#maegor targaryen x you

[targaryen-dynasty]

LITTLE LIGHTS.

Prev. Part | Final Part

Maegor Targaryen x pregnant!niece!Reader

WORDS: 2 K

WARNINGS: childbirth, swearing, blink and you’ll miss Maegor being his cunty self again

NOTES: Here is the highly requested Part 2 of Precious Delights! Tbh, I haven't put much thought into the exact details, so most of it probably doesn't make any sene, but Reader is Rhaena's twin. Tyanna died before the wedding.

Tyanna of the Tower had been long dead before Maegor had claimed your hand in marriage and that alone seemed to be as fruitful as it was, since your pregnancy had lasted full ten moons.

You were exhausted beyond belief, pacing your chambers up and down with screams of despair and heavy groans leaving your throat at any contraction that rippled through your body. The maids had been calling for Maegor five times by now, but your husband was nowhere to be found. 

“He is meeting with the small council, I fucking know!“ You groaned as the guard stepped into your chambers to inform you about his unsuccessful mission, your ladies-in-waiting taken aback by your sudden outburst for you had been notorious for nothing else but being soft-spoken and calm. 

The maids, and Grand Maester Benifer, more often than not had advised you to lie down on your bed for reasons of comfort and safety, yet your body told you not to. 

“Where is he really?” you hissed through gritted teeth when a particularly harsh contraction forced you to your knees, clinging to the bedpost as if your life depended on it. Clad in nothing more than a thin, white underdress, you still felt confined, the linen scratching your skin as you ached to tear it off your body. 

Talisa rushed to your side, her gentle hand on the small of your back not mending your discomfort and the confusion and fear you felt at the thought of mastering the birth all by yourself. “We must begin, Princess,” she urged, and despite not being able to think straight at that point, you still heard the tinge of worry in her voice.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony as another contraction followed that forced you to push. Your arms clasped around the bedpost, your sweaty forehead resting against the wood, while you became busy focusing on pushing. 

Too lost in the burning sensation of the babe’s head beginning to crown, you barely noticed the door to the chambers opening, revealing none other than your husband himself. 

Your maid lifted the skirt of your underdress to gauge the process of the birth, paying much less attention to Maegor than you did, as your safety and well-being seemed to be her top priority. Or perhaps it was the well-being of the heir that concerned her most. 

“Where have y–” The words caught in your throat at a harsh contraction and the heightened pain. Your knuckles turned white from how tightly you clung to the bedpost, your maid’s words not making it easier for you. “I can see the head, Princess, just a few more pushes.”

If it wasn’t for your mind dealing with all the different sensations coursing through your body at once, you surely would’ve noticed the way Maegor stood completely frozen in the doorway at your maid’s words. 

“Please… make it stop,” you pleaded with a strained voice, clenching your jaw as you pushed once again. Then, the pain settled for a few moments, allowing you to steady your breath and calm down for the time being. 

A sheen of sweat covered your skin, silver strands of your hair clinging to your face, and the white linen of your underdress was slightly dampened at your back and arms. You raised your head to lock eyes with Maegor, and the sheer audacity of him just standing there useless made your blood boil and soured your mood. “This is… this is all your fault,” you hissed through gritted teeth, though the words were interrupted by groans, “gods… you cunt!”

Perhaps the maester had informed him beforehand about what was going on in a woman’s body during her labors, or perhaps he was cunning enough to put one and one together, but he hardly took any offense to your harsh words. Quite the contrary happened, as the insult seemed to pull him out of his shocked state, prompting him to pass the maids and maester, dismissing all their efforts to talk and inform him about the process of the birth to crouch down beside you. 

Talisa was flabbergasted by Maegor’s movements, her mouth agape with no words leaving her lips for a few seconds, before another scream of you brought her back to the task at hand. “Bear down and push, Princess,” she instructed, and you did as she told. 

Maegor’s paw replaced the maid’s hand on your lower back, his other one raising to cup your folded hands, and you were quick to seize it to squeeze it instead, causing him to take in a sharp breath. “Just a few more,” he encouraged, and you merely groaned in despair. He could be lucky you were occupied by birthing him his long awaited heir, fulfilling your wifely duties, because otherwise you probably would’ve smacked him across his face. 

When the pain got worse all of the sudden, you released a scream that was louder than the ones before, and pushed not once, but twice, until a sudden wave of relief washed over you and you heard the cries of the babe. It lived. 

Your husband’s attention immediately shifted from you to the newborn, and when the maester cut the cord, Maegor forced him and the maid to usher the babe out of your reach. “What is it?” you asked, your voice weak from the exhausting procedure you had to endure. 

But every sense of calmness and comfort washed away when another contraction soared through your body, and a scream of yours seized the attention of Talisa. “It’s the afterbirth,” she tried to reassure you, but her loud gasp proved otherwise, more so as she rose to fetch the maester. 

The urge to bear down once again was too strong to ignore it, pushing yet again. “Gods,” you whimpered, tears running down your flushed and sweaty cheeks, “it hurts.”

Maegor towered over the maester, while he lifted the skirts of your underdress, to spot yet another head breach your body. “Another child,” he proclaimed, whereas you only groaned an ‘I can not do this again’ in your state of shock and pain. 

But you could, and not many moments after, the second babe’s cries pierced through your agonizing groans and pants, only to be seized by your husband and the maester again. This time around, the maids tended to you, gripping your arms to help your weakened frame onto the large bed. 

When the screams of both children grew silent, a certain uneasiness washed over your body, and you would’ve loved nothing more than to get up and grab both children to leave the goddamned Keep altogether. “Bring them to me,” you demanded, but when no one seemed to move to your orders, you merely managed to whine a desperate ‘please’. 

Maegor was the first one to act, slowly creeping closer towards you. He held a bundle of linen in his arms, looking ridiculously small in comparison to his muscular chest and arms, and presented one babe to you. “A boy,“ he said, and you already smiled when you spotted the silver tuft of hair peeking from beneath the cloth. He bowed toward you to show you the small, scrunched face, and you reached forward to take him in your arms, but Maegor just tsked and pulled him back, “you’re too weak, my love, get some rest first.“

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Grand Maester Benifer came forward, looking at the King, “but at the Citadel they say that it’s best for the mother and the child to let it nurse right after birth.” 

