#cause he gave me fleas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fioiswriting · 18 days

Text

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

1K notes · View notes

squirmhoney · 2 months

Note

Wb Aegon grooming/manipulating little sister? Modern or canon, whichever sparks your interest

Warnings: All characters are 18+. Manipulation. Perv! Aegon. Dark. Smut. Incest. 18+

Aegon had never understood why he desired you so dearly but never Helaena.

It definitely wasn’t due to him being forced into marital life with her, nor was it due to her looks, he knew Helaena was quite divine, others had constantly told him so.

No, it was something to do with you.

His sweet little sister who invaded his mind at the wickedest of times. When he was lying with his whores in flea bottom or when he found himself drunk enough to take his sister-wife to bed.

His mother and grandsire had forbidden him from you, promising you to some lord that would align with his cause if he took your hand in marriage. But even the thought of you being away from him longer than a day had his chest tightening. There was no way he could possibly be separated from you.

He was King now, he didn’t need to be separated from you.

Or that’s at least what he told himself as he waited patiently in your room, lounging by the fire for your return.

You didn’t notice him when you first stepped through the door, busying yourself with ridding yourself of your riding attire.

It was one of your ladies that noticed him, jumping at the sight of him before bowing respectfully.

“Your grace.”

All your ladies bowed before him then turned their heads to you for guidance.

“Out,” Aegon commanded, motioning with his fingers to the door.

“You may leave us,” you told them with a warm smile, nodding your head as they made their exit.

It wasn’t as wide as the smile you gave Aegon as you stood before him.

“Brother,” you said, hand cupping the side of his face.

“Angel,” He sighed, relaxing into your touch. “I need to ask you a question.”

“Anything,” you told him, kneeling down in front of him.

He clenched his jaw at the sight of you before him, on your knees as you gazed up at him. Your dress was already undone at the front, ready to be slipped off of your figure, and Aegon wondered what beautiful sight was underneath.

“If your King needed something, would you help him?” He asked.

“I’d do anything for you brother-”

“Would you do anything for your King?” He tilted his head, eyebrows raising ever so slightly.

You knew what he wanted you to say so you said it. “I’d do anything for my King.”

Your hands rested against his knees, leaning your chin on his legs for comfort.

While one of his hands leaned down to cup your face, thumb tracing your plump lips as he admired them.

“You’re such a good sister.”

“I am?” You asked, shivering as his fingers grazed downwards to the column of your throat.

“Your King needs you to help him relax.” Aegon patted his trousers, waiting for you to take the hint and to climb onto his lap.

You didn’t take long, knowing the gesture and hiking up your skirts to straddle his legs.

But he was quick to position you, yanking your hips closer to him as he placed you over his crotch.

“Aegon,” you protested, feeling his hardness in his slacks.

But he was quick to silence you with a glare, hand gripping the back of your neck with a firmness that was cruel.

You couldn’t do this, your mother had forbidden you from crossing lines with Aegon. She was already so angry when she had heard a servant girl had caught him with his hands in his pants as you bathed in the same room as him.

“We can’t,” you shook your head at him, eyes growing wet. “Mother said-”

“I wear the crown now,” Aegon told you, lips forming a scowl. “Not mother.”

You only swallowed at that, barely knowing what to say. “Helaena.”

“I do love our sister but she doesn’t take care of me as a wife should,” Aegon said, lifting his hips up into you a bit. “Now that I’m King, I have all this stress that I need to get rid of.” A smile graced his lips at this “You know what I mean?”

You were nibbling at your bottom lip, trying to maintain the sounds that were bubbling at the back of your throat as he pushed his hips up into yours.

“None of that here,” Aegon tutted, using his thumb to release your lip from your teeth. “Your King wants to hear you.”

You sharply moaned in response, shaKing your head in embarrassment as you pouted down at him.

“Your King needs you now more than ever,” he breathed against your lips, bringing your face closer to his. “And you just swore you would do anything for your King, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Aeg- My King,” you whimpered, grinding your crotch down against him and finally giving in.

“Fuckng precious,” Aegon mumbled into you, pressing his lips into yours as he roughly kissed you.

His tongue didn’t waste a second, dominating yours as he grounded your hips further down against him.

It was you that broke the kiss, moaning into his mouth as the friction of the clothes between you rubbed at you in all the right ways.

“Going to have to be a more dutiful sister now that I’m King,” he hummed as he trailed his lips against your jaw. “Might have to move you into my room, don’t know when your King might need you.”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagine #dark aegon targaryen #dark aegon smut #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon ii fic

489 notes · View notes

aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 9 months

Text

GUILELESS.

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

The streets of Flea Bottom most definitely were not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out at night, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; CNC, DUB-CON, p in v, roleplay, profanity, tiddy fucking, degrading, punishing, humiliating, public sex, slight oral (m receiving) and overstimulation, blink and you‘ll miss the breeding and size kink, vague description of fem!Martell!Reader (dark hair, dark eyes, small body)

WORDS: 2.6 K

NOTES: Killing two birds with one stone with this thing. Written for this and this request.

