#Kingdom The Blood Pledge

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

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[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (4)

IV. It is you

MASTERLIST

Summary: Pressures makes wind, earthquakes, and marriages

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.8 k 

Notes: I don;t think this is going to be a love story, this is about politics, and a truly arranged marriage, their relationship will develop of course, but I just wanted to get that out there

“You have done a great job with her”, Cregan raised his eyes to encounter the mythical Jeyne Arryn, cousin to the late Queen Aemma, keeper of the East, Lady of the Eyrie, they both contemplated you as you sat the Iron Throne and gave audiences

“I have done nothing, it’s all her”, he said severely

“You are good with her, for her”, she said then, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes

“I know what you are implying…”

“She needs a husband”, she said

“You should stay here in court, as her hand when I leave”, he said almost at the same time

“You can’t leave her”

“I have to, I have a child…”

“She needs you, the realm needs you”

“The North needs me, she will be fine”

“You know that is not true, she is still too young to differ allies from foes”

“She will learn”

“At the cost of the realms”, Cregan Stark looked at her severely, but he had met her equal, this woman was not going to back down

“What about my son? What about my people? How is that going to work?”, he asked then

“You can come and go”

“A year at a time”

“Maybe”, she said. The small council had been relentless, just as Jeyne was being 

His name was in that alliance

He pledged to take you to wife, you, in name, regardless of who you had become… you were his betrothed. And it’s not like he gave his word lightly, only, like he said, he need a wife and a lady of Winterfell, he did not want to become the King consort of the Seven Kingdoms, he did not want to take care of you… forever…

But he had taken the capital for you

Yes he promised your mother…

But he had done it for you, an unknown princess, on his mind

He found himself looking straight at you

Like the first time he saw you, he thought, again, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Since he took the capital, color had returned to your face, you no longer had darkness under your eyes, your cheeks were fuller, you also filled your dresses more, meaning you were eating more, sleeping longer…

You were better

His eyes then trailed over all the faces of the Lords gathered there in the throne room, lickspittles, asskissers, many of them, without honor, just hunger for power and gold

Did he really care for what happens to the people of the other six Kingdoms? Were you really in danger? Kings had been surrounded by traitors all their lives and nothing major had happened…

Well… until Otto fucking Hightower

No, he couldn’t let that happen again

He thought he only wanted to bring justice to the traitors, but it wasn’t true, he cared about what happened

He cared about what happens to you…

The realization made him shift on his feet

He cared about you 

He did not want you to get married to someone who was going to please the small council and take your place eventually, who was going to manipulate you or worse

He didn’t want you married to someone who…

No… he just didn’t want you married to anyone else… that’s it

The bare thought made him shiver

You felt yourself being watched intensely, and found Cregan Stark’s eyes

You felt your cheeks heated, as you looked away like a little girl who had been caught doing something silly 

You were only a young woman, barely turned eight and ten name days

And Cregan was only a young man who had the power of the biggest country in the seven kingdoms and wanted to use it to avenge his Queen

He was himself impulsive, reckless even, maybe the rest saw him like the greatest choice, but he knew the truth

He wasn’t

What if he tipped you off a ledge? What if he sets you off resulting in the destruction of cities and the annihilation of thousands?

And yet…. He was the only one you trusted

Months on the road, maybe years away from you, years away from his home, his child… There must always be a Stark in Winterfell

But when he leaves you to be in Winterfell, he was going to wish he was in King’s Landing, and when he is here, he wishes he could be in Winterfell, he was already missing it, he wanted to see his son, his five year old son, he had left him in good hands, with his loving half sister, and trusted friends and servants… but still

He was so small, he had it when he was so young, the only thing he had left of his dear friend Arra

If he married you… if…

He was going to give you children, his child, second child, was going to sit the Iron Throne one day… and his oldest was going to be Lord of Winterfell

That was… enticing, to say the least

Too good to be true….

Having children with you, a thought that enticed and scared him in equal measure

A child of Ice and Fire, a child who was going to be a Northerner by blood and a dragon rider as well…

He shifted on his feet again

He wanted it

And he could pretend he had a choice all he wanted, but he didn’t… he had signed the pact… the woman… the Queen seated in the Iron Throne…

Was his betrothed

It didn’t have to be two months, a week long boat ride to White harbor and another week on the road and he could be home quickly…

It had to work

Did you want this?

He gave you the service of ending the courts early, and then you abandoned the throne room.

But before he could reach you, he was intercepted by Celtigar

“I need to talk to you”, he said, Cregan only nodded as they walked together to a hallway of the Keep which seemed to be empty

“What is it?” He asked, his patience long gone

“I can marry her”, he said quickly

Cregan stopped in his tracks, and frowned

“You trust me, don’t you?”, he asked when he saw his face

“yes, but…”

“I can get you out of the pact… if she is the one to accept”

He should be relieved, he should have said yes immediately, but the thought of you marrying someone else… he didn’t like it.

Not that he didn’t trust his friend, he did, he was the best choice according to him, the day before he had offered himself, the thing is… he had changed in the last 24 hours… 

He wanted it, you, the seat at your side, the children you were going to give him…

But he wouldn’t even accept it himself, this was deep inside of him, he wanted to protect you, none of those southerners had what it took, only him, he didn’t trust anyone else, not really 

Only him…

“My name is in those papers”, he growled

“But perhaps if I speak to her, began to court her…”

“I’ll talk to her”, he cut him 

“I really think I should be the one…”, with only one look Cregan makes his friend stop speaking. He had just realized what he truly wanted to do, and he did not need to be contradicted now. “You are marrying her, aren’t you?”, he said, a smile sneaking on his friend’s face

“I don’t know yet, I don’t want to pressure her”, Celtigar only hummed

“I want to marry her too”, he said then. Cregan looked at his friend and he understood him, he was challenging him…

“May the best man win her affections then”, Cregan said.

He was not going to lose

And as he walked away Celtigar only smiled, having pushed his friend in the right direction by only pretending to want your hand in marriage

Cregan had asked Lord Redwyne for help and together they had set you up with young ladies, that shared your age, your ladies in waiting as it were. But instead he found you alone in the Red Keep garden, walking and escorted by one of your white cloaks

“What happened with your ladies in waiting?”, he asked point blank as he approached you, the lack of property, referring to you not as “your grace”, and it made your guard almost wince  

“I send them on their way”, you said simply, leaning in to smell a beautiful flower, barely acknowledging him

“I don’t want you to be lonely”, he said gently, you raised your eyes to look at him 

“yes, I know but they are so… vain… “this lord looked at me”, or “have you seen the dress she was wearing…”, Cregan only smiled condescendingly at you, “and I…”

“You are thinking about the wellness of millions”, he said, “concerned about the future of the entire realm, I understand”

“I understand the need to be distracted for a while, but…”, he only nodded

“I understand”, he said shortly

“Why are you here?”, you asked, nervous, he didn’t understand the change in your dynamic, you had felt confident and calm enough to cry in front of him, but now you were evading his gaze, and shifting in your feet in nerves

In your mind was a bit more clearer

You realized you liked him, you found yourself feeling butterflies in your belly when you saw his handsome face, and you wanted to punch yourself, for being so childish, you were not a young girl in front of her knight in shining armor, you were a Queen now, he was your hand, your advisor, and the head of one of the most important houses on the entire realm.

But you felt your legs shake, and your breath caught in your throat every time you saw him approach you

And every time he was near, you wanted him to stay near you, you felt your chest strangle your heart each time he walked away from you.

Gods this was strange even for you

“I want to ask you something”, he said slowly, you looked at him then, concerned 

“You are leaving”, you said.

You were not an idiot, you knew he had a son, he was the Lord of Winterfell, he needed to rule his home. You couldn’t expect of him to stay here forever 

That took him by surprise

“No”, he said softly

“But you have to go one day, don’t you?”

“That is what I wanted to talk about”, he said softly, your attention was on him then, you tried to pull on those dark feelings that would make you mad at him when he did decided to leave, he could not see that wide-eyed little girl who had a crush on him, not now, and you will not beg when he tells you it was going to be time for him to return home…

“... the marriage offers”, you were lost for a second but that certainly brought you back to attention

“Uh?”, you asked

“You had been offered several hands of many lords over these past few days”

“Did the small council put you up to this?”, you asked, bored

“You need to get married”, he said severely, “we need to make your family strong again, you need to settle your line…”

“I understand”, you said, looking down. You knew he had signed a pact to marry you, but you also did not want to hold him to it, there were different times, it was naive for you to think he was going to hold up his part, he had done enough already 

“A marriage is also an alliance”, he continued, “you need someone who will help you and guide you, but not manipulate you…”

You only nodded

“A strong person, with a powerful family name…”

“If you say Tyland Lannister I swear…”, he chuckled, and shook his head

“No…”, he said. He then stopped all his movements, you felt his gaze on you, so you stopped as well and raised your head and eyes to look at him, “who do you want?”, he asked then

“I’m not sure”, you said, but you did… you wanted him

For the doubt in your mind made him question his own decision. He thought you were going to name him, but you were truly doubtful

You didn’t think he was an option

“I don’t know any of those men”, you said then in a whisper 

“You know some…”, he tried, you looked at him

He felt even guilty for wanting it

He gave in to his deepest desire, of power and lust.

“Yes you are right”, you whispered, looking away from him again, “I just…. need to think this through”, you said with a low voice, you wanted to end this chat

But he didn’t, he needed you to say it

He had heard the small council ask him to, he had heard Lady Jayne Arryn… but he needed to hear it from you.

“There must be someone in your mind”, he said softly, with a gentle, soothing voice

“There was”, you admitted

“Talk to me, I’m your hand”, he continued, “I am here to advice you”

“Until you leave me”, you say then, without thinking, it was barely a whisper

So that’s it, he thought, you resented him for even the mere thought of him abandoning you

“I can come back”, he said then, with a hint of amusement on his voice 

You only hummed, you didn’t believe him, and you were going to feel terribly lost without him, again, alone, like you had been before he saved you…. before he took the city in your name and put you on the throne

He did all of that

There was nobody else you wanted by your side but him

You shared a longing look, a long gaze

What did he want? you asked yourself. He looked like he wanted to listen to you but also to speak, at the same time. You didn’t know what else to say

“What does that mean?”, you asked then. He sighed, loudly

“I signed a pact…”, he said

“Yes, my brother offered my hand in marriage in exchange for your allegiance and your swords”, you said lowly

“No”, he answered back, you looked at him intently, “he asked for my loyalty, he had it already, but he negotiated our union for the simple fact he was scared of something befalling you, he wanted to send you North under my protection to keep you safe from harm, from the war, and from the Greens”

Ah yes, safe from Aemond and Aegon

“That sounds like my brother”, you said, melancholy tainting your voice 

“He wanted to keep you safe”

“In more than one way you had kept your promise”, you assured him, “you took the city, took control…”

“I did”, he said softly, “for you”

“You are going to put a crown in my head”, you said

“In three days”, he said then, “and then you should announced your betrothal”

“I don’t have one”

“You do”, he said finally, his eyes, piercing eyes bore into yours, he dwarfed you in size, and even though he had left his fur cloak behind… he still look big and imposing

“Cregan…”, you called

“Say it”, he encouraged 

“You signed the pact…”, you said.