With a grim expression on his face, Maegor’s eyes darted to you for a moment. “That is what wet nurses are for.” At this point, your bottom lip trembled, realization settling in that you had been nothing more than a pawn to your uncle. 

Grand Maester Benifer brought a hand to Maegor’s shoulder and ushered him a few steps away from you, their deep voices suddenly turning into whispers you could barely hear. “She has given you two healthy heirs, my King. You ought not risk her life, for she can give you even more.”

Maegor merely nodded at that, and when he turned around, the soft look in his eyes was unsettling you. He handed you the boy without any fuss, but didn’t leave your side as you pulled down the neckline of your underdress to free your breast and allow your child to latch. While his eyes were pale blue, you couldn’t wait for the day they’d be as lilac as yours, staring up at you with the same intensity they carried now. You smoothed his tuft of silver hair, the soft smacking and cooing while he swallowed your milk calming your worries and fear a bit. 

In less than an hour after birthing twins, you had taken on a motherly aura that no doubt even softened the cold heart of your uncle-husband for he gently brushed the knuckle of his index finger over the small boy’s cheek. “I have named him Aerion,” Maegor stated matter-of-factly, and you just nodded, admiring the memorial of your great-grandsire. 

“And the girl?” you asked, not able to tear your eyes from the delicate creature in your arms. “That is up to you,” your husband replied, and with a come hither motion of his fingers, the maid brought over another bundle of linen. That piqued your interest, and Maegor seemed to notice, since he pulled the cloth down enough for you to spot her scrunched face. She was just as beautiful as her brother. Despite her being barely an hour old, you spotted a few similarities to your grandaunt in her features, and hoped she would grow up to be as fierce as her. “Visenya.”

Maegor raised his brow at that, obviously not expecting you to name your daughter after his mother, but he welcomed the sentiment by pulling his lips into a soft smile that perhaps even sparked a hint of admiration and affection to flicker in his violet eyes. 

Once the boy was done nursing, his place was taken by his sister, though you placed her so she latched on your other breast. The relief it brought you was unmatchable, and the peaceful, nurturing feeling the nursing granted made your heart swell with love. 

“My sister has placed dragon eggs in the cradles of my younger siblings, and I want the same for our children,” you said, your fingers mindlessly dancing along the crown of the newborn’s head. “A clutch of eggs laid by Dreamfyre is still kept here in the Keep.”

You lifted your head to gauge where Maegor had taken Aerion, slightly panicked that you had seen the last of the boy, only to spot him sitting on a chaise not too far away with the sleeping boy cradled in his muscular arms. His head was bowed forward, and his whole attention was focused on his son. It was a moment of unusual softness, and you didn’t know he possessed a trait like that–or rather that he kept it up even after the children were born. 

When he raised his head to meet your expectant gaze, he was quick to address the maids with a stern tone he had rarely used in your presence for the past few moons. “You have heard your Queen’s demands. Bring her the eggs, so she can choose the ones most suitable for your King’s heirs.” 

You hadn’t noticed the silence surrounding you four before, maids and maester alike silenced in awe, and only appreciated it once it was gone with the hurried rustling and stomping from the staff exiting the room. 

And when night overcame King’s Landing, two cradles carrying the most precious creatures standing in front of your marital bed, your uncle-husband joined you for the first time since the start of your pregnancy, sharing the bed with you without any bawdy intentions on his mind. 

Ever since you were forced to leave your mother on Dragonstone to take Maegor’s hand in marriage, you felt at ease in the confines of the Red Keep, despite not knowing what the forthcoming summers might hold for you. 

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby

General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

[fairysluna]

MASTERLIST | Maegor Targaryen.

SINNERS. (angst + smut)

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed to her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

Nothing yet.

Fucking in the Iron Throne. (smut)

Being Maegor's favorite wife. (smut)

Taking a bath after a battle. (fluff)

Maegor touching you in the bathtub. (smut)

Maegor breeding his niece. (smut)

Asking for his niece's favor in a tournament (fluff)

[fragileheartbeats]

"but he's a-"

dude I'm someone who been in mental hospital for like two years, you think I care?

[sugarprincessbitch]

Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.

[darkestspring]

hii i was wondering if you could write something for maegor x reader (maybe sister!reader?) were they have a daughter, i would love to see maegor relationship with his daughter!!! maybe he would legitimize her as the heir to the throne? would he train her to be a warrior just like visenya??? thank you sm!!

this was fun to play around with. its always fun writing for maegor he's my garbage man. also this can be read as a standalone or connected to the other maegor one i wrote, either way. here you go.

Your daughter would always be your little love. You had named her Elaena, your little bundle of joy. Eveyone anticipated that Maego would be upset at not having a son but he was captivated by her.

He held her for hours and only gave he up when it was time for her to be fed.

"She's so.... precious." He breathed out as you held her in your arms. "My little princess."

"She has your eyes." you remarked, taking note of the bright purple eyes. "My eyes are a little lighter but she has my hair."

"How soon should i start training her?" The question was mainly to himself but you laughed. Your mother, Queen Visenya, was a great warrior. She rode Vhagar and helped conquer westeros with your father. You both had looked up to her greatly.

"Let her at least grow up to seven name days before you place a sword in her hands. Or maybe a bow and arrow would suit her better." You mused. You had mastered the bow and arrow at a young age, despite protests against your mother's decision.

A lady was supposed to be beautiful and soft, the septa had told you.

Yes, you mother had mused, and deadly. Like a true targaryen.

You gazed down at your daughter as she snuggled close to you.

Your daughter was as true of targaryen as you were. Your little dragon.

Maegor pressed a kiss to your head as he gently caressed Elaena's little head, grazing past the white hair. "What a grand warrior queen she shall be."

[eveenstar]

gods what id give to have maegor on his knees for me. just imagine.

[lanastromborn]

LITTLE RHAENA TARGARYEN (Daugter of Aenys )

Age : 9 years .

