hot water, “Caraxes may as well be burning me where I stand.” 

Daemon laughs at that, the two men helping you into the bath, settling you against Harwin, a position you’d taken many times before. You sigh gratefully as the water warms your tired skin, the sweet smelling oils relaxing you, “Hush,” you chuckle, watching as the prince lowers himself into the water as well, on the opposite end of the large tub, “It feels perfect.” 

Daemon sighs in agreement, long arms resting on the lip of the tub as he tilts his head back, the steam making silvery strands of his hair cling to his shoulders and chest. “Perfection indeed.” He says contentedly, making Harwin’s chest shake with laughter against your back. 

Your eyes droop closed after a moment, Daemon massaging your feet and legs as Harwin busies himself with washing your shoulders, neck, and chest.

A gentle breeze billows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, the cool air feeling delicious on your heated skin, the smell of Aemma’s sweet blossoms in the palace gardens making your lips quirk up into a tired smile. 

“Sleep, princess.” Harwin commands gently, whispering against your neck. 

“Ēdrugon.” Daemon echos. (Sleep.)

You obey.

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