As you looked at him, you grew angry

What did he want from you? to beg? you didn’t even know. He had signed that past, to marry you one day, and yet, he dodged that part at every turn, he needed to return home, you understood that he had a son, a little boy who needed his father, so why was he here? talking to you in this way? 

“You promised to marry me”, you said softly, he barely nodded, his eyes looking intently at you, “but I understand…”, he frowned then, and you started walking away from him. Letting him standing in the garden

You called in a small council meeting, on your own accord

They were right, you needed to make your family bigger and stronger…

“I called in this meeting because I have to make a demand”, you said firmly, your small council looking amongst each other, Cregan was silent, playing with the dragon eye in front of him

“Tomorrow the Barahteon will present themselves to me, and I want to tell you my intentions so you’ll be prepared”, you said firmly, “It is to my understanding that princess Jahaera, daughter of Aegon the Usurper, is still in Storm’s End…”

“As a guest”, said lord Lannister

“As a hostage”, you said then, “It is to my understanding that she was on her way here, when Aegon was poisoned”, you said softly, “I know because it was discussed at the dinner table in front of me, yet, she is not here, I understand they are trying to keep her safe as some sort of leverage, but…”, you continued, and then you soften your gaze, “I want her here, she is a little girl, a Targaryen, daughter to my lovely aunt Helaena, and she should be with me and Aegon, with family”, you said softly

“Your grace is most graceful”, muttered the Maester, the others murmured their affirmations

“Tomorrow I will demand of the Baratheons to bring little Jahaera back to me, when she is here, we will betrothed her to Aegon, to finally solidify the family and end this madness”, yous aid with a soft smile

Aemond, Aegon, Alicent and Otto are and will burn in hell

But not Helaena and her children

She was an angel, so were the little boys that lost her lives

Jahaera was the only one left, you owe it to Helaena to keep her safe

After the affirmation and support of your small council, you walked towards your little brother’s chambers

He had become so quiet and sad, which was expected, but still, you tried to keep his mind busy, you would put Septas and maesters to teach him and accompany him, at all ours, soon, one of your King’s guards will teach him the art of the sword.

Now you make sure to sit and dine with him

Even though he barely spoke

“Jahaera will come to court soon”, you whispered to him as you served yourself a cup of wine

“Who was Jahaera?”, he asked innocently, of course he didn’t remember 

“Helaena’s child”, you said, “she is your age, you can have fun together”

“Oh”, it's the only thing he said, while continue to have little pieces of bread and meat 

“Maybe one day you can get married”, you said lightly

“When are you getting married?”, he asked then and made you laugh

“Soon, but I don’t know with whom!”, you said as it was a joke, it was sad that it was true

“Marry Cregan”, he said simply

“WHy?”, you asked him, amazed

“I see the way he looks at you”, he said simply

“How does he look at me?”, you asked him

“As papa looked at mama”, he said, and you got quiet

“He has to go back North”, yous aid lightly

“You can command him to stay, you are the Queen”, he said, still not looking at you

“If I only command without listening to reason I’m a Tyrant”, you said softly, “not a queen”

“He wants to stay”, he said

“I don’t know if he does, you know Northerners don’t fare well here in the south”, you joked 

“Command him”, he insisted

“Aren’t you a little tyrant?”, you teased, reaching over the table and tickling his side until he squealed in a laugh

But gods if that made you think…

“He looks at you they way papa looked at mama”

Daemon Targaryen wasn’t much of a communicative man, he didn’t need to speak, it was all in his eyes…

He could make men tremble with just his gaze, he could make his children giggle with a wink, and he could make your mother swoon with that sparkle in his eyes.

Even little Aegon could tell 

Even if the nannies took control over your little brother, you were by his side until he fell asleep, and then you went to your own room

You served yourself a cup of wine, another cup of wine.

“Call in Lord Stark please”, you asked Eryk, and he nodded and went to fulfill your requirement 

It was inappropriate, to say the least, to summon a man to your chambers at this late… but you needn't to worry about such matters… Or you did

Your brother was right, you were a Queen, you had to begin to act like one 

Cregan foud you seated by the fire, in a relaxed stance, with a goblet of wine in your hand

“Your grace”, he greeted, he seemed serious, but you believed you found a glint in his eye… you were started to get to know him and his facial expressions, as cold as they may seem

“My Lord Hand”

“You will summon me and believe me, I will attend to your calling, but I must say, if someone sees me coming into your chambers at the hour of the owl, where we are going to be alone…”

“I’m aware”, you said, smiling at him

“What do you need?”, he asked gently, with a smirk on his lips

“Today in the garden…”, you started, “you mentioned the pact you sign”

“Yes I did”, he said

“Why?”, you asked him

“Why?”, he asked back

“Why would you bring it up?”, you asked again, “it seems that you do not intent to honor it”, he got quiet then, analyzing you

“I meant…”

“There is no one else…”, you said, “it is you”, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling. He softened his gaze

“Is that a command?”, he asked, amusement in his voice, it was like he was playing a game.

“Marry me”, you said, “honor the pact of Ice and Fire… you can come back home, on the condition of course that you come back…”

“To you”, he said

“To me”, you agreed. “Everyone will be at ease, well, except for the Hightowers, when you sit at my side in the throne…”, you said, he barely nodded, still smiling 

“I don’t think so…”, he said finally, you stopped all your movements, was he rejecting you? he was not going to marry you? you had to command him, if he refused, you could fall through, you couldn’t make a man marry you… you started feeling ashamed of even summoning him here… you were starting to feel like an idiot

He turned his back to you and went to the small table in the corner and served himself a goblet of wine.

“I think they will feel threatened..”, he continued, you smiled then, taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “you and me together…”, he continued, taking a sip, “soon they’ll realize… the dragon and the wolf sat together… and they are all sheep”

You both smiled widely at each other 

this is the vibe I was going for jajaja

Cregan is... complex... everyone wanted a tougher Cregan, i'm giving a gray one. He has ambitions, and wants power, and he is not indiferent to us, the beautiful young Queen... of what I read about Cregan, it is what I perceive... anyways... hope you like... maybe I moved it a bit too quickly but I want to get to the good part

taglist! ❤️

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos 

#IV.misguidedhour #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #house stark #house targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon

[fireismine]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

Day 4: Character Parallels → Rhaena the Black Bride and Daenerys Stormborn

The Queen in the West:

In the Red Keep of King’s Landing sat the Queen Regent Alyssa, widow of the late King Aenys, mother to his son Jaehaerys, and wife to the King’s Hand, Rogar Baratheon. Just across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, a younger queen had arisen when Alyssa’s daughter Alysanne, a maid of thirteen years, had pledged her troth to her brother King Jaehaerys, against the wishes of her mother and her mother’s lord husband. And far to the west on Fair Isle, with the whole width of Westeros separating her from both mother and sister, was Alyssa’s eldest daughter, the dragonrider Rhaena Targaryen, widow of Prince Aegon the Uncrowned. In the westerlands, riverlands, and parts of the Reach, men were already calling her the Queen in the West. - A Surfeit of Rulers, Fire and Blood

~

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." - Daenerys II, A Storm of Swords

Three Husbands:

Rhaena was married to Aegon the Uncrowned, Maegor the Cruel and Androw Farman.

~

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . – Daenerys IV, A Clash of Kings

The Queen in the East:

“Done,” the king said…mayhaps too hastily, for it must be remembered that Aerea Targaryen, a girl of eight, was his own acknowledged successor, heir apparent to the Iron Throne. The consequences of this decision would not be known for years to come, however. For the nonce it was done, and the Queen in the West at a stroke became the Queen in the East. - A Time of Testing: The Realm Remade, Fire and Blood

~

"The best calumnies are spiced with truth," suggested Qavo, "but the girl's true sin cannot be denied. This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver's Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that. Poor men hate her too. Even the vilest beggar stands higher than a slave. This dragon queen would rob him of that consolation." - Tyrion VI, A Dance with Dragons

Refusing to Cry

When word of the battle reached the west and Princess Rhaena learned that both her husband and her friend Lady Melony had fallen, it is said she heard the news in a stony silence. “Will you not weep?” she was asked, to which she replied, “I do not have the time for tears.” - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

His business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming over all . . . I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. "Tell Belwas to bring my knights," Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. "My good knights." - Daenerys VI, A Storm of Swords

Gains Confidence After Bonding with a Dragon:

At the age of nine, however, Rhaena was presented with a hatchling from the pits of Dragonstone, and she and the young dragon she named Dreamfyre bonded instantly. With her dragon beside her, the princess slowly began to grow out of her shyness; at the age of twelve she took to the skies for the first time, and thereafter, though she remained a quiet girl, no one dared to call her timid. - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night … Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. "Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, "what is wrong? Are you sick?" "I was," she answered, standing over the dragon's eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers … or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously. - Daenerys III, A Game of Thrones

#danyweek2023 #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #canondany

[caelesjjk]

sanguine - jjk- part one

⟶title: sanguine

⟶au: vampire au, arranged marriage au, royalty au

⟶ pairing: vampire king!jungkook x human queen fem reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, kinda slow burn?, smut, angst

⟶wc: 10.5k

⟶warnings: some swearing, mentions of blood, lots of sexual tension, one kiss, a bit angsty, reader is a badass. No smut for this part my fellow horny bitches, but there is certainly smut in the future.

⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.

Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.

Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?

⟶ authors note: hi friends. this has been a whirlwind of a fic and this is only part one lol. it’s my baby in a way because I’ve had this idea for so long. I started writing it long before my king decided to actually grace us all with his vampire concept for his folio. that only encouraged me more to get this done.

A few shoutouts need to be made because without these people I don���t think I’d ever finished this. @jeonjcngkook jords, not only did you beta the shit out of this, but you’ve been there for me while I’ve written it and listened to me whine and cry for weeks. u have no idea how much it means. @haliiimede for reading through and convincing me that it wasn’t trash and giving me such lovely feedback. And also a huge thanks to @tea4sykes for reading through and encouraging me the whole way, ur the best Kay. @missgeniality siya, you absolute angel, I literally owe you big time for this amazing banner. and thank you for making me a new one when jungkook dropped all the vampire content lol. It’s so stunning.

(Vows found at vampireweddings.blogspot.com)

Alright enough blabbing, please enjoy! Send me all the feedback!

For the good of the kingdom.

For the good of mankind.

That was what your family kept telling you…no, they insisted that this was the only way.

Your father’s kingdom had become wrought with sickness, famine, and the people were starving. All of the resources available had been drained, there was nothing left.