The streets of Flea Bottom were in an uproar with hundreds of gold cloaks roaming around to restore law and order in the foulest and most lawless district of the Westerosi capital. It most definitely was not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

Your reddish gown had been replaced by the clothes of a boy. A wide, black tunic and gray breeches hid your body, and your long, brown curls were covered by a black cloak. The boots you wore were surprisingly more comfortable than the sandals you wore around court, yet they were not at all appropriate to be paired to the finest, dornish silk you usually donned.

On your way through the dimly lit alleyways, you bumped shoulders with more than one commoner that fled the scene you were too eager to see. Coming closer to the source of the agonizing screams, you stopped just short of the crowd, barely out of the alleyway.

To your left was a pillow house, the ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass swung over the door casting you in a red light. You tried to move further and squeeze past the wall of curious bystanders, before your wrist was seized by something firm that caused you to gasp.

“A lady like you should be careful wandering the streets alone at such hour,” a deep voice drawled out. As you turned around, you immediately noticed who had you in a tight hold, the long, silver strands of hair peeking from beneath the helmet a dead giveaway–just like the surcoat depicting the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen that none of the other gold cloaks around you wore. Daemon Targaryen, Lord Commander of the City Watch.

You straightened your back, and decided not to show any of your emotions. Especially not the nervousness that soared through your veins. “I shall have you know that I am no lady,” you replied sternly, though there was a slight tremble in your smooth voice, “I am to be a princess soon.”

That seemed to amuse the man, your intimidation tactic clearly not working. “Oh, you most certainly are,” he replied with a mocking tone, “that is why I have found you in Flea Bottom, hm, dressed like what… a little boy?” Now there was a slight hint of uneasiness accompanying his words and presence, which had a shiver running up your spine. “As your princess, I command you to let go of me,” you pressed, trying to tug your arm back – but to no avail.

“You are a feisty little thing,” the gold cloak murmured with a sly smile. “It is a shame you are nothing more than a pretender. You would have made an excellent wife.” He didn’t even allow you to give him a reply, before his hand found the back of your neck to shove you into the pillow house to your left you had examined not long before.

Upon stumbling inside, you noticed that it was no pillow house but a simple brothel instead. Older wenches with more flesh to their hips and a used appearance did not hone the low quality the common room presented itself in. Considering the size of the crowd in front of the etablissement, it was surprising to spot not so many patrons inside.

“I–What–”

“I shall have you punished for those treacherous antics,” he barked, effectively cutting you off. The light tap he gave your rear caught you off guard, however, it was solely a ruse meant to distract you from both his hands grabbing the waistband of your breeches and undergarments to rather forcefully tug them down your body. It was nothing else than luck that the tunic you wore was long enough to cover your cunt for anyone that dared to catch a glimpse.

You gasped, and seized his hand on your hip that threatened to dive forwards between your legs. “My lord,” you protested, pretending that you did not know whose chest was pressed flush to your back, “you should not– I–”

Before you could protest even more, he had hauled you up against the breastplate of his armor, and you could merely look at him from over your shoulder, your dark eyes filled with lust. You started to struggle against his hold, yet his muscular arms snaked around your frame made it obvious you didn't stand a chance.

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“Silence,” he bellowed, carrying you through the common room of the brothel to an alcove that granted you just some more privacy. While you were dropped unceremoniously on a chaise standing nearby, he brought a large hand up to the back of your neck, applying a good bit of pressure so you were kneeling on the chaise with your arse up and face down.

From behind you, you could hear a satisfied groan, no doubt spotting the glistening shimmer on your cunt from how aroused you were. When his calloused finger dragged through your soaked mound, you could not stifle a moan to leave your lips.

“Please, stop, my lord, I am still a maiden,” you whimpered, trying to get back up only to be pushed down again forceful enough to have you grunting just once. “Stay,” he warned, and you were foolish to not obey his command. You could faintly hear his hands fumbling with the buckles along the breastplate of his armor, your heartbeat pounding in your ears loud enough to almost drown out every other sound, removing them and allowing the steel to fall to the ground – piece after piece following in its wake. “I am betrothed,” you tried to reason.

You gasped as his hand served a firmer slap to your arse this time, the gentle rubbing of his palm not at all mending the stinging pain. “And you still will be once I am done with you,” came his stern reply. He dragged two fingers through your mound, from your entrance to the little bud, retorting to rubbing mindless patterns over it that had you pushing your hips against his fingers for a moment to chase the friction. Despite the moans that left your lips, you tried to snake your hand between your thighs to cover your cunt and arse, but he was quick enough to capture both your hands, bringing them together behind you to pin them to your back with one hand.

The gold cloak was skilled enough to unlace his breeches one-handed, freeing his cock out of its confines. “I shall refrain from spending my seed inside of your cunt for I do not desire to dishonor your betrothed,” he mumbled, his voice taking on a rougher edge.

“Do not do this, please,” you released a shaky breath, and every protest that threatened to follow caught in your throat the moment he dragged the tip of his cock through your swollen folds, resuming the movements he had previously made with his fingers.

The attempt to resist him was cut short when his cock breached your core, pushing into you at a teasingly slow pace that had you drawing in a sharp breath. “Your betrothed might get to breed you, but I took your maidenhead. You do best to remember that when he lays his filthy hands on you,” he groaned. The moment you stretched around him, all you could choke out was ‘yes, yes, yes,’ being in a stupor because of his cock.