Rhaena Targaryen ( age 11)

Rhaena Targaryen ( Aged 16 )

Rhaena Targaryen (aged 18 ) - first marriage-

Rhaena targaryen -23 years - second marriage -

Rhaena Targaryen 30 years -At Dragonstone-

Rhaena Targaryen 40 y ( Harren Hall)

Rhaena Targaryen 50 y - Death-

Rhaena Targaryen Art breeder

[thedeadthree]

IOVANNA x DAEMON (hotd) 🔮🗡

UNA ULLER x AEGON II TARGARYEN (hotd) 🐍👑

CESSAIR x MAEGOR (asoiaf) 🐚🐉

ALVA x RHAEGAR (asoiaf) 🌸🎼

VALA(ENYA) x AURANE (asoiaf/got) ⚔️🌊

TAGGED BY the beloveds @queennymeria, @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, @risingsh0t, @adelaidedrubman, @morvaris, @corvosattano, @marivenah, @nightbloodraelle, @shadowglens, @aartyom, @jendoe and @phillipsgraves to make the loves in this cutest picrew! ty ty so much! (and saw @50sjello do this as well <3)

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @kingsroad, @denerims, @fragilestorm, @pearlcscent, @jackiesarch, @confidentandgood, @unholymilf, @leondaltons, @noonfaerie, @shellibisshe and you!

[librosamarillos]

pov: you're just cringe teens and your biggest problem is staying awake during your lessons with the maesters and nothing bad will happen and you still have hopes and dreams :)

passed down like folk songs on ao3

[targaryen-dynasty]

INNATE DESIRES.

Next Part

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

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

WORDS: 3.4 K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until your voice cut through it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My mother–“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Stop,” you whimpered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Chapter 2

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

Summary: The sudden departure of Aenelys and Maegor leaves the Queen and King with their hands tied, the rumours of their sinful relationship grow with their absence while they both are too busy getting used to their new home to see the consequences of their actions.

Tags/TW: incest, age gap (9 years), cursing, profanity, manipulation, violence towards oc, mentions of rape, the faith being a pain in the ass.

Word Count: 4.6k

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Her big doe eyes were filled with curiosity and admiration as she was trying to look everywhere at the same time, not wanting to miss any little detail of the gorgeous palace where they were walking through. The decorations were paintings, vases, sculptures and other valuable things that were worthy of everyone's attention. 

Maegor was holding her waist, keeping her close to him as they walked, whoever saw them might think he was scared of someone pulling her out of his arms and taking her away. They were being escorted by a group of guards, Aenelys deduced that they were a group of Unsullied, for they barely looked at them while they were guiding them through the hallways. 

They took a turn, and Aenelys stopped for a second after being witness to the decoration in the walls. Maegor immediately noticed this small action, and he looked down at her without even noticing her red cheeks. 

"Come on, dove," he softly said, as he started to push you forward to continue. 

A blush ran to her cheeks once her mind made sense of the shapes of the tapestries; erotic figures of couples in different positions that woke her curious mind and took her to wonder how those things would feel. Some of those positions seemed uncomfortable, painful even. Her lack of knowledge in the matter had her feeling flustered, which became worse once her innocent curious eyes fell on the masculine shape of her uncle's body. 

She felt her breath hitch once her mind played tricks on her, showing her images of her and Maegor in situations similar to those hanging from the wall. She imagined his big hands roaming around her tiny body, touching those places of her skin where not even her dared to touch. She imagined his lips pressing against her warmth, kissing her everywhere. 

She forced herself to look away from him, now feeling the guilt of having those thoughts involving him in such a compromising way. 

When she least expected it, they arrived in a room where a tall and sturdy old man was waiting for them. He was wearing a kind smile and looking at the both of them with gentle eyes. Aenelys looked at his clothes and that was enough to realize that this man was disgustingly rich; his robes were made with the most divine and exquisite silks of Essos, his white hair and beard were perfectly trimmed, and his neck, fingers and wrists were wrapped with bands made of pure gold. 

He was just a few inches shorter than Maegor, but he was still taller than her. 

Aenelys stopped her pace and Maegor stood in front of her. The unknown man gave them a small bow and then he spoke, 

"My prince," he started, "dear friend of mine, how glad I am to finally have you back in my home." He stretched his arm, and Maegor took his hand shaking it in a formal way, but his treatment seemed to be more friendly towards him now. The words of the old man left quite clear that it was not the first time they have seen each other. "I see you came with company… Who's this gorgeous young girl?" 

Maegor took a step aside, presenting her to his old friend. She felt all the eyes falling on her body, and she looked for her uncle's hand for comfort; just as she used to do when she was a child. Maegor smiled, pleased with that action. 

"This is my niece, princess Aenelys."

Aenelys looked at the floor, she tried to lie to herself and say she was not disappointed with the way he introduced her; she was expecting something else, some sweet words that would help him claim how dearly he loved her, or perhaps something that might have shown his intentions to actually marry her. Instead, he said that; words that were pronounced with a neutral voice, showing no feelings nor emotions. 

Perhaps she was living through false and unrealistic expectations, but she didn't know better. 

"It is my greatest pleasure being in front of you, my princess," the old man said, bowing to her now. "Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Ser Vyros Nahar, but please just call me Vyros." 

He grabbed her hand and pulled it closer to his lips as he left a soft and elegant kiss on it. A gesture that visibly bothered the prince, who softly frowned after being witness to that small action, especially after she smiled kindly back at the old man. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Vyros…" she spoke softly. 

"Allow me to introduce you to my son, Draqos, who would be more than pleased to be your guard during your stay in Braavos, my princess."

The young dark haired man took a step forward and leaned over to grab the princess' hand. Before he could even touch her, Maegor stepped in between them and frowned upon the man, who was slightly taller than him, but slimmer. Aenelys looked at her feet, showing herself submissive towards the action of her beloved uncle; Draqos had no choice but to step back. 

"That will not be necessary, Vyros. I'm capable of protecting my niece."

Maegor looked at Draqos with a deadly stare that would perfectly threaten anyone, but he did not bend. Draqos stood tall as his deep green eyes turned to the princess and a small smirk appeared on his handsome face. The prince took this as an insolent action that did nothing but anger him more. 

"My prince, I'm sure you will not have time to take care of your niece at every moment," he explained, "the nights are dangerous in this part of the city, beautiful girls like your niece might be at risk if she's not well protected."