And so, in a desperate plea for help, your father went to the vampire kingdom in the north, with whom your kingdom shared a border. And while the vampire king was willing to help, he wanted to make sure that this alliance was official and binding. He asked that you marry him to join your kingdoms, and that way there would be no reason for any type of betrayal.

You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.

But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.

With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.

“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”

The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.

“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”

The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.

“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.

He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.

Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.

You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.

When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.

“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.

“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”

Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.

The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.

“______, please repeat these vows after me:

I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.

“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”

Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.

The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.

“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.

“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.

A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.

“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.

“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.

You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.

There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.

Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.

“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.

The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.

You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.

From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.

You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.

“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.

“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.

“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.

“He’s right.” You grumble.

“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.

“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.

“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.

“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.

You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.

Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.

“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.

“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.

“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.

“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.

“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.

“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.

“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.

“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.

“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.

“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.

“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.

“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.

“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.

“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.

“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.

“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.

“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.

“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.

The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.

“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.

“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.

One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.

“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.

As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.

“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.

Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.

Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.

Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.

As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.

Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.

Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.

You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.

Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.

Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.

You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.

With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.

Hoseok.

You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.

“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.

“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.

“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.

“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.

“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.

Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.

“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.

“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.

“Why would he do that?” You hiss.

“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.

“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.

“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.

“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”

“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.

“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.

“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.

“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.

“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.

“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.

“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.

“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.

You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.

“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”

Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.

“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.

“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.

“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.

“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”

“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.

“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.

“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”

“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.

Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.

There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.

As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.

There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?

“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.

“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.

“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.

It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.

You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.

You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.

“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.

“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.

“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.

“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.

“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.

“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.

You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.

“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.

“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.

“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.

“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.

“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.

“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.

“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.

“Why?” You seethe.

“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.

“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”

You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.

“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.

“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”

You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.

“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.

All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.

“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.

“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.

“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.

“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.

“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.

“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.

“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.

“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.

“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.

“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.

“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.

“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.

“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.

“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.

“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.

“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.

“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.

“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.

“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”

You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.

“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.

“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?

“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.

“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.

“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.

“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.

“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”

“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.

“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.

You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.

“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.

“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.

“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.

“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.

“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”

“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.

“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.

“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.

“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.

You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.

“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”

“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”

“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.

“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.

“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.

“Why do you fight it?” He questions.

“Fight what?”

“The attraction between us.”

“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.

“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.

“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.

“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.

“As you wish.” He bows to you.

“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.

You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.

Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.

Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.

You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.

With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.

Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.

“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.

Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.

Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.

It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.

Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.

How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.

You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.

In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.

It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.

You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.

Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.

You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.

Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.

“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.

“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.

“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.

“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.

“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”

“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.

“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”

“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.

“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.

“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.

“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.

“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.

“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.

Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.

With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.

You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.

“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.

“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.

“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.

“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.

“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”

“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.

“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.

Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.

“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”

You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”

“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.

“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”

“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.

“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.

“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.

“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.

“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.

“Understand what?” You ask.

“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”

You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.

“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.

Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.

You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.

As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.

“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.

“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.

“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.

“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.

“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.

“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.

“Everything, darling.”

#jungkook #vampire jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts smut #btscarnivalnet #btscreatorscorner #bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #52hertz #btswritersclub #btsdreamcourt #bangtanarmynet #clubzerooclock #btswritingcafe

[livlivlivliv]

YOUR SOLDIER ೃ⁀➷

Imagine [ Knight!Keigo ; Princess!Reader ] Royalty!AU ¡Fluff!

Obviously this will have a sequel, a oneshot or a drabble perhaps. Damn in love with Knight!Keigo

¸ .　　★　° :.　 . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　☆

→ The embroidered shield on his cloak was an emblem that only the princess's Royal Knight was proud to wear, a pair of Red Wings. Acting like a guardian angel for her.

→ “I pledge my loyalty to you”

→ One of the most coveted knights in the kingdom, young, strong and handsome. Maidens called his name from the podium as he dueled. Too bad for them, the young man's heart was busy with someone else.

→ “My sword, my shield and my heart belong to you, princess”

→ "This handkerchief is for you, as a token of your bravery" With a curtsy he accepted the handkerchief from the maiden, fine silk with floral embroidery. He smiled.

→ On sleepless nights, when sleep was impossible to fall, she knew that behind the great oak door there was a young blond gentleman guarding her room. The desire to invite him in was always there, waiting for one day to happen. Perhaps his strong arms and thick-voiced whispers from him will help her sleep.

→ As much as she wanted it, she couldn't, it was wrong, for which it was replaced by simple talks, outside the comfort of her room.

→ “Another sleepless night?” "It's hard for me to do it knowing that you're alone out here" "He's too kind to me, her highness" "Stop calling me that" "I'm sorry, my queen"

→ Sitting in the Royal Garden, he told her about his battles, exploits and experiences, while she listened attentively, enraptured, seeking refuge in that opposite golden eyes.

→ “Princess, this is for you” he handed over a big red book “You can't have adventures outside the castle, but you can read them. I want you to tell me later."

→ On walks through the city, chivalrous, he offered her his arm with a smile. Halfway through the journey, between the white forests because of the snow, their hands slowly found each other and intertwined, making both hearts beat harder. The thirst for the forbidden grew with the passage of time.

→ When he was injured in a duel, knew that he would later be dragged into a corner of the palace.

"Princess, I'm fine" he sat waiting while the young women moistened a piece of cloth. He always said he was fine but he loved feeling the girl's hands working on his skin.

"Come here, let me clean up the blood."

→ Under Keigo's gloves were hidden strong hands, calloused from holding the sword and some scars that decorated his fingers.

"I have my hands like this for you, so that no scratch ruins yours"

→ Brand new dresses became her favorite activity, she felt the opposite eyes fixing on her like a hawk once she left her room. "You looks beautiful today, it fits you very well"

BONUS ¡!

Three blows were heard from across the room, reverberating through the thick wood. She was silent, reflecting that her attempt at silence might have failed.

She abandoned the furs that covered the bed and smoothed her dress down a bit to make herself look presentable. "Go ahead please" she said with an idea of ​​who could be as she wiped away the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"Princess?" She saw a blonde haired peeking out of the doorway, they made eye contact for a few seconds and then he closed the door behind him.

He was worried to see the lady in such a state, as he approached where she lay, observed how her eyelids and her cheeks were red. Her tear-dampened lashes looked to the ground, a little embarrassed to be found by her knight.

Cautiously sat next to her and removed a canvas handkerchief from his pocket. "Here," he offered. The gesture was accepted.

"You've heard me, right?" She brushed the cloth over her cheekbones.

"You don't have to hide with me" He smiled "Do you want to talk about it?"

She licked her lips and looked at him, shook his head silently.

"Princess, I'm here to protect you, don't shed tears!" he exclaimed dramatic. He managed to make the girl smile slightly.

Keigo's shoulder will always be there for her, he would be willing to do anything, after all it's her job.

Although he no longer sees it as a duty but as a necessity.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo #bnha x reader #hawks fluff #mha hawks #mha takami keigo #keigo takami #royalty #royalty au #fantasy au #mha keigo x reader #keigo x you #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #knightkeigo #princess reader

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get a drabble for Lacrymaria olor where Koo is "officially" courting her and what that means in his culture? Thank you.

He's dressed in artistically decorated gowns, gaze serious as you approach him while he stays seated on his throne. You've, for the first time in a long while, been told by him to stay in your shared room for today, and you didn't really know why- you're still not sure. You've been given a simple white short dress to wear- nothing very eye-catching at all, at least not compared to him.

He looks almost.. mad? No. Serious. Determined, even. That's the right word.

One of his hands is resting on a large sword- handle black and worn down from use, but still seemingly polished as he adjusts his grip on it. You walk closer as the guards close the doors, leaving you alone with him, apart from one person, a man you don't know who simply stands by.

"Your attention is mine." Jungkook speaks, his words echoing in the large throne hall, making you shrink in on yourself a little. It's the first time you're reminded of who he is- what he is, and how he rules his kingdom around him.

You included.

"Come here." He says, moving the sword to point at a spot in front of his throne, and you're nervous now as you walk towards where he points, unsure what's happening. For all you know you've been fine until recently, apart from the incident where you've been.. well, the victim of attempted kidnapping. But other than that, you thought you were getting closer-

have you done something wrong?

His gaze softens just a little, and you're relieved to find at least a glimpse of the Jungkook you've been getting to know more these days. He slowly gets up, walks down the steps from his throne to stand right in front of you, sword still in his hand, though the tip of it rests right in between you both. "I'm asking you this once, and I demand an answer that is truthful." He commands, and you stand a bit more straight, nodding shortly. "Where do you place your loyalty?" He asks, and you don't have to think for long.

"..In you." You say, easily, and with confidence. There's no one else you'd ever pledge loyalty to, after all. And from the way the corner of his lips twitch, you seem to have given the right answer.

"I am, with Jung Hoseok as my witness, officially courting you as my mate, partner, and equal half." He proposes, making your eyes widen as he lifts one of his hands, eyes softening once more as you almost on instinct place yours in his. He places yours over the one of his that's already placed on the handle of his sword, before he looks at you again. "With this blade, I will protect and guard you as your mate, from today on until the end of my life." He offers, the man you now know named Hoseok starting to write something down- but you don't avert your eyes from Jungkook, who holds out his free hand, Hoseok moving to place something in his palm before he moves back into his corner. "With this ring, made from the purest metal, I will bind myself to you, and you to me." He continues, sliding the simple silver ring onto your thumb, and you realize that he's already wearing one himself on the same side as you do now. "To last even after death, as I shall follow you even as our time alive comes to an end."

Suddenly, he leans in, angles his face into the crook of your neck, where he speaks a lot lower, and a lot closer. "And with this bite, I will mark you as my own; my partner, my equal, my lover." He says, before you feel him harshly bite down, skin breaking and wound instantly stinging as he truly does what he just said-

mark you with a scar that will last forever.

He leans back, lips slightly red and stained with your blood as you feel it run down your skin, body still in shock of what's happened as he holds out his hand again, Hoseok providing a cloth for Jungkook to use to hold against your wound.

"Hoseok." Jungkook asks, and the man looks up, walking closer. "Take it." Jungkook says, giving the sword to the man who takes it with a bow, walking away to place it back to it's usual place right above Jungkook's throne. You're shaking a bit, mostly from a mix of adrenaline and the cold floor against your naked feet, and he watches with amused interest how you hold onto him. "You can look away now." He smiles, and you let go of a breath you didn't realize you were holding, finally unfreezing your position. "How do you feel?"

"...Happy." You nod after a moment, as Jungkook removes the cloth, folding it neatly before he places it in the pocket of his pants. "Are we like.. married now?" You wonder, and he laughs.

"I assume that is what you call it on earth?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"I honestly am not sure what just happened." You giggle back, as he leads you backwards to walk up his throne and sit down with you on his lap.

