#viserys just did whatever he said

[kingcunny]

you think dealing with aegon otto ever missed viserys

[valyriians]

-values of marriage.

cregan stark x fem!targ!reader.

requested: yes.

wc: 7287.

warnings: mention of childbirth, miscarriage, smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), mention of death. brackets are high valyrian translation.

You let out a laugh while Vermithor roared a victorious screech that could be heard everywhere on the island and patted his back.

’’Tegon, Vermithor!’’ you told him. (land)

He landed at the base of the staircase that led up to the great castle, sliding down as he lowered his body so your fall to the ground wouldn't be harsh you trailed your hand over his neck while you told him to be calm as the dragon keepers walked over to you preparing him to break his fast.

’’What is on today’s menu Claedon?’’ you asked the dragon keeper who is in charge of the dragons.

’’A dozen cattle and three goats, Princess.’’ Claedon says.

’’Give him some more goats, he did so very well today and the rope on the left side is starting to become loose so you need to fix that and maybe have the saddle adjusted while you’re at it.’’ You say while walking to your brothers who are landing with their dragons.

’’Of course Princess, anything else?’’ Claedon asks.

’’No that will be all thank you Claedon.’’ You say as you dismiss him.

’’While my dragon may be smaller and swifter you still somehow manage to best us both.’’ Jace says while he slides down his saddle.

’’Maybe you should’ve paid better attention to the dragon keeper lesson in King’s Landing, you would then be the better rider.’’ You say, half jesting but you always paid attention to anything dragon related, whether it was history, anatomy or just basic stuff.

’’I’ve only been a dragon rider for five moons but I assure you I will one day beat you.’’ Luke says, Arrax was small and had only recently begun taking Luke to the skies.

The three of you share a laugh until you see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, you hit Jace beckoning him to stop laughing.

’’Your lady mother needs to see you!’’ She shouts.

You take Luke's hand and begin walking to her and bow to her asking what is the matter.

’’It is best if your mother tells you.’’ Rhaenys looks at you, taking your face into her hands.

Unlike your brothers, you were the result of a successful bedding with Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor, you had the golden-silver hair of Old Valyria. Your grandmother loved all of her grandchildren, she saw her son in you the most. In your looks and your love for your dragon. It was known that Seasmoke was Ser Laenors pride and joy, just like Vermithor was yours.

A concerning look dwelled upon your face as you raced up the staircase to your mother's chambers where you heard screaming and grunting, you entered with your brothers in tow.

’’Mother?’’ Jace asks.

’’Your grandsire, King Viserys has passed.”

Your mother said, panting.

“Viserys?!” Luke cries out.

“The greens have repudiated the succession and claimed The Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.” Your mother said, following cries and grunting.

Your grandfather is dead and your uncle has been crowned king, your mother's birthright and throne had been stolen from her, causing her to go into early labour Maester Gerardys believes.

You felt faint and everything blurred, you sat down and thought about how this had happened, just last night you were having dinner with your king, and everything felt like it was in place. You would’ve never thought that everything happened so quickly and soon.

“What is there to be done about it?” Jace asked in an angry tone, the fire inside him is ready to burst but for the sake of his mother he kept himself composed.

“Nothing yet.” your mother replies, crying and sweating.

“Where is Daemon?” You ask, wiping away your tears and standing up.

“I don’t know, gone to madness, gone to plot his war.” she cries out.

“Leave him with me.” you say to your mother while crouching to her.

“Whatever claim remains to me you are now its heir, the burden is a heavy one.” your mother says to you, clutching your arm.

“I won’t fail you, mother.” You say to her and then walk out of the room.

-

You walk into the main hall with red puffy cheeks and still in your riding clothes, Daemon is by the table pointing to the figurines on the table while the lords are writing things down and talking to each other.

“I will fly to the Riverlands myself and affirm Lord Tullys support.” Daemon says.

“You will do no such thing.” You say, making your presence in the hall known, Daemon looks at you.

“My mother has decreed no action be taken while she is abed.” You say firmly.

“It’s good you’re here young princess, you’re needed to patr-“

“Did you not hear what I said? As Princess of Dragonstone I command this.” You shout, making all the lords look at you, Daemon with rage in his eyes.

“Come with me.” Daemon says gritting through his teeth.

He takes you to the highest top on the Dragonmount. Where he stands before you and shouts at you.

“You dare to command me? I don’t take orders from you, I am your mothers right hand and while she is abed I have the control not you!” He shouts.

“That’s it, your control is only so limited, I will however be my mothers heir as long as I breathe air!” You scream at him, unleashing the anger and grief you feel.

“None of this would have happened if my mother married you!” you said, it was partly true.

“You have only brought pain and torment to her, she’s more than some brood mare who you can have children with and right now she is in anguish, screaming and begging for you! Her husband! The father of her children!” You shout at him, unleashing a scream from you and at the same time a dragons roar shakes the ground, Vermithor felt you, he mirrored your emotions.

You fell to your knees, crying clutching your arms to your chest. You hear footsteps and see Daemon kneeling before you.

“I'm taking control because I am her husband and the mother of my children, for all our safety.” he says, taking your shoulder.

“Now come, we are both needed by someone.” He grabs your hand the both of you walk to the castle.

-

“Wait here.” Daemon says before he walks into his shared chamber with Rhaenyra.

It was good to let your feelings out, the rage inside you had finally burst out and you were feeling confident.

You went to your brothers who were in the nursery with Aegon and Viserys, trying to keep your mind occupied while you comforted them.

You played with Aegon's curls and looked at the toy Viserys was playing with which was a toy soldier and wooden sword. It filled you with fear to think about your brothers having to fight, Aegon had his dragon of course while Viserys didn’t have one.

-

Syrax lit the funeral pyre for your sister whom your mother named Visenya, seeing your mother and Daemon standing on the over the pyre is heartbreaking, you hear armor clinking and see a white cloak walking towards your mother.

“I mean no harm brothers.” Ser Erryk calls out, reaching into his bag he pulls out your grandfathers crown.

“I swear to ward the Queen, with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife. Hold no lands. Father no children. I shall guard her secrets. Obey her commands. Ride at her side and defend her name and honour.” he calls out, holding the crown.

Daemon takes the crown from him and crowns your mother, then kneels before her, calling her his queen.

You kneel with your brothers, acknowledging your mother as the Queen.

-

You get dressed into a more comfortable outfit, with dragon scale detailing and red and blue lace design.

Walking into the room and taking your place beside your brother who looked anxious and troubled.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Everything is happening so fast, I wish for this to be over quickly.” Luke says.

You take his hand comforting him and give him a faint smile.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Your Grace.” Daemon proclaims, looking at his wife proudly.

You would have never guessed that she had just said goodbye to her child, she looked ethereal and stood tall despite the circumstances.

“Where do we stand?” The queen asks and Daemon and the maester reply to her.

You had the majority of the houses on your side, there were some who needed to be reminded of who King Viserys named his heir.

“Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore flying the banner of a three headed green dragon.” a white cloak announced.

You looked at your mother who knew well who it was.

“I shall meet them.” The queen said, beckoning you closer to her.

“Take your brothers to your chamber, if anything should happen to me, it’s your duty to take care of them. Do you understand?” she says.

“Yes, my queen.” You bow and gather your brothers, Baela and Rhaena.

-

A load of things happened before everyone were once again gathered in the hall, your mother lost in her thoughts as you listened to the lords talking about how their troops are ready to fight and have been dispatched to their locations.

“Do your forces have enough food and supplies?” you ask Lord Celtigar.

“We have enough to last us for two moons but we shall be prepared for anything Princess.” he replies looking over his books.

“Vermithor and I will patrol the skies for food and drop some for your forces.” You say, Lord Celtigar bows to you and gives his thanks.

“The Lord of the Tides! Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!” Ser Erryk shouts, all eyes gloom at the limping man going down the stairs.

“My lords.” Corlys says,

“Lord Corlys, it brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.” the queen says.

“I’m very sorry about your father, Your Grace.” he says, offering his sincere condolences.

Corlys looks at you, proud as ever, you looked so much like your father in certain lights.

-

“We must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie and Storm's End.” Lord Bartimos says.

“I will prepare the ravens Your Grace” the maester says.

“We should bear those messages, dragons can fly faster than ravens, and are more convincing.” Jacaerys says.

“Send us.” he asks, but more like demands.

“My brother is right, the last King in the North bent the knee to the Conqueror when he saw Balerion.” you say, remembering your history lesson.

Your mother was not very keen on the idea, sending her children away, but her daughter was correct. Dragons are faster and they have no time to loose.

“Very well, Prince Jaceaerys will fly to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn. Princess Y/n will fly north to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm's End and treat Lord Borros Baratheon.

We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore and the cost of breaking them.” your mother says, you are up to the task, Vermithor has seen the snow in the north so it will be easier for you to go north.

-

“If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors, you must take part in any fighting, swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven.”

Luke was the first one to place his hand on the book, then you, then Jace.

“I swear it.” you say.

You bow to her, she takes your face into her hand and kisses your forehead, she knows you will be safe but goodbyes are always hard.

You walk to Vermithor who has been on the coast, he was sleeping but roused up when you walked closer. You placed your hand on his neck and urged him to lower his body so you could climb onto the saddle, you then strapped yourself in and took the reins and commanded him to fly, he stretched out his bronze wings and let out a roar then he took flight, climbing higher and higher into the cloud.

You looked at your grandmother Rhaenys and then your brother Luke who was on his way to Storm's End and waved them goodbye.

-

The flight was long and cold, stormy weather and winds made it difficult to hold on but it was easy for Vermithor, being used to harsh climate and familiar to the North, the old king Jaehaerys I visited the North once.

You spotted Winterfell, it was covered in snow and the walls were high and covered in the banners of House Stark. You circled over the castle thrice and then landed outside the castle, shaking the ground and the snow melted beneath Vermithors body, many servants and guards looked at the Bronze Fury in terror and awe.

You unclasped yourself from the saddle and dismounted, giving him a stroke on his neck and whispering to him to stay calm.

Four guardsmen approached you.

“Princess Y/n, we are here to escort you to the inner courtyard of Winterfell.” one guard said.

You nodded your head, then allowed Vermithor to linger around and then you approached the guards and began to make your way into Winterfell.

-

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen” a guard shouted in the courtyard as you looked around the courtyard, it was in some ways like Dragonstone, high black walls and everything was made from stone.

You turn your head to look at the man who stands tall among the crowd, a huge sword in his hand, his black hair is pulled back and is covered in light snow. His coat is big and covers his left arm.

“Winterfell is yours, princess.” he bows down to you, beckoning a young child beside him to walk to you with a bouquet of blue winter roses, native to the North.

“Welcome to Winterfell princess, I hope your journey fared well.” the young man said while handing you the bouquet, it was Lord Starks first born child, Rickon.

“Why thank you my lord.” you crouch down to him so you can talk with him better.

“These roses are very beautiful, how did you know blue is my favorite colour?” you joke with him and he laughs.

“Would you perhaps escort me to your father? For I desire to speak with him.” You ask him while inspecting the bouquet.

He nods his head and takes your hand and drags you to his father. Cregan was tall and had a handsome sharp face. He had the eyes you could fall into easily.

“Princess.” Cregan said to you, as he took your hand and kissed it softly and gently. You fully got lost in a trance and stood there for a moment.

“Lord Stark, I have brought you messages from my mother, the Queen.” you say, giving him the scroll.

“Let us go inside.” He said, taking your hand and leading you into the castle where a fire was lit.

You arrived into the hall and looked around, not many decorations were around but it was warm and welcoming.

“Would you like some refreshments Princess? some ale perhaps?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” you say, sitting down while straightening out your dress.

Cregan poured some ale into a jug and handed it to you, taking a sip of the drink made you cough and Cregan let out a laugh.

“Not the drink you’re used to eh?” he asked.

“Certainly not my lord.” you say with a sour look on your face.

There was a moment of silence, he looked at you as if he had seen the gods, he was taken away by you.

“Lord Stark, I am not sure if the news has reached so far but my grandfather, the king, has passed away.” you stand up and walk around the room.

“He was a good king with a gentle heart, my condolences princess.” he says while clasping his hands together.

“That he was, he always…. he always cared for me.” you say with a heavy heart and sniffled.

Cregan stands up and goes to comfort you.

“Princess-“ he begins.

“Your father Lord Rickon Stark swore an oath to King Viserys and my mother to acknowledge her as the princess of Dragonstone and the heir to the Iron Throne and I need to affirm your support. The Hightowers have placed Prince Aegon on the throne and crowned him in the Dragonpit. You have a choice to make my Lord, you can choose to honor your fathers oath and stand with the rightful ruler or you can learn the consequences of being an oathbreaker.” You proclaim to him, he steps back and his mind is clouded.

“You sound tired princess, have your rest change your attire because as the evening grows, the colder it will be.” he says as he walks away.

“I will send a lady to attend to you.” he added as a guard guided you to your chamber.

You walked into the chamber where a large tub and bed was waiting, you looked around, put your gloves down on the table where old maps and books layed around.

‘Was I too harsh?’ you asked yourself and placed your head in your hands and felt the urge to cry but straightened up when you heard a knock.

“Come in.” you said, straightening your dress.

A girl entered the room, she was about the same age as you, with brown hair and hazel eyes, her clothes were probably mended just a few moments ago.

“Princess, Lord Stark sent me.” she said.

“Yes, what is your name?” you asked.

“Mariah, princess.” she said.

“Right, I wish to bathe before I meet with Lord Stark again, I didn’t bring anything with me. I was wondering if there is something I might be able to wear.” you ask her.

“We have already prepared you a gown for tonight princess, it is quite splendid.” she says.

You start to undo your dress with the help of Mariah, she looks at your gown with awe in her eyes, she runs her fingers over the intricate design and lace and quickly shakes herself out of the trance and undid your hair.

You enter the tub and allow yourself to submerge into the water, Mariah gathers some oils and herbs to add into the water, along with soap.

“Your hair princess, may I?” Mariah asks and you nod your head, allowing her to rinse through it and wash it gently.

There was a long momentary silence when you finally spoke up.

“Tell me Mariah, how are the customs here in the North, I wish to be as respectful and modest as I can.” you ask her, she’s clearly stressed at the question but answers with grace.

“Well, it has been some time since your house has arrived here, last time it was King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne so you can imagine our surprise when the Bronze Fury graced the northern sky once again.” she said, she had clearly done her research.

“Well, I know that Queen Alysannes visit here brought great fortune, I certainly wish to do the same.” you tell her.

“You have already won the favor of Lord Cregans, ever since the late Lady Stark passed away Lord Stark has been very cautious about his son, protecting him from all harm and danger.” she says, clearly reminiscing about the old days.

“What was the late Lady Stark like?” you ask, in a low voice.

“She was very beautiful, the epitome of a lady.” Mariah answered.

You stayed in the tub for some time, not wanting to get out as riding for such a long time made your legs ache and the comfort from the hot water soothed the pain.

“Princess, I have gathered some gowns for you to pick from.” Mariah says while she helps you cover up.

Before you there were three beautiful gowns that were clearly fashioned for the North, you let your fingers glide over the dresses and then you picked a grey gown that showed your shoulders and covered your arms with another piece of fabric draped around your arms. Mariah brushed your hair and braided the top of it, allowing some hair to fall to your shoulders and back.

She lathered some oil on your collarbone and placed a dragon broach in the dress.

Mariah took one last look at you and bowed, leaving the room, letting you have some time alone before the feast began.

-

You walked into the great hall as a guard announced your presence, making everyone stand up and looking in your direction.

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” was announced loudly.

You walked through the hall with your head high and when you reached the table where Lord Cregan and his family were sitting you nodded to him, making sure to keep eye contact. You then took your place beside him on the table.

The commotion in the hall began after you had taken your seat and you looked over at the great number of people, taking a sip from your drink.

“I hope Mariah was satisfactory, princess.” Cregan asks you.

“She was, my lord. I thank you for the hospitality.” you answered.

“You must forgive her, she was only trained to serve ladies, not princesses.” he jests, trying to make something of the conversation.

The tension between the two of you didn’t go unnoticed, some man then marched over to the table and bowed.

“Princess Y/n, the tales are true then.” the old lord says.

“Which tales might that be my lord-?” you ask him, wondering about his name.

“Hornwood, princess. Lord Cregan told us of your beauty, said you were as beautiful as the dawn.” Lord Hornwood said, making you blush and smile at him.

“You are much too kind my lord.” you replied and looked at Cregan who was embarrassed as he hid his face in a horn of wine. Lord Hornwood walked away after bowing to you and his lord.

The feast continued with lots of drinking and singing when you finally managed to talk with Cregan about your reason here.

“As much as I appreciate your hospitality and welcome here, I will need an answer from you before I leave for Dragonstone again.’’ you told Cregan, who sighed and looked at your face with much admiration.

‘’Of course princess, I have gone over the demands and conditions in the letter from your mother with my council and we have decided that, while my duty as Warden of the North is the most important to me, fulfilling my father's oath is just as important to me.’’ Cregan answers.

He rises and grabs the attention of everyone in the hall, raising his cup.

‘’My lords and ladies, I bid you all a warm welcome to my home on this occasion, while the harshest of winter snow has not yet fallen from the sky, a harsher wound this realm has faced. The king is dead.’’ he says, with a crack in his voice and people begin talking, looking at you with apologizing eyes. You looked down at your hands and tears began to swell your eyes.

‘’While I never met King Viserys, my father told me he was a just man and always wanted peace and unity across the realm. He also told me about the time he travelled South and bent the knee to him on the Iron Throne alongside Princess Rhaenyra, swearing his sword and allegiance to them both and acknowledging his first-born child as his heir and successor.’’ He shouts across the hall, having everyone listening to him. It was quite a show.

‘’Princess Y/n arrived here with a message, signed by her mother, the Queen.’’ he says, he recognized your mother as the queen, you felt shivering in your spine and arms.

‘’She says that the Hightowers have usurped her throne and crowned her half-brother Aegon as king, she asks that I do not forget my father’s oath and pledge for her if war will ensue which she does not wish for’‘ Cregan continues

The North does not forget oaths easily, we stay true to our word.’’ Creagns says, earning an agreeable shout from everyone.

“The North will honor the sworn oath to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Queen of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. We know that a Targaryen must sit the Iron Throne when the Long Night arrives, an alliance between the crown and the North is crucial.” He shouted, banging on the table to capture everyone’s attention. The way his hand fists met the wooden table and made everything shake was riveting.

“Each house will supply a hundred men that will march for Harrenhal and await my commands.” he made his decree.

You looked at him, with glossy eyes, you thought your mission had failed when he distanced himself from you, maybe stalling so the greens could come for you but how wrong you were.

“To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name!” He lifted his cup and shouted, being met with joyous screams and cheers from the hall.

The celebrations continued until you decided to retire and Cregan himself escorted you to your chambers

“The Queen is most thankful for your support, with the strength of the North by our side we shall see much success if war ensues.” you say while walking slowly.

“Of course princess, we will start making progress in the next few days.” he says to you, clearly anxious.

“I shall be returning back to Dragonstone on the morrow, my mother will be most pleased with the news.” you tell him as you stop in the hallway.

“What will you do next?” he asks, questioning you.

“I will do what my mother commands, whether it is fighting, being by her side or marrying someone.” you say, with disappointment in the last words.

You always knew you had to marry, not for love but for political alliances or stability, a marriage for love in your position is not something that would be possible. You would always put the responsibility of the crown first.

“Marriage? You have someone in mind, princess?” he asks.

“No, my Lord.” you say then begin to laugh.

“Well there was this one boy who worked in the kitchen in the Red Keep, he always sneaked some sweets to me when I was younger, I told myself I would marry him because he always listened to me and bring me sweets, I like to think of him as my first love but it was childish really.” you say, clinging to the sweet memory like a child with a blanket.

“I wish to share my life with someone who listens to me and honors the values I myself uphold, who wants the same things as I, someone that knows their histories and cultures.” you say to him, imagining a life with your future one and smiling.

“That sounds like a very fine match princess, I do hope you find him.” he says with a sincere smile.

You both smile at each other and chuckle.

You see a small shadow behind the corner of the hallway, and soon find out that it is Rickon as he runs up to his father.

“Rickon! What are you doing here little one, you’re supposed to be abed.” Cregan says to him as he picks him up and puts a kiss on his forehead.

“I had a nightmare, the Others were coming for me riding giant spiders and I was so scared.” Little Rickon said as he snuggled with his father, burying his face into the thick coat his father wore.

“Oh my son, the Others have been dead for thousands of years, no harm will come to you, I swear it.” Cregan says, sharing a sweet moment with his son. You smile at the sight.

You hear someone walk to you, it is a guard wearing the Stark sigil and he bows before you.

“My lord, you are needed in the great hall.” he says.

“I will be there soon, I must put my son to bed”. Cregan says.

“Forgive me my lord, it is quite urgent.” the guard says.

Cregan becomes annoyed, sighing to himself and then starts putting him down when you intervene.

“I can tuck him in, if the little Lord would have me.” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“Is that okay Rickon?” Cregan asks his son and he responds with a nod.

You pick Rickon up and caress his curls and begin walking to his chambers, you set him down in bed and tuck him in so he is comfortable.

“There you go Rickon, are you comfortable?” you ask as he nods and begins playing with his toy. You begin to walk away when he starts asking for a story. You sit down beside his bed.