Those words seemed to cause some kind of distraught to the prince, who stared at his friend with complete anger after he doubted his ability to protect her. His jaw clenched, and his back straightened as his tone changed to one somewhat sterner. "Do you not see me fit to protect my niece, friend?" He spoke angrily, almost grunting. A tone that Aenelys had heard him use many times to multiple people, except for her.

"I mean no offense, my prince. You're a fine warrior that is certain, but I've known you for years, your nights will be quite different from hers, you will not be here to protect her."

Aenelys knew what those words meant. She was not dumb or stupid to ignore the fact that her beloved uncle had needs that needed to be satisfied. She knew perfectly well that there would be nights where she would see her uncle surrounded by women with giant smiles, and voluptuous bodies; but some part of her wished and thought things would be different. She thought that she was going to be his only company, as well as he was going to be hers. 

Oh, such a silly thing to think. 

Maegor took a deep breath as he turned around to see his beautiful niece already looking up at him. He stared at her violet eyes, staring at him with the same devotion as always. Maegor thought of her as someone loyal, someone who will never disappoint him; he knew she was deeply in love with him, and he knew that no man in the world would be able to take her heart out of his hands, not even this gallant man called Draqos, who seemed to be quite interested in the princess, for his eyes never left her angelic features. 

He grabbed her face with the same delicacy he saved only for her. Aenelys leaned towards his touch, almost purring at it. Maegor found himself convinced about his thoughts, she already belonged to him for eternity and that subtle gesture of hers was enough proof to know it certainly. She was his, only his. 

"Would you like that, dove?" He whispered as his eyes locked with hers. Aenelys' puppy eyes glistening with the sight of him. Gods she was so lost on him, "is it fine for you?" 

Aenelys nodded softly, a subtle movement that Maegor only perceived because he was close enough to see it. He leaned a little, just enough to brush his nose against hers and make her feel the closeness of his lips. She basically drooled, so enamored by him that it looked pathetic. 

The multiple pair of eyes looked at them unimpressed by that action. Ser Vyros even smiled tenderly as he stared at them. Aenelys did not let that slide, she noticed how there was no disgusted look on their faces after seeing such a scene, something that would definitely happen if they were in the West side of the world. It was in that moment when she thought she had made the right choice, escaping from the judgmental stares of the Westerosi people who were too blind to understand it; to understand them. Aenelys knew that this new era in their lives would lead towards her much desired happy ending, away from the people that would frown upon a relationship they would never empathize with. 

She thought about it, being Maegor's wife was her long time goal in life since she had memories of her childhood. She knew the customs of her family would make it easier for her to marry him, even when he already had a wife… but it was a woman that he did not love, a woman he did not even like. 

Now there was their chance —her chance— to prove to him that she will be able to make him happy, to satisfy him. They were free of discernment, no one would say something about them and the weird relationship that had been so questioned back at home. 

Aenelys smiled at the people around her, and she was determined to make this place her new home. 

Across the Narrow Sea, things were crumbling into pieces inside the Red Keep. Queen Alyssa was raging once the news of her beloved daughter's absence reached her ears, completely lost in the despair of not knowing her whereabouts. 

“This is your fault!” She would scream at her husband, “if you would’ve exiled him before, our child would be here with us!” The tears were falling down her face as she was panting, “Now she’s out there, with your brother! Only the Gods know what kind of atrocities he would make her do…”

My poor child, she thought, wiping and crying out loud as she walked around the room in despair. King Aenys was trying to be serene, but the threatening words of his brother came back to his mind as he saw this as Maegor’s revenge for wanting him out of the castle. Aenys did not want to share that piece of information with his wife, because he knew that all this happened because of him.

He could have done many things to prevent this mess from happening, but he did nothing more than underestimate his young brother. Now these were the consequences of it, his daughter kidnapped by her uncle in foreign lands where she has never been. 

But when the guards arrived, King Aenys knew he was wrong. He had misjudged his brother, and his daughter. 

“Gaelithox is nowhere to be seen, Your Grace.” One of them spoke, the Queen walked closer to the group of guards, her eyes widened with confusion. “Neither is Balerion.”

“It is quite rare that he kidnapped her and let her take her dragon with them.” Aenys pointed out. 

Alyssa looked at him scandalized, with an horrified stare. “So you’re suggesting that our daughter willingly left King’s Landing with that… uncouth man?” She spat the last words, rage running down her veins, “How can you even suggest such a thing? She is our girl!”

“She is a woman, my Queen.” He softly spoke, “She is not a girl anymore.”

“We shall look for her.” Alyssa said. She turned to the guards and looked at them with despair in her eyes. She would completely deny the fact that her daughter might willingly leave her side. It was impossible, Aenelys would never do that. “Please, reunite the tropes and prepare the ships. I want you to go to Essos and look at every piece of land you see… I want my daughter back and the head of Maegor be put on a spike.”

“You shall not do such a thing.”  Aenys said, the guards and the Queen looked at him with disbelief. 

Queen Alyssa walked towards him, her eyes red with tears as she was breathing fast. She could not believe her husband did not care about the safety of their first child, and let her be out there without help. She might be in danger, Maegor was a ruthless man. As far as the Queen knows, he might have done indescribable things to her daughter by now.

“We must do something!” She insisted, “Bring my daughter back!”

“There is a big possibility that Aenelys left King’s Landing because she wanted to do it.” Aenys said, “If we tried to go and get her, we do not know what Maegor is capable of doing.”

Then it hit her. The Queen stared at her husband with her jaw clenched after hearing those words; words that made her realize what was actually happening here. The mere thought made her scoffed while she shook her head in disapproval, her lips forming an ironic smile that contrasted with her soaking cheeks.

“You are afraid of him…” She claimed, “You are not scared of what he might do to Aenelys you are scared of what he might do to you if you dare to pull our daughter away from him.”

“Alyssa, my dear-”

“He threated you, did he not?” Alyssa interrupted. His silence did nothing but to prove that what she had thought was true. “How can you even call yourself a king?!” She yelled, blinded by rage and distress, “How are you planning to protect the Seven Kingdoms when you barely can protect your own daughter?!”