"I told you I'd court you." He explains. "And I kept my promise."

"Oh.." You hum, leaning against him. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply, hand running up and down your cooling skin, before he grabs a blanket from the side where you usually sleep at, placing it over your shoulders. "I love you." You say, and his lips turn, morph into a smile as he leans down kiss the top of your head.

"And so do I." He responds, watching you how you close your eyes to rest in his arms.

Right where you belong.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

[jamilelucato]

the house of red and black

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!reader

a/n: so there is this scene from gilmore girls that's trending on TikTok and I fully wanted to make a fic out of it. So here it is.

one shot: yes, but I can write for Daemon again

sad: yes very much, but it is really short!

summary: liking someone that doesn't like you back is hard, even when you are a princess and a Targaryen.

“What is that all about?”

You heard his voice before you saw his face. You felt a shiver through your spine as you turn, to find Daemon descending the stairs, rushing to your side.

“Why did you call off the engagement with Aegon?”

You stared at Daemon, not sure why he cared. Aegon was your brother, but not only that — he was also the “rightful male” heir to the Throne. No woman in the kingdom would've back off from marrying Aegon Targaryen. Except maybe the Targaryen yourself.

“Why does it bother you?” you asked, grabbing the skirt of your dress and turning around, trying to get away from Daemon. He was your uncle on your father's side, as you were the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen and the last child of the late Queen Aemma.

Technically, Aegon was your half-brother, but the absurdity of your betrothal wasn't the blood relationship (normal for your House), but that you and Aegon were as far apart as you could get. Besides the big age difference, you couldn't stand his mother, who was always on your back for never having married.

Your brother was an irritating-spoiled brat, barely out of his teens. Even his younger brother Aemond was more mature.

“Don't try to get away from me, y/n!” Daemon shouted, but he soon caught you up. “You shouldn't have told your father you do not want to marry Aegon — he is the best marriage proposal you will ever get.”

You just stayed silent. Forced to stop your runway because Daemon was holding you by the arm, you just stared him and let him finish his argument.

“You're eight and twenty, y/n. It's past the time you became a wife,” he said.

“Are you proposing?” you asked, laughing it off. “I thought you only had eyes for my sister.”

Daemon snorted, loosening his grip on your arm and looking away from your eyes. He didn't seem to believe you would say such a thing.

“Y/n, you should marry Aegon, for your safety. It's the best option,” he tried again, but he couldn't see you couldn't be reasoned with.

“Well, I'm sorry if it would've been for the best, Daemon,” you sighed, stepping away from him, even though it was a really hard thing to do. He was very magnetic. “But is it better that I marry my brother even though I like somebody else?”

Daemon faced you. His brows lowered — he pitied you.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled.

“I didn't… I didn't realize,” he said, stepping closer to you, taking away the space you hardly work to get between you two.

You stared at him, in disbelief. How could he have? He was in fact looking at Rhaenyra all the bloody time, you were not lying when you mentioned it. You were younger than her, so all you could ever do — your whole life, for that matter — was to sit back and watch.

“So,” Daemon scratched his throat, “you're still not over Harwin, huh?”

You slowly closed your eyes, jerking your head in the opposite direction of Daemon's teasing gaze. He was trying to be sympathetic, even empathetic, but he had failed badly. Sir Harwin Strong had been your fling, long before he had been your sister's affair.

Harwin and you only kissed, but it was so few times that you, now older, rarely remembered. Once, as a child, still naive, you pledged yourself—swore yourself, in front of the gods—to Daemon. Your virtue would be taken away by him and no one else. So Harwin lost interest, and soon he was in the graces of your beautiful older sister.

Daemon had failed to see that the one in your way from marrying your brother — or anybody else — was only himself.

“Yes,” you gulped, opening your eyes back again but not fully facing your uncle. “I'm not over Harwin yet.”

The Targaryen rogue prince shook his head. “I see.”

“Will you excuse me now?” you asked, rudely. You were sick of standing there as a pig to slaughter when he didn't even want to hurt you anyway.

“Of course, princess,” he said, allowing your escape.

You hastened away, not even looking back.

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x yn #aegon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #targaryen!reader #sad fic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

[aphroditesmoon]

kerosene (i)

jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader

summary: after you find out your family has been orchestrating a plan to use you as a scapegoat to assure your brother's reign. You pledge your allegiance to the black queen and switch alliances as pleaded by your secret lover himself, prince jacaerys velaryon.

warnings: none

tags: @hottiewifeyyyy

°°°

We were always meant to burn together.

Those were his last words to you before he sailed back home to Dragonstone.

Your lover, your ever the dutiful prince Jacaerys, pleading you to marry him behind everyone's back. So confident it'd be easily accepted by everyone.

And you, ever the dutiful daughter to your family, rejects him everytime. You knew your own mother better than everyone, She would disown you if you had left her for a bastard Targaryen. And yet out of all things you predicted of her, this was not one them.

Since birth you had been betrothed to your brother Daeron who's warded off in oldtown for some years now. A life you were ready to accept, as long as you wouldn't have to leave Kingslanding.

But today that betrothal would be broken, your mother has been corresponding with the prideful lord Baratheon and has promised him your hand without you knowing.

A Targaryen princess to mix with his blood, in return, his allegiance and loyalty to your brother Aegon as king of the seven kingdoms.

Absolutely horse shit.

You knew you couldn't remain neutral forever, and the moment your father died, your place by your family must be taken and you'd have to forget old loves and sacrifice your own happiness.

But you didn't think the happiness you'd have to let go would involve leaving the comfort of your home for the dark miserable Storm's End as a bride of an illiterate greedy all up his ass of a man.

They would sell you off and all your worth for the animal you shared blood with to ascend the throne. And they would tell you it's your duty to accept such fate.

Such fate they themselves orchestrated from the start then proceed to call it a will of the gods.

"Every one of your siblings has made a sacrifice, now it's your turn, do not act as if I'm forsaking you, you know I've no choice. All I'm asking of you is a tiny sacrifice by your part, for a better future, for us, for the people." You tire of your mother's repetitive speech.

"And what sacrifice has Aegon made? Ascending a throne he does not want? And what of your sacrifice? It's us that you're willingly pushing into war, We are the scapegoat of your plan. I am. Can't you see?" You snapped back.

She looks at you as if you've slapped her, for all your quarrels, she didn't think you'd be so bold.

She opens her mouth to speak but halts as the door of your chambers open, entering Aemond.

He eyes you both assessing the tense state you're both in and sighs.

"I hope you're both settled with your little quarrel now, because by tomorrow morning I'll be gone to Storms End to confirm the arrangements for you, sister." He informs you and your mother, giving you a slightly more sympathetic look before.

You fight the urge to claw at his face or stomp his feet. If he cared for you like he says he does, why won't he fight for you?

You knew why, deep down. His love for his mother and his sense of duty overthrows the others in his heart. Always.

Your eyes snap away from his pitiful gaze, still upset with everyone, and he only sighs louder, sharing a knowing look with your mother before leaving the room.

Your mothers face is one of sadness when she crosses the distance between you to, forcing you to look at her as she cups your face with her hands.

"I can't tell you how it breaks my heart to deliver you to such a life I was forced to myself, but if I don't take control of your brother's ascension, your grandfather will. And he will make sure that war does happen with the thirst for the throne he has in him. And by then not only your life will be at risk, but so will your darling prince Jacaerys -"

Her words cuts through you like valyrian steel. Clear and clean. You flinch at his name and she grips your chin tighter, her hold on you starting to feel more of a threat .

"Mother-" You start to defend yourself but she cuts you off.

"I'm not stupid, [name], I know you've been corresponding with that bastard through letters. I allowed you that joy, and I can easily take back every bit of it." She whispers, too sweetly to sound cruel.

You stare at her as if you've never known your mother and she lets you revel in your misery, leaving you to your tears.

The crying lasted short as awareness spread through you. You scrambled for paper and ink as you devise a plan in your head to make sure a message can be secured to dragonstone without your mother knowing. There weren't much people left in the castle who wasn't loyal to the Hightowers by now, most of them killed by your grandfather.

But you know a man. You just pray he's as honorable as he seems.

°°°°

The news of his grandfather's death and the ascension of Aegon instead of his mother has painted the castle walls of Dragonstone a grave dark colour. It only worsens with the miscarriage his mother had suffered on the same day.

Everything mashed through his brain making him unable to come up with one single relaxed thought.

This was war. He knew it was. Just because it hasn't started doesn't meant it won't, it's inevitable at this point. His mother is just trying to prolong peace as long as she can before bloodshed becomes necessary.

It was all in haywire. They've nothing secured. The allegiance and oaths that were sworn to his mother are all empty promises now, Daemon is on the brink of madness trying to push into war as fast as he can, completely deaf to reason, Lord Corlys still has not returned, leaving even the Velaryon alliances itself in a question mark.

And yet with all the problems in front of him, he can't help worry about the one far away in Kingslanding.

[Name] was not built for war, (though he'd argue none of them were), she was not built for the dirty games of thrones and politics, no, she was built for love and a life of tranquility, he'd like to believe she was meant for him, yet so far every odds existing presented themselves againts the couple.

As if the gods heard him, A guard arrives with a letter sealed in a familiar way that makes his hearts beats faster.

He excuses the guard rushing to his room to read it's content. Satisfied with being right, it was indeed from his beloved.

Yet this was no love letter he was used to receiving, this was a warning.

His breath hitched as he rereads the obviously rushed letter with splattered ink over the letters.

The name Baratheon and betrothed repeating itself in his head along with the warning of his flawed allegiance and old father's oath to his mother. The lord is not only switching sides but apparently stealing his woman alongside of it too. Fucking traitor.

His blood boiled at the thought of it while his heart warmed of the fact that she still cared enough to want to protect him, even in her state.

I wish I could just fucking crash through the palace and take her away.

It would be absolutely insane, immature and immediately plunge the realm into a war of two. And yet for a split second, he's heavily considering it.

They will meet again, and though right now it's her that's saving their chances and potentially, lives, He will find her again and make sure she won't be collateral damage to this mess.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd headcanon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #jace targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #jace targaryen

[spaceless-vacuum]

Fandom‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Legend of Zelda

Pairing‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Yandere!Ganon x reader

Word count‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ 753

Summery‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ This is set in the Ocarina of Time timeline, where Ganon swore allegience with Hyrule to invade it. You are Zelda’s older sibling and heir to the throne until she eventually takes it.

Misc‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ third pov, manipulation, yandere tendencies, Ganon is not a good guy and you can’t fix him

If the act of pledging his life to honour Hyrule wasn't enough to make him sick, the sight of you was. Of course it had to be you. Zelda’s older sibling. The crown heir of the kingdom unless your sister decided she wanted it more. You were always a bit quiet. Shadowed behind your younger sibling. All because she held the blood of a god in her. He knew he had to kill Zelda to get what he wanted, but what about you?