“I heard you were talking about the Others to your father, can you tell me about them?” you ask him.

“They are big scary creatures and they ride dead horses and big spiders, they are made of ice and are very strong.” he says, shaking with fear, no wonder he woke up and asked for comfort. You nod to him and then straighten your back to grab the dragon broach from your dress and show it to him.

“You know what this is?” you smile and show it to him.

“Yes, a dragon!” he says with a smile on his face.

“Yes! a dragon you are correct and can you tell me what dragons do my lord?” you ask while holding the broach.

“They fly high into the sky!” he raises his arms up.

“Yes and what else?” you say with a smirk.

“They can breathe fire!” he says at last.

“Yes they can, and what does fire do to ice?” you ask.

“I don’t know.” he says with a confused look.

“Fire melts ice.” you say with a serious tone while spinning the broach in your hand.

“My dragon can breath so much fire that if the Others were to ever come, they would melt in an instant and turn into a big puddle. His wingspan is so wide it can cover a small town. My dragon would do anything I tell him to, all I must do is tell him ‘dracarys’ and he will breathe fire.” you tell him, he looks at you with much admiration and smiles.

“So if the Others were ever to come, all you must do is call me and I will arrive with my dragon.” you say to him and lastly give him the broach.

“So you remember me.” you say, giving him a kiss on the forehead as he begins to yawn and rub his eyes.

“Goodnight, my lord.” you whisper.

You stand up and see Cregan in the doorway, smiling at him and begin walking out.

“He’s a sweet boy.” you say as you cross your arms.

“It’s been hard, his mother died giving birth to him. He has never been satisfied with any maid or woman that has tried to comfort him.” Cregan tells you while dropping his head.

“I have experience, my younger brothers Aegon and Viserys are quite a handful, they only want my mother or me to tuck them in.” you tell him, you miss your brothers dearly.

You walk to your chambers at a slow pace.

“He has your eyes, you know.” you tell him, offering some comfort.

You reach your chambers, the walk to it felt so short and you felt heavy at heart when you reached the door. Wanting the company of Cregan to last forever you reach for his hand.

“I thank you for tonight Cregan, it was most enjoyable my lord.” you say caressing his hand.

“I am most pleased princess, I shall see you on the morrow before you leave.” he tells you as he places a kiss on your hand.

Looking into his eyes you felt your heart skip a beat and felt your hair rising when he kissed your hand, making you twitch inside with excitement.

“See you then, my lord.” you tell him.

He bows and leaves you.

You walk into your chambers and begin to discard your clothes and dress into a warm nightgown suited for the north, Mariah helps you and then bids you a good night.

The kiss Cregan left on your hands made you sigh and smile, the day had been long and tiring but being with Cregan was worth it, how his hair moved in the wind, how delicate his rough hands were and the way his voice rasped when he talked in the great hall. You were ashamed to admit it but you felt excitement and pleasure. You wanted to spend the moment with Cregan and have his body close to yours and feel his hands in yours.

You got under the endless pelts in the bed hoping to that sleep would find you but as you twisted and turned in bed making it impossible for you to rest, staring at the ceiling as you took a deep breath you started rub your thighs together and felt a tingling sensation where your womanhood was placed. You had one time felt that sensation when you saw servants in the Red Keep, the man was buried under the skirts of the woman and she clutched his hair and her mouth made an O shape, it was like she was drowning but at last she let out a gasp and the man slowed down and started to kiss her, you ran away before they could see you.

She felt like she was drowning and wanted to come back up for air, desperately wanting for air but not knowing how to breathe. You felt ashamed, you were a princess and this was not appropriate behavior. You finally gave up and got up from the bed and reached for the door and walked to the room where a maestar was located, you knocked on the door and the maestar opened.

“I am sorry for the late hour maestar but i have trouble finding any sleep, I was wondering if I could request a drought to help me?” you ask the man, who looks young and hale.

“Yes princess, I shall have it sent to your room if it pleases you.” he answered.

“Thank you.” you tell him and walk the cold corridor that leads to your room, you grab the door handle when you gasp, feeling the excitement you felt before once again clutching to your skirt and feeling your legs tremble.

You walked in and took off a layer of your nightgown trying to escape the burning heat that filled you up, pacing the room trying to catch your breath when a knock on the door drove your eyes to the door and opened it.

“Princess.”

It was Cregan, the maestar told Cregan what you needed and he delivered it personally. He held the bottle by the throttle with his arms crossed, the way his veins were illuminated by the torch in the hallway.

He barged into the room and placed the bottle on the table. You inhale the scent as he walks by you and once again feel that sensation but manage to contain your breath.

“Lord Cregan, the hour is late.” you tell him, ashamed to be feeling like this.

“Please, enough with the formalities, I am Cregan to you.” he says as he walks slowly to you, discarding his cloak.

“Cregan..” you say but he grabs your face and kisses you, a hand slides around your waist and takes hold on the nape of your neck, pushing deeper and deeper into the kiss and then going down to kiss your neck as a moan escapes your lips. You are lost in your thoughts and as you grab his hair he pushes back.

“I’m sorry princess, that was improper of me.” he says as he avoids eye contact and begins to walk away.

“Cregan” you shout at him, as you grab your chest and then you walk to him.

“I want this.” you say shyly, “I want you… to be touched by you.” you manage to form those words into a sentence with a shaky voice.

“Whatever the princess commands.” he answers and grabs your face and plants a harsh kiss on your lips with no warning and he begins to move your hair from your face to see the whole of your face. Then he stops and looks into your eyes.

“I will not sully you princess, you have my word.” he says, while caressing your cheek.

He leads you to the bed and motions you to sit down, looking at you with hungry eyes like a wolf looking at its prey as he removes your dress, shyness crept over you but you kept eye contact.

He kneels down facing your body and lift his two rough hands to separate your legs, revealing your womanhood and then he rises up to your face and starts kissing you as he places his body between your legs, you lay your back down on the furs as he starts leaving kisses on your body, the shoulders, the arms, the belly. Your soul was on fire, the constant kissing and touching made you twitch inside and with every kiss the fire grew larger and stronger. He placed your legs over his shoulders and began to place kisses in between your thighs and then started to kiss the place where you felt the burning sensation, he started to pleasure you with his mouth and with each breath you started to see stars, the way his hands grabbed your hips and thighs was just a beginning, he continued to be glued to your womanhood and you grabbed his hair and gasp, you had never felt that before. they way he stayed in a comfortable pace but also made sure you always felt pleasure, your back arched when he had started a faster pace and you started to feel your legs tremble and as you moaned out your body felt electric, this release was the thing you needed, he still touched you as you were calming down from your high and looked at you with glimmer in his eyes as you gasped and panted.

When he was finished with you, he climbed on top of you and started to kiss you passionately, the wetness from your womanhood still on his lips while he cupped your behind.

The two of you laid there together for a long while, he continued to kiss your shoulders and grasp your behind as you started drawing shapes on his chest, he didn’t leave you, he stayed with you.

“Princess.” Cregan says.

“It is Y/n, my name is Y/n.” you correct him.

“Y/n, I hope this did not scare you.” he asks.

“I’ll admit I was scared but when you touched me, something in me fired up, something I've been wanting to experience for some time. I thank you, my lord.” you say.

“My name is Cregan, you will call me Cregan.” he then says as he grabs your waist and rolls you under him as you laugh. You start kissing each other again and when sleep finally reaches you he leaves, making sure not to make a sound.

-

You wake up to the sound of ravens crying out, you call for Mariah and she gets you ready, helping you with your hair and riding attire. You thank her for the help and give her a bag of coins for her service which she accepts gleefully and runs off.

As you make your way to the courtyard to formally leave Winterfell you notice everyone looking at you, with a confused expression and also sadness. Your heart begins to race when you start thinking about what happened last night, did someone see you? or hear you with Cregan? Did Cregan himself tell someone? Your reputation will be ruined if word reaches the Queen.

You get to the courtyard and see the great host that has come to say goodbye to you. Cregan stands in the middle with a letter in his hands and looks at you, his eyes are glistening and looking at you with sorrowful eyes.

“My lord, is everything well?” you ask him.

He takes your hand and walks away from the crowd leading you to a secluded place and gives you the letter he was holding. It had the sigil of House Targaryen, likely from Dragonstone. He hands you the letter and gives you some space. As you read the letter, sadness overcomes you but also rage and guilt. In the letter that was signed by your mother, was the news on the death of your brother Lucerys, he had been slaughtered by your uncle Aemond when they met each other at Storm's End.

Your sweet younger brother was dead, he died alone with only his dragon who did not survive. They clashed into the sea and the red cape he wore tangled into his dragon's wing. Your mother had found it while searching for your brother.

You stared at the paper while tears began to run down your cheeks and you quietly walked away and then you broke down and hit the cold ground beneath you, clutching the letter and screaming cries of anguish and in the moment a loud roar was heard that shook the earth, Cregan flinched but you sat still letting cries and scream escape your body.

You stayed there for a while until Cregan came to you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“The Queen requested you to return to Dragonstone at once princess, she will be wanting you back no doubt.” he said.

“The first thing Luke said to me after I claimed Vermithor was that I was now the rider of the second largest dragon in the world, almost the same size, I do wonder what would have happened if I went to Storm's End in place of Luke, I could’ve matched with Vhagars size and ferociousness.” you tell him in between sobs as you sit motionless.

“You cannot blame yourself.” Cregan says.

“I know I should not but I cannot help myself.” you cry out.

A thunderous roar came from above as Vermithor landed before you, walking towards you and shaking his entire body.

“Gather your army and march to Harrenhal, when the time is right you and I will lay waste to the Greens army.” you tell him as you take his hand.

“Winter will be coming for them, I swear this.”He places his lips on your hand and bows and walks away, he senses Vermithor getting himself ready to take flight and he backs away, allowing himself to be alone with your dragon.

“Gūrogon issa lenton.” you tell Vermithor, as you mount him, the tears on your face freezing as you go higher and higher, sadness quickly becomes rage as you think about Luke. The Greens will never know peace again. (take me home)

-

this is only part one! i am thinking of turning it into a series but we will see. hope you guys enjoyed!

[wholoveseggs]

Runaway

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen x TargaryenSister!Reader} As the rebellious younger sister of Daemon and King Viserys. You come with all of their impulses, stubbornness, and recklessness. But that isn't always a good thing, especially when it comes to sneaking out of the Red Keep. Fortunately, Daemon is always there to retrieve you and bring you home.

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, classic Targcest, lots of banter / sexual tension, Daemon being Daemon, drunk sex, hair pulling, fingering && valyrian dirty talk...

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke

@deamonloverrrr @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonsleep

"Another!"

You hiccuped as you slammed your empty tankard down onto the table. The bar wench giggled at your antics before turning to the bartender. "A strong brew for the princess!"

The bartender grunted in agreement, already beginning to mix the drinks. You hummed in delight as you looked around the tavern. It was packed with people from all walks of life. Drinking, laughing, and dancing to their heart's content. A few handsome knights were already throwing you flirtatious glances.

It was the same almost every night you came to this tavern. You could only assume it was because of your status. Your looks also helped a bit. Being a Targaryen and a princess was a dangerous combination, but it did come with its perks.

The bartender placed your tankard in front of you, and you wasted no time gulping down the strong ale. It tasted awful, but the effects were well worth the horrid taste. You could feel the alcohol working its way through your system.

Just the way you liked it.

You giggled as a knight leaned into your side. He smelled of sweat and horse shit, but he had a nice smile. You could barely make out the words he was saying to you, but you found yourself nodding along anyway. You didn't know what his intentions were, but you didn't care. All you wanted to do was forget. Forget the pressure, the responsibilities, the expectations. You hated all of it.

Your family was never good at hiding their disappointment in you. The way they always scolded and punished you. How they constantly talked about what a failure you were. It made you want to scream. But this knight was a welcome distraction, the kind to worship the ground you walked on, not judge you for every little thing.

You smiled drunkenly up at him, running your hand along his bicep. The knight's face broke out into a large grin.

Suddenly, the doors to the tavern were kicked open. You groaned, you didn't have to bother looking, knowing exactly who had entered. Sure enough, the knight's expression dropped as your older brother stood there with a furious look on his face.

"Leave," Daemon commanded. His purple eyes narrowed as he glared at the man. "I need to have a word with my sister."

The knight quickly disappeared, leaving you alone with your brother. You rolled your eyes at his behavior. "Must you always scare away my friends?"

Daemon scoffed. "They are hardly friends. More like vultures," he hissed. "I'm here to take you home."

"And I refuse," you replied, already making your way back to the bar. Daemon grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him. You yelped as you crashed into his chest. You were about to protest until he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"I'll drag you home kicking and screaming if I have to," he said, his voice low and his warm breath fanning against your cheek. "And I don't think you want me to do that."

"You wouldn't," you replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned wickedly. "Are you sure?"

You knew your brother was stubborn and would do whatever it took to get his way. If he really wanted to, he would throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of the tavern. And knowing the reputation he had, no one would bat an eye.

"What would the king say if he knew where you were?" Daemon asked, his nose skimming the side of your face. "Out in the middle of the city. Drinking. Flirting with commoners. Do you really want our brother to know about this?"

You knew how Viserys felt about you. He was protective of his younger siblings, going on and on about what's best for you. He wanted to see you married off to some high lord and have children. But you weren't ready for any of that.

"The king," you mocked, rolling your eyes once more. "Viserys couldn't give two shits about what I do. As long as it doesn't interfere with his duties "

Daemon smirked. "You don't think this looks bad on him?" he whispered into your ear. You felt your knees go weak. "Always running away. Causing trouble and giving our guards the slip. I wonder what punishment you deserve."

You shivered, feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. Daemon was always such a tease, and you absolutely loved it.

"If you won't come willingly," Daemon began. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"That's only if you can catch me,” you giggled as you slipped from his grasp.

Your laughter rang through the tavern as you dashed toward the exit. Daemon followed, a wicked grin plastered on his handsome face. You reached the door and threw it open. Running out into the streets, you were met with the chilly night air.

You didn't look back, knowing that your brother would be hot on your heels. The thrill of him chasing you sent a spark of excitement throughout your body. Your blood rushed through your veins as you ran. Your laughter and his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the city.

You made a sharp turn and hid behind a nearby building. Thinking about how the night would end, hopefully with the both of you naked in bed. The thought made you shudder in anticipation. You wanted nothing more than to be his, but you knew he would never let that happen.

He was so gentle with you, it was infuriating. He even rejected a betrothal between the two of you, never explaining why. But now, it seemed that all of his careful control was slowly slipping away. You just hoped that he would continue to let it fall.

You leaned against the wall and listened as his footsteps came closer and closer. "You can't hide from me, little one," Daemon called out.

He turned the corner and spotted you. His grin widened as he made his way towards you. "Gotcha."

He had you pinned against the wall, his body pressed flush against yours. His breath was hot on your face as he leaned down.

"You should be more careful, what if it wasn't me?"

"Oh? Would you have let someone else catch me?"

His fingers curled around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "No. I wouldn't let anyone else have you," he growled, his violet eyes darkening.

"Then why do you refuse to marry me? I would be yours and yours alone." You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Because you deserve better."

You rolled your eyes at his response. It was always the same. The same bullshit answer. You were sick and tired of hearing it.

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing him away from you. "Fuck this," you muttered under your breath, you began to storm away from him.

He was quick to grab you by the waist, pulling you back to him. His chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled. "You can be mad at me, back inside the red keep," he whispered against your ear.

Before you could reply, he lifted you up, and slung you over his shoulder.

"Let me go!" You shouted as you tried to wiggle free.

"Not a chance, sweet sister,"

The guards were used to this by now, the sight of Daemon carrying his sister back into the red keep. They paid no attention to the commotion as the two of you passed. Some were even smirking at the scene, while others just shook their heads in amusement.

You had continued to fight against him as he carried you through the halls. He didn't seem fazed by your actions. Not once did his grip on you falter.

He kicked open the doors of your chambers and shut them with his foot. The loud slam made you flinch. Daemon was never one to be subtle. He walked over to your bed and tossed you onto it.

You immediately reached for him, your hands grabbing at his tunic. He chuckled as he pushed you away. "You're drunk."

"So?" you huffed.

Daemon shook his head. "You need to rest."

"No!" you whined, reaching for him again.

Daemon sighed, and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, "You're acting like a child," he chided.

"I don't care," you replied, kicking your legs in protest.

"Why must you always run off and cause trouble?"

"Why must you always try and stop me?" You spat back, glaring at him.

Daemon frowned, and leaned closer. "Because I worry about you."

You looked away, not wanting him to see the effect his words had on you. He let go of your wrists, and you pulled him close again, so that his lips were barely brushing against yours.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I... I just wish to see the world, to experience everything it has to offer," you continued, your voice cracking. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life locked away in the Red Keep."

Daemon's expression softened, his hands moving down to cup your cheeks. "You don't have to live like that," he whispered. "I'll take you anywhere you want, show you anything you desire. As long as you're safe."

"Anything?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, he always knew what you were thinking. "Within reason," he added.

You grinned, and pulled him down for a kiss. It was sweet, and slow. His lips were warm and soft, just the way you imagined they would be. You savored the taste of him, committing it to memory.  You felt him smile against your mouth, and you knew that he had been thinking the same thing. When you pulled away, you were out of breath, your lips plump and red from the kiss.

Daemon brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. "What do you want?"

"Nyke jaelagon ao {I want you}" you replied. "Mērī ao {Only you}"

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But all he found was the love and adoration you had for him. He kissed you, this time harder and more urgent.

You reached up and began to undo the laces of his tunic, quickly pulling it off of him. You then went to work on his breeches, desperate to see all of him. He broke the kiss, his hands moving to your hips, stilling your movements.

"Paez ilagon, dōna mandia {Slow down, sweet sister}" he purred, his accent thick with lust.

You pouted, and he smirked at your reaction as he slowly pulled at the ribbons on the front of your dress. His fingers trailed along your exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Once your dress was open, he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, taking a nipple between his lips, and gently sucked.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his silver hair. The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced. You felt like your whole body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure.

He moved his mouth to your other breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, before giving it a soft bite. You yelped in surprise, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations causing another moan to escape your lips.

Daemon leaned back, pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling suddenly shy. His hands moved to your waist, squeezing gently, slowly pulling your dress up over your head.

You bit your lip, trying not to squirm under his gaze. He had never seen you completely bare before, and the feeling was almost too much. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, hiding from his stare.

He hummed in amusement, his fingers tracing along the curve of your spine. The feeling of his bare skin against yours made your heart race. You pressed closer, needing to feel him.

"Lyka? {Shy?}" He teased, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded, feeling the blush spread across your cheeks.

"Issa sȳz hāedar {My good girl}" he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, his fingertips brushing against your warm center. You gasped at the sudden contact, your hips instinctively moving towards his hand. He grinned, finding a spot that made your toes curl.

He began to rub small circles over the sensitive nub. You clung to his shoulders, your eyes locked with his. He watched as your breathing became ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut.

"D-Daemon," you whimpered, your legs trembling.

He smiled, pressing his middle finger against your entrance. You let out a soft cry, your nails digging into his skin. He slowly eased his finger inside of you, watching the way your lips parted.

He began to move his finger, pushing it in and out of you. Your head fell back, and your hips rocked in rhythm with his movements. His name left your lips over and over again, your voice growing louder each time.

"Gaomagon ao jaelagon syt se tolie naejot rȳbagon? {Do you wish for the guards to hear?}" He asked, his lips ghosting across your jaw.

You bit your lip, nodding your head. He chuckled, his hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm, making your entire body tremble. You could feel the tension building inside of you, the pressure rising.

He watched you closely, his eyes filled with hunger before capturing your lips with his own. The kiss was deep, and passionate, making your head spin. He broke the kiss, his fingers curling within you, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Your body arched, clenching around his fingers. Your eyes closed as you rode out the high. Your chest was heaving, and your cheeks flushed.

Daemon withdrew his hand, bringing his wet finger to his lips. His eyes darkened as he licked it clean, humming in satisfaction.

You grabbed his hand, pulling it away from his mouth in shock. "Ȳdra daor gaomagon bona {Don't do that}," you hissed, embarrassed by his actions.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk, then he pushed you onto the bed. Your back was against the soft furs, and his body pressed against yours. His cock was hard against your stomach, and you could feel his hot breath against your skin.

He leaned down, kissing along your collarbone. He sucked gently, leaving little marks along your skin.

You felt his hand slide under your hips, pulling them upwards, spreading your legs. He settled between them, his cock resting against your entrance, looking down at you. His eyes were filled with love and lust, and he gazed at you with such intensity, it made your heart skip a beat.

You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. He always made you feel so safe, and protected. It was a feeling you never wanted to lose.

"Daemon," you whispered.

"Kessa {Yes}?"

"Sagon gentle lēda nyke {Be gentle with me}"

He smiled, his hand running along the side of your face. "Always," he replied, his voice soft.

You held onto him tightly, your fingers digging into his skin. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and slowly entered you. Your body tensed, and a soft whimper escaped from your lips.

"I-it's okay," you breathed, trying to reassure him.

Daemon nodded, his hips rolling, easing himself further inside of you. The pain was soon replaced with pleasure, and your muscles relaxed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you.

He moaned, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed. His hips began to move, setting a slow, gentle rhythm, holding you close.