With his hand still around your wrists, he pulled you onto his cock until his hips pressed against your rear, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘Gods’ he muttered under his breath didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it appeared that he didn’t know where to place his free hand as it squeezed your arse, tugged on your hair and eventually settled in the curve of your waist.

He pounded into you with reckless abandon, the tip of his cock brushing the spot inside of you that had your vision grow blurry over and over again. With your face pressed into a pillow resting on the chaise, you were not able to spot the feigned anger and jealousy blazing in his eyes. The only thing that made you aware of the amusement he found in that situation was the tone of his husky voice, making it more than clear that he had a smirk on his lips. “When I am done with you,” he rasped, bowing forward to put more of his weight on your small frame beneath his. “You shall desire no one else’s cock but mine.”

“Yes–” he interrupted your answer with a hard, percussive thrust, and then another, and another, until you couldn't focus on anything else but the delicious pressure inside your cunt. You pushed your hips back against him, and he reared up to pull you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfway which resulted in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin bouncing off the walls. The position you were in, with your face pressed into the pillow, granted you some sense of feigned privacy, because otherwise you would have noticed some curious eyes lingering on you two whenever one of the customers or whores decided to prowl the scene unfolding.

“Let’s see how much you desire your betrothed’s cock after this.”

When his hips stilled, and the pleasure in the pit of your belly eased, you propped yourself up on your hands with his vice-like grip suddenly gone. You looked at him from over your shoulder, and if you were not so lost in the sight of him behind you, you would have pouted when he gripped the neckline of your tunic to rip the linen to shreds as if it was nothing, exposing the last bit of your body to the sticky air of the brothel.

His skin was glistening in the dim light the candles granted, small beads of sweat highlighting his muscles. His upper body was defined by numerous cuts and scars, a testament to the dangers he had survived in his short life already. As he glanced down to where his clock disappeared inside of you, strands of his silver hair fell into his face, framing his chiseled features. You were so focused on enjoying the view that you did not immediately catch on to what he had said to you, the words not registering in your mind.

It seemed that his patience was not infinite as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up as if you weighed nothing, settling you down on the cold floor so you sat on your haunches. He sat down on the chaise with his legs spread, his thick cock flush against his lower stomach, and straining as he leaned back, hands resting on his muscular thighs. You tilted your head, affecting a look of defiance. His eyes flickered over your frame, taking in every exposed inch of skin, and he couldn't help but smirk. “I said I shall not dishonor your betrothed, did I not?” he said, and almost dismissively waved his hand in order for you to continue.

You took that as your cue to use your hands and mouth to coax him towards his peak, however, when you reached to grasp the base of his member, the dragon in front of you merely tsked. Without saying a word, he bowed forwards and brought his paw-like hands to the sides of your breasts, squeezing them together. At the realization of what he had in mind, your eyes widened in surprise, and when he raised an eyebrow with a slight tilt of his head, you knew what was expected of you.

While his hands merely released your breasts to allow you to lean forwards, it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock, still thoroughly lubricated with your arousal. You positioned yourself so his cock rested in the Vale between your breasts, only for him to squeeze them together around it again. “Good girl,“ he praised, and you craned your neck to give a teasing lick along the slit at the tip of his cock, which prompted the prince to take in a sharp breath.

He replied by bucking his hips up, his cock bumping against your slightly parted lips. While he smirked at you in a smug manner, you released a surprised gasp, your eyes flickering between his violet ones and his cock. With his hands on your breasts, he kept them pressed tightly around his member, using the crevice between them to race for completion. You raised and lowered your body in rhythm with his hips, licking and kissing the tip of his cock whenever it came close enough to your lips.

His fingers pinched and brushed the perky buds of your breasts, causing you to release one whimper after the other. It was a titillating sight, watching how your expression shifted to a more focused one as you moved your body for his pleasure, ignoring the throbbing at the apex of your legs as best as you could.

“What an obedient, little wench I have found on the streets of Flea Bottom,” he groaned, his voice raspier, indicating that he was close to reaching his peak. “So willing to please the Lord Commander of the City Watch. Do you like watching me fuck those perfect teats of yours?” You couldn't help but whine, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words like they were the most embarrassing thing you had ever heard. Dornish people were known for their sexual licentiousness, but that man in front of you seemed to top just that.

“Will you claim me, my lord?” you asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. But with his peak approaching him rather quickly, the last threads of his patience seemed to snap as he growled a ‘Tis husband for you’ in return, the thoughts of your well-schemed ploy long forgotten at the aspect of spending himself all over you, claiming you. With a strangled groan, Daemon reached his completion, his cock spurting between your breasts and onto your chest, throat, lips and even your tongue. The pinch on your perky buds turned painfully tight with the pleasure soaring through his veins, causing you to squirm a bit, and it took a moment for the tension to slowly subside.

He watched with hooded eyes as you licked his seed off the skin your tongue could reach, and when your hands came up to peel him off of you, there didn’t come any objection from him. You wrapped your lips around his cock, and took as much of him down your throat as possible. He breathed heavily as he bowed forwards, looming over you as he took in the debauched sight in front of him.