The more time he spent in the castle the more he learned he hated the sight of you. Yet he missed you too much when you were gone. It was ridiculous. Pacing around the hallways he knew you typically walked. He started finding more excuses to spend time in the library just so he could be with you. The two of you never interacted. No one said he couldn't talk to you, but the looks from the royal guards and sheika warriors was enough to get him to stay away.

Being close enough to watch you was enough. Nothing fancy was needed. Hyrule would fall and you with it. A shame to have to kill one such as you but he’s done worse.

When you approached him however, things changed. No guards openly followed you. If any were around they stayed hidden. You assured him you came in peace and just wanted to talk. It had to have been a lie. Instead you calmly explained you wanted to ask some questions about him and his people. There are huge gaps in Hyrule’s library for the other kingdoms. Gerudo most of all.

The wars have not been kind to either side and you expressed what looked like genuine sadness and concern. Something he never saw from Zelda. Not when it came to him. You apologized for her previous actions as well. Explaining that your sister was not who she once was. Neither was he.

Ganon just smiled and nodded the whole time. It must be a game, or some sort of trick. Maybe you're planning to double check the information he gives to see if he's true to Hyrule. It scares him a bit. Knowledge is power and suddenly he’s powerless in front of you. There's no way to know if your words are true or not. You could be lying to him.

The idea that he doesn't truly know you and never will scares him. So Ganon takes matters into his own hands. If you won’t say what it is you truly want (even when you do he doesn't believe you) he will find it out. Suddenly he’s paying that much more attention to you. What books you read, the pastries you eat, what shops you visit. Gifts from an anonymous suitor are left on your desk and on your bed. Something tells you it’s him, but you can't prove anything.

You don't stop talking to him either. The two of you meet in the library every so often to talk. Your interest in him and his people is amazing to him. If he didn't know any better he’d say it made you almost likeable. Yet the fact you were the heir to Hyrule made you unreachable. Once that wall was broken however. The plan was settled the moment he thought of it. Once he had Hyrule he’d have you.

Kidnapping you would be too easy. Throughout all of your meetings you always talked about peace. How the past couldn't be erased but the future was still up in the air. For all the talks of peace he knew he would never be able to abide by it. Entertaining the idea wasn't going to hurt until he made his move. He’d break every promise he made just to keep you by his side. 

The whole issue was adorable. Cute even. A rabbit was pleading to the wolf to change its nature. To hold its teeth away from its throat. You were too sweet and kind to survive. That’s why you needed him. He wasn't a fan of keeping a rabbit as a pet, but for you? The world. He could keep you as a pet, or maybe if you swore to behave he could sharpen your teeth? Teach you to live as a wolf like him. The ideas running through his head were too much.

You said you would give anything for peace. Even your hand in marriage? Would you give your heart and soul to a monster like him?

#eye write #legend of zelda #ganon x reader #loz #yandere x reader #Ganondorf x reader

[ryin-silverfish]

Chapter 18: What a Swine!

-A few pages into the chapter, and I found the first hook to go on a giant tangent: according to Gao Cai, Gao Village is located in the Kingdom of Qoco. I have no idea why Yu translated it as such, since the original Chinese name——Wusi Zang(乌斯藏, a transliteration of dbus gtsang) sounds nothing like that, but in short, it's the Ming dynasty name for Tibet.

-However, a quick glance at this map would show you that the real Xuanzang didn't cross Tibet during his journey; rather, he went the long way around the Himalayas, travelling on the Central Asian Silk Road. In the Ming dynasty, if you wanna go to India, you could actually take the route through the Himalayas and Nepal, but it wasn't there in the Tang dynasty (because there were a couple of hostile kingdoms in the way; Tuyuhun, Tubo, etc.)

-Sidenote, I absolutely love how JTTW '86 adapted this chapter, with SWK getting his flirt on and the legendary "Pigsy Carrying His Bride" sequence that had made its way into many subsequence adaptations.

-JTTW Research had written pretty comprehensively about Pigsy's origins, from the Daoist deity Marshal Canopy to his ties with Marici, an import deity with a boar mount who's also associated with the Dipper Constellation. As such, I only had one tidbit to add about possible inspirations for his character in folklore that predated the above.

-The earliest tale about a lusty pig demon could be found in the Tang dynasty Xuan Guai Lu(玄怪录). Guo Yuanzhen, a historical general during the reign of Gaozong and Wu Zetian, came across a mansion in his youth during travel. The whole place was lavishly decorated, as if preparing for a wedding banquet, but eeriely empty save for one crying woman.

-Turned out, she was the unwitting soon-to-be bride of a god called "General Wu"(乌将军), who demanded a beauty as his wife every year from the locals, and because they would pay a hefty sum to "buy" said bride, her own father sold her out to be this year's sacrifice. Furious, Guo disguised himself as a guest, pretended to offer General Wu some venison, then cut off his hand with the meat knife.

-Wounded, the General fled, and his severed limb turned into a pig's hoof once the sun came out. Soon, the bride's family and village elders came to the manor, ready to collect her body for the funeral, and were so freaked out by what Guo did that they were ready to sacrifice him to General Wu too, since the "god" was known to summon storm and hails whenever he didn't get his bride.

-Guo scolded them for being so damn guillible because no real gods would demand human sacrifices or, y'know, have pig hooves as hands, before gathering the young men of the villages and following the trail of blood to the pig demon's abode, where they proceeded to smoke it out and kill it with an assortment of arrows and farming tools.

-The woman, after calling out her terrible parents, pledged herself to Guo and became one of his wives, and all was well.

-Honestly, Pigsy's evolution from his folklore origins to JTTW Zaju to JTTW novel seemed to be one in which he became increasingly sympathetic; from basically being a more lusty version of Guanyin's goldfish, to an opportunistic kidnapper who took advantage of a pair of star-crossed lovers' family feud, to an ex-deity turned reformed demon who kinda got screwed over by his in-laws.

-Final note: Pigsy bragged that even if they could get the "Monster-Routing Patriarch" to come down from the Nine Heaven and exorcise him, he could still claim to be an old buddy of the guy. Which…wasn't wrong, considering that "Monster-Routing Patriarch" was the title of Emperor Zhenwu, Lord of the North, who was worshipped alongside Marshal Canopy as one of the Four Saints of the North Pole.

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

#journey to the west #jttw book club #xiyouji #jttw reading group

[talktomeinclexa]

The Royal Guard

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Gun violence, Blood and Injury

Status: WIP

Summary: Princess Clarke of Arkadia is kidnapped by mercenaries while on a visit to one of the kingdom's cities. Her abductors treat her well enough, but everything becomes more complicated when their client orders them to execute her. Lexa thought this was just another job. High risk, high pay. But when push comes to shove, will she betray her orders or her heart?

***

Chapter 7: Pledge

Clarke saw little of the couple of hours it took the convoy to return to Ark. The abrupt end of the stress accumulated over the previous few days left her exhausted and numb. She spent the journey with her head on her father’s lap at the back of the armored vehicle, softly crying as his hand stroked her hair.

She had to have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up without having seen anything of Ark or the high fence surrounding the palace. The car came to a stop before marble stairs leading to a gold-ornamented wooden door tall enough for a giant to enter without tilting their head. An impressive view often portrayed on postcards and newspapers, but as familiar to her as her reflection in the glass.

Home, she thought, incapable of stopping the nervous laugh from escaping her lips. Despite ridiculous odds, she had survived. She was home.

Journalists, likely alerted by the troop entering Ark in the middle of the night, had gathered before the gate to glimpse what was happening. Clarke felt a wave of gratitude wash over her when guards protectively lined up on the other side of the car to hide her and the king from their lenses. Naturally, the Palace would soon have to let the nation know their princess had returned safe and sound. But she wasn’t ready to face the barrage of questions sure to be aimed at her. She needed a few more hours, at least, to catch her breath and prepare herself.

Keep reading on Ao3

#Clexaweek23 #Clexaweek23 Day 2 #Day 2 secret relationship #the royal guard #clexa #enemies to lovers #princess clarke #mercenary lexa

[thoughtsafterdark]

Stigmata

The world is quiet. So quiet. The silence deafens, bends backs, breaks minds. It holds its breath, waiting, biding its time. Still and poised yet tense, every pebble and grain of sand prepared to strike. Like a big cat stalking its prey, shoulders rolling so smoothly as it inches closer and closer. Like oil sliding off the skin of the water. Those moments when it crouches and becomes one with the Savanah. When the golden light of the setting sun sets the land aflame and blades of grass blend with raised heckles until they are one and the same.

It waits for you, for your conception and birth. Molecules aligning, cells dividing, flowers blooming. The water of your mother’s womb is surprisingly thin given the precious life it cushions. It is expelled from your lungs like a sacrament, like a fountain that once erupted from a desert rock millennia ago. Strong lungs as befit a firstborn son. Your first cries pierce the air and shatter the stillness into a million shimmering fragments. The diamonds spill across the inky blackness. A burst of colour from the Lord’s brush, arcing across the sky. Another promise, another new beginning. Yet Gods are foolish, lonely creatures. Their promises ring hollow and false to our suffering ears. The whips crack and our skin splits, oozes all the same. Where was God when my brothers withered and died, the cries ripped from their throats going unanswered?

And yet tell me why as I gaze upon you now, I am compelled to fall to my knees? As if every fibre of my being yearns to bow, to yield - as if your voice bursts from somewhere deep in my squirming gut and heart and not your lips?

Tell me why I itch to bury myself in the crook where your thigh meets groin and inhale the musk there as if your scent holds the Eye of the Needle, as if the grooves of your skin map Heaven’s Kingdom. Would you let me cry tears of rapture at your coming and wash your feet with them and my tongue?

I wonder if such a wonton display of devotion would anger you, frighten you. Would you toss me away in disgust, smash my face into the ground? Break my nose against rock and let me feel the warm flood of blood flow backwards down my throat, let me savour the salt and iron as I swallow devoutly. Tell me why I have never felt so alive as when your holy wrath rains down upon me like fire, like the destruction of Sodom.

I watch you now, standing proud against that same setting sun, gazing across the expanse of your new kingdom. Here as it dips low upon the dunes and the sand lashes at us. Its rays frame raven curls and fracture all around you, as if afraid to touch you and be seduced. A halo that revers yet fears you. It hardens your features as if you were hewn from granite Your jaw tightens against the onslaught, sharp enough to fell armies. Your eyes become the harsh ringing of blade against blade. Gone is the boy with the easy smile tugging at the corner of a mouth, crow’s feet wrinkling eyes. In his place is the cold pyre of divine righteousness. The commander of earth and sky, made to wield sound and air itself. I think of the icons of old, the waxy mournful faces of saints and note what a pale imitation they must be, if they had even a third of your weight.