His lips found yours once more, and he kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping past your parted lips. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growled, and his pace increased, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

Your eyes met his, his expression full of desire, and something else, something more. He held your gaze, his fingers intertwined with yours, pinning your hands next to your head. You felt yourself getting close, the pressure building within you, then your whole body tensed as you reached your peak.

Your hips rose to meet his, meeting his every movement and your name tumbled from his lips, a broken moan leaving him. His grip tightened, his head falling forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a low groan, his hips bucking, his body shuddering, and you felt him fill you with his seed.

His thrusts slowed, and he pulled out of you, panting heavily. He collapsed next to you and you rolled onto your side, snuggling into his chest, a lazy smile spreading across your face.

You sighed happily, basking in the afterglow, and the warmth of his body. His arm wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you closer, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Viserys will kill us if he finds out," Daemon murmured, his voice muffled by your hair.

"Let him," you giggled.

He chuckled, and his arm tightened around you, holding you close. "I'm serious," he replied, his tone softening. "He'll have both our heads."

You shrugged, nuzzling his neck. "Then we better marry before he does."

Daemon laughed, his chest rumbling against yours. "I guess I have no choice, do I?"

"No," you replied, looking up at him. "Not really," you teased.

He smiled, and placed a kiss on your nose. "Alright, then," he whispered.

You kissed him deeply, and pulled away, grinning from ear to ear. The thought of being his wife filled you with excitement. You had never loved anyone as much as you loved Daemon. You would never have to seek out adventure, or trouble. You had everything you needed right here.

[quaithe-seastar]

His Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aegon are trapped in an arranged marriage, but you've both done your best to deal with it. Aegon admits to you that he has his doubts about being king. You do your best to offer him comfort despite having your reservations.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), Slight angst, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity

A/n: No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

You groan, fluffing your pillow as you turn onto your side. Your eyes beg you to go back to sleep, but your mind seems intent on keeping you awake. You slide a hand over to the left side of the bed. The sheets where Aegon rested had grown cold. You frowned, longing for his warmth. He had been here when you went to sleep, just as he has been every night for the past week.

Since becoming king, Aegon has been different. He is taking a more active and involved role, not just as king but also as a husband and father. 

A great wave of weariness washes over you, taking your energy along with it. It leaves nothing but a sting of melancholy and humiliation in its wake. Perhaps you were a fool to think Aegon had changed. Had he slipped back into his old ways so soon? Where was he now, you wondered. In some brothel on the street of silk or in some filthy flea-bottom rat pit? You shake your head, trying to stop being so pessimistic.

Slowly, you got out of bed and pulled your robe over your nightgown. You pull your hair to the side as you slide on a pair of slippers. The castle was quiet and dark, though that was no surprise considering how late it was. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the chill in the air. Maester Orwyle believed the summer was finally coming to an end.

Your eyes wander around, lazily observing the same walls you have seen a thousand times before. Your mind turns back to your husband. The marriage had been arranged by your father and the late King Viserys. Your mother had wished you to marry the Lord of Seagard, Lord Jorah Mallister, but your father refused. What is a lord compared to a prince, he said.

Neither you nor Aegon had been happy about it. But somehow, you managed to coexist; you had little choice otherwise. Over the years, you had found yourself growing quite fond of him. He was charismatic and very easy on the eyes without even trying. Though you were unsure if he shared your feelings, it was so hard to tell. He was always off doing whatever he did with his spare time.

The sound of clinking metal echoed in the air. Your eyes land upon an alert Ser Arryk. Though the tense knight relaxed when he realized it was you. He removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and bowed his head.

“Your grace.”

“Ser Arryk,” you greet him courteously.

 “Is he alone?” You asked, gesturing towards the giant closed doors that concealed the throne room. 

You could see how the king guard tensed up again; a look of pity flickered in his eyes. It was a look you had grown accustomed to over the years. Your husband's indiscretions were well known throughout the city.

Ser Arryk nodded, “Yes, your grace.”

You take a step forward, and the knight quickly takes the hint. He pushed open one of the doors just enough for you to slip past it before pulling it closed again. The room was so quiet. Even the soft thuds your feet made against the stone floor echoed. The walk to the throne felt like it stretched on for hours. 

You could see Aegon in the distance. His silver-gold hair contrasted beautifully against the grim, gray walls of the throne room. The man stands at the foot of the steps, dressed down in his nightwear.

The iron throne was said to be made of the thousand swords of the conqueror’s enemies. Regardless of whether that was true, the throne was certainly a ghastly thing to look at.

The iron throne casts a large shadow that stops at the bottom of the steps, right at Aegon’s feet, threatening to engulf him.

“You disappeared. I was worried something had happened,” you said, breaking the silence in the room.

Aegon turned his head to look at you. He had a startled look on his face. Had he not heard you coming?

”I apologize, my queen. I did not wish to disturb you with my restlessness.” 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your robe. The title of queen was something you hadn’t entirely warmed up to yet. In truth, you weren’t sure what you thought of all of this. 

“I wouldn’t have minded. It’s better than waking up alone.”

A look of hurt and guilt washed over his face. You quickly came to regret your words.

“I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything,” you added nervously. “I shall leave you be.”

You quickly turn to leave, but before you can take a step, a voice calls out, “Don’t go!”

The urgency and desperation in his tone make you freeze. You crane your neck to look back at him. His dark eyes are wide and glossy.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat. “I would enjoy your company.”

You remain frozen, at a loss for words. He had never actively sought your company before. Aegon’s cheeks grow red, and he quickly adds, “Though you’re free to go if you wish.”

He quickly turns back around, facing the throne. You stare at the back of his head, your eyes following the waves of his hair. It had grown out quite a bit. That was also something you were not used to. He usually preferred to keep it short.

The soft thuds of your slippers hitting the ground echo in the air once more. You slowly move to stand by his side.

“Do you think I can do it?” He asked suddenly.

Aegon’s voice wavers as the question leaves his lips. You turn your head to look at him. His body is tense, and he keeps his eyes forward, not looking at you.

In a way, he reminds you of a child, your child, your sweet little Jaehaerys. He is your husband's heir now. One day, he will stand in this very spot. You wonder if he will have the same doubts.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the throne. You had wondered the same thing many times before. A deep, weary sigh escaped from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see him wince at your words. 

“I do not wish to lie to you, husband. I cannot say for certain if you will be a good king. But I do believe,” you take his hand into yours. “that you have a kind heart. And if you try, really try , you may surprise us all.”

He offers your hand a little squeeze. “I want to try. I just- I don’t know how. My father never prepared me for this.”

“No one prepared him either, yet he found his path. In time, you will too.”

An uneasy smile stretched across his lips. He shook his head slightly before lowering it. His eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Hey,” you coax as you move to stand before him. 

Your free hand gently cups his face, urging him to look up at you. His eyes are vast and glossier than you’ve ever seen them. You can see the slight tremble in his bottom lip. He leans into the warmth of your palm. You run your thumb up and down his cheekbone. 

“You are not alone in this, Aegon. You have your small council and your grandfather, who has advised two kings bef-”

“And you?” He queried.

Aegon’s violet eyes shift back and forth between your eyes as if he were searching for something. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “You have me.”

His hands rest on your hips, pulling you closer. Soon, your chest is pressed against his. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You catch a whiff of the sweet arbor red that lingers on his tongue. Aegon lowers his head, nudging his nose against yours. Your lips just barely graze each other. 

A heat climbed up your face, making it feel like your skin was on fire. Unable to handle the growing need in your stomach, you lift yourself onto your toes, pressing your lips to his. Aegon responds immediately, moving his soft lips against yours.

This kiss was different. Different from the chaste kiss you shared on your wedding day or the sloppy drunk kisses you shared during the few times he joined you in your marital bed. 

Aegon kissed you with a desperation and hunger that you had never experienced before. Your arms wound around his neck, needing him even closer to you if possible. You let him lead you through the kiss, primarily due to your lack of experience but also because you find yourself becoming lightheaded. 

You feel dizzy like the world is spinning. You're running out of breath, lungs burning from the lack of air, but no part of you wants to stop this.

Aegon takes the initiative to pull away first. A pathetic whine passes through your lips. You lean forward, eager to feel his lips on yours again, but he doesn’t let you. He grabs your arms, pulling them away from his neck.

“Come with me,” he said, taking one of your hands into his.

You struggled to keep up with him as he pulled you behind him. Your feet sluggishly climbed up the stairs to the iron throne.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you reached the top.

“Take a seat,” he replied, not answering your question.

You eyed him suspiciously, unsure of what he was planning to do. Your eyes scanned the empty throne room, ensuring no one was watching you. A devilish smile rested on his lips as he gestured towards the throne. You hold onto his hand as you lower yourself onto the throne made of swords. 

Your body is tense, and you struggle not to let the fear of being pricked overwhelm you.

“How does it feel?”

You struggle to come up with an answer. You were frightened, but you could not deny the sense of power and strength that filled your chest. Suddenly, you could understand why so many people lusted after the throne.

“It’s ... nice.”

Aegon lets out a hearty laugh, and you turn your head away, mortified.

“My sweet little wife,” he mused, leaning down to kiss your head.

You stay silent, reeling with embarrassment. You close your eyes, wishing this was all a dream and that you would soon be back in the comfort of your own bed.

Warm hands slipping under your nightgown make you gasp. Your head snaps forward to find your husband kneeling before you. Aegon’s warm hands rest on your calves. You squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can.

“What are you doing?!” You whispered harshly, taken aback by his audaciousness.

His eyes flickered up towards yours, staring at you. “I want to try something.”

The gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?” You asked, though you believe you have some understanding of what he means.

Some of the more... bolder ladies at court loved to gossip and share stories of their late-night trysts with their husbands and paramours. You have heard a few stories about men who enjoy... feasting on their lovers. It was something you had never heard of before, let alone experienced. A part of you wondered if it was even true.

You had thought of asking Aegon about it, as he was quite... familiar with the ways of lovemaking, but you could not bring yourself to repeat what you had heard.

“Trust me,” he said, a grin reaching his lips. “I believe you will enjoy it.”

You stare at him, taking a deep breath before nodding. His warm hands slid up high, caressing your knees as he pushed them apart. You gasped, knees immediately trying to clamp shut to preserve some of your dignity. But Aegon doesn’t let you. 

He keeps a firm grip on your knees, keeping you spread open for him. Your nightgown is hitched up above your knees. The cold night air makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The heat that was climbing up your face earlier spreads throughout your entire body. You want to close your eyes and turn away, but you cannot bring yourself to look away from him.

His eyes no longer stare into yours. Instead, his violet eyes remained focused between your legs. He glides his hands up your thighs, inching your dress higher until, finally, your cunt is exposed. But he doesn’t touch it. Instead, he moves his palms down, rubbing circles on your outer thighs.

The way Aegon touches you now differs from his usual impatient and rough approach. His hands seem almost reverent as they fondle your soft, plush thighs.

“Aegon,” you gasped as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to your right inner thigh. 

His hair fell forward, covering his face, but you believed you could feel him smirking against your skin. Suddenly, you felt him nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh. A sharp cry leaves your lips.

“‘m sorry,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed the bite.

His lips move up higher to the crook of your thigh. Your mouth hung slightly open, and a shaky breath passed through your lips. Being naked and exposed to him was nothing new, but having him so close like this was. Having his eyes and lips so close to your most intimate area was very new.

“Can you open them a bit more?” He asked, looking up at you.

You swiped your tongue across your lips before nodding. You were finally able to shut your eyes as you spread your legs wider, hoping it was enough.

“You’re perfect,” he said in awe.

A hot wetness glides over your aching cunt, making your entire body jolt. You let out a noise that is somewhere between a gasp and a cry as you try to draw your legs closed, but you're unable to, not with Aegon nestled between your thighs. His shoulders keep you spread open for his view and pleasure.

Aegon’s tongue was delivering the most exquisite pleasure you had ever experienced. He lapped up and down your folds, savoring your taste, before caressing your clit, alternating movements from up and down and side to side.

You look down, finding him peering up at you. His violet eyes locked onto you, watching your every expression, listening to every sound as he unraveled you beneath him. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. All the air that fills your lungs is gone in an instant.

“Aegon- mmm,” his name leaves you like a meager whine.

His tongue works ardently between your splayed thighs, feasting upon you like a man starved. You find yourself enamored by the soft, tantalizing, wet sound his mouth is producing. One of your hands reached down, entangling itself in his messy silver waves. He moans against you, and the feeling has you arching your back. 

Your eyes rolled back as the pleasure quickly began to overwhelm you. Your chest rose and fell repeatedly, your hard nipples rubbing against the fabric of your nightgown. You did not know how much more you would be able to take.

Sinful cries and whimpers echoed throughout the throne room, but you could not bring yourself to care. How could you possibly think of anything else when your husband was sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body? 

Then, he slips a finger inside of you. 

“Aegon!” You cried out, so close to reaching your peak, yet not wanting this to end.

He easily adds another. His fingers move at a torturous, methodical pace. The pads of his fingers rub against your spongy walls, favoring that spot that makes you gasp and squeal. He catches your clit between his lips, suckling on it as if it were a treat. You gripped his head, rocking into his mouth.

You could feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach. The tension was almost unbearable. The world around you seemed to blur; all your senses honed in on Aegon and the pleasure only he could give you. 

You panted out curses and his name, shuddering at the warm pleasure that filled your entire body.

A groan erupts from the back of his throat, so guttural, it makes you weak. You glanced down and found him still watching you. His dark eyes entranced you, not allowing you to look away. 

Your legs and back stiffened, your stomach tightened, and your breath halted. You clamped your eyes shut and moaned out his name as you finally reached your peak. 

You remove your hand from his hair and tap his shoulder. Thankfully he pulled away with little protest, allowing your senses to calm down as your peak reached its end. Your back is aching from sitting upright for so long. You lean back a little, hoping to find relief, but the iron throne offers none. 

You're unsure how much time passes before you can properly catch your breath again. Soft fingers interlace with yours, bringing you back to the present. You blink, trying to fight off the drowsiness that is steadily creeping up on you. Aegon is still kneeling before you, with a self-satisfying look on his face.

“I told you you’d like it.”

You let out a breathy laugh and tried to push him away. However, you lacked the strength to do so.

“Just... give me a moment. Then I shall help you.”

“Mmh,” he hummed. “That won’t be necessary, my queen.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smirked and glanced down at his lap before looking back at you. You sat up and looked down to find a dark wet spot that covered the front of his trousers. Your face heated up again, and a coy smile made its way onto your lips.

“That’s too bad,” you sigh. “I was hoping we could play some more.”

Aegon’s smirk is gone, replaced with a more serious look. “I just need a moment. Then I’ll take you right here.”

You laugh at his enthusiasm. “I’m more than willing to go again, but not here. I prefer the comfort of our bed.”

Aegon nods and quickly stands to his feet. He helps you stand and holds you close to his side as the two of you leave the throne room. 

“Your grace,” Ser Arryk bows as the two of you make it out of the room.

You gulped, mortified, realizing what the poor white cloak had just endured. 

“Ser Arryk,” Aegon smiled. “The Queen and I shall be returning to our bedchamber now.”

The knight’s eyes flickered toward you before quickly averting his gaze. It was not hard to tell that the man was flustered. You shot him an apologetic smile even though he would not look at you.

“Yes, your grace.” He replied, dutifully following behind the two of you as you returned to your bedchamber. You’ll have to convince Aegon to find some way to make it up to him.

[targaryen-dynasty]

alrightie bestie, I find the slutty sleepover a lovely idea!

with this being said, I'd love if possible the gif number eleven with aemond and if possible as kinks: breeding kink and size kink!

(I'd love canon era but I am fine with whatever you come up with)

alrightie I am off and have a spooky time!

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 2 -> GIF.

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, breeding kink, breeding, pregnancy kink, size kink, size difference, mentions of reader's appearance

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: My beloved angsty, thank you so, so much for this request! That gif is my favorite. Hope you like this!

Moments like these always made you terribly aware of how much taller, and stronger, your husband was than you, whereas that realization made you incredibly aroused. Where Aemond had you captured between his tall frame and the stone wall before, forcing you to meet his gaze by craning your neck up to look at him, you now were pinned between him and your marital bed. 

But Aemond had not always been like that. There was a time where he was hesitant to take you whenever he desired, whenever he needed you. 

In the early stages of your marriage, it almost seemed as if the young prince was intimidated by you, afraid to touch you, but perhaps he just had been incredibly embarrassed by his lack of hands-on experience with the act of bedding his partner.

He hadn’t told you about the bad experience he had when he turned three-and-ten, his older brother did to make fun of him, and your heart ached for the poor man you had married when you had heard the story. 

So, you made it your duty to show him the true sensuality of fucking, and, surprisingly, it didn’t take too long for him to relax, his confidence growing rather quickly. 

But something at supper with his family must have aroused him to the point of no return, and you partly blamed it on the slowly growing swell of his older sister’s middle.

And boy, never before had he given into his desires so easily. While he had taken you like a man starved a hundred of times before, the man that thrusted into you now came closer to a wildling that lived beyond the wall, than the dutiful second son of King Viserys Targaryen. 

Even before the door to your chambers was closed completely, Aemond‘s lips were on yours, claiming them while he herded you against the wall. His nimble fingers clawed at your gown, and, once it fell to the ground, your smallclothes, a tad too eagerly undoing the laces of your bodice and everything that lay beneath. 

You had to physically stop him from easing into you right then and there, and even when you were allowed to climb onto the bed, Aemond was very adamant to mound you as fast as possible. 

‘On your hands and knees,’ he had ordered, and when you weren’t quick enough to follow his command, he had used his hand to nudge you into the position he desired. Despite the urgency he had held in him, he was gentle, but there just was more determination in him than usual. 

You had done as he told you to, presenting him your slick womanhood while he stripped himself of his breeches and braises, not caring much if the tunic hung still from his shoulder. He had positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock dragging up and down your slick folds, until it eventually breached your core with a sigh of relief leaving his parted lips. 

‘Tonight is the night I shall put a babe in you,’ he had panted, his voice hoarse despite not really doing anything. The thought of getting pregnant had so often crossed your mind, especially when you had heard the news of Rhaenyra being pregnant with hers and Daemon’s first child, and then the second followed. And when Helaena announced her pregnancy, the longing became more and more apparent. 

And it seemed your husband felt exactly the same. 

The topic had felt too delicate for you to approach it for the longest of time, hence your lack of conversation regarding it, but the threads of your husband’s restraint had obviously snapped, and you knew it was time to give him an heir. 

When the ministrations of Aemond’s hips became too harsh, too rough, your small frame toppled forwards, landing stomach first on the bed. But his thrusts didn’t stop at that, and the dragon behind you merely moved to straddle your thighs, until eventually the weight of his body collapsed on you and hugged you like a mantle, pinning you down beneath him. 

“Gods,” you moaned, shushed by Aemond’s lips on your temple. “I can not wait to see your belly swell with my child,” he rasped into your ear to which you just whimpered. “I want everyone at court to know. I want them to look at you and know who is fucking you every night, to whom you belong.”

Your hands clawed the linen beneath your sweaty frame, and Aemond was quick to bring both of his own to put them over yours, his hand big enough to cover them whole. He interlocked his fingers with yours, grasping them mayhaps even a bit too tightly. 

“Do you like that?” he asked, keeping his lips against your skin, and you could hear his smug grin from miles away, you didn’t even have to look at him. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent clouded your every being, and even though his thrusts weren’t as fast as before anymore, they still were determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

You were not exactly frail or petite, but he was so much bigger than you that it didn’t even matter. You felt safe and blessed in his hold, fucked like a wildling, but loved with such intensity you felt like the most desired lady in the realm. 

“Y-Yes,” you whimpered beneath him, releasing one gasp after the other when his cock repeatedly brushed the spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. “I-I want… need you, husband,” you moaned, heat building inside of your belly. As you took in a deep breath, you turned your head slightly to chase his lips for a kiss, which he eagerly granted you. 

Your lips only parted to release breathy groans and whimpers, but your faces stayed close together. “Want a babe so, so much, husband,” you whimpered against his lips, “you will give me one, yes?”

At your words, you could feel his body tense with desire, his cock twitching at the thought putting a child in you. “Yes,” he panted, “as many children as you wish. Sons and daughters both, I swear.” 

One of his hands released yours to snake beneath your body, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the linen beneath had granted you at least a bit of friction, it wasn’t enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circled over the little bud, coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly was close to snapping. 

“Let me give you an heir. Put a babe in me, husband.”

It appeared that your words granted him a new-found vigor that had you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. “My seed, my heart, ‘tis all yours,'' he groaned, “you want it, wife? You want my seed?”

You could only whine at the question, and started to roll your hips against his hand and hips, creating some extra friction that not only fed your own pleasure, but his, too. You came with a cry of his name, and if you wouldn’t be lying on your stomach already, you surely would have toppled over at the force of your peak. 

As you clenched around him like a vice, with your small frame trembling beneath his, Aemond released a strangled moan, his own peak being milked out of him by your convulsing walls. 

Both your bodies moved on their own accords, rutting and rocking in rhythm to make sure that your act bore fruit. Only when Aemond felt as if there was not one drop of his seed left inside of him, he stopped his ministrations, the hand that had circled your pearl coming up to seize your hips, stilling them. 