The guards did not even dare to move after such an altercation, and Aenys looked at her shocked; not angry, not mad, just shocked. Of course he knew he had to do something after Maegor threatened him, but he never did because he never thought his own brother would do something like this. He trusted in him too much that now he was facing the consequences of it. 

Queen Alyssa soon left the room, fuming and crying desperate for her lost daughter. A couple of guards followed her, and when they were far enough from the King, she stopped them and spoke.

“I want a ship leaving for Essos in the morning. You will find my daughter and bring her here, where she belongs. Understood?” The guards nodded obediently.

When the next day arrived, a group of guards left Westeros in a fleet of three ships. King Aenys never found out.

The rumors around the castle were echoing louder with each hour passing. The absence of Aenelys and Maegor was noticeable, and the servants did not take too much time to spread the word to the entirety of King’s Landing. People were whispering in the hallways that Maegor kidnapped the Princess to rape her, to force her to marry him; others said that the Princess left willingly in her dragon in order to marry him. The other theory is that she was with child, and her own parents had sent her away to avoid the disgrace that those news would bring to the family.

Whatever the truth was, the Faith did not take long to find out about the situation, and the ravens started to fly across the continent from Oldtown to King’s Landing. The Grand Maester Gawen was the one delivering the news; the Faith had given a warning to the King, to stop the rumor of her daughter being a sinner, or else the Faith will take justice with their own hands. The High Septon did not allow incest, claiming it was an abomination that was going to ruin the Seven Kingdom. Sister and brothers, uncles and nieces or aunt and nephews marrying each other should be punished, for the Seven would never allow this kind of profanity. The King had his hands tied, even if he gets Aenelys back, his new husband would be her brother… and that was not a solution for the Faith. 

Soon, the small folk, who once loved their King, started to blame him for the disappearance of their beloved princess. The servants and the spiders within the walls were responsible for misleading the information and after a few days all of King’s Landing were claiming that the King had given away his first child, Princess Aenelys, to his brother Maegor in order to keep him in line. Of course that was far away from the truth.

And that is how everything went to pieces. His daughter had begun something that soon was getting out of control. King Aenys started to lose his allies. The people who once loved him started to hate him for a lie, and the Faith was starting to chase him for the same thing. A week after the disappearance of Maegor and Princess Aenelys, the Faith declared war in the name of the Seven and the weak King started to decay. 

Across the Narrow Sea, however, Aenelys was oblivious of everything that was happening back at home. In Braavos she had found a new home that had the same accommodations that she had back in Westeros. Maegor had made sure that she had a good group of servants and maidens that would keep her company in the days where he was not able to be by her side. 

But now Maegor was sitting on a large sofa. He was drinking a cup of exquisite wine while he was watching Aenelys on the balcony of their new home. She would be there every evening, watching the city and the sea that was beside it as she drank her tea. She was asking herself how her family was doing… a part of her was missing them terribly, but the other part of her was content that she was able to be with Maegor, even when it wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

When Aenelys arrived in Essos she had the dream that her uncle would have the intention to marry her or at least to make her a woman. She is no fool, she is actually quite curious, which is why she has come across a few books that speak about pleasure and marriage… she was expecting something as such. But, in reality, Maegor has not changed his treatment towards her. He has not kissed her, he has not even touched her beyond a small hug. Aenelys tried not to show her disappointment, but it was clearly visible sometimes, Maegor just decided to ignore it.

The only thing that has changed, is that now they share a bed, but still Maegor would not even hold her close to his body at night when the coldness and the freezing wind of the East made her shiver between the sheets. There were nights where he would not even sleep in the bed at all, for he was spending his time in brothels or with hired whores in other rooms of the palace where they were staying; they were a gift from Ser Vyros. 

Aenelys came to realize how thin the walls were; for she was able to hear during the night how her uncle would pleasure those women without shame or intentions to hide his profanity. Her heart would ache, her body would curl up in the bed as she cuddled with the blankets and silk sheets, closing her eyes and trying so hard to ignore the sound that those women would make. They were tortuous nights, filled with nightmares and subtle tears that would soak her rosy cheeks; feeding the imminent jealousy that would grow inside her chest. 

She found herself in the balcony once again, the midday sun rays hitting on her milky skin and making it look paler than it already was. A white dress she was wearing, Maegor would always make her wear that color, claiming that it made her eyes look even more beautiful. There was no cup of tea between her hands now, for her mind was too busy repeating the previous nights as a constant poison contaminating her senses and making her upset. Her lip would quiver every now and then as the itch on her nose would announce the upcoming tears that she would miserably try to hold back. Her discontent was visibly obvious to everyone who possessed at least one working eye; she was being miserable… too heartbroken to even realize about the presence of her uncle in the room. 

Maegor immediately perceived something was wrong with her, usually the smell of his cologne would be enough for her to turn around and flash him with the most innocent and gorgeous smile. This time, there was nothing as such, he found her naked back and her unbraided silver hair instead of her pretty, doe eyes. 

He cautiously walked towards her, his heavy shoes being dragged on the floor carpet which muffled his steps. He grabbed one of the chairs close to the entrance of the balcony and sat there, his thick legs spreading open as his hand, which was carrying a glass of fine Dornish wine, remained on the armrest. He cleared his throat, and saw how the girl sank in her position after hearing the sudden noise that ended the silence. 

“I can perceive you are not content this morning, my beautiful dove,” he began, his eyes examining the small frame of his niece. “What troubles you? Are you missing home already?”

She looks at her bare feet, shaking her hand as she, inevitably, steps closer to him. It was as if she was unable to keep herself apart from him when they were in the same room. 

“There is something that bothers me a bit,” she confessed, shyly, her voice sounding as soft as a caress. 

Maegor leaned back, and Aenelys looked at him up and down. A thin, loose, white shirt was covering his wide and thick chest. The blonde, almost invisible, hairs were decorating his skin. The poor girl felt the blush running into her cheeks at the sight, especially after having intrusive thoughts about him. Lustful ideas flood her mind making her weak in the knees.

“Tell me, dove,” he asked her, gently reaching for her hand and pulling her closer to him. She was standing between his legs as he hand went now to her hip. 