Daemon shivered and grunted as you cleaned him up, the overstimulation making him sensitive to your touch, and he fisted your hair to pull you off of him. With the remnants of his seed still on your chin, you smiled up at him, and you could see his flaccid cock slowly growing hard again. You rested your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him as you lazily tugged him to full hardness again

“Gods,” he groaned, the bump in his throat bobbing in anticipation. “I love you, t–,” you replied, the last word catching in your throat as he hoisted you up to straddle his hips. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, and your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in the strands of his silver hair.

“I am going to make you peak, and then I am fucking you until you can no longer walk and you are carrying my child,” he mumbled into the curve of your neck, sucking in your skin to leave some faint marks. “Just to show you how much I love you, wife.”

General Taglist: @aemondx @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

785 notes · View notes

dwobbitfromtheshire · 25 days

Text

The Truth of the Matter

A four part miniseries

@wonderland-girl143-blog @gregre369 @420-hun

Part One

Part Two

Robin poured over the book that Eddie had bought at the Flea Market. She was reading it rather intensely. She looked up at Eddie.

"You said you bought this at a Flea Market?" Robin asked.

"Actually, it was free. There was this woman selling only this. I thought it was strange, especially when she wouldn't sell it until I came up. She said, "This is for you," and gave it to me," Eddie said. "I tried going back the next weekend, but she was gone, and no one ever heard of her."

"That is. . .odd," Dustin said.

"Well, everything else is in English, but the spells are in Latin," Robin said.

"No, they were all in English. I read English," Eddie said.

"Uh, Eddie, you weren't speaking in English when you said the spell," Lucas said.

"I wasn't?" He asked.

"No," Dustin, Mike, and Lucas said.

"Why are you still glaring at me, Michael?" Robin asked. "I almost punched you, but I didn't. . . Anyway, it says here that only people with Wiccan blood can automatically translate the spells in their head and perform them."

"Wait, does this mean that I'm a witch?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit! This is the COOOLEST!" Eddie yelled.

"Hey, maybe you can use your powers to help Steve find his parents," Dustin said.

"Oh, shit, that's right. . .Harrington was kidnapped," Eddie winced and whirled around. "Sorry, man."

Steve had plopped down on Eddie's throne and leaned back against it as he crossed his legs. He was staring straight ahead, looking at nothing. Eddie tried to ignore how good he looked in that chair and also the fact that he wanted to untangle his legs to sit down in his lap. His face looked troubled, so Eddie easily pushed those thoughts away.

"You okay, man?" Eddie asked.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"Shit! Robin, who's at the store?!" Steve asked, sitting up.

"I closed the store and hitched a ride with a customer. Keith is going to be pissed but I thought you were being murdered," Robin said. "Anyway, more important things to focus on here, babe. Are you okay?"

"Well, my parents aren't my parents, which I kind of always thought, but I didn't think they kidnapped me. Do you think they might have killed my real parents?" Steve asked.

"I don't know, but we're going to fucking find out because you look like a goddamn kicked puppy and the way you're inflating your eyes like that is killing me," Eddie said as he ripped the book out of Robin's hands.

"We're just going to ignore a lot of the secrets that Steve spilled, right?" Dustin asked.

"Even the sex dream about - " Lucas started to say.

"Yes, because that's my fucking sister and Will's brother!" Mike exclaimed.

"Ah, the sex dream. Did you mention the clown sitting in the corner watching while it made balloon animals?" Robin asked.

"No!" Steve scowled. "Fucking clowns."

"Did you really touch Steve’s dick?" Dustin asked Robin.

"Yes, and my lesbianism is still very much intact," Robin said. "Thank God."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about this!" Mike yelled.

"Mike's such a prude. He's afraid to talk about sex even though we're all sentient walking water bags made of sex and flesh," Dustin said.

"Okay. Now, you just made me uncomfortable. Never describe it like that again," Eddie said.

Dustin gave him a toothy grin, and he smiled softly before looking back at the book.

"What are we going to do if my parents are like dead or on the other side of the world?" Steve asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Steve," Dustin said.

"You want to know, don't you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah. . .yeah, I guess," Steve said softly. "I guess it's the feeling that I don't know what to expect here that's overwhelming me. I'm trying not to get my hopes up for really good parents."

"That makes sense," Robin said softly. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"I can't believe Eddie's allowing you to sit in his chair," Mike said. "No one sits there except for him."

"It's cause he's pretty," Eddie said without looking up, and Steve giggled. "Hey, I found it! Steve, get your gorgeous ass in the circle and take off your shirt. Oh, you also need a blank piece of paper."

"Does it really need me to take off my shirt?" Steve asked.

"Yes it does," Eddie said seriously.

Dustin looked over his shoulder, frowned, and opened his mouth to say something. Eddie quickly put his arm around him and pulled his face to his chest, cooing at him. Steve looked doubtfully at him for a moment before getting up off the chair and pulling off his shirt. Dustin shoved Eddie away, scowling at him. Eddie grinned at Steve as he moved back into the circle with a sheet of paper. Eddie relit the candles and got the others to stand around Steve.

"Am I good?" Steve asked.

"Hold on, you need to be a little bit more even," Eddie frowned.

He placed his hands on Steve’s hips and moved him slightly.

"I think you're just finding any excuse to touch me," Steve smirked.

"Who? Me?" Eddie asked innocently.

"If I look in the book, it's not going to say I need to be shirtless, is it?" He asked.