He pressed his lips to the side of your face, his heavy, erratic breathing fanning over your flushed and sweaty skin. In that moment, you felt whole. His weight pinned you down, keeping you grounded, and the softness of his gestures comforted your tumbled mind. “Are you certain it worked?” you whispered, the matter suddenly seeming far too delicate again. 

Aemond braced himself on his hands, but was careful to stay nestled inside of you, despite his cock slowly becoming flaccid. “Only time will tell, sweet wife,” he replied, “but that does not have to stop us from trying a few more times… just to make sure.” There was a teasing edge in his voice, and when his arms wrapped around your body to take you with him as he sat back on his haunches, you knew that a long night lay ahead of you – but you didn’t mind at all. 

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

[greycloudsinwinter]

Hii, could you write a Yandere Jacaerys Velaryon with a Targaryen reader? (the reader is Viserys and Alicent's daughter)

YANDERE JACAERYS VELARYON X TARGERYAN READER

🌊 you were the second daughter to alicent Hightower born after aemond . Alicent often spoiled you since unlike your other siblings you were close to normal. Normal in being that you didn’t cause trouble or rumours.

🌊your half sister rhaenyra had brought up the discussion of your betrothal to the small council. Alicent desperately tried to keep you away from your half sister and her plain featured sons however failed to do so and as a way to repair the family you and your nephew jacaerys would wed on your sixteenth name day.

🌊jacaerys wanted a marriage full of love and trust so he tried to find out everything about you. however he didn’t know was doing this would cause him to fall into a pit of infatuation.

🌊his obsession grew quickly and just as quickly as it came the stronger it grew. He began to become possessive demanding that as his future bride you should only be around him and no others since they could taint you. He even brought it up to the council staring alicent in the eyes as he said “I would not want my future bride to be tainted by I’ll willed men and bastards” leaving alicent in a fit of rage . As she knew and everyone knew who the true bastards where in king’s landing.he was left successful so you are no longer around any others other then him and your mother…

🌊he forces you to wear red all green is burned in your wardrobe.

🌊anyone dares look at you will be fed to vermax under suspicious circumstances that they had somehow made there way to the dragon pit and went to see a dragon.( they didn’t jacaerys forced them to go down there and vermax feeling his riders feelings did as he was told ).

🌊as soon as you are married he takes you to dragon stone there you can only have his company he doesn’t allow you to have maids he says “I can’t trust them with you you far to important to me “.

🌊he wants an heir really bad so he gets to work if you can’t have a child for some reason he blames it on your mother and the greens .

🌊he does spoil you loads by giving you jewels and trin keys that you may not need but looks gorgeous.

🌊if you have a dragon he will not allow you to ride it he will only allow you to ride with him on his dragon.

🌊if for whatever reason you have to go in public he showers you in pda and I mean SHOWERS you.

🌊when the dance of dragons begins he is frustrated and the news of his brothers death just adds to it . He will be furious and throw tantrums and will say things like “your lucky little star I got you out of there when I did !” And “now can you see why I must keep you here in this room those ignorant usurpers are traitors and would’ve tainted you without a single thought… I saved you “

🌊he will guilt trip you and manipulate you with every trick in the book until your truly obedient for him don’t get me wrong though he will 100% be loyal to you and anything you wish is yours there are only two rules :

1. Stay with him

2. Don’t ever try and leave him.

🌊he is 7/10 not the worse yandere to have but definitely not the best . Overall good luck …

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

[troublesomesnitch]

Phonesex with Aemond

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Modern AU - Aemond calls you after the dinner fight, and you cheer him up in the best way you can.

Contents: some quick smut. New relationship, mentions of oral sex, p in v sex and brief anal exploration (f receiving).

Warnings: brief mention of terminal illness.

Words: 3300

Thank you @arcielee for test-reading, tidying and generally helping out with this little experimental fic!

It has been six days since Aemond kissed you goodbye and shoved his skis and his snow gear and his aluminium suitcase into the back of a taxi. Six days, and you haven't heard from him since, not a single message, and no indication that he's read yours either. Six days, and the farewell kiss was just a sterile peck on the side of your mouth, because the driver was watching, and Aemond was in a foul mood already.

You suppose the thought of two weeks with one's extended family can do that to a person. And especially when one's family is as messy as Aemond's.

They're in the tabloids sometimes, Aegon with a model on his arm, Rhaenyra spotted topless in Ibiza, Viserys leaving the hospital looking more dead than alive. Old money, and every bit the stereotype too, with their luncheons and country estates and public feuds over inheritance. And the incident, of course. But Aemond never talks about that.

The family trip is solely his father's idea. Or, his father's command, really. His final wish; that they should all spend one last Christmas together at the chalet, eating venison and going cross-country skiing and whatever else rich people do on their alpine retreats. It is all very Town & Country, so far removed from anything you know. They have a coat of arms, for fucks sake, and Aemond wears it engraved on the back of his watch; on the cufflinks that sit in a velvet box atop his dresser. For special occasions, and you'd be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind: Aemond in coat and tie and cufflinks, yourself decked out in white and his mother's antique veil. Champagne fountain and monogrammed napkins and an article in Vogue Weddings. Double spread.

But you're getting way ahead of yourself. You have only been seeing each other for about three months, and it is still very new and foreign. Terrifying as well, and your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing and Aemond's name lights up on the screen.

Six days, and it's a quarter to midnight now, so that almost makes it seven.

"Hey," he says softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No!“ you exclaim, a little too excitedly despite your efforts to sound casual. “I was just watching something. How's St. Moritz?"

"Fine," he says, but it doesn't sound at all convincing, and there's a faint sound in the background. Like a scraping noise, and you imagine that he's picking at his cuticles; at the little chips in his nails.

"Aemond," you call, somewhat alarmed by the silence. "Is everything okay?"

The scraping gets louder before it finally stops and Aemond says sort of.

There was a fight at supper, apparently. An actual fight, with punching and shoving and everything. Straight out of Real Housewives, only even more insane, and Aemond started it, because of course he did. And all because of a stupid joke his nephew made.

"Isn't he like, fourteen?" you ask, and Aemond sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that".

Jesus.

You are tempted to ask him why he would do such a thing, but you kind of already know. Because of his father, because of his sister, because of the incident. Because Viserys would rather dote on his grandsons than his own children, and because Aemond has chronic pains, and the prosthetic gets itchy, and he dented his car when he couldn't see how close that concrete pillar actually was.

And probably also because he doesn't hold his liquor very well.

"Aemond, you're a grown man," you begin, and your voice is kind and gentle, but you can almost hear how he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I understand why you'd be upse - angry, but like. He's a child."

"I know," he sighs, shuffling around with something. "I shouldn't have done it.”  

There's the click of a lighter and then a deep exhale as he blows out smoke, and it reminds you of when you first met. You used to watch Aemond all the time before you worked up the courage to talk to him. He would lean so leisurely against the wall, cigarette in hand and that haughty smirk on his lips; leather jacket, black jeans, hair artfully tousled and tied back. Tall and handsome and just so fucking cool.

"Thought you quit," you tease, and it sounds a little chiding, but it isn't meant like that.

"I did," Aemond says. "I got this one from my uncle - it would have been rude to decline.”

He is quiet then, but it's a sort of contemplative silence. Like somehow you can feel there is more.

"It pisses me off," he finally says. "This whole charade - it's exhausting.”

Yes, you think. It must be. All of his family trapped under the same roof, forced to confront so many painful memories, yet act as though none of it ever happened. Smile and laugh and play house, and all so Viserys Targaryen can pretend he was a better man. Go to his grave with the comfortable illusion that he did not create the rift that tore his family apart.

If Aemond was with you right now, you would wrap your arms around him and kiss his face and his lovely hands, but all you can do at this moment is give a weak yeah, I understand.

"It has been the most miserable week," he moans. "Although - Aegon did fall off a lift today. He's fine, it was just a T-bar. But that was fun."

You giggle. "Oh, poor Aegon.”

"It was his own fault," Aemond snorts. "He had Jägerbombs for lunch. Anyway - " he clears his throat, back to the brooding mood and somber voice. "I'm sorry I called you so late. And for not being in touch. And for... everything else.”

"It's fine," you shrug. "I don't mind. But, Aemond - " you pause, thinking of how best to word the next part, "I think you should at least consider apologising to -"

"No." he cuts in. "Absolutely not.”

There's an awkward silence then, and you worry you might have overstepped your boundaries. He is so difficult to read sometimes, so elusive. You never quite know what he needs from you, sympathy, or flattery, or reassurance, or nothing at all.

You can, however, think of a way to distract him from his brooding. And maybe sex isn't the healthiest way to cope with one's issues, but still. It is miles better than beating up family members.

You twirl a lock of hair around your finger, even though he can’t see it. "What are you doing right now? Are you alone?"

“Yes,“ he says, curious. “Why?”

"What are you wearing?"

"Same thing I always wear," he responds, but then his voice turns coy and teasing, and he asks "what are you wearing?"

You look down at your fuzzy socks, your faded shorts, the worn-out knickers underneath.

"Honestly? Not anything nice."

Aemond laughs, a real laugh this time, and then he tells you just make something up.

The first thing that comes to your mind is that dress you saw the other day. Aemond would like it. He is not into extravagant lingerie and things like that, always likes it best when you are just you. Dry patches on your lips, bruises on your legs and all. Natural. 

But he is still a man though. So, not too natural.

"I'm wearing - I'm wearing a little slip. Silk, and it's the prettiest colour. It is soft to the touch," - you run a finger up your thigh, imagining it - "and it is very short. My legs are out and everything. And my tits look so good in it.”

"They always do," Aemond says, and he sounds a little husky when he asks what is underneath?

"Those panties you liked last time. With the little bows on them?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I remember.”

"Good. Just the panties, and nothing else. And the dress is so thin - it feels like nothing when you touch it."

You lay back on top of your bed, your hand working its way down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, phone pressed to your ear. 

"I want to touch you," Aemond sighs, voice all soft and gentle. "I want to feel your body against mine.”

You blush. He is quite the romantic sometimes. Jesus, Aemond is so out of your league. You can hardly believe he'd even look in your direction, let alone kiss you and hold you and let you sleep with your head on his chest.

"Aemond" you whisper, slowly stroking your between your legs. "I'm getting all wet. All wet for you".

His breath hitches, and there's a faint oh, followed by the rustling of fabric as he palms himself over his pants. Lowering his voice and breathing touch yourself.

"I already am" you purr. "I wish it was you, though. Wish you could feel how much I want you."

Aemond says fuck, he wishes that too. You're getting him so hard. So hard just thinking about your pretty cunt.

"I'd like to suck your cock" you sigh longingly, and he immediately responds with a sharp breath that makes warmth spread in your stomach.

"Wait -" he mutters. "Hang on".

You hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and you bite your lip thinking about what he's doing. Taking his stiff cock in hand, brushing slender fingers along the shaft, running a thumb over the tip to collect the little drops that have already leaked from it. He has the prettiest cock, long and thick and veiny. Uncut, and blushing red at the tip when you slide his foreskin back. 

How you wish you could feel it in your mouth.

"Tell me how you'd do it" Aemond pleads, and there's a slight strain in his voice that suits it so well. 

"I'll start out slow," you whisper, "with just my tongue and my hand. Get your cock big and hard before I take you in my mouth. And then I'll wrap my lips around the head, and I'll press my tongue against the little slit there. And - and I’ll lick the tip of your cock until you’re begging me for more.”

He sighs, and you can hear how his hand settles into a steady rhythm, up and down over his hard cock. Filthy. 

You close your eyes and continue.

"I'd take you so deep, all the way to the back of my throat. And I would tease you - I'd be real fucking mean. I want you leaking in my mouth, all needy and desperate for me. Like, so you can barely hold it back anymore. You'd be ready to explode.”

"Don't stop - " he pants, still keeping up the stroking, pausing just briefly to spit into his hand.

"I'll edge you before I let you come. So many times, you'll be desperate for release. I want your balls so tight and heavy - all tender from how much you need to come - ”

Aemond moans, and he's stroking himself faster, tugging and tugging and filling his bedroom with damp, lewd noises. You know how he likes it; firm grip when he moves up, slack going back down, slight twist at the tip.

"And then?"

"I'd let you come in my mouth."

"No," he breathes. "I want to come inside of you.”

You give a little giggle; he always wants that. Occasionally he’ll finish all over your breasts, or in your mouth, but mostly he likes it the old fashioned way. Your bodies molded together and his cock pulsing deep inside of you. Pressing his forehead to yours or moaning into the back of neck. 

You like that too - but there are other things you might like to try as well. 

"You should come on my panties," you say coyly. "Like, inside them. And then I'd wear them all day, and just walk around with your cum between my legs.”

Aemond groans again, loudly, hoarse and strained and so fucking hot.

"You'd like that?" you tease. "I would feel it there all day. All wet and warm in my little panties. Right against my cunt."

"Fuck," he moans. "Fuck - I'd like that so much."

The sounds of his tugging get louder and faster, and you picture him laid out on his bed, cock throbbing in his hand, hips thrusting up and up into his own grip. Lone eye closed and mouth falling open. 

He lets out a soft moan, and a whine - and then the stroking abruptly stops. Close call, that one. Aemond curses, and you can hear him taking deep breaths, calming his body, halting the mounting need to ejaculate. Too soon.

“Can't wait to have you,” he mutters, and you give a quiet hum in response. 

“Please tell me how.”

He takes a slow, steadying breath.

"I want to be on top of you" he whispers, low, so no one will hear.  "Don't care if you're on your back or what, as long as you're underneath me".

"I'd be on my stomach. You can fuck me from behind".

“Yes,” he sighs. “I want to put my cock so deep inside you. I want you to feel how hard you make me. And I'll pin you down - I'll hold you in place when I take you" - his voice goes all ragged as he starts to slowly stroke his cock again - "fuck you're so beautiful when you're under me."

You mewl, and Aemond’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, and I'll fuck you slow, but hard. I want you squirming on my cock…”  he trails off, and for a moment there is only the sound of heavy breathing, his and yours. 

You had paused your own ministrations before, too focused on finding the right words, but now you begin your gentle stroking again. Underneath your knickers, fingers massaging right over your clit, so good that you let out a little whimper. 

“I love feeling you inside of me” you breathe, “I love it when you lie on top of me - ”

“Yeah?” He gasps, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah. And I love it when you touch my - ass. Oh It feels so good when you touch me like that…”

Just saying it makes you a little flustered. You would not consider yourself very prudish, but there are some things that make you feel bashful, and this is one of them, the things he does to your backside when you’re together. And Aemond knows, and maybe that makes it even more arousing for him, the filthiness of it, the taboo. 

“How” he moans, his tone urgent and so incredibly intimate. “How do you want me to touch you -”

You have to take a very deep breath before you continue - you feel so sheepish, talking about that, but you are a woman in love, so for Aemond you’ll do your best. 

“I want you to slide your hand down my back and in between my cheeks,” you whisper, blushing all over. “It makes me so wet… feels so good when you caress me there - when you brush your fingers right over my tight little hole while you’re fucking me - maybe next time I’ll let you slip one inside…“

Aemond gives a strangled groan at that, quickening his strokes and hissing oh fuck. He is so close now, you can hear it. 

“Say my name” he begs, breathing so fast and tugging frantically on his cock. All hard and swollen now, his hips thrusting up, his balls pulling tight; oh you can imagine it so easily. 

“Aemond” you whisper. “Aemond, my love” - he moans louder, strokes harder - Aemond, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel your big, hard cock - 

Aemond chokes out a sob, and you say his name one last time as he reaches his peak. 

He holds back when he comes, muffling the helpless groans and grunts that you always love so much. But you can hear his strained sighs, his ragged breaths, and the sound is only slightly distorted through the speaker. If you close your eyes it's like he's there with you, gasping right in your ear. 

Oh you can’t wait to see him again, to get to touch him, cuddle up to him at night and run your finger down the perfect angle of his nose.

"You didn't come," Aemond says, accusingly, and you hold back a chuckle because he doesn't like it when you laugh at him. But it is as amusing as it is sweet, this need of his to do everything to perfection. Like if every time he is intimate with you isn't the BEST sex of your life, then he has failed as a lover; as a man.

“I did it on purpose” you reassure. “I'm saving it for you. All for you. Only for you.”

Aemond gives a somewhat dissatisfied hum, but he is occupied with something else now, moving around and fiddling with things. Cleaning himself up, you suppose. If only you were there to do it for him, you'd lick his cum right off his skin.

There is a loud noise in the background all of a sudden, someone knocking on Aemond’s door, and he scrambles to make himself presentable and tells you to hang on. The sounds are muffled - you assume he is covering the microphone - but you can hear another man's voice, and Aemond saying yes, I'll be right down, and then just fuck off, will you when the intruder won't take a hint.

"Sorry about that," he says awkwardly. "Aegon wants to go out. I should go with him".

You giggle at the thought - it is difficult to imagine Aemond at one of those tacky aprés-ski bars, glow stick and vodka-cranberry in hand. “Sounds fun!”

"Yeah, well, my mother would want me to,” he says sullenly. "You know, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

"What's the age of consent in Switzerland?" you jest, but Aemond just gives an exasperated sigh and mutters too bloody low.

You pause, unsure of what to say next, and again there's that loaded silence until he clears his throat.

"I will tell them about you. My family - I'll tell them soon. I promise.”

You can feel heat rising in your cheeks. 

Aemond purposely keeps you far away from his family, and he’ll go to great lengths to avoid running into them when you’re together. In fact he prefers not to go out at all, and you have never questioned it or complained. He’s got you hook, line and sinker - could tell you right to your face that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and you would still be at his beck and call. 

You shrug. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell them. It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he says gravely. “You're important to me. So I should treat you as such.”

He says something else after that too, but you aren't listening, still stuck on the words you just heard. You're important to me. You're important.

It makes your heart leap with joy, and you are only pulled back to reality when Aemond calls out your name, and then sweetheart?

He doesn't call you that very often. It is always so nice when he does.

“Sorry” you blush. “I zoned out. But - I've missed you. I miss you. It's nice to hear your voice again.”

There's no way to tell, but somehow you feel like Aemond is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yours too.”

You tell him to have fun with Aegon and whatever horrid establishment they end up at, and Aemond tells you goodnight and says he'll call you as soon as he's back home. He doesn't say he misses you too, but that's okay. You know he does.

Because you're important.

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (6)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 5

- Next part: 7

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The hour was late, the Red Keep quiet as the court had retired for the night. You sat awake in your chambers, the faint light of a candle flickering beside you. The endless routine of court life had left you restless, your mind too heavy with thoughts to find sleep. You had become accustomed to the dull rhythm of politics and responsibility since your return to King’s Landing, but the weight of it all still gnawed at you.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the weariness that had settled deep in your bones. Just as you considered whether to rise and take another walk around the room, the door to your chambers creaked open without warning or announcement.

Expecting your uncle Daemon, as was often the case, you sighed inwardly, preparing yourself for another round of complaints about Otto Hightower’s growing influence or another suggestion to join him in the lower city for some ill-advised adventure. But when you turned, you were surprised to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway instead.

Her presence filled the room instantly, her usual quiet grace now tinged with something more urgent. Her violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in her gaze that was both familiar and unsettling, a mixture of affection and determination.

"I needed to see you once more today," she said softly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room.

You frowned slightly, worried by the intensity in her voice. "Rhaenyra, it’s late. If someone sees you—"

She shook her head, cutting you off as she approached. "I don’t care," she replied, her voice firm. "I spoke with Alicent."

At the mention of her friend, your frown deepened. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her to stay away from you," Rhaenyra said bluntly, her tone laced with a mixture of frustration and jealousy.You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "Rhaenyra… you and Alicent are close. You shouldn’t—"

"I know," she interrupted, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "But I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way she tries to get close to you, the way she looks at you... It drives me mad."

Her confession hit you like a blow, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, the battle between her loyalty to her friend and the possessive jealousy she couldn’t suppress. You stood, taking a step toward her, unsure of how to navigate the storm of emotions that now swirled between you.

"Rhaenyra," you began carefully, "I don’t want you getting into trouble because of this. Whatever the situation is between us, it doesn’t need to affect your friendship with Alicent."

She crossed the distance between you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I thought about it all day," she whispered, her voice softer now. "About what we talked about earlier. About us."

Your breath caught in your throat as she stepped closer, her presence overwhelming your senses. "I thought about it too," you admitted, your voice low. "But we have to be careful."

"Do we?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone challenging. "We’re Targaryens. It’s in our blood. Why should we deny what we feel?"

Before you could answer, she closed the final gap between you and, without hesitation, climbed into your lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against your neck as she leaned in, her lips finding yours with a fierce determination that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as you gave in to the emotions you had been trying to suppress. Your hands instinctively moved to her hips, holding her in place as she pressed herself against you. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips—it was intoxicating, and before you knew it, you were trailing your hands up her back, pulling her closer still.

Her lips parted under yours, and the kiss became something more—more urgent, more desperate, as if the floodgates you had feared had finally broken open. Every touch, every movement was an exploration of the complex feelings that had been building between you both for so long. You could feel her fingers tangling in your hair, her breath quickening as the kiss deepened further.

The world outside disappeared as you lost yourself in her—your sister, your blood, your equal. The lines between love, desire, and duty blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment that felt inevitable.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath. Rhaenyra’s fingers traced along your jaw, her touch gentle yet possessive. There was a softness in her eyes now, an affection that spoke of something deeper than mere attraction.