Aenelys took a deep breath that came out too shaky for her taste. She was nervous not only because she was about to confess something to him, but also because his big hand was touching her. It barely let her think, she felt embarrassingly dumb. 

“What- what you do with those women,” she told him, “I don’t like it.”

Maegor frowned, “what thing?”

The next words caused her some struggle as she fought the shyness within her to be able to pronounce them. “Bedding them,” she murmured. 

The man chuckled, “you don’t like it?” He repeated her previous words with a playful smirk on his devilish features. She nodded. “Why?”

“It’s not-” she interrupted herself, taking a deep breath and using it as an excuse to think about a proper answer. “I don’t like the idea of them… touching you.”

“And you wish for me to stop doing it?” He asked. She nodded once again. “But, darling, if I don’t practice with them, how am I supposed to know how to please you?” 

Her eyes widened with surprise, her breathing becoming unsteady. “Me?” 

Maegor smiled, a mischievous gesture that had her drooling all over again. He pulled her even closer, and in a sudden movement he lifted her up to make her sit on his lap. It was a quick, agile move; he barely put effort in such an action. Aenelys was unable to hide the rouge on her cheeks, feeling the hands of the man she loved sneaking under her dress to caress her thighs. Her eyes became blurry as she dreamed awake. Would he finally claim her as his?

“You are supposed to give me children once we marry, my dove, and during the process I want you to feel the same amount of pleasure as I will feel.”

He felt how she subtly shook under his touch, sighing as if he had just told him the greatest news of her life. Her lilac orbes being clouded by the so usual dreamy glow.

“Marry me?” She asked in a whisper, “you… you plan on doing so?”

“Well, of course,” he shrugged, “why else do you think I brought you with me?” 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you practice with… me?” she doubtfully said the last word. To which Maegor’s smile started to vanish. 

“Oh, my sweet dove,” he cooed. His hands moving dangerously close to her core, his thumbs rubbing against her inner thighs. “You’re not ready for me, yet. You’re far too innocent and perfect for me to ruin you now.”

“But-”

“Uh, uh,” he quickly silenced her, and she pressed her lips. “You will be a good girl, and you will wait for me.”

“But I don’t want you to be with those women anymore,” she quickly claimed. Her lips pouting as her eyes became teary now. 

Maegor closed his eyes as he scoffed, he was starting to lose his patience. His big hands squeezed her thighs a bit too harsh; her response was a gasp of surprise as one of his hands reached her jaw as he forced her to look at his eyes without escape. Aenelys frowned upon this odd gesture towards her, and her doe eyes soon turned into ones filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. Maegor was not able to control his strength, causing a bit of harm in the delicate skin of his niece.

“Stop this, Aenelys, stop acting like a child,” he whispered, his heavy breathing hitting against her quivering lips. “I will not accept orders from you, I have already told you my reasons; you may or may not believe me… but just stay out of what does not concern you.”

She let out a shaky breathing before pushing herself away from him. Aenelys stood up with her knees trembling and the tears soaking her cheeks. Her eyes stared at him with a new light, Maegor noticed it almost instantly, and that is when he knew he had ruined his plans. He had scared her. The poor girl’s hand went to touch her sore jaw, which now had the fingertips of the man printed on her delicate skin. 

“Aenelys…” He said, standing up and trying to reach for her. She just took a step back, making him sigh. “Aenelys, please-”

“I should’ve stayed,” she whispered. Her voice was broken and filled with hurt. 

Maegor laughed with irony, “you have a dragon, if you want to leave, then leave. I am not forcing you to be here.”

His words only broke her more. She had to bite her lip to avoid a sob to escape her, it was too painful. 

She did not say anything else. She just turned around, still covering her jaw with her hand and she just walked away from him. Maegor rolled his eyes as he sat back on the chair, drinking his wine in one sip. The empty cup soon was thrown across the room, causing a thunderous sound that echoed in the room. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he said. 

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[derangedaenerys]

bloodraven is sooooo visenya coded

[humanpurposes]

You Want This, You Need This

The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)

Words: 3.7k

A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶

There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.

Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast. 

Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.

As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out. 

The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.

There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.

She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.

The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her. 

He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk. 

His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.

She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.

Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.

The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.

“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”

Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.

Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.

She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.

“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.

Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”

She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”

He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”

He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.

He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.

He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.

She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?” 

She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.

“Lie down, on your back.”

He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.

His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.

It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.

He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.

“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.

“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.

“I want you to do as you’re told.”

He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.

She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing. 

She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.

She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.

Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.

She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.

When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.

Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.

“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”

Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”

She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent. 

Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.

“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”

In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.

Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.

“I did not realise the matter was political–”

He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.

“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”

She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.

“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”

His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.

“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.” 

Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”

She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.

“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”

Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.

Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”

Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.

She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.

With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.

“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”

“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”

Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”

Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.

“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.

She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.

“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”

She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”

Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”

It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.

Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony. 

She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.

She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender. 

Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.

“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.

“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”

Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.

“Then the decision has already been made.”

Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.

With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.

“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.

“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.

He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.

She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out. 

“Coward,” she whispers.

He does claim to disagree.

With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.

But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.

“Stay,” he says.

“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”

“But it’s different with you.”

“How? How is it different?”

He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.

Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.

Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.

Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”

“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.

Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest. 

Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference. 

She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.

The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Maegor the Cruel/Six Wives Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ — 🐉 lady l: This is more based on his wives than on Maegor himself, but I wanted to test something. This is dedicated to dear @gulnarsultan, hope you like it! If you just want one of Maegor, feel free to ask!! ❤️❤️

❝tw: polygamous marriage, murder, jealousy, possessive and obsessive behavior, mention of stillbirths and death on childbirth.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!maegor the cruel x female!reader, yan!six wives x female!reader.

You must have been a very cursed woman when you were chosen to marry Maegor I Targaryen. Not only because he already had wives, but because of his well-known reputation and cruelty.

You begged your parents not to let you marry him, but it wasn't a choice to make. It was an order. Your parents couldn't deny it or they would be killed. Your family was well known in Westeros and had a good reputation for being fertile, maybe that's why he chose you. You cried a lot that day, but you had no choice but to leave for King's Landing.

Once you arrived, you were immediately greeted by one of Maegor's wives, Tyanna of the Tower. You were hesitant with her, knowing the reputation she maintained, but to your surprise, Tyanna had been nothing but kind and courteous to you, explaining everything she could about the court and Maegor. That being said, you quickly warmed to her, hopeful that you had a friend through it all.

The other wives were also nothing but cordial with you, some a little hesitant and others more open, but all kind and polite. You felt calmer about it.

Maegor has an explosive temper and everyone is directed towards his anger, not even you are safe, although you are the only one who can truly calm him down. Whenever he is having a temper tantrum or cruelty, you are called to defuse the situation.

His behavior is violent and difficult, his cruel acts became more common after he became obsessed with you. You must do what he wants, after all, you don't want your family to suffer the consequences, do you?

Ceryse Hightower was as sweet and kind as she could be. She was the warmest to you, hugging you and wishing you happiness and many children. She expected you to give her husband heirs.

She was kind, so sweet to you that she quickly became your friend, your ally. You adored her, and even though she was your husband's first wife, you had no problems with her or she with you. Ceryse has truly come to adore you like a sister.

Alys Harroway was the second wife and one of your closest friends, whom you mourned the loss of your friend deeply. She became pregnant with Maegor and quickly became happy and told you, leaving you excited and Tyanna jealous.

Alys was your closest friend, protective and calm. Her obsession with you was hidden but it was there, and she fiercely protected you from anyone. She wanted to be your only confidence and only friend and that was her undoing, after the disastrous birth.

Tyanna of the Tower was Maegor's most feared wife, and your friend. She was kind and courteous to you, staying by your side and whispering sweet and poisonous words in her ear. She wanted you for herself, not for Maegor or anyone else, she wanted you.

She was largely responsible for Alys' downfall, and Tyanna, even though she liked you, would still be willing to deal with you if you got in her way. She loved sharing you with Maegor, when the three of you slept together and she caressed your belly, sincerely hoping for a child that would be not just yours, but hers as well.

You loved them, all of them, but you couldn't help but feel awkward, especially with Tyanna. However, after Alys' death and the confession that Tyanna was to blame for the abominations being born, she was killed by Maegor and he soon took three wives at once. The Black Brides.

Elinor Costayne was the youngest and the most delicate, gentle and sweet. She quickly warmed up to you and soon stuck to you like gum, much to her surprise. Maegor didn't seem bothered by this, however.

Even after her fertility was proven and she managed to get pregnant with Maegor, the child was stillborn and with wings. She survived the birth, however, and clung to you as a source of protection and affirmation against her husband.

Rhaena Targaryen was one of Maegor's most fearless wives, perhaps because she was from the House of Dragon. She never wanted to marry him, but she was forced to and found comfort with you, in her friendship with you, and came to love you like a sister, in the Targaryen way.

She viewed Maegor with bad eyes and as a threat not only to her but to you. Rhaena couldn't let anything hurt you, not when she was already so attached to you. Her obsession grew and she felt jealous of Maegor when he was with you. It was just a matter of time.

Jeyne Westerling was shy and beautiful, with dreams that didn't include marrying Maegor, but one good thing came out of that marriage, and that was you. You were her only friend in the midst of all this and she considered you above everything and everyone.

You could still feel the fear in Jeyne's voice when she found out she was pregnant, the terror she was feeling. She cried in your arms when she found out, fearing she wouldn't be able to carry a healthy child. You tried to comfort her, but it was in vain, not when she gave birth to yet another abomination and died after giving birth.

You mourned the loss of your friend and Maegor the loss of what could have been a son. Now it was up to you, his beloved wife, to give him what he wanted so much. You were afraid of him, but Maegor loved you in his own way.

Possessive and incredibly cruel, he has no qualms about killing anyone who looks at you the wrong way. You are his, his wife, his Queen. Not from others.

Your life with him would be difficult and although you found comfort in your friendships with the other wives, you still felt lonely, far from your family, and forbidden to leave the Red Keep.

Maegor's possessiveness worsened when he discovered your pregnancy and this time he would be sure he would have the heir he so desired. It doesn't matter what means he has to take for this. You will give birth to a healthy and strong child.

Your fate was sealed the moment he chose you to be his wife.

[written-in-flowers]

Do you think you could write something where Aegon fingers future sister wife (sister betrothed?) during their lessons with a Maester or Septa 💚💕

Pairing: Aegon ii x Targ!reader 

Words: 1k

Warnings: vaginal fingering, dry humping, underage sex stuff, hand-jobs. 

Lessons are Boring

You’d always been the attentive one during lessons. Maester Ryle oversaw the education of the prince and princesses of House Targaryen for two or three generations. A wrinkled old man with a few thin white hairs on his head, his maester’s robe hung loosely on his body and his chains clinked together when he walked. Due to his bad knees and hips, Maester Ryle often sat during the lessons and pointed at things on his board with a walking stick. This meant, he could hardly see over the other side of the table where the children sat in front of him. This meant, while Aemond, Helaena and you took notes and answered his questions, Aegon’s hand could slide onto your lap without him noticing.

"-The Faith of the Seven and the High Septon have often been at odds with House Targaryen and The Crown as a whole. It was only upon the ascension of King Jaehaerys that these bonds were finally mended,” said the old maester from his seat, “Can any of you tell me how this was achieved? Ah, Prince Aemond, yes.”

“King Jaehaerys refused to reinstate the Swords and Stars of the Faith, and removed the bounties King Maegor put on the heads of Warrior’s Sons and Poor Fellows. He then gave a white cloak to Ser Joffrey Doggett, who’d been part of the band of Warrior’s Sons, and he accepted it,” Aemond told him. “He swore to The Faith that The Crown will always protect and defend them from then on. It has been such ever since.”

“Indeed,” Maester Ryle nodded in approval.

You’d been listening to Maester Ryle go on about the history between their family and the followers of The Seven when a warm hand touched your knee. Looking over, you saw Aegon smirking. You stared down to see his hand sliding up and down your thigh slowly. Due to the tablecloth, Maester Ryle could not see the prince’s hand lifting your skirt inch by inch over your knees. You bit back a gasp as his bare fingertips grazed your flesh, smoothing over the curves and dips. The gentle touch made your toes curl inside your shoes; your thighs tensed at the sudden brush, and a warmth spread between your legs. Fingertips lightly dragging up and down your inner thigh, Aegon waited until you’d bitten your bottom lip to slide further up. The side of his hand pushed right up to your naked sex, he gripped the side tenderly to make you whimper.