You are a black hole - all-consuming, inescapable, inevitable - and we are all trapped in your orbit, edging ever closer to the Event Horizon that will surely destroy us. But tell me if our path is so doomed why my heart leaps at the prospect of pledging my death to you? What finer gift is there but that of my last breath, freely given?

In your face I see rivers of blood and the thrum of charging men. I hear the chants of our forefathers and the long line of prophets that came before, accumulating across the centuries into the tapestry that is your flesh.

Yet as you lie here beside me, the darkness kept at bay by the stubborn flame of a lone candle, your face serene with sleep and your sweat acrid and sharp in my nose - I see just a man plagued by a crown of thorns. I think of my hands, bathing in the blood of innocents in your name. Your name, a mantra, a hymn that ignites us all with awe and hunger. I wonder if knowing deep down you are just a man makes me more or less the fool.

Then your eyes open, lashes fluttering, and I see the light burning there and I know messiahs are not born but made in the hearth of a home, in the fierceness of a loyal heart and the beating lifeblood of a people starved of hope. I care not if you bleed red or ichor, I know only that I will follow you into hell itself, until we burn to ash and we become whispers, legends. Until we are nothing but dust floating across the dunes, the wind that stokes the flames of a thousand more rebellions.

#creative writing #poetry #religious trauma #religious imagery #love #devotion #stream of consciousness #love poetry

[rpgsandbox]

The Laundry Roleplaying Game

The award-winning RPG of cosmic horror, tech-driven magic, and occult spycraft returns! Based on ‘The Laundry Files’ by Charles Stross.

Welcome to the Laundry! You’re one of the unlucky few standing between humanity and unspeakable - often unpronounceable - supernatural, alien, and interdimensional threats.

You’re a spy. Well, you are now, at least. Previously, you were someone who learned things humanity was not meant to know. Namely, that magic is real, it exists in the higher realms of mathematics, and it has some really messed up devotees. And if you know that much, then you’re not left with much of a choice — you work for the Laundry now. 

If you’re familiar with Charles Stross’ award-winning The Laundry Files series or the first edition of the award-winning Laundry RPG, you know all this already and can skip to looking at the books, the new award-winning game system, or just go ahead and pick a pledge level already. Just remember that everything here has won awards, ok? Lots of them.

If you are new to the Laundry, you are in for a treat – read on for the primer. You should also bear in mind the awards thing.

There are things out there, in the weirder reaches of space-time, where reality is an optional extra. Horrible things, sometimes with actual tentacles. Al-Hazred glimpsed them, John Dee summoned them, HP Lovecraft wrote about them, and Alan Turing mapped the paths from our universe to theirs. It turns out that mathematics really is magic, or at least that aspects of it describe, enable and power magic. And computing power supercharges it.

The right calculation can call up entities from other, older universes, or invoke their powers. Invisibility? Easy! Binding lesser demons to your will? Trivial! Opening up the way for the Great Old Ones to come through and eat our brains? Unfortunately, much too easy.

That’s where the Laundry comes in. It’s a branch of the British secret service tasked with preventing alien gods from wiping out all life on Earth, with a policy focus on the United Kingdom. You work for the Laundry. The hours are long, the pay is bad, and the bureaucracy is stifling, but unfortunately, you know too much to really have a choice in the matter.

There are some upsides – you get to play with all sorts of magically enhanced tech, from necronom-iPhones loaded with cutting-edge occult apps to basilisk guns that [REDACTED]. Plus, you’ve got a job for life, and possibly beyond (talk to Residual Human Resources to find out more).

You may even get to save the world. Just make sure you get a receipt.

Introducing the second edition of The Laundry Roleplaying Game — an exhilarating blend of covert action, investigation, and dark cosmic horror that thrusts you into the chaotic world of underfunded government employees battling to save the world from unspeakable threats.

Your daily grind includes myriad perilous tasks, from exorcising co-workers gone awry to thwarting ambitious computer students from triggering reality-bending catastrophes. Sneak into supercomputer servers, join SAS troops on dimension-hopping missions, halt outbreaks of blood-draining brain parasites, and prepare for the inevitable apocalypse of CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN.

The C7d6 System

This second edition of The Laundry Roleplaying Game employs the acclaimed C7d6 system, renowned for its versatility, speed, and flexibility.

To perform an action, roll a number of six-sided dice equal to your Attribute score plus any Training you have in the relevant field. So if you have Mind 3 and two levels of Training in the Occult Skill, you have a dice pool of 5d6. Roll the dice, and if any of them exceed the difficulty of the Task, congratulations — you’ve succeeded!

The difficulty may vary, but fear not! You have a plethora of Talents at your disposal, each designed to bolster your chances of success and turn the tides in your favour.

Small Scale to World Devouring

The game system is fast and accessible and ideal for when things get messy, the banishment rounds are flying, and creatures from another realm threaten to devour your office. The same rules apply whether you’re hacking into a computer, sneaking into an office block, or storming a building with a bunch of grizzled SAS troops.

Those rules work just as well when faced with mind-shattering horror and for higher-powered adventures when things start to get really strange in The Annihilation Score and beyond.

Who Do You Play?

Within the Laundry, there are countless departments filled with hundreds of overworked and underpaid employees — and you’re one of them. You might be an accountant, IT support, a driver, or something weirder, like a counterpossession exorcist, a computational demonologist, or one of the really odd people who dedicate their life to research and development. 

However, that’s just your day job. As part of your Active Duty, you’ll join other operatives and head out on a wide array of exciting (and deadly) missions.

What Do You Do?

There is no ‘typical’ when it comes to Laundry missions. You could be sent to the heart of London, Wolverhampton, or Milton Keynes. You may even be sent overseas, but you’ll have to be careful not to ruffle any feathers — the Black Chamber and the Thirteenth Directorate are quick to halt clandestine Laundry operations. While they might have the same job as you, they handle things very differently, and some refuse to believe that the Cold War is over. 

The world of the Laundry is under threat of incomprehensible cosmic horrors, and it’s up to you to save it.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Wed, May 1 2024 3:00 PM BST

Website: [Cubicle 7] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram]

#RPG #kickstarter #The Laundry Files #Cubicle 7 #Charles Stross #cthulhu mythos

[author-morgan]

Title: White Knight Pairing: Ser Erryk Cargyll x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: You and Erryk both know what it means when he swears the oath of the Kingsgaurd, but it does not make it any easier. Warnings: typical Westerosi shenanigans A belated Christmas and early Valentine's present for @mrsragnarlodbrok! ❤️🎁😘

For our love is a ghost that the others can't see.

HE COMES TO you in the night, bringing urgent tidings which leave him elated and distraught. For weeks there were whispers in the Red Keep of who the new members of the Kingsgaurd would be in the wake of Ser Robin Shaw and Ser Clement Crabb’s recent passing. Arryk and Erryk Cargyll’s names garnered much attention and praise from the Lords of the Court and Small Council in recent weeks. The twins are of noble stock from the Crownlands. They are fine men. Among the best warriors the Seven Kingdoms can offer, as so few returned from Prince Daemon’s war in the Stepstones.

The whispers were proven true at the feast to celebrate Prince Aemond’s fifth nameday —and with Aegon and Aemond quickly growing, the young princes would need their own sworn swords. The honor of serving alongside his brother in the Kingsguard is one Erryk has dreamt of since he was a boy. Now Viserys has extended that honor to both he and Arryk. But the vows he must take weigh heavy on his shoulders with the thought of you. 

“Do not let me dissuade you, Erryk.” His clear gaze flits up from the flagstone floor to you —smiling and happier about the news than him. “To be named a knight of the Kingsguard is among the highest of honors,” you reason. Boys dreamt of serving in the Kingsguard, and so few are ever offered the opportunity to fulfill their boyhood dreams. Despite it all, you know why he has come to you so distraught —it is the status of your courtship and the oath he must swear. 

You know the oaths knights swear well enough, and those of the Kingsguard too —have heard the young princes and boys at court whisper them with starry-eyed aspirations of donning the White Cloak one day. I swear to ward the King with all my strength and give my blood for His. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, and father no children. I shall guard His secrets, obey His commands, ride at His side and defend His name and honor. I pledge to His Grace my life and honor from this day to the end of my days.

He grips your hands, blue-grey eyes pleading with you to understand the gravity of this moment —what it means for the two of you and the future you’ve both thought and spoken about. “I must swear to never marry.” Erryk’s voice wavers as he echoes the oath. “To father no children and hold no lands.” I can live without a Keep and land to call my own, he thinks. “I do not wish to give you up.” It’s a hoarse whisper that makes your stomach churn with sorrow and heart ache.

You love Erryk, dearly, and for that, you cannot let him set aside such an honor for you —the daughter of a newly named vassal house of the Riverlands. His name will live on in history should he don the white cloak but would surely fade if he takes you to wed. And after all, given your position in court, it is unlikely you and Erryk will truly have to be parted from one another’s company. “I am one of Rheanyra’s ladies-in-waiting,” you remind him, gently, “and you are to be one of her sworn protectors.” You can see the corners of his lips twitch upward beneath his scraggly beard. “I do not think we will often be parted.”

Erryk’s brows furrow. “You would have me break my oath?”

“No!” You quickly exclaim. “I only meant we do not have to become strangers should you accept the king’s offer,” you explain. “We all must make sacrifices in this life, and I would not have you give up your dream for me, Erryk.”

Erryk exhales, his breath shaking —it seems as though you have decided for him. “Grant me one last night then, my lady,” he says, a whispered plea, as he looks at you, pinning you there with his warm, nigh doleful gaze, as though he can’t decide how to proceed or how to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk settles for a chaste kiss. It’s soft, save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw and searching as he waits for you to give him an indication of where this night is to lead. And when your lips meet again, it's with intention —fingers threading into Erryk’s hair, anchoring yourself against him, and ruining the half-bun that keeps his long dark hair from falling in front of his face.

He moves forward, easing you back toward the bed —a plainly furnished wooden frame and a lumpy straw-and-feather stuffed mattress you’ve shared many times before. He lays you back, never once daring to part from your lips, your touch. Bliss makes your head spin, and upon coming up for air, you find his eyes staring into your own, communicating everything you could ever wish for and everything you can never have.

The chill of the night air turns your skin to gooseflesh as Erryk pushes up the hem of your chemise —the rough pads of his fingers brushing across your stomach and then higher. You squirm out of the thin piece of linen, and he tosses it aside, pausing above you for the briefest of moments. He breathes your name, a soft sigh; then his lips trace over your collarbone before he sits back on the edge of the bed, toeing off his boots.

He glances back up to your face and uses your arms to drag you closer to him, hooking them around his neck as he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his hands settle on your waist —warm and strong as he pulls you against him. He’s hot. Skin and mouth. And every touch and lingering caress sets you alight, burning on the inside. Erryk parts and stares down at you —memorizing the curve of your chin and upper lip, the soft glimmer and adoration in your eyes as you look at him. Between the ache in his heart and the voice in his head, it’s nigh too much, and he dips back down for another kiss, this time parting your lips, relishing the startled breath you give.