"How can we stop this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts, but when you opened them again, all you could see was her—Rhaenyra, your sister, your equal, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever could. You reached up, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, your thumb grazing her cheek.

"I don’t know if we can," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the weight of your confession. "But we have to be careful. Father would never allow it. The court, the Faith… they would try to tear us apart."

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened with defiance as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Then let them try."

The fire in her words ignited something in you, something that had been smoldering for so long but now burned brightly. You kissed her again, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

When you pulled away, you smiled down at her, your fingers tracing along her arm. "You’re dangerous, Rhaenyra."

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection. "I learned from the best."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We need to be smart about this."

"I know," she whispered, her tone more serious now. "But I can’t help what I feel. And neither can you."

You held her gaze, the weight of the truth settling between you. There was no going back now. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was the ire of the court, the disapproval of your father, or the dangers that came with your newfound connection—you both knew that this was a path you had chosen.

The atmosphere in the small council chamber was tense the next morning. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as his advisors gathered to discuss the ongoing matters of the realm. Corlys Velaryon, ever the advocate for action in the Stepstones, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the room.

“The situation in the Stepstones cannot be ignored any longer, Your Grace,” Corlys began, leaning forward in his seat. “The Free Cities are growing bolder by the day, and their pirates choke the trade routes we depend on. If we do not act soon, it will become more than a mere annoyance—it will be a full-scale war, one we are not prepared for.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his eyes weary. This had been a topic of constant debate for months now, and the pressures of dealing with the Stepstones weighed heavily on his shoulders. “I understand your concerns, Lord Corlys,” Viserys said, his voice tired but steady. “But sending men and ships to the Stepstones will require resources we cannot easily spare. And with the situation at home—”

“We cannot afford not to act,” Corlys interjected, his tone more urgent now. “The crown’s strength is being tested on multiple fronts. If we do nothing, we will be seen as weak, and those who oppose us will seize that opportunity.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the council’s concerns pressed down on him. He knew Corlys was right in many ways, but the thought of yet another conflict on the horizon was one he dreaded. Before he could respond, Tayland Lannister spoke up hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution.

“Your Grace… there’s another matter that requires your attention,” Tayland began, glancing nervously around the table before continuing. “Dorne… it seems there have been reports along the borders again. They’ve been unusually quiet since Prince Y/N returned to the capital with his dragon, but now there are whispers of movement once more. It’s… concerning.”

Viserys’s expression darkened as he turned to Tayland, the mention of Dorne stirring up memories of the years-long skirmishes his son had just returned from. “Are you suggesting,” Viserys said slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, “that my only son should be sent back to wage another campaign against Dorne? After everything he has already sacrificed?”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Tayland shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly regretting his words. “No, Your Grace, I… I only meant to say that the situation is escalating again. But I agree, it would be unwise to send Prince Y/N back into that… turmoil so soon after his return.”

Viserys’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his frustration evident. “He has just returned to us, to his family. I will not send him back to fight a war that may never truly end. There must be another solution.”

Lord Lyonel Strong, always the voice of reason, spoke up after a brief pause. “Your Grace, I understand your desire to protect your son, as do we all. But we must acknowledge the importance of securing our borders. Dorne is unpredictable, and if they sense weakness, they will strike. However, sending the prince to face them again is not a long-term solution. We cannot afford to jeopardize the king’s only male heir every time a threat arises.”

Lyonel’s words hung heavy in the air, and the other council members nodded in agreement. The stakes were high, and while Y/N had proven himself a capable warrior, his constant involvement in these dangerous conflicts was not sustainable for the future of the realm.

Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cleared his throat and added his voice to the discussion. “Lord Lyonel speaks wisely. Prince Y/N has more than proven his worth on the battlefield, but his place is here, at court, preparing to take on the responsibilities of the crown. We cannot risk his life in prolonged skirmishes. It is the duty of the crown to ensure stability for the future.”

Viserys exhaled slowly, nodding as he absorbed the council’s words. “You’re right, all of you. My son has done more than enough for the realm, and I will not send him to fight these endless battles again. We must find a way to secure our borders without sacrificing my heir.”

Corlys, though still eager for action, seemed to understand the king’s concern. He leaned back slightly, his tone more measured now. “If we do not wish to send Prince Y/N back into the fray, then we must consider strengthening our defenses along the Dornish border. More men, perhaps. More fortifications. A show of force to deter any further incursions.”

Lyonel nodded in agreement. “A strong presence on the border may be enough to keep Dorne in check, at least for the time being. It would send a message without committing the prince to another campaign.”

Viserys seemed to take comfort in that suggestion, though the weight of his decisions still sat heavily on his shoulders. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Begin preparations to reinforce our forces along the border. We will not provoke Dorne, but we will not be caught unprepared.”

The council members murmured their agreement, and the conversation turned to the practicalities of mobilizing the necessary men and resources. But as the discussion continued, Viserys’s mind remained elsewhere—on his son, on the future of the realm, and on the difficult choices that lay ahead.

After the meeting adjourned and the council members began to filter out of the room, Viserys sat in silence for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. The kingdom was constantly in a state of unrest, with threats both near and far, and though he longed for peace, it seemed ever elusive.

The days in the capital had begun to stretch into a monotonous blur of courtly duties and council meetings. You found yourself restless, confined by the expectations of your role as the king's heir. The small council had agreed to a strategy to secure the borders of Dorne and strengthen the Stepstones, but to your growing frustration, it was Daemon, not you, who was being sent to deliver the message and oversee its execution alongside Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

You had spent years on the battlefield, earning your place as a warrior and a leader, and now, to be told that you were needed in the capital rather than on the front lines gnawed at you. Duty was one thing, but to be sidelined while others carried out the work you were more than capable of handling left you feeling as though you were trapped in a gilded cage.

It was on one of those restless days that you found yourself walking through the Dragonpit, the familiar scent of dragon leather and smoke filling the air. Your feet carried you forward instinctively, until you rounded the corner and saw your uncle, Daemon, preparing for his departure. Caraxes, his blood-red dragon, loomed behind him, stretching his wings as if eager to take flight.

Daemon, as always, looked at ease, his armor gleaming under the dim light of the pit. He was speaking with a handful of his men, issuing last-minute orders before mounting his dragon. His casual confidence only seemed to stoke the fire of your frustration further.

“Off to war again, are you, Uncle?” you called, your tone sharper than you intended as you approached.

Daemon turned, a knowing smirk already forming on his lips when he saw you. “Aye, someone has to keep things interesting while you play the dutiful prince in King’s Landing,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar mix of teasing and challenge.

You frowned, coming to a stop in front of him. “I should be going with you,” you said bluntly, your hands flexing at your sides. “This strategy was mine as much as anyone's. Yet here I am, stuck in the capital while you fly off to handle things.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy the council meetings, nephew. Perhaps court life is growing on you after all.”

You shot him a glare, but Daemon only laughed, clearly enjoying your irritation. “It’s not a matter of enjoying it. I’ve fought in Dorne, I know the terrain, the people. I should be there with you.”

Daemon’s smirk faded slightly as he regarded you more seriously. “You’ve already done your duty in Dorne, Y/N. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir over another skirmish. That’s why Viserys wants you here. Someone has to keep the peace while I make sure the Stepstones don’t fall into chaos.”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to let the matter rest. “I’m not made for sitting idly by, Daemon. I should be out there, doing what I do best.”

Daemon’s expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Believe me, I know how it feels to be sidelined, to be told that you’re too valuable to risk. But you have something bigger to worry about. You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. If you fall, if something happens to you, Viserys loses everything.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Daemon cut you off with a knowing look. “I’ve fought in more wars than I care to count, and I’ve seen men die for less. But this—what you and I are dealing with now—this is about the long game. You’ll get your chance to fight again, trust me. But for now, the capital needs you. Viserys needs you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. As much as you hated to admit it, Daemon was right. Your place, as frustrating as it was, was here in King’s Landing, keeping the peace and preparing for the future. The realm needed stability, and as much as you longed to be out in the field, your father had made it clear that your role as heir took precedence.

Daemon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual cocky grin returning. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Otto while I’m gone. Can’t trust him to keep his hands clean without us watching.”

You smirked despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’d rather see me fight in council chambers than on the battlefield?”

“If you can survive a meeting with Hightower without strangling him, I’d say you’ve already won a battle,” Daemon quipped. He moved past you toward Caraxes, his dragon shifting eagerly as his rider approached.

As Daemon mounted the blood-red dragon, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew. I’ll make sure the Stepstones stay under control. You just keep things from falling apart here.”

With that, Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, the dragon’s powerful wings beating against the wind as they lifted into the sky. You watched them go, the weight of your frustration still heavy in your chest, though tempered by the reminder of your responsibility. You knew Daemon was right, but the desire to join him still burned in your veins.

As Caraxes disappeared into the clouds, you turned away, your mind already shifting back to the politics of the capital. There was no escaping the duties that awaited you, no matter how much you longed for the freedom of the battlefield. For now, the capital would be your battleground, and courtly intrigue your sword.

You could only hope it was enough to keep you sane until you could fly into battle again.

The afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden glow. The air was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, bringing with it the faint scent of roses and lavender. Rhaenyra sat on a cushioned bench beneath one of the larger trees, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were engaged in quiet conversation. Beside her, Alicent sat with her usual poise, though the tension between them was palpable despite the pleasant setting.

Since their argument a few days ago, the two friends had yet to fully resolve the unspoken rift between them. They had, for now, put their differences aside, but there was an underlying awkwardness that neither seemed eager to address directly. Rhaenyra, for her part, felt torn between her loyalty to Alicent and the possessive protectiveness she now felt toward her brother. Every time she looked at Alicent, she could feel the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, though she did her best to hide it.

Still, today, Rhaenyra felt lighter, happier. It had been a few days since her last encounter with her brother, and the memory of their shared kiss, their stolen moments of intimacy, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had missed him terribly in the years he had spent in Dorne, but now that he was back, she felt whole again—more than whole, even. There was a secret between them now, something precious and exhilarating that only they shared. It was a feeling that made her heart race and her thoughts drift to places she dared not speak aloud.

Alicent, always attuned to her friend’s moods, noticed the change in Rhaenyra almost immediately. She had observed over the past few days how Rhaenyra seemed… different. There was a lightness in her demeanor, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before. Despite their recent argument, Alicent couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You seem happier these days, Rhaenyra,” Alicent remarked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of what might have caused this change. “More at ease than you were a week ago.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her expression neutral for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I am,” she admitted, leaning back against the bench, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her gown. “It’s good to have my brother home again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Rhaenyra didn’t miss. “He has been a calming presence for all of us, I think,” Alicent said softly. “The court feels… steadier with him back.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her mind wandered to thoughts that had little to do with the politics of the court. Her happiness, her newfound sense of ease, had little to do with the stability of King’s Landing and everything to do with the intimate moments she had shared with her brother. The kiss they had stolen, the way his hands had moved over her body, the way they had whispered to each other in the quiet of the night—it filled her with a secret kind of joy that made her pulse quicken just thinking about it.

But she couldn’t tell Alicent that, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she held close to her heart, something that belonged to her and her brother alone. And yet, as she sat there in the garden, surrounded by her handmaidens and her friend, Rhaenyra felt the weight of that secret pressing down on her, urging her to protect it at all costs.

Alicent’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone soft, almost wistful. “You’ve always been so strong, Rhaenyra, but… there’s a lightness about you now that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her smile widening slightly. “Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer alone,” she replied, though her words held a double meaning that Alicent could not have understood. “It’s been… good to have him near. To be reminded of how much he means to me.”

Alicent nodded, though Rhaenyra could sense the unspoken tension between them. The argument they had about her brother still lingered in the background, and while they had put it aside for now, Rhaenyra knew that it had changed something between them. Alicent had always been loyal, always supportive, but there was no denying that her interest in [Your Name] had stoked Rhaenyra’s possessiveness.

“I spoke to my father recently,” Alicent said after a moment, her tone more subdued now. “He mentioned how important it is for your brother to find a suitable match. I imagine the court will soon begin pressuring him.”

Rhaenyra’s smile faltered slightly at that, her heart tightening at the thought of her brother being married off to some noble lady for the sake of alliances. She knew his duty as heir, just as she knew her own, but the idea of sharing him with anyone else made her blood run cold.

“I’m sure the court has its plans,” Rhaenyra replied carefully, her tone measured. “But my brother has never been one to let others decide his fate for him.”

Alicent glanced at Rhaenyra, a knowing look in her eyes. “Perhaps not. But you know as well as I do that duty often outweighs personal desires in our world. Your brother will have to marry eventually.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw slightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he will let them choose for him.”

A silence fell between them, the tension from their previous argument rearing its head once more. Alicent, ever observant, seemed to sense the shift in Rhaenyra’s mood and quickly changed the subject, offering a soft smile. “Regardless, it’s good to see you happy, Rhaenyra. You deserve it.”

Rhaenyra returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Internally, she was still reeling from the conversation, her mind racing with thoughts of her brother and the future that seemed so uncertain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had shared. And though she knew the court would try to force his hand, she was determined to protect what they had.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the handmaidens began to gather their things, preparing to leave the gardens. Rhaenyra stood, her mind still swirling with the weight of her secret and the unspoken tension between her and Alicent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother’s return had changed everything—not just for her, but for the future of the realm.

The darkness surrounded you, thick and suffocating. You knew you were dreaming, yet the world felt all too real, pulling you back to the brutal, violent past you had tried so hard to leave behind. The scent of blood and smoke filled your nostrils, the familiar roar of battle echoing in your ears.

You were back on the Dornish border, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the rocky landscape, turning the sand beneath your feet into a blinding sea of heat. But the heat wasn’t what bothered you. It was the blood, the endless blood that stained the ground, your armor, your hands.

Before you, Silverwing loomed, her massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. Her scales glimmered in the sunlight, a majestic and terrifying sight as she snarled, her jaws open wide, ready to unleash hell upon your enemies.

The clash of swords, the cries of dying men, and the acrid scent of burning flesh assaulted your senses as you gripped the reins, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been here before, so many times. Leading men into battle, commanding them, killing for the crown. But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More terrifying.

Dornish soldiers surged forward, their spears glinting in the sun, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. You shouted orders to your men, your voice hoarse from the strain of command, but your words seemed to be lost in the chaos around you. The Dornish were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, and despite the strength of your forces, you could feel the tide turning.

With a roar, Silverwing reared up, her wings beating against the air with enough force to send men stumbling backward. You felt the bond between you and your dragon pulse through your veins as you urged her forward. With a deafening screech, Silverwing descended upon the enemy, her massive jaws snapping shut around a group of Dornish soldiers.

Blood sprayed across the battlefield as Silverwing bit down, her powerful teeth tearing through armor, flesh, and bone with sickening ease. The sound of the men’s screams was lost beneath the thunderous roar of the dragonfire that erupted from her mouth, incinerating everything in its path. Soldiers who had been advancing toward you moments before were now nothing more than charred corpses, their bodies reduced to ash.

You watched, horrified, as Silverwing tore into another group of soldiers, her claws ripping them apart with savage efficiency. Blood splattered across the sand, pooling in thick, dark puddles that soaked into the earth. Limbs were torn from bodies, men reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of flesh and bone, and still, the Dornish kept coming.

The heat of the dragonfire was unbearable, searing your skin even from where you sat atop Silverwing. The stench of burning flesh filled your lungs, choking you, but there was no time to think, no time to feel anything but the cold, brutal instinct to survive. You spurred Silverwing forward, her massive body plowing through the enemy lines, scattering men like leaves in the wind.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many men Silverwing killed, no matter how many bodies littered the ground, the Dornish soldiers kept coming, their faces twisted with hatred, their eyes filled with the desire to see you dead. You felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in your chest as the enemy began to close in around you.

Suddenly, one of the Dornish soldiers broke through the chaos, his spear aimed directly at you. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn’t fast enough. The spear pierced your side, the sharp pain exploding through your body as the world spun around you. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against your skin, but you barely had time to register the pain before another soldier was upon you, his sword raised high.

Silverwing roared in fury, her massive jaws snapping shut around the soldier, crushing him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across your face as the man’s body was ripped apart in Silverwing’s teeth, his screams cut short as his skull was crushed like an eggshell.

The battlefield was a nightmare of blood, fire, and death. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies—some charred beyond recognition, others torn apart by dragonfire and claws. The ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of death. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You tried to command Silverwing, to take control of the chaos, but your voice wouldn’t come. The pain from the spear wound throbbed in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurred, the world around you spinning as you fought to stay conscious. But even through the haze of pain, you could still see the carnage—Silverwing tearing through men like they were nothing more than playthings, their bodies breaking and burning beneath her fury.

You were losing control, and you knew it. The battle was slipping away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

And then, suddenly, you were falling. The reins slipped from your fingers, your body tipping forward as the ground rushed up to meet you. You hit the sand with a bone-jarring thud, the impact driving the air from your lungs. The world went black for a moment, the sounds of the battlefield fading into nothing.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was blood—so much blood, pooling around you, soaking into the sand. Your own blood. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were trapped, helpless, watching as the battle raged on around you.

Silverwing roared somewhere in the distance, her voice filled with rage and pain. You could feel her, feel her fury, her desperation to protect you. But you were powerless to help her, powerless to stop the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the sight of Silverwing, her jaws clamped down on another group of Dornish soldiers, their bodies breaking apart like twigs beneath her crushing teeth. The blood sprayed across the battlefield, the screams of the dying filling your ears.

And then, there was nothing.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest, your body drenched in sweat. The room around you was quiet, the familiar walls of your chambers in the Red Keep reassuring you that you were no longer on the battlefield. But the images of the nightmare lingered—Silverwing’s fury, the blood, the death.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you. It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. But deep down, you knew that it was more than that. It was a memory—a memory of the horrors you had witnessed, the lives you had taken, and the toll it had taken on your soul.

No matter how far you ran from it, the blood and fire of Dorne would always haunt you.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep as you walked alongside your father through the expansive gardens of the palace. King Viserys had been spending more time with you in the past months since your return from Dorne, and today was no different. He seemed eager, almost desperate at times, to enjoy moments of quiet between the demands of his reign. 

You had always admired your father’s ability to maintain a sense of peace amidst the political storms that often raged around him. But lately, something had shifted. As the days passed, you found yourself becoming more aware of the subtle signs of wear and tear that the Iron Throne had wrought upon him.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in your father’s hand. It was barely perceptible, but you had spent enough time in his company recently to know that it wasn’t just a passing weakness. Your brows furrowed in concern, and you finally spoke up, your voice quiet but laced with worry.

“Father,” you began, glancing at his hand, “are you feeling well?”

Viserys looked at you, startled by the question at first, but then smiled in that familiar way of his, as if trying to reassure you of something he could no longer be certain of himself. He flexed his hand slightly, noticing your gaze.

“I’m fine, truly,” he said, though his tone was too quick, too eager to dismiss your concerns. “It’s nothing but an old man’s ache. The last cut I suffered from sitting the throne seemed to have gone deeper than usual… into the muscle, I think. It must have caused the tremble.”

You frowned, stopping for a moment to face him fully. “The Iron Throne should not wound the king, Father. I fear it has done more harm than you’re letting on.”

Viserys waved a hand, brushing off your concern. “The throne is sharp and unforgiving, yes, but I’ve sat upon it for years. It’s nothing more than an old man’s ailment. Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you couldn’t let go of the unease that gnawed at you. You had heard the stories, how the throne only cut those who were unworthy, how its jagged edges served as a constant reminder of the heavy price of rule. And now, seeing your father—the once strong, vibrant man who had ruled the realm with a steady hand—reduced to such a state, it made you wonder if the cost of the throne was truly worth it.

You glanced down at your father’s hand again, the faint tremor still there. Silent for a moment, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest as you considered the prospect that one day, the Iron Throne would be yours. It was a thought you had pushed aside for years, choosing instead to focus on your duties as a warrior, a protector of the realm. But now, standing here beside your father, the reality of it felt closer than ever.

“Is it worth it, Father?” you asked quietly, almost to yourself, though the question lingered in the air between you.

Viserys looked at you sharply, his expression softening after a beat as he realized the weight behind your words. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if burdened by more than just the crown. “Is it worth it…” he repeated softly, his gaze distant as he looked out at the gardens. “The Iron Throne… it is a heavy burden, my son. There is no denying that. But we don’t take the throne because it is easy, or because it is what we wish for ourselves.”

He turned to face you, his eyes tired but full of the wisdom of years spent ruling. “We take the throne because it is our duty. Our legacy. We are Targaryens, and the realm looks to us for leadership, for stability. That is worth more than the cost.”

You remained silent for a moment, pondering his words. The duty of being heir to the throne had always been something you accepted but never truly embraced. You had spent years on the battlefield, finding comfort in the clarity of combat, where there were no endless whispers of court intrigue or delicate balance of politics. But ruling… ruling was something different. It required sacrifice, constant vigilance, and endless compromise. And it required you to sit upon that cursed throne, the one that had already begun to cut into your father’s flesh.

“I understand the duty,” you said after a moment, your voice measured, “but I can’t help but feel that ruling is more than just doing what is expected of us. You’ve always been able to manage the demands of the crown, but I fear I lack your patience. I don’t know if I can find that balance.”

Viserys smiled gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re more like me than you think, Y/N, though I know you’ve never desired court life. You’ve always been happiest on the battlefield, away from the games of politics. But ruling is its own kind of battle. And, just like on the battlefield, you must find the right strategy.”