Eddie smirked and moved his hands to Steve’s stomach. He dragged his fingertips up, moving softly over his skin. Steve shuddered. He rested his hands on his pecs for a moment before moving them to his shoulders.

"On your knees, big boy," Eddie said as he pushed him to his knees.

"I just want to remind you that there are children in the room, and one of them is me!" Robin yelled and Eddie jumped.

"What were we doing?" He asked as he blinked a lot.

"Oh my God! Finding Steve’s parents!" Dustin shrieked. "Have your way with our babysitter later!"

"You act like it's my fault!" Eddie exclaimed. "Tell Steve to stop being so pretty!"

"Steve! Stop it!"

"I can't help it! It just naturally happens," Steve smirked.

"Well, since you're not human, I guess you could say it's SUPERnatural," Robin said.

Robin and Steve giggled before high fiving each other. Dustin sighed.

"Steve, do you want to find your parents or not?" Dustin asked.

"Not if you're going to have that attitude," Steve scowled.

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, let's get this done before our kid has a conniption," Steve said.

"He's really eager to meet his grandparents," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, now, you're in on the joke?" Dustin asked as Mike and Lucas laughed.

"Yeah," Steve and Eddie said.

Eddie opened the book and began to chant. The lights flickered, and the flames from the candles shot up in the air. Wind whipped around the room as Eddie continued to say the spell. Steve twitched and then shook before falling backward. He started shrieking in pain as the paper fell from his hands.

"Eddie! Stop! Stop! STOP! SOMETHING'S WRONG!" Lucas yelled.

Eddie stopped the chant, and as soon as he did, Steve stopped screaming.

"My back, my back. . .something's on my back," Steve said.

Eddie shut the book and rushed so quickly to get to him that he ended up sliding across the floor on his knees. He turned Steve over to find a painful looking rune flaring up in the middle of his back.

"What the fuck is that?" Mike asked.

Eddie opened the book and began flipping through the pages, cursing as he did so. Meanwhile, he had Steve’s head in his lap, blinking up at him.

"Okay, it says here that it's some sort of rune of protection. . . Against fae. . .you know, fairies. . .a witch placed it on you," Eddie said. "Well, that's fucked. . . No wonder your parents couldn't find you. . .well, let's see if we can't get this fucker off of you. . . Shit, I hope I can do this. . .it says I need to be related to the witch who placed the rune on you."

Eddie took one hand off the book and began stroking Steve’s hair. He muttered something, and the page turned. He did that quite a few times as he read.

"Eddie, what did you say to the book?" Mike asked.

"Oh, I said,"Turn the page." I guess I was speaking in Latin again," Eddie said.

"That's so cool," Dustin muttered.

"Okay. . .getting this rune off is going to hurt a lot. . .do you want to do this?" Eddie asked Steve.

"I'm used to a little pain. Bring it," Steve said.

"Okay, sit up," Eddie said and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

Steve sat up, putting himself on his knees again. Eddie sat behind him and muttered something else. The spellbook floated in front of him, and he opened the knife. Eddie sighed and hesitated before placing a kiss on Steve’s shoulders blade.

"Is that part of the spell?" Steve asked.

"No, it's just going to fucking hurt a lot. It's basically me cutting it out. . .so, yeah. . .sorry, so, so, so sorry," Eddie said.

He muttered another spell as he looked at the book and held the knife over a flame, letting it get hot. He chanted for a moment, and the flames flared up around the blade. Eddie hovered the blade above the rune and started to say the spell as he moved the knife as though he was actually cutting it off. Steve let out an inhuman shriek, his yells bouncing off the walls. The wind picked up, the flames grew higher, and the lights above them exploded as Eddie continued to chant. Tears rolled down Steve’s cheek as he threw his head back. Finally, Eddie stopped, and Steve collapsed in relief.

"Shit, that did hurt," Steve said, and he paused when he didn't get a response. "Eddie?"

Steve turned around and found Eddie still sitting on his knees. Blood was pouring out of his nose. He swayed and fell backward. Steve moved over to him and cradled him in his arms.

"Eddie?" He asked.

"There was a suggestion in the book to not overdo it. I was just like. . .fuck it, I can do it. I'm fine, I'm fine. . .I just need someone's lips on mine," Eddie said and closed his eyes, puckering his lips.

"Alright, I'll just go find Principal Higgins, shall I?" Dustin asked, peering over Steve’s shoulder.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Eddie sat up quickly. "Oh, too fast! Sleepy. . ."

He pressed his cheek against Steve’s chest and closed his eyes again. His snores filled the room.

"I guess we'll take him back to my place," Steve said and picked him up.

Robin pulled out a tissue and wiped Eddie's nose.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Your tits are still out, you slut."

"Right. Thanks, Robin."

When Eddie woke up, he found himself in a very ugly room. Plaid walls, plaid curtains, plaid sheets. . .Eddie screamed. He screamed louder at the single car poster hanging on the wall. . .it was all so sad. Steve burst into the room, wielding a bat with nails.

"Steve, where the hell am I?" Eddie asked.

"My house and my room," Steve said.

"Oh my God, this is your room? This is hell, Steve," Eddie said in horror.

"Well, my parents like everything neat," Steve said.

"You mean, your kidnappers," Eddie corrected.