Your hands wander across his shoulders and back, gathering the linen of his tunic in your hands before pulling free the hem from his britches and drawing the off-white fabric up and overhead. Erryk shudders when your lips brush over his chest, fingertips wandering over the muscles of his arms and back —committing the feel of him to memory. But his hands wander too, and you can’t help but tense up when you feel his fingers ghost over you. Your legs spread wider for him, and you’re rewarded with a stroke from the entrance of your cunt to your clit.

He does it again before pressing a finger into your warmth, working you slowly open. Your hips jerk softly along with his movements. He hums when a second finger joins it, quickly kissing you again to hide the little whimpers you make with every move of his hand. He knows your body just as well as you do, and it’s easy to tell exactly how he needs to touch you to make you gasp and clench around his fingers —and he’s relentless in his efforts. His thumb rubs firmly against your clit, and you jolt.

“Erryk.” His name is a soft plea for more or to stop. You aren’t sure which. His free hand brushes a stray hair out of your face, and you smile up at him, unfocused and panting hard. You clumsily grab for him but get distracted by the fingers shifting inside you. He moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s found inside you —leaving your nerves tingling with every touch. His mouth finds yours again, and you run a hand through his hair, then his fingers angle themselves just right to stroke the spot that pushes you over the precipice.

Rising from the bed, he undoes his belt and the ties of his britches, stepping out of them and his drawers. Then he finally lets you touch him in return, and you run your hand along the length of his hard cock. He tilts your chin up with one finger to steal another kiss, and you let out a small sigh —willing to give anything to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk rejoins you on the bed and pulls you atop him, straddling his lap. You adjust yourself, and his hands settle at your hips to line your body up with his. He guides you downward, and you feel the head of his cock push inside your cunt. He bottoms out inside you in one smooth thrust that makes the air catch in your throat.

“Are you alright?” He asks, ever the gentleman, as his lips trail faint, soothing kisses along your shoulder. You nod wordlessly. There’s only the pleasant and familiar stretch of his cock. You give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and he lifts you by the hips and brings you back down onto him. He watches you, murmuring praises for you that would sound unbearably cheesy coming from anyone else. His stare is wide and unblinking as he appreciates the sight of your cunt taking him in over and over. Your knight is so romantic it should be embarrassing, but somehow all you feel is affection —another of his many talents. You pull him down for another kiss, long and slow until your lungs ache, and you can feel his lips curve into a smile against yours.

Erryk reads you like a book —a battle plan— ready to adjust his pace or intensity perfectly to match your wants before you can even ask aloud. He does all the work for you, his grip firm on your hips to guide you up and down along his cock. You shift in his arms to drag your lips down his neck, and he brings you down at an angle that’s just a bit different. Your body reacts immediately to the sudden stimulation, nigh severing the only thing keeping you tethered to shore in a sea of ecstasy. His own breath stutters in his throat at the feeling of you clenching around him. Erryk thinks he could spend the next thousand years like this, and it still wouldn’t be enough. And it drives him to madness to know this must be the last time to have like this.

You whimper and groan in frustration when he pulls you off him and lays you back on the bed, but then he’s clambering over you, the bedframe creaking with the shifting weight. Nestled between your legs, his cock nudges deeper and sends lazy tendrils of euphoria curling through you. Erryk’s eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen, shining with love and lust and something akin to awe. You lean your head back, arching your body to better accept him, every ridge and vein of him dragging against you.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure, your panting scarcely keeping up with the demand of your racing heart. His kiss is rough and desperate —a wet and messy meeting of mouths as his rhythm loses its steadiness and any semblance of control as he seeks his own end.

He lifts his mouth off yours, and rough fingertips slide between your bodies, pushing through the sweat and slick to strum your clit. His eyes are heavy and half-lidded as he borders the precipice of his pleasure, nearly there, dragging you with him for once more before he will allow himself his release. 

His cock throbs and twitches as your body tightens and clenches under the tender assault of his fingers. You let your head fall to the side, pulling you under the fog of ecstasy. Erryk doesn’t need much longer, only a handful more thrusts, before he gives in. For a moment, he remains like that, half leaning over you, his eyes shit, catching his breath. Then he shifts, and you can feel the extra warmth between your thighs.

Erryk’s gentle as he relaxes his arms, lowering himself to rest on top of you. He lays his head across your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heartbeat as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, keeping him close. He’ll pull his softening cock out of you soon enough, but at the moment, all he wants is a minute of peace like this. A moment to remember.

With deliberate movement, Erryk shifts back, drawing your body with him as he lays down on the bed once again, pulling you with him. Softly, his palms smooth over your bare back, your figure pressed to his as warm skin sticks together. And his fingertips lightly trace back and forth over your neck as you carefully adjust your head, resting it once more on his chest —whispering your affections.

WHEN RHAENYRA WISHES to return to Dragonstone, you are among the first she asks to accompany her back to her ancestral home. It is the growing rift between her and the Queen that drives the heir to the Iron Throne across Blackwater Bay. Erryk already knows when you find him sharpening his sword outside Prince Aegon’s chambers. But the King has made him and his brother the protectors of Prince Aegon and Aemond. If but a fortnight sooner in her decision, Erryk would have still been Rhaenrya’s sworn shield. He holds you, weeping, for as long as he dares and promises this will not be goodbye. And you pluck up the courage to kiss his cheek before returning to your chambers to ready your belongings. But as you glance back over your shoulder at Ser Erryk Cargyll, he cannot help but wonder if taking the oath was truly the right thing to do.

He comes to pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenrya. Offering the crown of her father —and grandfather— as he recites the vows of the Kingsguard once again. And after little Visenya’s pyre is naught but ashes and the first war council concludes, he comes to you in the dark of night sans armor —echoing a night nigh a decade ago. You open the door to your room, surprised to find him standing before you after all these years apart. 

“Erryk?” He steps to you. “I...what are you–” Chapped lips softly cut off your nervous rambling, and you close your eyes, sinking into his warmth, his smell, nigh all your worries quickly forgotten. He envelops you in every sense of the word, and you let yourself wonder if this is what home truly feels like. Alas, quickly —too quickly— he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours and a hand atop the one that rests on his shoulder. Everything fades as Erryk whispers your name. You kiss him back without thought of consequence, hands moving to the nape of his neck to draw him closer, unwilling to be parted again. Oaths be damned, Erryk thinks, if Rhaenrya must have his head for this offense, then he’ll gladly walk to the gallows. 

[House of the Dragon taglist: @batmomphd / @beelanie / @crispmarshmallow / @crvshnburnn / @darkravenqueen98 / @dollvi3e / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @fictionaldistraction / @gallimaufrea / @hb8301 / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @idkjj04 / @instabull / @javisjeanjacket / @katie007123 / @ksziggy / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @lillianastras / @lostingoogletranslate / @lucyhotchner / @michellepreg / @midnightmuze / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @moonlightsspirit / @moshpot24x / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @m1ndbrand / @nenelysian / @nerdy4itall / @newtsniffles / @notbrookie / @paprikabadger / @poisonedsultana / @purestxblood / @qhbr2013 / @safe-within-the-stars / @sandronebabyy / @sapphirehearteyes / @savagemickey03 / @schniiipsel / @singular-itae / @thewintersnoozer / @watercolorskyy / @xcallmetaniax / @xiakahazou /@xinyourdreamsx / @xxgarden / @23victoria ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my House of the Dragon taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#ser erryk cargyll #erryk cargyll #ser erryk cargyll x reader #ser erryk x reader #erryk cargyll x reader #erryk x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #ASOIAF #ASOIAF fanfic #my writing

[peaches2217]

your mareach family headcanons are everything. they're so cute! i wonder, how would luigi and peasley take to being uncles? would they even start wanting one of their own, or will they just pledge themselves to be the best uncles this kid has ever had?

I am so happy someone's actually interested in my Uncle Luisley concepts because I keep having to omit Peasley for the sake of wider applicability and I am so ready to not do that

(@mrspockify if it's okay, I'd like to use this post to answer this ask of yours too, since there's so much overlap!)

Luigi, of course, is absolutely thrilled. Mario has wanted kids pretty much his whole life; now he's getting that chance, and Luigi's gonna have a little niece/nephew/nibling, and by their power combined that's gonna be the safest and most spoiled kid in existence! There's a lot of jumping and shaking each other and whooping and hugging and it's just an absolute spectacle. (I... may or may not have a fic in the works. 👀)

Since he's Prince Consort of the Beanbean Kingdom, Luigi lives about an hour's flight from Toad Town. He visits regularly to bring gifts or to make sure Mario's not running himself into the ground worrying over Peach's health or just to see what else he can do because he's so excited! Whenever he's home, he'll often make checklists of things the parents-to-be may or may not need and set out to gather everything before his next visit, be it practical items like bedding or nursery supplies or more sentimental offerings like a collection of their mother's best recipes (Peach has been wanting those recipes for ages now, so really it's long overdue). He even briefly tries to take up sewing so he can make the tot some clothes (with... disastrous results, admittedly. Such a tiny needle... so much blood...).

Peasley's initially a lot more indifferent to the prospect of being an uncle. He's happy for their friends, truly, but the news doesn't stir him the way it does his husband. But he doesn't remain indifferent for long, and that's because Luigi is absolutely radiant when discussing/performing his perceived duties as an uncle. Peasley worships the very ground he walks upon. Anything that makes Luigi this happy is bound to make him equally happy in short order.

Being an only child (and a little out-of-touch if we're being honest), he has no idea what being an uncle even entails, so he just goes along with all of Luigi's ideas: bedding? He'll have a dozen hand-stitched silken pillows and blankets commissioned because the little royal deserves only the best! A cookbook? He'll have one penned by a professional scribe on the finest parchment, because Mama Mario's legacy shan't be recorded on anything less! They're wanting name suggestions? How about we spend the whole night tossing ideas back and forth, my love? There's a dusty old parlor a few halls down; let's turn it into a nursery so the baby will have a comfortable place to stay should babysitting duties befall us! Admittedly it's still less about wanting to be a good uncle and more about ensuring all of Luigi's desires are fulfilled to the utmost, but hey, he's still a great future uncle by proxy, so that's what counts, right? 😆

They do inevitably discuss having children of their own somewhere along the line, what with the topic being so relevant now. They will at some point need to produce an heir, biological or adopted or unrelated yet entrusted with the title (Peasley is trans, meaning biological children is an option for them). That said, they ultimately decide they're happiest on their own for now; if they decide they want a child somewhere down the line, then that's a bridge they'll cross when they come to it. They've got a good fifty years, stars willing, before they have to worry about who will take over after Peasley, so they're not in any rush.