You chuckled lightly, though the weight of his words didn’t escape you. “I’ve always preferred the battlefield, where at least I know who my enemies are.”

“That’s the trick,” Viserys said, his smile widening. “In court, they may not hold swords, but the battles are just as dangerous. And the price of losing is far greater.”

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. The thought of navigating the intricacies of the court, of having to make decisions that could affect the entire realm, filled you with a sense of dread. But this was the reality of your position. One day, the crown would pass to you, whether you were ready for it or not.

Viserys seemed to sense your unease and gently changed the subject, steering the conversation away from the future you both knew was inevitable. “Have you been adjusting well since your return? I know the transition from the battlefield to the court isn’t an easy one.”

You sighed, glancing around the garden before looking back at your father. “It’s… an adjustment. I’ve managed, somehow, though it’s been difficult to find my footing. Everything here feels slower, more drawn out. There’s no sense of urgency like there is in battle.”

Viserys nodded thoughtfully. “Court life can feel stifling at times, I’ll admit. It isn’t what you imagined for yourself, I’m sure.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve accepted my place. I know what’s expected of me.”

Viserys squeezed your shoulder gently, his expression softening with affection. “I know, my son. And I also know that this is not the life you would have chosen for yourself. You’ve always been a warrior, someone who thrives in action. But a good king finds balance. He learns to fight the battles that can’t be won with a sword.”

You glanced at your father, seeing the weight of years of rule etched into his face. His words, though meant to reassure you, only served to remind you of the impossible burden that awaited you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever find that balance he spoke of—if you could ever be the ruler your father believed you could be.

As you walked together in the garden, your mind drifted back to the Iron Throne, to the cuts it had already inflicted on your father. The price of rule was steep, and as much as you tried to push the thought aside, you knew that one day, that same burden would fall upon you.

But for now, you would follow your father’s guidance, learn what you could, and prepare for the day when the realm would look to you to sit upon the throne that demanded blood as its price.

The evening was late, and the Red Keep had settled into a quiet stillness, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps from the night’s watchmen to break the silence. It was during these hours that you found your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, as had become your clandestine routine. Your secret meetings, hidden from the prying eyes of the court, were the only times you both could truly be together—free from the weight of duty and expectation.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting long shadows across the walls. You could hear the gentle rustling of the curtains as the evening breeze slipped through the cracks of the window. But none of that mattered. The moment you entered, your attention was solely on her—Rhaenyra, lying in wait on the bed, her eyes bright with the same fire that had been between you since your first kiss.

Without a word, you crossed the room and claimed her lips in a feverish kiss, your hands cradling her face as you pressed her down into the softness of the mattress. The world outside, the pressures of the throne, the burdens you carried as the heir to the realm—all of it disappeared in her presence. Here, in the dark, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Your body moved instinctively, pressing closer to hers, the thin layers of clothing between you both doing little to contain the heat of your shared desire. Rhaenyra responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, her breath coming faster with each kiss. You could feel her heart beating in time with your own, the intensity of the moment building as your hands roamed over her body.

She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with the same fierce affection and need that mirrored your own. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with the weight of truth.

You smiled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "I’m here now," you whispered back before capturing her lips once more, your kisses growing deeper, more urgent.

As you pressed her further into the bed, her hands moved down, her fingers grazing the waistband of your trousers before slipping inside. The sensation made you groan into the kiss, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She worked with practiced ease, her hand moving slowly as she freed your manhood from the confines of your clothing.

The moment her fingers wrapped around you, the world seemed to narrow to the sensation alone. Your groan deepened, your forehead resting against hers as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The heat between you both was nearly unbearable, the need to be closer, to feel her entirely, overwhelming every other thought in your mind.

"Rhaenyra," you breathed against her lips, your voice hoarse with desire.

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and kissed you again, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate work. The pressure built quickly, your body responding to her touch with an intensity you couldn’t control. Her thumb brushed against you in just the right way, and with a final shudder, you felt the release you had been so desperately chasing.

You groaned against her lips, your body trembling as you spilled yourself onto her thigh, the tension that had been building finally giving way to sweet relief. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your forehead still pressed to hers as you tried to regain your composure.

Rhaenyra smiled at you, her expression one of both satisfaction and tenderness. She brought your face back to hers for another kiss, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. Her fingers trailed through your hair as she pressed closer to you, the warmth of her body a comfort in the quiet aftermath.

You opened your eyes, your heart still racing, and kissed her forehead gently. "It’s my turn," you whispered against her skin, your voice filled with both affection and desire. "To return the favor."

Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as you began trailing kisses down her jawline, your lips brushing against her neck, lingering there as you felt the pulse of her heartbeat beneath your lips. She sighed softly, her hands gently pulling at your shoulders as you moved lower, your mouth tracing a path along her collarbone, then down her chest.

Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved further down her body, your lips brushing against her stomach, feeling the soft curve of her skin beneath your fingertips. Every touch seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from her, her body relaxing beneath you as she surrendered to the sensations you were creating.

When your kisses reached her womanhood, her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she arched slightly beneath you. You felt the heat of her, tasted the subtle sweetness of her skin, and your only thought was to please her, to give her the same release she had given you.

Rhaenyra’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continued your ministrations, her body trembling with every kiss, every touch. The sounds of her pleasure only spurred you on, the bond between you deepening with each passing second, each shared breath.

As you looked up at her, seeing the way her eyes fluttered closed in pure satisfaction, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. There was no one else in the world who could make you feel the way she did—no one else who could understand the depth of your connection. And in that moment, you knew that nothing, not even the demands of the court, could take this from you.

This was yours. She was yours. And for now, in the quiet intimacy of the night, that was all that mattered.

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing

1.03

“Jace—”

With tears in his eyes, Jacaerys quickly turns and runs in the opposite direction. What if he went straight to his mother and told her what Aegon said? Even worse, what if he told Lucerys? You go to chase after your nephew, but Aegon grabs your wrist. “Just leave it be.”

“He just heard you call his mother a whore and him a bastard. I cannot simply leave it.”

Aegon lets go of you and shrugs, “Who cares? He is a bastard.”

“His parentage is not the point; Jace is just a child.”

“I thought you were angry at our sisters.” Frustrated by your silence, Aegon tosses the empty goblet in his hand at the ground and clenches his teeth. “You can’t possibly feel bad for them?”

“Our nephews didn’t betray me; only Rhaenyra did. Those boys don’t deserve what is being said about them.” Shaking your head, you watch as Aegon puffs out his cheeks in a childlike manner. “Besides, father will be furious if she hears what you said.”

“Course he will,” he scoffs.

“Are you going to come with me to find him?”

When Aegon doesn’t answer, you start to walk away, but when he realizes you’re serious, he chases you back down the rocky path you’d walked up side by side moments before. “Your mind is like a labyrinth.”

“What?”

Sharply he says, “You’re truly a fool, sister, if you think they will ever care for you.”

“I’m already aware Rhaenyra doesn’t, but Jace and Luke—”

“Don’t either. They will grow up to be just like her.”

Your lips begin to tremble.

“Don’t look at me like that; I’m just telling you the truth. Our sister and her bastards will always come first to the realm, to our father, to each other. We have no place with them.”

A lump forms in the back of your throat; you weren’t sure if Aegon was saying this to deliberately hurt you or if his drunken thoughts had started to overspill. “Go sober up, brother, before the queen finds you.”

—

On the rocky outcrops overlooking where Lady Laena was laid to rest, you find Jacaerys sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes swollen and cheeks flushed from crying. He was watching Ser Laenor standing in the waves, mourning his sister.

You sit down beside him. “What you overheard—”

“I asked my mother if I was a bastard, and she told me I was a Targaryen.”

“She is right.” You reach for his hand. “Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon love you, Luke, and Joff very much. And that is all that matters.”

“Do you still love us?”

“Of course, I’ll always love you and your brothers. No matter what.”

—

Retiring for the night you’re left with a sour taste in your mouth. You had tried to persuade Aegon to join at supper before bed, but he insisted on spending his night drowning himself in his cups and ogling any lady he could.

Flora was behind you as you walked to the bedchamber you were staying in for the night. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, yeah, Ser Harrold and Ser Criston’s were attempting to keep quiet, but whatever irritations they had were causing their voices to become louder.

“Are you familiar with the fate of Ser Chester Mooton?”

You peek around the corner just as Ser Criston straightens up his shoulders; he looks irritated. “No, I haven't, Lord Commander.”

“He was a knight of House Mooton, a member of King Jaehaerys Kingsguard, and the sworn protector of his daughter Princess Saera Targaryen. The two were always seen by each other's sides, even during the late hours of the night. They were as thick as thieves—overly familiar. King Jaehaerys had Chester gelded and sent to the Wall. His grace, King Viserys, would do the same.”

“What are you—”

Flora, who was listening in as intently as you, slips as she leans against the wall, making a slapping sound. The two of you share a panicked look; she clears her throat. “Is there anything else you wish to do, princess, before retiring for the evening?”

Just as the question leaves her mouth, the two nights turn the corner. The older knight looks his normal self as he greets you and your lady, while Ser Criston looks slightly flustered.

“Ser Harrold, Ser Criston.”

“Princess, it’s a little late to be exploring the castle, especially without a shield,” Ser Harrold says. “Ser Criston will escort the two of you back safely.”

The walk to the bedchamber is in complete silence. You and Flora lock eyes every so often but quickly look away, afraid the knight would catch on. Different questions were reeling in your mind: had Ser Criston broken his vows? Since being in the kingsguard, the knight had only been a shield for two people. Her grace, the queen, and your elder sister, princess Rhaenyra.

Which one did he break his vows with?

—

“Will that be all, princess?”

“Yes, goodnight, Flora. I’ll see you in the morrow.”

Your lady-in-waiting nods her head, then takes leave. Although Driftmark Castle was a small, grim, and forbidding building, you found comfort in its dampness, peculiar since the blood of the dragon runs thick through your veins.

You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed while trying to settle your mind, which had been racing since your conversation with Jacaerys earlier. You knew what it was like growing up with whispers being spread about you. It was never a secret at court; your father desperately wanted a son, and his wife died giving birth to twins; he was only left with the daughter he didn’t want. And now Rhaenyra’s son’s would spend the rest of their lives being called bastards.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel the softness of the ghostly white nightgown beneath your fingers. The shade matches your dragon; ghosts pale, almost ethereal shade of white scales.

Sighing, your bare feet touch the cold stone floor as you make your way to the table in the center of the room. You sit and begin to light the candles Flora placed on the wooden surface. Quietly you speak to yourself, “Aemma Arryn, Baelon Targaryen, Laena Velaryon.” A single tear rolls down your cheek as you light the last candle, “Harwin Strong.”

You stare at the flames, watching as they move with the wind blowing through the open window.

The door to the room suddenly opens, and a member of your father's kingsguard enters. “Princess, forgive the intrusion, but there has been an incident, and the queen has requested your presence as a matter of urgency.”

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Rhaella is 18, Aemond 17

132 AC

"You are acting like a child."

His mother's words fall on deaf ears.

"It is not fair. Fat Lord Tyrell's son does not deserve her." Aemond seethes

"She is heir to Runestone, she needs to take command and have her own family, Aemond. Did you think that your father and I were going to let her flit about the castle with you? Reading books and flying off to the lake in the Kingswood to swim?" His mother asks as if the answer was plain as day.

"Bethrothe her to me. We will strengthen our bloodline." Aemond says staring at his mother

"Aegon and Heleana are strengthening the bloodline. You and Daeron will secure alliances when you are married." Alicent sighs and rubs her forehead, like he is asking an impossible feat.

"Fuck alliances," Aemond says

Alicent looks at him, and Aemond is unsure if it is a look of pity or anger.

"You will forget about her. It will take time, but you will. Happiness can be found in all places." She says, trying to assure him of his future.

"Is that what you and father have? Happiness?" He mocks

"Your father and I are friends. Something that is important in a marriage." She says

"Rhaella and I are friends!" He cries

"You can make more friends." Alicent dismisses

"I don't want more friends. I don't want some lords's daughter to be wed to. Engage me to Rhaella mother. You will not regret it." He says, determined.

"No. What's done is done. She will leave for Highgarden in a fortnight." Alicent says, "Now go, I'm sure you have training with Cole."

Aemond storms out of his mother's chamber, unwilling to accept what was occurring. Surely his father hadn't conceded to this after all Viserys spent all day in bed now riddled by milk of the poppy. His mother had to be pulling the strings behind all this.

He finds his legs taking him towards Heleana's chamber. Fuck Cole and his training, that could all wait.

He could hear Rhaella's musical laugh as he got closer. She is entertaining the twins and Maelor with some fairytales of Wrights and the brave men of the Night's Watch. He pushes the door open just enough to peek inside. Rhaella sits on the floor surrounded by his niece ad nephews who laugh when she mimics the flight of a dragon with her hands. Heleana smiles, a rarity, as she looks up from whatever bug she's holding.

How could his mother send Rhaella off? She was an integral part of their family. Even Aegon was not so bad to her. Save for his rather explicit comments when Rhaella was not listening...

He couldn't believe he was going to have to let her go. Let her fly off to Highgarden and those stupid golden roses.

"Brother." Heleana greets, spying him lurking in the hall

"Sister, Nephews, Niece." He greets as he enters and sits down on a small stool, "Rhaella."

"Aemond."

Rhaella looks up at him, her face is joyful but her eyes are sad. Perhaps she is here distracting herself with the youngest Targaryens to pretend she is not being forced to leave.

"I thought you had training with Cole." Heleana said

"I do. I'm...finding myself rather bored with him these days. All he speaks of is tourneys. I want real combat." He admits, too proud to say he missed Rhaella.

"Is it not better to not have to fight? It means the realm is at peace." Rhaella says

"I suppose so. I want the experience though." He says

Rhaella lets out a small hum and then reaches to help Maelor with his wooden blocks.

"Shall we build a tower?" She asks him

Maelor, who can't speak yet nods and smiles. He babbles what sounds like a yes and picks up a red block to hand to Rhaella.

Aemond is fully focused on Rhaella. HIs heart squeezes as he watches her laugh and help the baby build. He never wanted to share that laugh with another. Every smile she gives, every laugh, the crinkle in her eyes when she smiles, he wants it all. Rhaella is consuming every fibre of his being and he hopes it is the same for her. He has seen her eyes on him every day, how she watches closely if he rolls his sleeves up during a hot day of training. He swears he saw her even lick her lips once.

Aemond wants Rhaella. He wants to keep her with him forever. No other perfumed lord should even look in her direction as far as he is concerned. He wanted to curl up beside Rhaella the way they did when they were younger at the lake. He'd rest his head on her chest and listen to the steady beat of her heart.

Fuck. He was losing his mind.

Aemond is officially the definition of down bad. Get him a mega simp shirt or something.

Super short part. My trip is going well. Hope you enjoyed it. We are going to be going back to the main plot soon so strap in!

Next Part

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[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

I am his, and he is mine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Lord Larys.”

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

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

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

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

“History and medicine.” you replied curtly.

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

“Is it not?” he asked.

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

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

“What about you?” you asked.

“Hunting and fighting.” He replied.

“Does that not get boring after a while?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you not say you studied medicine?”

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

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

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

“What…?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Less pressure.” He joked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Already planning ahead?” Harwin teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never… inside.” you managed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” he asked.

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

“You… came.” He replied, half-asking.

“Yeah. It was wonderful.”

“Did you never?”

“No. I didn’t dare.” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Does my lady wife approve?”

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

“Another?” Harwin asked.

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

“How will it fit?” you asked.

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.” you panted, before catching yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To give up any thought of propriety and be his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So am I, my love.” He replies.

[meleys-the-red-queen]

The amount of blood-purity comments I see in HOTD discussions is honestly wild to me because it’s like. There’s legitimately people saying Rhaenyra can’t or shouldn’t be queen because she’s trying to put “bastards” in the line of succession.

1. Who. The hell. Cares. Who their actual biological father is? Why do we care? What difference does it make? Laenor, Corlys, Viserys recognized them and reaffirmed them in the line of succession MULTIPLE TIMES. No one *who is actually important to the issue* cares who the boys’ biological father is, and their claim comes from their mother, the named heir, the Queen, who can then decide who her heir is, just like Jaehaerys did, and just like Viserys did. Laenor was a gay man, they said they tried to conceive. They couldn’t. What other option was there? Laenor seemed to have no problem with Harwin helping them sire their children while he went off and enjoyed himself.

(Also, the plot to usurp Rhaenyra came long before the three Velaryon boys were born because *she was a woman.* The appearance of her three oldest boys was just another convenient excuse)

2. Would a child in modern day conceived through surrogacy or sperm donation be considered illegitimate/a bastard if one of the parents dies but still has that child in their will? Can the other family members contest it on the basis of “well they’re not blood related so they can’t inherit anything.” Nope. Because that child is recognized and legally theirs, therefore entitled to whatever the parent/family says.

[bluebellhairpin]

Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Summary: Your nervous about a certain wedding night tradition - Harwin senses it, and takes matters into his own hand's by sneaking you both away unnoticed. (aka. The Bonus Chapter That Was Promised (aka. wedding night sex w/ Harwin)).

(VERY DEINFELTY a continuation of This Part of the series linked below. The author HIGHLY recommends reading that first if you haven't already.)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, NSFW. Sexual themes/Smut (Smidge of biting. Oral + fingering - receiving. Unprotected sex. Penetrative sex. Creampie. Reader + Harwin are both switches.) Reader is fem bodied + called wife (it's Harwin's favorite nickname) + wears a dress. ✨repeated phrases ✨.

Listening to: 'Talk' by Hozier - "I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around - and I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice."

Series Masterlist || AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Your wedding feast was going quite well. 

The hall was filled with people, one’s who’d travelled with you from your home, Harwin’s family, and the rest were from the Red Keep - the royal family included. Everyone was happy. Looking out toward the crowd, you were grateful the room was so big - so many people wouldn’t have fit anywhere in your father’s house, and certainly no table big enough to sit everyone you were currently sharing with. 

Rhaenyra was one you sat with, and she kept sending you bittersweet smiles from her place beside you. Some unspoken sorrow about how your girlhood had really gone even if you had already grown out of it, and how she knew her time too was getting closer - something you knew she feared, but you yourself didn’t have too big of a problem with. Certainly not now that you’d met Harwin. 

The one thing you did have to admit to fearing - the one thing that you dreaded most because there was never any way to avoid it - was The Bedding. Oh how you loathed it. All your life you’d been taught to fight off anyone who dared touch you in a way inappropriate, and yet here you were mentally preparing for a small hoard of men to do just that. It made you want to cling to your cup of wine like a lifeline - and even then you only allowed yourself a few small sips in between whatever food you managed to stomach. 

Then, just like he did hours before at your wedding ceremony, Harwin roused you from your nerves and proved to be a helping hand. 

“You know, if we leave now we won’t be carried out later. They probably won’t even notice we’ve slipped away.” Harwin whispered. He was lent right into your personal space, but when you faced him he was looking out toward the crowd. “It certainly would save both our modesty, don’t you think?” 

For a moment all you could feel was the warmth of his finger as it hooked around your own under the table, and how he was so close that you could feel his stray curls tickling your forehead. The music and merrymaking faded away, and it was like there was no one else around except you and him. Harwin finally turned to you, wondering why you hadn’t said anything, and when he looked into your eyes you saw sincerity. 

If someone ten years from now asked you when you fell in love with your husband, right then would’ve been a good place to start. 

“Yes,” you whispered, watching as his eyes darted down to watch your mouth, “Please. Let’s go.” 

Harwin smiled, and you found yourself quite hypnotized as you watched this force of a man escort you both out of the hall without so much as anyone saying your names. From when he stood to push your chair out from the table and shield other’s view of you with his body, to skirting around the walls and out the door - he managed it all with a practiced ease while you looked upon him with lovestruck eyes. 

You had no idea how he knew what you needed and when, but he did. For that you could genuinely say you loved him already. 

Reaching the door, he cast one last look across the room. He sent a smile toward the head table - yours - and you saw Viserys tilt his cup before raising it to his lips, a quiet blessing from the father of the realm. With that you went to the hallway, and started making your way to the room you were to spend the night in. 

Harwin led you into your bedroom, and shut the door behind him, pushing the deadbolt into place.

“Now no one can come chasing after us.” he said, smirking as he started to unbutton his tunic. You honed in on the action, and took a step back - but again without a word he knew what your actions were saying. “Don’t fret, I’m not starting anything, this thing is uncomfortable. I suggest you do the same. For one, your hair - it looks lovely, but I believe you’d be more comfortable with it all undone.” 

You could physically feel your shoulders slump at his reassurance, and nodded along to his words - indeed there were a few braids that were done a little too tight, most of them actually, and just the idea of having them out was already making your knees weak. You shrugged your cloak off your shoulders, and draped it over one of the couches, then started pulling at the pins in your hair as you moved to a seat by the fire going in the room’s hearth. 

You mindlessly pulled at your hair. Soon it was half down, and all that was left was those awful tight braids. Harwin rustled behind you, and soon he sat across from you to pull at the laces of his boots. You were reaching behind your head, starting to get frustrated at yourself for being unable to decipher how it all worked. 

Huffing, your arms flopped down into your lap. You caught Harwin’s head raising as he dropped his other boot onto the floor. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as he sat back in his seat. His arms were across the arms of his chair, and it made the fabric of the small clothes across his chest stretch. 

“I can’t find where this stupid braid starts so I can get it down.” you mumbled, casting your eyes away and into the fire. You heard him let out a breathy laugh. 

“Let me help you.” Your eyes flicked over to him - checking if he was serious, and if the way he was looking at you was anything to go by, he was quite serious - before they settled back to the fire as you nodded. 

Harwin stood, rounding your chair so he was behind you, and gently gathered your hair behind your shoulders. Slowly he started silently working on your hair, softly tugging here and there. You felt a braid come loose, and he started pulling it apart. The calluses on his fingers sometimes caught. Really, the whole thing was lulling you to sleep. Your eyes slowly closed, and all you could feel was the warmth of the fire on the soles of your shoes, and Harwin’s fingers in your hair. 

A few minutes must have passed before your hair was being pushed over your shoulders again, signally that Harwin was done. Your eyes stayed closed, Harwin’s hands moved to your shoulders and down your arms. Soon after you could feel his breath on the part of your neck left exposed. His lips laid a soft kiss on your spine, so soft it made a shiver go right up into your skull and down into your hips. 

“Is there anything else I can do for my dear wife?” he asked, lips moving on your skin as he spoke. Your head rolled slightly to the side, your eyes remaining closed. Harwin’s lips moved from your back, and his nose pressed into your cheek as he moved his featherlight kisses to your jaw. 

“I doubt I can untie my shoes with this corset on.” you said quietly, eyes fluttering open as he pulled away enough to look at you. 

“Let me help you.” 

Then he was before you, kneeling as he lifted your skirts enough to expose your shoes and untie your laces just as easily as he’d done his own. Before long he was finished and your boots sat thrown to the side just like his. 

“You’ve asked two things of me so far, would you honor me and repay the favor now by helping your husband, before I ask what else you need?” Harwin said. With the way he looked, hair free of its tie, face lit warmly by the fire, and on his knees with your foot on his hip - he could ask you just about anything and you’d do it in a heartbeat. And the heat in his eyes, how he looked at you - you wanted him to ask something of you just to distract you from the warmth blooming between your legs. 

“I need to know what my wife tastes like.” he said, eyes locked on yours as he raised your leg up over your shoulder, kissing your ankle as it passed his lips. Your chest rose and fell in a deep breath. If there was any time to be bold, it was now. 

“Let me help you.” you whispered, spreading your other leg to make room. To give him permission to come closer. From the way his smile broadened, and the kiss he gave your calf - one much more purposeful than the ones that came before - you were right in being bold. 

“My wife,” he sighed, pushing himself forward. Before he could go where you thought he was going, he raised on his knees, “But before that, I need to kiss you properly. The first one we shared as husband and wife was hardly one worthy of you.” 

Your leg fell from his shoulder, but his hand stayed under your dress and on your bare thigh as his other hand came up to hold your neck much like he had earlier. When he kissed you, it was nothing like earlier. His mouth moved on yours with a purpose, tilting your head back and kissing you so deeply you saw stars. He coaxed your mouth open and swiped his tongue across yours. You found he still tasted like the wine, honey, and black pepper from dinner. It made you grab his shoulder, nails biting into the skin under his shirt. 

“That,” he said, pulling away to speak, although you felt you both were lulled into quite a daze from the kiss just shared, “Is a kiss deserving of my wife.” 

Harwin’s admission - or declaration - made you glad you were already sitting down. He seemed determined to make you swoon into his arms, and the knight before you was doing a good job of it. He barely pulled away before you followed his lips in search of another breath-taking kiss. 

“Ah,” he said, pulling away from the reach of your lips with a grin, “No, now I want what I asked for.” 

Harwin had been at it for what felt like ages. Long, blissful, ages. 

You’d been reduced to a sticky, sweaty, panting mess, with a hand clutching the arm of your chair while the other held onto Harwin’s hair so hard you were surprised he hadn’t told you to stop. Instead, when you pulled harder, he only moaned, sending ripples of pleasure right onto the most sensitive spot between your legs. He had pulled you to the edge of your seat, and hiked your dress up around your stomach as his hands held your hips down. 

There was a warmth bubbling up in your lower stomach, one aided by Harwin’s lips on your cunt and your rocking your hips into his nose. It was one you were sure you’d had a half dozen times already tonight, but who were you to keep count when it felt so good. A dozen, half dozen, half of that again - it didn’t matter, what did matter was how good it felt when one of Harwin’s hands finally moved from your hip to give you what you didn’t even realize you needed. His lips moved to your clit, and a finger slid up to your folds. He inserted a thick digit in, and that along with the sucking on your bud pushed you over the edge again. Thighs clamped around his ears, and your hand tightened in his hair - again. 

“H-harwin,” you stuttered between breaths. It was enough to have him finally pulling away, and leaning up to face you again. Now he was close, you could see the flush on his cheeks, and hear how hard he was panting too. Most notable was the mess all over his beard. “You’re all wet.” you said, a little mindless with your words as your eyes were stuck admiring his face. 

“I think we both know the reason behind that sweetheart, and it certainly isn’t the only place on me that’s soaked right now.” he finished, mumbling into your lips as he hunched over you for another kiss. You couldn’t escape the taste of you on his lips, something he craved so badly it’d almost brought you to tears. It was bitter, salty, but you weren’t the one who had to taste it. If Harwin liked it, who were you to stop him? 

He leant forward and kissed you again, not shying away from making sure you tasted everything on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, and as repayment he ground his hips into yours - making you moan again from the way his evident bulge rubbed against your most sensitive areas. Not to mention the fabric of his small clothes didn’t feel any less wet than you, and you were bare. The idea behind it made your head spin. 

“Harwin, I need you.” you whined, arching into his chest as he rutted into you again. His arm snaked around your waist to hold you flush to him. 

“My wife needs her husband. Hold onto me.” he hummed, collecting you into his arms, making sure your arms and legs had wrapped around him nicely, before standing. “Let me help you.” 

Harwin then walked you both over to the bed, all the while prying at your dress until it fell loose around your shoulders and stomach. Once he set you down on the bed, your dress was pulled away in an instant. His clothes were soon to follow, although with much less grace. He was on you after that, laying you back and pinning you down with his weight and heat. His mouth was all over your neck and around your necklace, it seemed like he was stuck in a cycle of wanting to kiss every inch of you. Your hand wove into his hair while the other moved to his lower back, urging him to press against you harder as he moved his hips into yours. 

“Please Harwin, you’re teasing me,” you said, aggressively rutting your hips up into his. You could feel him, how hot and heavy his cock was, how wet he was already - he had to have been driving you man with lust on purpose, there was no other explanation. 

“Yes, I have to admit I’m doing it on purpose,” you knew it, “I’m building my resolve. If I enter you now I won’t last.” His admission made you still, and he pulled back to look at you. Your hands remained on him, the fingers of your one hand twirling around his curls. “What?” 

“You’re that worked up?” You asked. He nodded. “Over me?” he nodded again. 

You felt something shift inside you. An overpowering feeling that comes with the realization that you, a lady from a small house in the Riverlands, has such a powerful hold over the strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. It lit a fire inside you. 

Your hands moved to Harwin’s shoulders, and you soon found your positions switched. He laid below you, curls framing his head like a halo as you sat pretty across his adonis belt. 

“Well, I could get used to this view.” Harwin said, hands sliding up your thighs to your hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there. 

“You’d better,” you said, deciding to play the bold card for the second time. You leant down until your nose brushed his, and your nipples grazed the hair on his chest. “It’s what happens when you make your wife wait too long. And yourself. So let me help you.” 

Working your hips back and forth, you rubbed your wetness all over his cock before reaching down and lining yourself up. Slowly you sunk down and let him inside you. His finger was nothing compared to this, the stretch was so much more - but the amount of times he’d made you release in his mouth had you wet enough that it didn't matter. The burn was dull, duller than you’d been prepared for, and when he finally popped all the way in you felt your eyes flutter closed at how pleasantly full you were. 

Harwin’s hands squeezing your hips had your eyes opening again. Seven Heavens, if that was what he’d look like every time you let him into your warm heat, you never wanted him to leave. His forehead glistened, and his skin glowed from the flickering candle flames. Chest rising and falling with breaths that caught in his throat. You leant back on your hands, feeling his thick thighs tensed and hard under your palms. 

“I’m not going to last,” he said, in truth you weren’t either, feeling him so completely was doing a lot to get you close to climax again, so that worked out well, “If you move it’s going to be all over for me.” 

“I’m close too,” you replied, slowly rocking your hips down into his. 

Harwin reached forward, pushing himself off the bed to sit you in his lap as his hands took control and lifted you on and off his cock. You couldn’t help the moans that came from your open mouth as he took back control, grunting into your neck in turn. Idly, for a moment your mind wandered to how nice it was that he was finding the same pleasure that you were in the exact same way. One particularly strong thrust had your arms moving around his shoulders, and at the same time one of Harwin’s hands moved between you to your clit. 

“I need to feel you come around me, I know you can,” he said, lips moving from just below your ear as he spoke into your skin, “I’ve imagined it once tonight, let me feel you for real this time.” 

That’s what did it. Imagining him thinking about you this way - this borderline behemoth of a man having been on his knees earlier as you came on his mouth, imagining it around his cock and coming untouched. You couldn’t help the way your head tilted back as you clenched around him, eyes going fuzzy as your ears seemed to dull. 

“Gods, yes.” Harwin hissed, holding you down on him as his release followed yours. 

He held you like that until both your beating hearts settled, and the ringing in your ears stopped. Once calmed, he laid back down onto the pillows, pulling you down to his chest, and kissed your forehead before bringing one of your hands off his shoulder so he could kiss your palm too. 

“Thank you.” You shifted back slightly, enough so you could look at him and he could clearly see your confused expression. “You said you’d take care of me, you did. Thank you.” he explained, leaning down to kiss your lips again once your face softened again. This kiss was much more like your very first, softer, slower. Full of love that was too new to say out loud. 

It was only broken by a grumble from your stomach. 

“I worked you that hard?” Harwin laughed as you broke the kiss. His face truly softened to one of care as he looked across at you from the pillow. “You didn’t eat much during dinner.”

“No, I wasn’t hungry then,” you mumbled, starting to sit up, “I am now.” You barely finished speaking before his hand was on your shoulder to push you back into bed. His eyes pinned you where you were as he instead moved to get out of bed. 

“Stay there.” he smiled, leaning down as if to kiss you again, “Let me help you.” 

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Eleven

Daemon x reader

Synopsis: Laenor’s funereal, politics. Alicent being a bad mom, Viserys being a idiot. Talk of Rhaenyra having more power.

Note: If you wish to be added to the taglist, comment. Greatly appreciate it.

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122 AC Driftmark

Five dragons left Bloodstone for Driftmark. Another funureal of a Velaryon. Baelon sat in front of Daemon, strapped by leather belts. Vhaenor was in Aegon's saddle and Aerion was held by you.

Vermithor the largest of the beasts flew ahead. Your youngest slept soundly strapped to your chest with cotton wraps. Occasionally involuntary moving in the swaddle.

You felt sorry for Rhaenyra, not only did she loose Harwin not long ago now her husband has perished. And what of Jace, Luke and Joffrey.

You heard the familiar screeches of Caraxes and the warmth of dragon fire, you glanced upwards to see the blood wyrm, Sunfyre and Moondancer chasing each other.

Rhaenys and Corlys looked awful, they lost all of their children in the span of four years.

Your favourite cousin looks bad clad in black, but that colour seemed to follow her. You wrapped your arms around Rhaenys, offering her your comforts.

"I am so sorry, Rhaenys, Corlys." You said taking Rhaenys's hands in yours.

"Thank you, cousin." The Queen who never was answered.

"We are glad you could make it." She forced a facade of confidence.

"It is all right, you do not need to fake being nice. You just lost your son, I would except you to scream, cry and rage."

"I have done my fair share of mourning already, Laena and now Laenor." She whispered, tears prickling her waterline.

"Whatever you need we and the Stepstones are at your disposal." You offered.

"Thank you, y/n." Corlys answered placing his palm on your shoulder, squeezing thankfully.

You returned to your family at the side of the cliffs, on the other side closer to the casket stood Rhaenyra and her three boys.

"Mama." Vhaenor tugged at your black mourning skirt.

"What is it?" You questioned leaning to his level.

"I'm sad." He muttered shyly, you smiled sadly at him. "I don't like it."

"Oh sweet boy, it is normal to feel sad sometimes. Especially when a member of your family passed. But soon you will feel better, the feeling will pass." You tried to console the two year old

"It will?" He hopefully asked.

"I'm sure of it."

Laenor's sea stone casket was being wrapped with ropes, soldiers of house Velaryon prepared to lower it into the salty sea.

You saw tears escape Rhaenya's and Laenor's children, the three boys wore teal doublets adorned with silver seahorses and black trousers. Jacaerys looked the most like his grandmother, Rhaenys with dark hair and indigo eyes.

Lucerys was most like his mother, silver-gold hair and blue eyes, while Joffrey named by Laenor was most like his father, curly dark hair with silver streaks and violet eyes but his face was entirely Laenor.

Your children with Daemon on the other hand were of typical Valyrian beauty. Baelon had silver hair and bright violet eyes, his eye and nose shape were just like Daemon's. Vhaenor was your spitting image with your red eyes and face shape.

Aerion was most like his grandmother Alyssa, Daemon said so. You never met your father's first wife but from what your brothers said, Aerion was very much like Alyssa.

You wondered what will Rhaenyra do now, her husband has perished, she has three children but she is still young. The realm will expect her to marry again. 

You took your children by their hands and walked over to where the realm’s delight was standing. You stared solemnly at Rhaenyra, you placed a hand on her cheek and brought the princess into a warm embrace. No words exchanged but that was fine, none were needed. 

The three boys standing around Rhaenyra on the other hand, looked at you with muted curiosity. 

„Jace, Luke, Joff this is your aunt Princess y/n.” Rhaenyra introduced, you kneeled next to the boys. 

„I’m sure you do not remember me, but we have met a few times before.” You said placing your palm on Jace’s rosy cheek. 

„Good morrow, princess.” Jace shyly answered. 

„You can call me aunt, Jace.” The dark haired boy nodded his head sheepishly. 

„I would like to introduce your cousins to you.” You slightly pushed Baelon and Vhaenor in front of the three Velaryons. 

The eldest of your princelings slightly bowed his head at them. 

„I’m Baelon.” He introduced himself „This is my brother Vhaenor, and the babe is Aerion.” 

„I’m Jacaerys this is Lucerys and Joffrey.” You watched as the two boys interacted. 

„How are you faring?” You questioned Rhaenyra leaving your sons to themselves. 

„It is not as hard as I thought it will be. I did love him, but it was more of a brotherly love. I’m thankful for the children we have…” She told you her thoughts and you listened intently. „I’m glad we left for Dragonstone when we did, I do not think I could have endured more of that vipers den. And Laenor, gods save him. He was a good father but not much more than that.” 

You slightly chuckled as you talked in a secluded area. 

„Do you think you’ll remarry?” You suddenly questioned. 

„I have a lover I am very close to… But I do not want to marry so soon. I wish to experience more freedom.” She answered smoothing her black gown with teal accents. 

„A lover you say?” You curiously asked, you saw as a blush spread on Rhaenyra’s pale face. 

„He is a noble man from Lys.” 

„Lys?” 

„Darys Ormollen.” She said without beating around the bush. 

„You do not mean… Aunt Saera’s son.” You remembered the name you heard in passing conversation. The heir only nodded. „How did you come to meet our cousin?” 

„It is a long story.” 

„I would love to hear it some day, and meet him. Perhaps we could even invite aunt Saera to the Stepstones.” 

„I don’t think she will accept but you can always try.” 

„It is important for our family to be together. Besides I didn’t even know she was married for a long time, Jaehaerys told me of Saera a few times but nothing of her life outside of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

The funereal procession started. The heads of house Celtigar, Massey, Darklyn and Bar Emmom were present. Corlys’s brother Aethan, delivered the eulogy. You watched with Rhaenyra your children and Daemon as Laenor’s casket was lowered into the sea. The same way Laena’s was four years ago. Baelon and Vhaenor were standing next to their cousins. Aerion was in your arms and Joffrey was in Rhaenyra’s. 

„May the winds guide into the the afterlife, nephew.” Aethan recited „For our words are the old, the true, the brave. You may not have been old, but you were true and brave.” 

You saw tears stain Jacaerys’s and Lucerys’s cheeks, your palms rested on their shoulders. With the back of your palm you wiped their tears. 

…

You watched as Viserys stumbled down the cliffs with Alicent and Otto by his side. Helaena and Aemond following after them. You approached his grace with Daemon and your children. 

„Your grace.” You bowed before your sickly brother. 

„Oh, y/n.” He wheezed „You certainly are a sight for sore eyes.” He placed his boney palm on your cheek. 

„Brother, you do not look well. Are the maesters treating you well? If you wish I can call upon my healers from Essos.” You offered putting your hand over his. 

„The maesters are taking great care of his grace. They do best they can.” Alicent butted in. 

„Perhaps their best isn’t enough.” Your husband snipped staring with wide eyes at his brother’s worsening condition. 

„Hush now husband I am sure the maesters are… healing our brother to the best of their abilities. Even if they are not enough.” 

„And your children, your highness?” Otto muttered chanting the subject „Happy news reached King’s Ladning that new dragons hatched.” 

„Yes, lord hand. Five dragons indeed hatched.” 

„And since when are you interested in dragon, Otto? I remember you said they are an abomination to your gods.” Daemon carelessly said. You tried to surpress a chuckle. Viserys through his hazines glanced disappointed at Otto. 

„Speaking of children, your graces we must return to them.” 

„And where is Aegon? He has not come greet me or his lord father.” Alicent questioned accusatory.  

„Aegon is with his cousins.” Your brother answered for you. 

„So you saddle him with taking care of babes, now?” The green Queen made a snide comment. 

„Oh not at all, your grace. He is simply offering his comforts to Baela and Rhaena. After all they just lost and uncle.” You intertwined your arm with Daemon. 

„I see.” She only muttered and the two of you left, returning to your children’s side. 

„Have you seen him? He looks like the stranger is eating him alive.” You whispered to Daemon, he nodded and squeezed you hand reassuringly. 

„The greens are ordering the maesters to be worsening his condition.” 

„We need our healers to take a look at him.” 

„And what if they don’t do anything?” 

You stayed quiet, consumed by thoughts on how to turn this situation in your favor. 

„What are you thinking of?” 

„Do you remember when our grandsire named father his hand when he was too sick to rule?” 

„You do not think..?” 

You nodded at your brother. 

„Viserys is sick, the greens control the throne. Rhaenyra is his heir, she should become her fathers regent and wear his crown.” 

The two children of Baelon the brave stared at Rhaenyra from afar. She and her children stood alone amongs the cliffs and salty sea. 

„It could work, but Otto is still hand. He will go against this, the council will side with him.” Daemon noticed, caressing your hand affectionately. 

„Then we have to think of a way to find new members of the small council, those who will be unwaveringly loyal to ’Nyra. And us of course. Still we have to get rid of Otto somehow, name a new hand.” 

„Corlys…He hates the greens as much as we do. His house is the richest in the seven kingdoms. He is old and experienced.” 

Your eyes widened surprised. 

„You would not want to be hand? I know you pestered Viserys for that position.” 

„I used to, but we would have to move to King’s Landing. I do not want to leave the Stepstones, I do not want our children to be raised there. At least on Bloodstone we are the rulers of our own lives, Baela and Rhaena are happy there and so is Aegon.” 

„You have changed.” You stated, a warm feeling spread in your insides. 

„Does my wife, enjoy it?” He teasingly questioned placing his large palms on your waist. 

„Very much so.” You smiled leaning into his warm embrace. 

„Your highness.” Annora approached the two of you with Aerion in her arms. He was fussing, you could see tears stain his chubby cheeks. „I’m sorry but he could not stop crying.” 

„It is fine, thank you.” You answered taking Aerion, he will be turning one soon.

„You coddle him.” Daemon stated taking him from your arms and into his. You could see that he started to wiggle in discomfort.

„Maybe he’s hungry.” You said feeling your sore breasts. 

„No, he is spoilt. You always hold him, you didn’t do that with Baelon or Vhaenor.” 

„It’s just… he’s so small.” 

„He’s healthy, my love. He’ll be fine without your embrace for a while.” Your husband answered keeping Aerion in his arms. 

You walked with Daemon through castle Driftmark. A dreary seat, even more than Dragonstone. Your children were taken to a spare nursery, that left you and Daemon in your temporary chambers. 

You sighed and begun to unlace the black mourning dress with silver accents. 

„Do you need help?” Daemon approached you from behind, without and answer he began to unlace the bodice and dress. 

„I need to change into something more comfortable.” You announced „This dress squeezes my breasts and I cannot take it anymore.” 

„Perhaps you are due to a visit to the tailor?” Daemon muttered sliding the fabric off your body. You raised your silver eyebrow. 

„Are you saying I’m too fat for my dresses?” 

„No, your tits are too big to fit in that dress. Although I do like to see them spill out of your cleavage. Perhaps I was wrong to mention a tailor.” Your husband teased caressing the side of your breast with his thumb. 

„I wasn’t so big after Vhaenor…” You stated staring at yourself in the mirror. 

„You aren’t big, y/n.” 

„Do you want more children?” You questioned turning to face Daemon, dressed in cotton underdress. 

„I want as many children as you will give me.” He leaned against your forehead. 

„A girl, then.” 

„A girl?” Daemon pressed a kiss to your neck, his hands roamed over your body. „As you wish, wife.” 

…

You slept comfortably tangled in Daemon’s arms, the bed was not as comfortable as the one you shared on Bloodstone. A knock stirred you out of sleep, you tried to ignore the sound but it was persistent. You groaned and wrapped your body in a silver robe and opened the door. 

„Aegon? What has happened so early?” You questioned leaning on the door frame. 

„His grace invited you and your family to break fast together.” He nervously said. 

„Now?” 

„In an hour or so.” 

„Why are you telling me this? You are not a servant.” 

„I’m… What if they order me to return with them?” You sighed at his broken heart expression, you wrapped him in your arms and caressed his messy silver gold hair. 

„I will fight to keep you with me.” You answers pressing a kiss to his temple. 

„Promise?” 

„I promise. Now go back to your chambers and dress, preferably in black it is a funeral after all.” 

He nodded and skipped off to your chambers, you sighed and pressed your hand against your forehead. It was too early for political warfare, you felt tired and a bit sore from the strenuous activities of the night before. 

You walked over to the bed where your husband laid, his naked back spread comfortably over the bed. 

„Daemon.” You nudged him, he groaned and turned away from you, you chuckled and sat on his abdomen keeping him in place. „Daemon.” You  whispered into his ear.

„hmm?” He murmured waking from sleep. 

„We are invited to break fast with our brother.” 

„How do you expect me to leave when I have you on top of me?” He cheekily said, your cheeks warmed and you felt him growing hard under you. 

„We do not have time…” You whispered. 

…

Your black dress with embroidered red dragon’s breath swayed with your movement. The long sleeves of the dress were in Baelon’s clutches as he walked next to you unsure. He did not like castle Driftmark nor did he like the sea. 

„Your highness.” Ser Erryk and Arryk Cargyll bowed as they guarded the King’s chambers. 

„Sers.” You answered and entered your brothers room with your family. 

Viserys barely lucid sat at a round table in the corner of the room, a weird smelling incense was burning in the chambers. 

You kissed his healthier cheek and took a place on his right, Daemon to his left. 

„Where is Alicent and the children?” You questioned. 

„It will be just us, my siblings.” He wheezed back, motioning for the servant to bring the food. 

„What is that smell?” Daemon asked sniffing the air. 

„Oh it is- it is an ailment the maesters prescribed.” Your brother answered breathlessly, you nodded at Daemon to put out the poison and open the windows. 

„I’m afraid it’s making the children a bit queasy, you do not mind if we open the windows?” You took Viserys’s hand in yours. He simply nodded and glanced at your eldest, Baelon. 

„And how are you, my nephew?” Viserys asked, the two boys looked at him unsure. Aerion stayed in the nursery. 

„I’m well, your grace.” The four year old answered playing with the hem of his doublet under the table. 

„There is…no need to call me your grace. I am your uncle you may adres me as such.” Your brother said, you smiled seeing the love he held for his family. „I heard you have a dragon.” 

„Yes! I call him Aegarax, he’s brave like Darren!” Baelon exclaimed happy to talk about his hatchling, simply forgetting the uneasiness he felt before. 

„You named him right, Baelon a strong name.” He turned to you. 

„Thank you, I do not remember our father but the stories grandsire told me of him makes me feel as if I did get to know him.” 

„And where is the babe?” He questioned. 

„In his nursery.” Daemon answered. 

„Viserys… do you think it well to name a regent?” You gently coaxed him into the new topic. 

„Regent? Otto is my hand, he does well in my absence.” His grace wheezed. 

„And how often does he rule in your absence. I’ve been hearing that he sits the throne every day.” Daemon a bit more harsh added. 

„My sickness keeps me abed most days, yes.” 

„Even the greatest Kings get sick or old and they need help. Their family’s help. Remember Jaehaerys? He named Baelon his hand and regent.” 

„Yes, father was an excellent hand despite his short time serving the role.” Viserys agreed. You noticed that once the incense cleared your brother seemed to get a bit better. More lucid. 

„Rhaenyra is your heir, you should let her take more responsibility. She is after all the future Queen.” 

Viserys pondered for a moment, he glanced at you then at Daemon. 

„Perhaps you are right…” He admitted. „I will have to talk with the council of this change.”

You sent a small smile in your husbands direction, he returned the gesture smugly. The Hightowers have controlled the throne far too long, as true dragons it was your duty to stop their rule.

The bigger problem however was Alicent Hightower, you couldn't dismiss a Queen as easily as a Hand. You knew Viserys never loved her, he may hold some affection for her but it couldn't compare to the feelings he held for Aemma.

"Have you thought of Aegon returning to King's Landing?" You suddenly asked, your brother raised his eyebrow. It is as if he just remembered he has a son.

"Oh yes... Aegon."

"He's turning into a man soon, brother." Daemon added.

"I suppose he is... what is the issue then?"

"Aegon doesn't want to return to the Red Keep." You stated matter of factly.

"Why wouldn't he? His siblings and mother are there." He said unaware.

"That castle is a viper's den, it is no surprise a boy of only five and ten wouldn't want to stay there. After he was raised for over a decade in a loving home."

"Alicent is his mother it is her choice in the end."

"You are the King, Viserys. I'm sure it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for you to have the last say. I'm sure Aegon would be thankful." You stated

"I..." He wheezed "Bring him." He ordered.

Aegon dressed in a black doublet and trousers, the cape on his shoulders was of a deep crimson.

"Your grace." He bowed his head slightly at his sitting father "Aunt, Uncle."

"Aegon, sit." He ordered, the boy took a seat next to his little cousins. You smiled symphatically at Aegon as he uncomfortably cowered under Viserys's gaze. "I have heard you wish to stay with your aunt and uncle, is this true?"

"...Yes, father." He nodded unsure.

"I see no reason to-" Viserys was cut off in the middle of the sentence, the doors opened and Alicent stepped in the chambers. Her dark green dress flowing after he movements.

"Husband, son. Princess y/n, Prince Daemon." She was out of breath as she acknowledged your presence.

"Alicent." Viserys wheezed "What are you doing here? I... I didn't call for you."

"I came to see my son." Aegon tensed at his mothers words.

"We have just been talking of extending his wardship." Viserys answered and in that moment you wanted to commit treason and strangle your brother for his idiocy.

"What?" She asked in disbelief.

"I wish to stay with my aunt and uncle, your grace." Aegon meekly said.

"That is out of the question. Your wardship has come to an end, there is no reason for you to stay on that rock any longer."

"Lady Mother-" He wanted to speak but Alicent silenced him with a flick of her wrist.

"And you would allow this?" She glared at Viserys "For them to take away my son from me? Again?"

"I am not taken away anywhere, I want to remain with my cousins and aunt." Aegon explained but Alicent ignored his pleas.

"Aegon..." You whispered to the boy who had tears in his eyes.

"Don't you see Viserys! She has raised my son! Poisoned him against me, and his family!"

"Alicent! Mind your tongue. My sister has done and admirable job at raising Aegon, you should be thanking her instead of spitting such vile accusations." Viserys said angrily glaring at his Hightower wife. "If it is Aegon's wish to remain in the stepsons he may do so until his eight and tenth birthday when he shall return to King's Landing."

"My King-" Alicent tried to speak.

"My decision is final, Alicent."

King Viserys's health has deteriorated over the years making him incapable of sitting the throne. He named his heir Princess Rhaenyra regent until he would be able to rule once more. Many believe that is is Princess y/n and Prince Daemon's doing for the realm delight to sit the throne. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Taglist:

@nessjo

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

❛ your fascination with me will be your death. ❜ - Jacelaena!

well i couldn't not do it

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x helaena tagaryen

rating: E

words: 3k

Helaena watched as he circled the long table, abandoning his chair at the opposite end. Though he did not possess the height of her younger brother, nor his uncle and grandsire, Jace still seemed to take up space with his mere presence. There was a surprising amount of strength in the determined set of his jaw, in the taut way he held his shoulders as he approached her, in the large hands curled into fists at his side.

She wondered, not for the first time, the sort of king he’d be if her father got his way, if her mother and grandsire’s plans for the future dissipated like smoke through a thurible. How would those curls look beneath the gold of Viserys’ crown? Would he buckle beneath the weight of all that iron that made up Aegon I’s crown? Which would he choose? Which would suit him? Would Baela wear the other?

‘They will be quite the pair,’ she could not help but acknowledge, though a flash of jealousy as hot as Dreamfyre’s flame flared through her at the notion. ‘Not like Aegon and I, bound only by duty and mother’s fears.’

Those large hands of his were no longer fists as he rested them on the arms of the chair she sat in, and his jaw slackened as he loomed over her, his nose nearly brushing against hers, their matching lavender eyes meeting in a near identical hooded gaze. 

“Your fascination with me will be your death,” she said, arching up toward him, his shaky exhale ghosting over her face. She had no idea why she said it, though surely her mother would call for his head if they were caught, a replacement for the eye her desperate bid for justice could not procure. ‘Kiss me,’ she thought, despite logic and reason. ‘Kiss me so that I might remember, so that I might have this to hold on to when the cold night comes.’

His smile was not cruel like Aemond’s might have been, was not lopsided and weighed down by wine as Aegon’s was; it was altogether different, like the sun parting the smoke and fog that hung so heavily over Dragonstone. The dinner that night had been nothing short of a disaster and now Jace boasted a bruise that was already turning black around the edges, the ridge of his cheekbone slightly swollen where Aemond’s shove had sent him to the floor. She did not stop herself from reaching forward, from trailing her fingertips over the discoloration that marred his skin. When he did not flinch, Helaena pressed harder - just the barest pressure against his face to see if he would wince. 

He smiled once more and nuzzled against her hand. “Then I will gladly meet my maker.” That was all the warning she got before he pressed his mouth to hers, capturing whatever response sat on the tip of her tongue. He did not kiss like he danced. Where that moment had been light, full of a distracting sort of buoyancy, this was heavier, firmer, more intense. A hand came to cradle the back of her head as he leaned into her, bowing her back as her own hands came to rest against his chest, fingers curling into his doublet. She wanted to tear it from his body, to rake hands like claws over the skin of his chest, to leave marks that would remind him after he had gone that she had been there. 

“Why?” The word was more an exhale than a true question, and he did not answer immediately, instead gathering her into his arms and pulling her to her feet. She felt pliant beneath his touch, a feeling almost wholly unfamiliar to her as he set her on the edge of the great table that had been the centerpiece to the evening’s earlier charade. Nudging her knees apart to step between them, Jace raised his hands to cup her jaw, sliding his tongue along her lower lip.

“Why what?” he asked, his voice faraway though he stood so close, the lengths of their chests and torsos pressed tightly together; one could not draw breath without the other feeling it, a push and pull of their lungs with each inhale and exhale. 

Helaena broke away to pepper kisses to his jaw and neck, her teeth finding purchase in nipping little bites that made him shudder. “Why are you doing this?” She knew why she was doing this, but why would he take such a risk? She knew how men were, how he would likely be able to escape back to Dragonstone relatively unscathed by accusations of adultery, facing only the impotent rage of her mother and the apathy of her father. Though she could hardly imagine that he would simply abandon her to whatever fate awaited them should they be caught. No, Jace did not strike her as the type; her fate would be his own.

“I…I look at you and I can't breathe.” He kissed her temple, his hands grasping at her hips, his fingertips digging in in a way she hadn't realized she craved. “Your laughter is so rare and it is the only sound I want to hear.” He kissed the shell of her ear, warm breath fluttering at her hair. “When I look at you all I can think of is each and every way I would make you mine.” He kissed her on the mouth and again her fingers ached to claw beneath his skin to hold him even closer to her. She licked into his mouth and blinked back the burn at the edges of her eyes. “Do you remember when the scorpion stung me and my attempt at bravery failed and I could not help but cry out?” 

Helaena nodded, smiling against his lips.

Reaching forward, she brought his hand closer to her face, running a finger over the small red scar where the maester had excised the wound to release the poison. She pressed a kiss to the mark, and more to his knuckles before wrapping her lips around his thumb, her tongue curling around the tip. This time Jace did not cry out. Instead, he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against hers. His free hand tangled in her hair, suddenly jerking her back with more force than she expected. But he swallowed her sound of surprise, his teeth catching on her lower lip. Helaena moaned, yanking at the front of his doublet, no care for the way the little buttons that held it closed scattered around her on the table. His skin was so warm beneath the thin linen of his undershirt and she shoved her hands beneath it, finally feeling the hard muscle that lay over his stomach. 

Jace made a low noise somewhere low in his throat and the sound reminded her of ones she had heard in the depths of the dragon pit, the timbre of it settling low in her belly as he yanked at her skirts. 

“Helaena.”

It was so simple. Just her name, a name she had not given much thought to except for that it was hers. But on his tongue it sounded like a name revered and she wanted more. She licked a stripe up his neck, savoring the taste of him and the feeling of gooseflesh rising beneath her tongue before sinking her teeth in like the dragon she sometimes was in her dreams. Trembling fingers found her bare of her small clothes and his whine was a choked thing.

“Where are -.”

She cut him off with a shrug. “They're cumbersome and I do not like the feeling.”

Jace growled at that and sucked a biting bruise against her shoulder. But then he was standing, backing away before extending a hand and pulling her to her feet. Her brows drew together, confusion settling uncomfortably over her skin, the feeling of rejection like pins and needles over all her sensitive parts. He chased it away before it could truly take form with another kiss, turning and backing her into the shadows. Helaena grinned as her back hit the wall beside the window, just out of view from the door, and it was her turn to tangle her fingers in his dark curls, like ink against her pale skin. 

He dragged his nose over the curve of her cheek, goosebumps left in its wake, and she sighed at the feeling. So few things came with a sense of rightness for her, and Helaena basked in the utter calm that descended upon her with his hands grasping tightly at her waist. As children, Jace had always been her favorite companion, the small joy they found in one another’s company enough to keep the rising tension and fear of their mothers at bay. She found this joy once more here, now, standing in the dark with him, and her heart ached with it. 

“I would do this differently,” he breathed against her ear, his tongue tracing the outline and sending butterflies blooming in her belly. “I would lay you out over my bed at Dragonstone and take my time with you.” His hand fisted in her skirts, dragging them once again over her legs. “I would keep you there for days and feast on you.” For a moment, she wondered just how many feasts her nephew had partaken in, but his lips against her neck chased the thought away. “I would keep you spoiled in the tribute you deserve. I would kiss you until you were breathless. I would take you until you were ruined for anyone else.” His hand found the juncture of her thighs and Helaena dropped her head against the stone wall, the radiating ache of the impact grounding her in the moment when she feared she would simply break apart and float away. 

She reached up and traced a finger over his top lip, enamored by the way he held his mouth just so. His tongue flicked out, licking the salt from her skin as he gently drew her finger between his teeth. His own hand nudged inside of her, his hips forward to press against her belly. She groaned at the feeling, grinding herself down against him as he watched, his lavender eyes darting over her shadowed face as he memorized each flutter and sigh and fleeting expression.

Tucking her fingers under his waistband, Helaena pulled him forward, relishing his huff of surprise as he crashed against her chest.

"Kiss me," she demanded. It was a whisper in the dark, a soft command, and she gasped when a second finger joined his first. His mouth found hers and she wasted no time tugging open the ties at the front of his pants, reaching in and taking him in hand. He throbbed in her palm, long and just thick enough.

He moaned her name as she stroked him, his forehead coming to rest against hers once more. She bucked against his hand, his slender fingers making her dizzy with a new sort of need. That first peak snuck up on her, quick and sharp and snapping through her very bones with a soft pant of his name. 

He kissed her through it, biting down on her bottom lip as she swiped her thumb over the bead of precum that leaked from his tip. “I want you for longer than this night, Helaena.”

The words came sharply into focus as the aftershocks of her pleasure still danced over her skin. She pushed the hair from his face with both hands. “Yes,” she answered, and suddenly it seemed so clear that she would go with him anywhere, that if she was to look over her shoulder, she would find him following her, a shadow at her back, and she had never felt safer, even as the danger of their current position lingered over them. “I want you for longer than this night.”

It was then that he hitched her leg over his hip and pushed inside, so slowly she thought she might scream as she stretched around him. She cried out at the feeling of fullness and Jace clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

“I want nothing more than to hear you, but you must be quiet.” His voice was ragged in the shadows, pulling her apart at the seams.

Helaena leaned forward, her lips at his ear. “I cannot help it,” she whispered, her fingers digging in sharply where she held his shoulders. “Jace, I -.”

He kissed her, swallowing down the words as he began to thrust in earnest, slow, long drags of his length within her, and that heat in her belly began to build once more, flame licking at her limbs and through her veins. She dropped her hands to curl against his stomach, the muscles jumping beneath her fingers, and he moaned against her neck, burying his face in her hair to stifle the sound.

“Hel.” It was just a soft breath against her throat before he bit down, his tongue soothing what she hoped would be a mark come morning. Let him brand her, let him claim her, and maybe, just maybe, let him take her away from here. They could figure out the rest, she knew that, her thoughts and plans typically neatly organized and easy to execute. They needn’t go to Dragonstone, needn’t set themselves down on either side of the war that it seemed only she could see coming; they could take her children and flee to Pentos or Lys or even Myr on the backs of their dragons and be free of the dreams that haunted her, dreams of centipedes and flame and eyeless boys taking to the skies. Let her be free of everything but him.

But Jace would never leave his mother, not when it was all so precarious, not when she hid to lick her wounds at Dragonstone, her family growing ever happier as Helaena’s own grew brittle under the strain. Could she truly leave her brother’s behind? Her mother? Even as Alicent’s hands grew talons to keep her children near, tearing at their skin and clothes, Helaena could not imagine leaving her.

Jace clutched tightly at her thigh and she raked her nails over the ridges of his abdomen, meeting his mouth with her own and falling back into the moment. His other hand cradled her jaw and she leaned into the touch, gripping roughly at his curls. He whimpered at that, a sound she had not expected, and now she wanted to bottle it and keep it near forever. Stepping back, he shuddered and Helaena blinked up at him, her mouth parting to question him through the haze of her impending release.

“I can’t - We must be careful.”

She took his meaning and discarded it, pulling his head back by his hair and baring his throat to her. Licking up the column of his throat, she whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

His mouth parted and he panted her name. “Please, I - Helaena.” Hips stuttering, she felt him lose his pace, his movements becoming erratic as he found his end within her. She felt that too, hot and wet in a way that would normally bother her, but here and now she could not be upset by it, too content to hold him close as he trembled in her arms, his forehead coming to rest where her neck and shoulder met. She tumbled over after him, her body falling apart over those last deep thrusts. His breath came in damp puffs of air and slowly, so slowly, he came back to himself, a shy boy once more. “I don’t know what to say.”

She panted and lowered her leg back to the ground, needing to stand on her own two feet. Sliding a hand over his mouth, her grin grew mischievous. “Then say nothing.” Their matching eyes met and she memorized the deeper fleck of violet that sparked in them like shooting stars. She memorized the curve of his nose and the bow of his pouting mouth. Dropping her hand to his chest, she pushed him back a step. “I will find you on the morrow, Jacaerys.”

He shook his head, grazing his nose against hers, his hands grasping possessively at her hips. “You heard my mother, we leave tonight for Dragonstone.”

Helaena ignored the crack that began to splinter in her chest. “Then I will find you in your dreams.”

—

It was still dark when stone ground against stone and Helaena was roused from sleep. Jace bled through the shadows of her room, his face coming into perfect clarity before her blurry eyes. He was speaking but she did not follow, did not catch the words that spilled forth from him.

“Helaena!”

She blinked at the bark of her name, drawing back. “What?”

“Come with me. Come with me to Dragonstone and find happiness - find it with me.” His mouth opened and closed as he searched for the words he wanted to say to convince her. Her stomach felt filled with moths, fluttering and flying and trying to choke her. She could not leave, could she? Run off like some thief in the night, leave her husband and her children.

“My children…” She say their faces then, so small and trusting, eyes the same shade as Aegon’s. 

He smiled then and her heart ached for a new reason as she reached forward to trace the line of his cheek. “Wake them. Bring them. I would never think to part you from them.”

She drew her hand back, something black and oily replacing the moths in her belly as years and years of warnings reverberated through her skull, her mother’s voice like smoke between her ears. “Rhaenyra…”

“My mother will not harm you. She will not harm your children. Helaena, please. Trust me. Let me protect you.” He kissed her too hard then, their teeth clacking together before he eased off and peppered his lips against her cheeks, her eyes. “Let me love you, let us have more than this night.”

‘If you don’t go now, you will never go, and you will regret it always,’ a voice in the back of her mind said softly, timidly, as if used to being snuffed out in the harsh light of logic and danger. A long moment passed, visions of each imagined future playing behind her eyes as she struggled to keep up, to make sense of any of it. Through it all though, she saw Jacaerys, saw his eyes like twilight staring back at her. Nodding, she sat up. “Yes. Yes, alright.”

Jace pushed himself from the bed, his smile so beautiful as to break her heart. He held out a hand and for a long moment Helaena could only look at it. 

Finally, she rose, taking the hand offered to her.