“-Now, Queen Alyssa and her husband feared the marriage of Jaehaerys to his sister, Alysanne, might cause-Princess?”

He’d heard her. Damn the man. Aegon snickered softly but you merely stammered, “N-N-Nothing, Maester. Please, go on.” You turned your head and said low as possible, “Aegon…”

“What? This is boring,” he replied, doing the same.

You turned your attention to the lesson, while Aegon’s fingers made their way to your sex once more. His index finger sliding between your folds, his other two fingers kept them open while he used his index finger to tease the pearl they covered. The direct contact and unrelenting friction had you clenching your jaw and doing your best to stay firmly planted in your seat. Helaena, far too busy watching an ant crawl across her book, didn’t notice what was going on. Maester Ryle continued going on about history while Aemond listened and wrote notes. Soon, wetness began pooling there and Aegon took the chance to spread it over your lips and the hood of your clitoris. He let his fingers grind into your entrance, feeling your walls starting to flutter at their touch and making you grip your own book. It reminded you of the other day when you’d slipped your hand into his breeches during a ball, stroking him to completion and sending him into euphoria in a room full of people. You should’ve known he’d try getting back at you. He continued languidly rolling his two fingers around your clit, tracing the edges of the folds and dipping right beneath the nub to make you squeak. Any other time, he’d have you falling apart, especially if he used his tongue which he’d gotten so much better at. But now, you needed to keep yourself together or your mother will be hearing about it.

She still hadn’t forgotten what you’d done on the window ledge.

"-Can any of you tell me which house is closest to the Faith? Princess Y/N, would you care to guess?”

“Yes, dear sister,” Aegon smiled at you, “Which house is it? I forget.”

“Well, dear brother,” you replied without moaning, “It’s House Hightower, our mother’s family.”

“Ah, right. Yes, of course.”

“That is correct. House Hightower has maintained a very healthy relationship with the Faith for many generations…”

You didn’t hear how they maintained that relationship because once Aegon slipped a finger inside you, you nearly let out a moan which you disguised as a cough. His palm continuously rubbing against your clit while his finger pumped into you, you felt every single shiver of pleasure course through you. You wished more than anything you could drag him somewhere private in the library and let him finish you as he should. You already knew everything you needed to know about the various religions of the world and their importance to people. When Aegon added a second finger, you knew you were doomed. The boy had a way of making you weak without trying too hard. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him in return.

He kept the pace slow and almost lazy, withdrawing his fingers slowly and pushing them back in tenderly. He couldn’t go much faster without the old man noticing his arm. It didn’t help that whenever you came close to orgasm, he stopped suddenly. The agony became far too much; the room suddenly felt hot and the need in you became far too ravenous to focus on anything else. Thankfully, the maester ended the lesson after he finished telling you all about The Faith of the Seven. He said they’d all talk about the royal progresses of the Old King and his queen next time. You nodded, and took a cackling Aegon by the hand. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his bed chambers, where you threw him onto his bed. Quickly, you untied his breeches while he worked on unbuttoning the front of your gown. Having access to your breasts, Aegon’s lips latched around them and suckled firmly while you withdrew his cock. You never put him inside, but you enjoyed rubbing your soaked pussy over his length until you both came.

And that’s what you did. You dragged your sex up and down his hard shaft and leaking head while he licked and teased your sensitive nipples. It did not take long for either of you to cum. Your parts exposed to one another and your passion burning hot, you didn’t hold back this time. Clutching the pillows underneath his head, your orgasm hit you hard. Thighs quivering and your body tensing all over, you humped Aegon’s cock until your clit became overstimulated by him. Aegon grabbed your ass and kept you still as he went along with you and came over his stomach. Cheeks red, hair spread over the pillows, and utter satisfaction on his face, Aegon always looked so beautiful after an orgasm. He looked beautiful all the time, even if others thought otherwise. Panting, you rested on top of him for a while, kissing and whispering words of love to one another.

“Thank god Maester Ryle is old and can’t walk,” you said, chuckling, “I’d hate to think of what he’d tell Mother is he’d seen us.”

“The same thing everyone else says,” he put on his best quavering tone as he said, “The young Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N were being rather inappropriate during their lesson this morning, Your Grace. It is behavior unbefitting a noble child. They must be put in proper order right away.”

“That is more or less what he told me.”

Her voice made you both jump apart, and cover yourselves. Your mother stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed and disappointment on her face once again. She stared at you both for a moment, and shame immediately hit you. You truly should’ve conducted yourself in a more proper manner.

“Just because Maester Ryle is old doesn’t mean he is a fool,” she said, sighing. “Tell me you at least didn’t put it in.”

“He didn’t,” you shook your head. “He never does. I don’t let him.”

“Must you two behave this way? Think about the shame it brings on you both.”

“She’ll be my wife one day,” Aegon said, pulling his sheets over his crotch. “They should be happy the prince and princess show a healthy passion for one another. It implies that we’ll produce children….someday….”

Your mother took these words into consideration, “I suppose you’re right…but please, have some decency and do it behind closed doors. I am sick of hearing from everyone about the things they find you two doing. It is not something a mother wishes to hear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Mother.”

You watched her leave, then turned to each other as the door closed. Bursting into a fit of giggles, you both fell back on the bed and shared a soft kiss. “At least she didn’t scream this time,” you noted, letting him kiss down your neck.

“At least there’s that, yes,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. “Take off your dress,” he said, coming back up to kiss you, “I wish to see the rest of you.”

“Did you not just hear our mother?”

“Yes, I heard her say ‘do it behind closed doors’,” he then pointed to the door, “It’s closed and we’re behind it.” He knelt between your legs and lifted your leg. Kissing your inner thigh, he started untying the ribbons holding your stockings, “So, if you’ll indulge me, my sweet princess, I’d like us to spend the day drinking and pleasuring each other in any way we possibly can.”

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right, my prince. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

You slid further down the bed to reach his shirt. Your day was certainly going uphill after a boring lesson.