Queen Bean, on the other hand, isn't getting any younger, and the Mushroom Kingdom's upcoming arrival is a stark reminder of that. Her son and son-in-law proudly show her the parlor-turned-nursery that they've spent weeks renovating, and as they prattle on about all of the luxuries they've equipped it with for a baby that's not even their own, she can't help but feel exasperated.

She pulls her boys in for a hug, anchoring a massive hand on each of their shoulders so they can't run away. "I trust this nursery will one day serve my grandchildren, yes?"

Peasley shoots Luigi an apologetic look, fighting back a wince. Luigi's just trying not to laugh. "We're... discussing it, mother," Peasley finally says.

The Queen smiles placidly and pats them both. "Discuss it faster."

#in summary: #luigi is hella gratuitous in his excitement and peasley is his enabler #they’re both going to be incredible uncles 😌 #peaches has opinions #tw pregnancy #luisley

[pluvialpoet]

a pact of ice & fire

Summary: when war divides the seven kingdoms and an alliance is pledged upon your family’s behalf, you seek to make a traitorous pact of your own- with your family’s sworn enemy

Pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: mentions of scars (both aemond & reader), physical pain & suffering, familial betrayal, slight angst, possible spoilers for fire & blood/hotd- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 2,076

masterlist

“Lady Stark,” The shadows speak your name, coaxing you from the silence- and the stillness- of your thoughts with the interruption of a low, deep timbre. Perhaps if a flame were present- by candle, torch, or fire burning in the hearth- it might’ve illuminated trembling hands or fidgeting fingertips, but such actions remain eclipsed by a soft, barely there flicker of moonlight. Shielded by enough darkness to present a poised front, you gather fistfuls of your skirts and drop down to a curtsy, bowing before the man who has not yet stepped into the light, and a chill- much cooler than you’re familiar with- fills the air.

He regards you silently, and his judgment is deafening- intimidating, even. Surrounded by stillness- a void of darkness and quiet- you’re not sure what to make of the fact that he’s accepted your invitation. He’s abided by the ink from your quill with only the shadows to bare witness to such a clandestine affair, and you wonder if the umbra hides an enemy or an ally. 

“Rise,” The walls command with an authority that seeps into the waddle and daub that shields the two of you from the rest of the town- voluntarily trapping you within a pile of mud, manure, and straw. Upon your request, he has agreed to meet- but that is the extent of any jurisdiction you might’ve once held. Now, you are to abide by his demands, surrendering what little power you’ve grown accustomed to under your old title in favor of submission to his instruction and cause. It is a vow silently made- an unspoken promise you will uphold regardless of what happens when twilight unveils the illusion of benevolence come morning. When the sun rises, nothing will be the same. “If it is counsel you seek, I urge you- once more- to seek an audience with my brother, the king.” 

“It is not just counsel I’ve traveled far for,” Your words don’t fill the space as his do, your tone not as sure nor assertive as he is, but they reach his ears, nevertheless- along with a glimpse of your motive as you step towards the light. “It is your counsel that has guided my trek.” 

The confession isn’t earned, and the sincerity of such a remark is skewed by your urgency to meet. Desperation doesn’t warrant reliance, and despite a rather convincing plea for his company, Aemond knows better than to offer his trust blindly. Perhaps you will become an ally, but, as it stands, you are his foe. Pretty words of promise won’t change the simple fact that you’ve sided with his enemy, and until your pledges of loyalty and devotion come to fruition, that is what you’ll remain- an enemy.

“I stand before you now, and I’m growing quite tiresome of speaking in riddles,” He forewarns as his patience dwindles, urging you to reveal your true intentions before what little tolerance he holds towards the exchange fades away completely. “Speak your purpose,”

“I am not a traitor to your cause, my prince.” With a breath, you explain, “Whilst it is true that my family has held little interest in the political squabbles of the court, until late, it was not I who swore allegiance to your nephew- nor is it I who supports your sister’s claim to the throne.” 

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had traveled a great distance to meet with your brother, Cregan. He braved wind and snow and lost a few noble men along the way, but when he finally arrived, he sought to secure an alliance with your family that would grant him the banners his family needed to turn the tides of war in their favor. As far removed as you had managed to stay from the destruction and chaos of their battle, even you and your family weren’t immune to the tragedies of such conflict. As those across the seven kingdoms bled, you too felt he effects of carnage and wrath- a poison that filled you with rage and sorrow, doubt and terror- and when words of siding with the young prince, whose family was responsible for so much havoc and suffering, were spoken allowed, you felt the sharp sting of betrayal claim you as another victim to their cause.

“It is my brother whom expects me to uphold the same honor and loyalty he swore our name to under the guise of seeing a ghost.” Cregan was blinded by the resemblance Princess Rhaenyra’s firstborn son held to your late brother, and when a glimpse of traits thought to be long lost and forgotten provided him with a glimmer of the past, he aligned himself with the boy- hoping to mimic the union of brotherhood he had lost. You do not share the same sentiment. “I come bearing information about the tactics your nephew, sister, and uncle plan to use to infiltrate the city- along with the number of banners and weapons that will soon paint the streets with blood.”

It’s hard to distinguish warning from threat- sincerity from deceit- and he regards you carefully. He grapples with morality whilst digesting your words, unsure what to make of them. Your name has been a whisper in the wind throughout his life- an echo carrying tales of not only your family’s strength, but your character, as well- and though you’ve never met, he hardly recognizes the imposter that stands before him in the space where he expected a loyal woman to occupy. You may not have betrayed him- yet- but by requesting to meet with him, you’ve already betrayed your family’s trust. 

If you’re willing to sever a bond as ardent as the one shared between blood, what’s to stop you from betraying him- when the opportunity presents itself?

“What is it that you seek in return?” He seeks the answers he can not infer. Though Aemond doubts he’ll reep the reward of words of honesty and truth, he challenges you to speak freely- curious to discover what you think will negate the cost of your betrayal. 

He prepares for gold. He waits for you to ask for gems, jewels, or other abundant luxuries the North is deprived of. He expects greed and corruption- gluttony and sin- but with a shaky breath, audible in the silence that’s settled in the space of a reply, you step forward. Uneasy, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightens. Ready to brandish the blade if need be, he stands ready to attack- his heart racing at the thought of claiming the Stark girl as another forgotten casualty- but when your fingertips hesitantly reach for the veil that conceals your face from his view, his grip on his weapon goes as slack as his jaw.

“When I was a girl, I was mauled by a direwolf.” Having never bared yourself in such a way to anyone other than your family, you lack the courage to meet his gaze. Instead, you avert your stare to the cracks below your feet. “Though they’ve been on the brink of extinction, I spotted a pup in the woods and thought him to be injured.” The memory causes your scars to burn white hot with a pain so blistering that your eyes start to water. Perhaps, your tears are due in equal parts shame, humiliation, and sorrow. “His whimpers drew me closer, and when I reached him, I discovered that he was not injured- perhaps just scared, or lonely.” The irony that reflects your sentiment fills your mouth with a phantom metallic tang. “Tempted by the small creature, I thought it best to take him back to the maester, and it wasn’t until after I had tucked the pup under my arm and began my journey home that I realized that his mother was close by. She pinned me down, and-“ The three jagged claw marks on your cheek scarred over angry red and deep, dark purple speak for themselves. “It  was my eldest brother whom suggested a falsity of immense beauty be projected across the realm, born from his shame of having a mauled sister.”

Aemond steps forward to get a closer look, and your breath catches when he finally steps into the light.

“For many years I lived in that same shame.” You wince, feeling far too vulnerable in front of a stranger than you’ve ever been before. “I’ve donned my veil and hid behind silk and lace because I believed  myself unworthy of anything less than ridicule- until tales reached Winterfell about a young prince who had been marred, similarly.” Most of your youth was lost to suffering and shame, and it wasn’t until word of the maimed prince had reached your ears that your dread began to dissipate.“Perhaps the whispers in the wind are misinformed, but I heard that it was your own nephew who stole your eye from you and disfigured you- your own flesh and your own blood so envious of all the greatness you possess that he maimed you out of spite.” His nostrils flare, and when he offers no reply, you step forward. “I’ve never seen another before, and though tales of your mark have oft been traded as lore and warning, they were wrong when referring to your wound as a flaw.”

His cheeks flush at the implication beyond words unspoken. Though, he doesn’t consider the sentiment to be genuine. 

“You are wed to a Baratheon daughter, so I offer a pact of ice and fire of our own- beyond marital union,” The muscle in his jaw clenches as he grits his teeth at the reminder of his wife- a woman who does not understand him, a woman who holds a strong aversion towards him despite their union, a woman who he’s forced himself to try to love, but to no avail. “I seek familiarity from someone who knows what it is like to suffer under the weight of such an unbearable pain.” Though it’s your voice that confesses, it’s as though the words have been stolen from his tongue- unlocked from somewhere deep inside the center of his chest. “I seek the knowledge of someone who understands what it is like to live in the shadows because the light has been stolen from you.” Your lip begins to quiver and the tips of his fingers twitch involuntarily. “Perhaps it is juvenile, but what I truly seek is a companion who identifies with the same struggles and sorrow, as I do.” 

You do not seek revenge. You do not seek someone to ease your pain, but rather someone who understands it- a partner to bask in the darkness with- and Aemond struggles to put his thoughts into words.

“It is beautiful,” You whisper softly, in genuine awe, whilst the tips of your fingers brush against the lowest part of his scar. The touch- not hesitant, but gentle- is barely there and comforting. Only someone who knows such pain would know how to handle a mark riddled with damage. No one, save for his mother and the maesters, has ever regarded him with such care. Having grown so used to feelings of abhorrence and shrewdness, Aemond doesn’t know what to make of the ice from your touch soothing the flame against his skin. It’s a balance he never imagined possible, an ease he never dreamed himself worthy of. The look upon his face is unreadable, and when your kind, gentle, understanding touch threatens to leave him, he grips your wrist with a swiftness that startles you both. “Forgive me, Prince Aemond, I-“

You’ve overstepped. You’ve forgotten yourself and your place. Whatever fleeting courage compelled you to reach out and touch him might have cost you the alliance you’ve dreamt of for ages. Foolishly, you’ve treated the man before you as an ally- without vows of devotion or alliance- and perhaps that is your biggest fault. With traces of regret and fear in your eyes, you begin to apologize, but Aemond’s voice fills the silence before you have a chance to.

“I understand.” He assures you, taking a step closer and loosening his grip around your wrist. Though, he doesn’t let go completely. Perhaps, it’s because he’s not ready to part from where your flesh is adjoined, or perhaps he wants the chance to grow familiar with frost in his veins. Either way, when your eyes narrow, searching for an explanation and trying to make sense of the vagueness of his reply, he solemnly whispers, “I understand.”

tagging a few writers I admire: @mypoisonedvine @em-writes-stuff-sometimes @becauseicantdecide @aemonds-war-crime @aemonds-sapphire @ewanmitchellcrumbs @aemonds-targaryen @womprat00 @theold-ultraviolence

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine