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liaresources · 1 year

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a rhaena targaryen story ♛ a dragon doesn't fear inspo and gifs by @queensend

warning! depictions of incest, harsh language, murder, violence, abusive relationships, and mentions of rape

She would later learn what had driven him to her bedchamber that notable evening. Her husband was either gentle or caring, and only came to her when he deemed it fitting to leave his seed within her, but other than that he had barely spoken a word to Rhaena. He was never a man of words, even as a child she would remember how her uncle barely acknowledge her or her siblings existence. The only incident that she can recall was when the Dowager Queen Visenya demanded that she should be given to as wife for uncle; stating the bloodlines of the conquerors uniting will strengthen our hold on Westeros as well as maintain our pure Valyrian blood. Maegor would take Rhaena as his wife, but many years as well as many wives later. She remembered that horrid day when she stood between beautiful Jeyne and sweet Elinor because one wife was not enough for her uncle. He had taken three to the marriage bed that evening, whilst his sorceress witnessed it all clutching onto Rhaena’s daughters as the precious hostages they were.

Tyanna.

Rhaena did not know it was her blood Maegor was covered in whilst when he held her; had she known she would relish knowing the witch had met a horrific end. She recalled that night by the fire, for it was only in that moment did she ever felt something for him, and it was pity. She sat by the fire in her empty chambers with a small book in hand, reciting the same poetry that had brought her comfort as a child. The sounds of the fire crackling echoed against the stone walls of the room, the rooms she use to share with her sister wives but Jeyne died bleeding out Maegor’s son, and Elinor prayed to gods for she also carried his child. That only left Rhaena, she was the last of the brides that her uncle has not left with a child. The twisted irony was not lost to her, for Maegor’s first wife remained barren for him and as his last wife so would Rhaena, she would make sure of it no matter how hard he fucked her.

She remembers muttering the Valyrian words against her lips when she heard the echoing of his boots, as she squeezed her eyes shut as if she could make him disappear. Rhaena was the only wife remaining for her uncle to take to bed tonight. And though it was not the first night alone with her husband, she had little comfort in the fact that he would visit his other wives the next. But all of them were gone, she bitterly reminded herself, leaving Maegor all to herself in the coming darkness. The sound of his thundering steps grew louder by the second until they didn’t, the locks that kept in her prison turned and the great oak doors opened. She felt the hairs on her skin rise in goosebumps: she could feel his presence a few feet away, she could hear his heavy breathing, and his smell always filled the air with rosemary, ash, and blood, always blood.

“Rhaena”, his voice was low and coarse when it spoke. It was the first time she ever heard him utter her name, for it acknowledged her person, it made her into a human being, it gave her power. And when it came to Maegor, it was him and him only that was allowed to hold such power.

In an instant, she rose and faced her husband, lowering her eyes and placing her hands in front of herself. “Your Grace”, she said meekly. Rhaena was disgusted with herself, whatever happened to the girl that dared to take a dragon into the skies, what happened to the fire that burned in her veins? She knows, she remembers for it had died when Aegon did when Maegor ripped open her husband's throat.

Rhaena tried so hard not to flinch when he walked toward her, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. For she was a dragon, and dragons do not fear. A dragon doesn't fear, she repeated the words over and over again in her head trying to remain calm. He towered over her, leaving her in the shadow of darkness like the wings of Balerion. She could feel the tension, the fear, the agony thick in the air for it made it hard to breathe. Maegor began to trace her exposed collarbone with his hard calloused hand as she felt his cold gaze burning down at her.

“What do you have in your hands?”, he questioned noticing the small book she held, her grip tightened around it .

Rhaena felt her mouth go dry, she flicked her eyes up at him for a second and lowered them instantly when they met his lavender eyes and quickly answered, “A book of poetry, your grace”.

Maegor sat upon the couch, his burning gaze never leaving her, he hummed and reached out to take the book from her hands. Rhaena simply obeyed and gave him what he desired. He began to flip through the pages, thinking he could find treason within its words. “A cup of wine, wife”, he simply said as his eyes continued to search for whatever delusions plagued his mind.

She walked away from him toward the tray of wine, she can feel her entire body trembling as she began to fill the cup with the sweet burgundy drink. A dragon doesn't fear. She tried to calm down by taking deep breaths. A dragon doesn't fear. She must face her fears like a dragon would, head-on. Rhaena turned around and returned to her husband's side with the cup in hand.

When she approached Maegor, he shut the book close and threw it to the side. She handed him the wine he had asked for. She watched as he finished the entire goblet, “Dornish shit”, he murmured before dropping it onto the floor and once again his attention turned towards Rhaena.

Before she could move, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. Holding her under his firm grip, Maegor stared into her eyes. “So much like Aenys in the love of pretty words and songs. But unlike him, I can see the dragon hiding beneath your soft flesh”, he pushed a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. He pressed his head against her body, and then placed his face in between her breasts as he inhaled her scent. She forces herself to hold him then, trying to stop herself from repulsing against his touch.

“You were always meant to be my wife, and now you shall be my last wife. For the dragon in you will burn away Tyanna’s poison and you shall give me the son I was promised”, he mused. She never thought him to be the nostalgic type. No, he wasn't, he was making a vow, acknowledging the cards fate has dealt him.

“You honor me with such a duty, Your Grace”.

“The others were unworthy with their polluted blood”, he spat with hatred in his voice. Maegor turned his head and once more stared into her eyes. “You, however, have proven that you are fertile by giving our house not one but two children. Ours is true, ours is pure and it will be our son who is a true dragon worthy of the name Targaryen, worthy of the iron throne”.

“A true Targaryen prince” — you are unworthy to have such a son, Rhaena thought.

“A true dragon to carry on the legacy of the conquerors. Uniting the bloodlines of Aegon and his wives. They have built us this empire, but your father was weak and allowed our enemies to grow. But I will burn them out leaving behind steel and strength allowing the house of the dragon to rule for centuries to come”. He spoke of legacies, of weakness and strength, of the future as if it belonged to him and him alone. Or maybe Maegor finally understood that his reign of terror was coming to an end. No, he wouldn't of understood for that was the only thing he was oblivious too.

“Will you sing for our son?” he asked as he once again pressed himself against her. He closed his eyes and leaned deeply into her touch.

“Sing?”, she asked confused. As if you would ever let me hold him, as if Tyanna would ever let him call me mother, as if I would ever give birth to that son you so desperately desire.

“Aye, sing. Father always beamed with pride for your talents, for it reminded him of his favorite wife and you do have a lovely voice. Will you sing for me, wife?”. Rhaena stared down at her uncle in utter shock, it was usually his action that left her in this state, and now it was his words. She felt his strong arms snake around her waist as if he was a little boy holding onto his mother.

Rhaena forced the words from her lips and began to sing. It was a common Valyrian song, one that her father would sing to his dragon. A song fitting to put a wild dragon to sleep. She ran her fingers through his short-cut silver hair, and she felt his muscles relax under her touch. His breathing lightens but she still felt it heavy against her skin. Time moved slowly or fast, she couldn't comprehend for there was a beast between her breasts. A beast that looked so much like a scared little boy. A trick of the mind, Rhaena reminded herself, he was no little boy, he was a monster. She would finish singing the song, but he did not move. His arms tightened around her and she continued to hold him, cuddle him, allowing her fingers to continue touching him. The room was quiet if not for the wood burning and crackling, she turned her face to the fire and stared at the dancing flames. A dragon doesn't fear. She told herself as she felt the tears roll down her cheeks. A dragon doesn't fear.

Rhaena closed her eyes for a moment and she shot them open when she felt the presence of another. She looked towards the doorway and saw her Uncle Daemon staring at them. Traitor — she thought, he was the reason Maegor took her for his wife. She glared at him with utter hatred in that moment.

“My King”, he said.

Maegor opened his eyes and stirred, his grip loosening but nevertheless still there. He turned his head and shot an angry look towards Daemon. “What is it? What is so important that you dare to disturb me?” he growled.

“The small council gathers, Your Grace. We have news of the traitors” Daemon replied cautiously as his eyes flicked from Maegor to Rhaena. She knew then, they have news of the rebellion, of her family.

“Hmmm”, he grunted at his words. He finally let Rhaena go, allowing her to stand and walk a few steps away from him. Maegor nodded and rose from his seat, he once more towered over her. She felt her knees go numb and instead of averting her eyes, she dared. Rhaena started back into those cold lavender eyes and saw a grin form on his face. “I will return to your bed tomorrow, wife”.

“As is your right, husband”, she replied stoically, that was the first and only time she addressed him as such, her husband.

Maegor gave her a short nod of acknowledgment and turn leaving the rooms. However, Daemon continued to stare at her, though he dared not to look her in the eyes. She followed her uncle’s gaze to her nightgown. The white cotton gown was utterly ruined, covered in stains of deep dark red. It took her a moment to realize it was blood and she thanked the gods it wasn't hers. Daemon’s eyes finally met hers, and they looked at her with pity. He gave her a soured smile and closed the doors behind him as he left.

Leaving Rhaena utterly alone in the darkness covered in blood and tears, whispering the words. A dragon doesn't fear.

#house of the dragon #fic rec

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liaresources · 2 years

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spill you guts. {actress!reader x jack harlow}

SUMMARY: reader and jack have been dating on the low for some time but have been very good at keeping it a secret. there’s been a few twitter rumours here and there or a deuxmoi sighting (always in a bigger group of people) but nothing too major. reader is an actress and goes on the late late show with james corden to promote her new movie. they play a game of ‘spill your guts or fill your guts’. {1.2K words}

A/N: i am very aware that in the world of hollywood and pr, this scenario would never take place this way but humor me <3

A/N #2: i despise the use of “y/n” so you won’t find any of that here.

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of gagging (due to disgusting food?) - i can’t think of anything else. let me know if there’s anything else i should add.

DISCLAIMER: this is all pure fiction. obviously.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. We're here with a variety of mouthwatering delicacies-" You eye the table in front of you with a mixture of disbelief and disgust, lowering your head cursing yourself for agreeing to this. The regret was instant the moment James started naming all the 'treats' the production had put together for this segment. "Now, this is a special version of our classic game. Normally, we would take turns asking each other a question at a time and either answer said question or sample one of these exotic treats. This year, being our last year on the show, we've changed things up a bit. We will be asking each other questions but-" You chuckle nervously, "-this time, we can choose not to answer the first question and go for a second one, which we have to answer or we will have to take not one but TWO bites of the chosen dish." He explains and your eyes look at all the options. Just the names of some of these things make you gag. "How are you feeling dear? You look a bit sick already." James asks turning to you and chuckling softly.

"I'm regretting life choices, to be honest." You admit. “Where do you even find all this stuff?!”

"Well, you could just be brutally honest... " James retorts and you laugh knowing that none of his questions will be easy to answer. You were familiar with this segment of the show and it was highly entertaining for this exact reason. "I'll go first." says James. "I'm going to start by offering you a delicious century-egg smoothie."

There are two tall glasses in front of you filled with a suspicious looking green-ish substance. You catch yourself leaning back in your chair as if that would help you avoid the rancid smell.

"Oh God, the smell-..."

"I know." James agrees with a chuckle. “Oh, and by the way neither one of us has seen these questions before, right?” You nod and James picks up the first card, reads the question to himself and gasps giving you a mischievous smirk.

"Oh no- That’s not a good sign." You whine and bring your hands to your head genuinely scared of what's to come. Your heartbeat is already picking up.

James regains his composure and looks straight at you with a serious expression.

"This is a photo of you arriving at LAX earlier this morning, correct?"

You look at the monitor and sure enough it is a picture of you walking out of the terminal dragging your suitcase behind you offering a tight-lipped smile at the camera. You had taken a couple of pictures with fans and then got into the car that was waiting for you. "Yes..." You offer as a response, suspicious of where this is going.

"Look at you smiling- Jeans, t-shirt, ah, is that vintage Tommy Hilfiger suitcase?", he asks in a rapid fire as if distracted and you nod, "-handbag- and what is that? Is it a scrunchie? Where did you get that thing? It's huge."

It was rather big though you couldn't understand why it was worth noting. Big and puffy in a baby blue hue. "Yeah, yeah, it is. It needs to be to tame all this." You giggle pointing at your hair. "My best friend makes them."

"Well, you look great."

"Thank you. That's good to hear after an 8-hour flight. " You say again and let out a nervous chuckle. Dissecting a pap shot from the airport is not what you expected.

"Now... This is a photo that went up on Instagram about an hour ago around the time we started filming tonight's episode... "

You turn to the monitor again and this time you are confronted with a mirror selfie of Jack throwing up the 'L' like he often does. Looking handsome (like he always does). The crowd cheers and hollers but you're confused. You're certain the surprise is evident in your face and you are a little flustered and taken aback but this is still salvageable. You can play it off as having a crush on the guy. Then the rest of the image registers... You recognize the bedroom in the place you two would be sharing while in LA and notice the reflection in the mirror.

"Jack Harlow-" More cheers from the audience. "-handsome guy? Great artist?"

At this point, you're smiling nervously, heartbeat going through the roof as you raise your shoulders feigning disinterest, in what could only be considered the worst bit of acting you had ever put forth. "He's alright." You say barely keeping it together.

"If I could direct your attention to the background of this picture-" He is ruthless, you think. The picture zooms in and you bury your face in your hands. "I swear I've seen this suitcase somewhere before, AND-" The picture is blurry of course, being pulled from Instagram, but the objects are distinctive enough to put several nails in the coffin of your relationship's secrecy.

"Oh God!"

"-that looks like a big big baby blue scrunchie on that nightstand."

James is cackling and you're a blushing giggling mess, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. Nerves are getting the best of you and you can hardly control your chuckles. The audience is laughing along with you two as James looks at you with bright eyes and you realise he is still to ask you the question.

You grab a napkin and tap the corners of your eyes to capture the moisture there.

"My question is..." He starts with a cheeky grin pausing for several moments, the audience creating an impromptu drumroll, "Are you flying first class?" The audience, James and you start laughing once again.

"Oh my God!" You exclaim taking a deep breath. "Oh my God!"

James puts his hands up feigning innocence and making a notion towards the glass, "You could always have a sip of the smoothie."

Can you, though?! It isn't even the fact that the content of the glass was the most disgusting thing that gives you pause. You can't confirm your relationship with Jack on air like that, that was for sure. But you also would be kind of confirming it if you refused to answer. Your brain is going on overdrive. Maybe you can get the production to pull this part of the segment or reshoot it? Can you have everyone in the audience sign an NDA over this? Have they signed one already?

Buying yourself some time you pretend to consider drinking the smoothie, you take the glass in your hand and you lean in to take a whiff. Immediately you regret it covering your mouth trying to keep yourself from gagging for real.

"This is nasty! Can you die from this? I bet you can!" You say with a chuckle and then proceed to put the glass back on the table. "Nope, nope..." You exhale and brace yourself, "I'll just take the second question."

Give me anything else. I’ll trash talk my ex, my ex’s ex, my costars, anything...

“Are you really-?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yup.”

“Okay, then.” James tosses the card he has been holding behind him and you almost sigh in relief. Good riddance... If only you could burn it. He grabs a second card from the pile to his right and looks it over. He takes several moments to read it putting you on edge fearing what other topic may come up. Without any warning, “There’s nothing on here.” He throws the second card away too, places his hands on the table and stares at you.

"There is only one question. Are you dating Jack Harlow!?"

The studio erupts in cheers, laughter, applause and you simply reach for your 1,000-year-old egg smoothie...

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagine #fic

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