"Right," Steve frowned. "Come on, let's get something in you."

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed and started unbuttoning his pants.

"What are you doing? I was talking about food. There's pizza downstairs," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's what I was talking about," Eddie said quickly. "I was just unbuttoning them to make room for the pizza."

"Right," Steve smirked. "As much as I would love to do that with you, some secrets should remain secret. I do not want the kids to know that I'm a screamer. Let's go, sweet cheeks."

Steve slapped his ass and Eddie cursed.

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

Dustin immediately threw his arms around Eddie the minute he walked into the kitchen. Steve smiled softly at the sight of them and ruffled his hair.

"You scared the shit out of us, man," Dustin said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just needed some rest," Eddie grinned. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. Are you going to do the location spell again?" Mike asked.

"He just woke up, Mike. Let's get some food in him first," Steve sighed.

"After I eat," Eddie said, snapping his fingers at him.

Sitting down to eat, Eddie spent the majority of the meal laughing with the kids and playing with what he thought was Steve’s leg under the table. It had been Robin's.

"You could have told me!" Eddie hissed.

"Then it wouldn't have been funny," Robin replied.

They gathered in the living room and pushed the furniture out of the way to create the circle. Eddie knelt in front of Steve this time, the book floating beside them, and the piece of paper on the floor.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Steve said.

"I kind of do. . .I judged you harshly before. . .because you're a jock and because of the assholes who's bothered us in the past. I used to think that since you had a big house and a fancy car that you had it easy. I used to mock you mercilessly in Hellfire, and that wasn't right of me to do that," Eddie said. "Not all jocks are bad."

"Well, no one is perfect," Steve said. "This is a lot even for all of that. Thank you, you're a good man."

"I mean, so are you," Eddie said, blushing. "I'm still an asshole though."

"Yeah, that's true," Steve said with a grin.

Steve cupped the back of his neck and pulled him for a kiss. It was short and sweet. When Steve pulled away, Eddie let out a soft giggle.

"I am loving this," Dustin grinned and then frowned. "But also, gross."

"Yeah, kids never like it when their parents kiss," Robin said, and Dustin sighed loudly.

Grinning, Eddie performed the spells without any problems. Words appeared on the paper. One of them was an address in Indianapolis, and one of them was a plot number for the cemetery in Hawkins.

"Well, shit, I guess one of my parents is dead," Steve frowned.

"Sorry, Steve," Dustin said quietly.

"We don't have to do it tonight, but we can check out the cemetery whenever you want to," Robin said.

"I'm curious now, and at least, I'll get one answer tonight," Steve said. "Although, going at night seems like a bad idea."

"Don't be a chicken shit, Steve, let's do it," Dustin grinned.

So, now, here they were. . .at night. . .in a fucking graveyard. They had flashlights, and Steve made sure to bring his trusty bat. Meanwhile, Robin made sure to bring a thermos full of hot cocoa that she was currently sharing with the boys in front of them. Eddie was walking beside Steve, swinging his arms and letting his hand brush up against Steve’s.

"So, was that kiss just a one-time thing, or are you planning on doing it again?" Eddie asked.

"I definitely want to do it again. . . Would that be okay?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Eddie grinned and then paused. "You said back in the drama room that you'd always be in love with Nancy Wheeler."

"Well, yeah, a part of me, anyways. There's just so much history there, and she's just so. . . Nancy. She's beautiful, and she cares so much about people. She's willing to put it all on the line for her friends and for her family. She's the bravest person that I have ever met. I don't regret falling in love with her. . . But I regret that I didn't get to know her best friend and I wish I could have been there for her when she needed me the most. I know what happened to Barb wasn't our fault, but I still can't help feeling guilty. I think there's always going to be that connection between us," Steve said.

"I know that Barb died, and she was Wheeler's best friend, but isn't it that Brenner's guys fault? The one Dustin told me about?" Eddie asked. "Why would you feel guilty?"

"Well, it was the first time that Nancy and I had sex together. While that was going on in my house, Barb was being dragged into the Upside Down and . . . Well, you know. . ." Steve said.

"Holy fucking shit. . .yeah, I could see how that could mess you both up," Eddie said.

"Yeah. . .it's pathetic, I know. . ." Steve said.

"No, man, it's not. You're not pining after her, you love her, and you accept the fact that you're not going to be together. I can see why either of you would want to hold onto the good parts of your relationship. You all have been through so much shit and if you guys can come through it all while still having love in your hearts. . . It's amazing," Eddie said.

"Yeah," Steve smiled and paused. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I've come close. I think at the time, we both had stars in our eyes, and all we saw when we looked at each other were plane tickets out of town. In the end, I couldn't leave town, but she could have, and after everything she did for me, I couldn't go with her. I wish I had done it better, but yeah, I pushed her away so she wouldn't come back," Eddie said.

"Damn, you white fanged her?" Steve asked.

"I mean, I guess you could call it that," Eddie said. "You know White Fang?"

"Yeah, it's not my favorite," he said and paused. "I wish things had gone better with. . ."

"Paige," Eddie said.

"Paige," Steve said.

"I wish things had gone better with Nancy," Eddie replied.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"You like women, too?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took me a while to realize that I liked men at all or that I was even flirting with them. According to my best friend, Ronnie, it's not exactly very straight of me to go on rants about jocks' sweaty muscles."

"Was I in one of those rants?" Steve asked as he stopped and turned to Eddie.

He pulled Eddie into his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"You were very prominent," Eddie said bashfully.

"Maybe you didn't hate me at all," Steve said, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe you just had a type."

Eddie kissed him, and Steve smiled against his lips. Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth.

"REALLY ROMANTIC, STEVE, MAKING OUT IN A GRAVEYARD!" Dustin yelled. "YOU'RE KISSING OVER DEAD PEOPLE!"

Eddie growled as he broke the kiss and Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"NO ONE IS SUPPOSE TO KNOW WE'RE HERE BUT IF YOU KEEP YELLING LIKE THAT THEY'RE GOING TO. . .BUTTHEAD!" Eddie yelled back at him.

"FOUND IT!" Lucas yelled.

"I don't think they understand the word subtle," Steve sighed. "Although, neither do you, so they're definitely yours."

"Were there doubts?" Eddie asked with a dramatic gasp.

Steve smiled softly at him, grabbed his hand, and laced their fingers together before pulling him in the direction of the kids. When they got to them, Robin and the kids were whispering together.

"There's no fucking way!" Mike exclaimed. "He never had kids!"

"That you know of. I imagine that it was probably painful to talk about your son getting kidnapped and being unable to find him in your own hometown," Dustin said.

"What? What is it?" Steve asked.

"Are we even sure it's the right plot?" Mike asked.

"Yes!" Dustin and Lucas exclaimed.

Steve moved towards the gravestone and shined his flashlight on it.

BOB NEWBY

SUPERHERO

Part Three

220 notes · View notes

harufluff · 8 months

Text

HARU'S SOFT HOURS !!

walking on the street to who knows where with bf!jjun. he would have taken you to a flea market to have some fun together and ended up buying something at every stand.

bf!jjun gave you one of his earbuds so you could listen to music with him. keep in mind me made you put it in the side opposite from him so you could hear him talking.

bf!jjun who let you choose the music, so you chose passionfruit by drake. also bf!jjun who pulled a stupid pick up line that was something like "i'm a certified lover boy too yk."

bf!jjun who found a back to the future shirt for a fare price considering the prices of the other items. honestly he wanted to find you a matching one but, its a flea market so there's no chance lol.

bf!jjun who walked you home afterwards and got a quick drink before that. and bf!jjun who ended up staying over cause he wanted to cuddle and well, then he fell asleep and a man stubborn as that is not that easy to wake up. good luck in the morning...

#txt #txt imagine #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #yeonjun txt #txt yeonjun #choi yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun soft thoughts #yeonjun soft hours

180 notes · View notes

hllywdwhre · 2 months

Text

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

As the hours passed, Viserea became more and more sure of herself, though her anger never faded. When the Stepstones came into view, Viserea spotted Daemon and Corlys’ army on Dwarfstone and steered Tessarion towards the island.

Tessarion landed on Dwarfstone a moment after Ser Addam’s unfortunate introduction to Daemon’s anger. It was her’s and Viserea’s landing that distracted Daemon and allowed for Ser Addam to be pulled away from him.

Viserea felt the eyes of the army on her as she walked up to the stone slab being used as a makeshift table to hold War Councils, but she did not allow for their gazes to intimidate her. She kept her head held high and her helmet tucked under her arm before dropping her bag next to the slab.

“We don’t need any help from the King.” Daemon said, his tone lazy and almost offended at her arrival.

“Do you really believe the King allowed for a Princess to leave the safety of the keep and enter a war ground?” Viserea replied, sarcasm lacing her voice.

“Then why are you here?” He asked.

“I’m here to fight.” Viserea said, and before she could reply, a knight in the Velaryon colors whose name Viserea didn’t know spoke up.

“You’re a Princess. A war ground is no place for you, you need to be back in King’s Landing where it’s safe. You’re much too valuable.” His tone showed sincere worry for her, but it only made Viserea’s blood boil more.

“You’re correct, I am a Princess. And Daemon is a Prince. Our titles are of equal importance and he is allowed to fight. There’s another Princess who’s your future Queen still back in King’s Landing where it’s safe. If Daemon is allowed to fight, I see no reason why I should not be allowed. It’s not like my dragon and I would hurt your cause,” Viserea snapped in response.

It was obvious to everyone there that something had happened involving Viserea back in King’s Landing. There was no way Viserys would have ever allowed her to enter a war ground, but it was clear to everyone that she wasn’t going to just walk away because of lack of permission.

“We could use another dragon, especially one of Tessarion’s size. She’s grown since I was last in King’s Landing and she looks to be larger than even Caraxes. Her dragon alone could turn the fates.” Corlys said after a moment of silence.

Viserea wasn’t sure why Corlys’ support surprised her, but she looked towards him and gave him a small nod in thanks to which he returned.

“That’s too bad, she’s going back to King’s Landing,” Daemon said, leaning over the stone table as if to say the conversation was finished.

Viserea was tired of being dismissed. Her choice in her own marriage had been dismissed. Her opinions on council matters were dismissed. She wouldn’t be dismissed again all because she was a woman.

She grabbed hold of the shoulder of Daemon’s armor and turned him so he was forced to look at her as she spoke,

“No matter what the whispers in Flea Bottom are, my father did not name me Viserea because of the supposed favoritism he showed towards one brother. My mother and father named me after the great Queen Visenya who fought alongside Aegon the Conqueror, placed the crown upon Aegon’s head, and was the first to hail him as King. My dragon was named to honor the goddess of Old Valyria that makes dreamers such as myself. I understand the honor in being given these names and I do not intend to bring them dishonor by lying around King’s Landing when there is a war to be fought.“

Violet eyes met violet eyes and Viserea noticed a change in Daemon’s that she couldn’t name. It did not match the smirk that came across his face as he spoke again,

“Alright then, Princess. You’ll fight.”

Viserea felt her stomach churning as she and Laenor Velaryon sat atop their dragons, waiting for their signal to take flight. She knew the plan was a smart one and the best chance they had, but she still didn’t like it. She didn’t like Daemon being alone and surrounded by the enemy, even though she knew he was capable of handling himself until the signal was given and she and Laenor were allowed to enter.

The minutes felt like an eternity, but eventually the signal was given and the two dragonriders gave their commands at the same time.

It was not hard for Viserea to find Daemon from the skies above, the army surrounding him giving away his exact location. As Laenor gave the command to Seasmoke to set fire to the archers perched on a ledge of one of the surrounding hills, Tessarion flew over him and Viserea steered her closer to Daemon.

“Dracarys!” Viserea shouted, feeling relief as the flames escaped Tessarion’s mouth and cascaded down upon the Crabfeeder’s men.

As Corlys’ and Daemon’s men flooded the beach and began fighting, Viserea kept Tessarion steady above Daemon, just as they had planned. Laenor and Seasmoke were aiding in taking down as many of the Crabfeeder’s men as possible while Viserea and Tessarion worked on strictly defending Daemon; they were trying to give him an open path to the Crabfeeder himself.

The two spotted him retreating into a cave at the same time, and before Viserea could give the command, Tessarion let another breath of dragonfire fall to the ground below and clear a path for Daemon.

Once Daemon was inside the cave, Viserea steered Tessarion away and let her breathe fire into all of the surrounding caves to ensure that no other men were within them. She turned her attention back to the beach and began helping Laenor set alight the ones left.

Vaemond was the first to notice Daemon’s return, but Viserea noticed him a couple moments later. Tessarion’s fire halted, spotting the Crabfeeder’s body, or the portion that was left, being dragged by Daemon to the ocean. Viserea watched Daemon as she heard the last of the Crabfeeder’s men that decided to still fight be killed, then steered Tessarion back to the camp with Laenor and Seasmoke.

Laenor and Viserea walked back to the stone table where the rest of the men eventually arrived, all of them now in good spirits. The past three years had been spent trying to kill the Crabfeeder and rid the area of the Triarchy, and they had finally accomplished it. Daemon was the last to arrive, now soaking wet but rinsed of all blood, and Viserea could hear Caraxes screech happily at seeing his rider unharmed.

Before Viserea could ask what would happen next, a knight standing a couple people away from her shouted out,

“To Daemon Targaryen! King of the Narrow Sea!”

Cheers of other knights followed and Corlys made his way over to Viserea as the cheers continued,

“How do you feel? Your uncle is being hailed King of the Narrow Sea as we speak and you and your dragon helped. Your presence and importance here will be written about, the same way you will be written about when Rhaenyra ascends the throne and you are made Hand to the Queen.” He asked her, a small smile on his face.

“I feel relieved the war is over and honored to have been chosen by Rhaenyra personally as her Hand.” Viserea answered automatically, unsure if Corlys was genuinely asking or if there was another motive behind it.

“A Princess’ answer… yet you traveled here in spite of your King’s wishes and the honor you feel at being chosen as Rhaenyra’s hand.” Corlys replied and revealed what he really wanted to know: why?

“I traveled here despite knowing what the King would have wanted, the same way he rejected the offer for my hand that I wanted to take despite him saying it would be my choice.” Viserea said, looking up at Corlys. A smirk crossed over their faces at the same time and Corlys even let out a small laugh.

“And did you ignore Rhaenyra’s wishes when you left?” Corlys questioned.

“It was her idea for me to leave. When I tried to argue that a Hand does not simply abandon her Queen because she is upset by others’ actions, she said that new opportunities could present themselves that would be valuable to her once she ascends the Iron Throne.” Viserea answered, still looking up at the man. He took a moment to reply, but he seemed satisfied by the answer.

“While I wish no harm to King Viserys, I look forward to seeing the throne run by a Queen that is confident enough to separate from her Hand for unknown amounts of time, and a Hand that is not only unafraid of putting her foot down to defend her stances, but is also unafraid of danger if it advances her Queen. As you have seen, trying to keep peace is not always the best way.” Corlys’ praise brought a rose tint to Viserea’s cheeks.

Her’s and Rhaenyra’s ways were always causes of complaints with Viserys. Never had he praised them for their stubborn nature or determination. It had always just seemed to annoy him as they were unwilling to give into his every whim and will.

Viserea didn’t know how to reply to Corlys’ praise, but she wasn’t given much of a chance to, either. He was pulled away from her as his knights needed his attention for some matter or another.

The sun had set behind the rocks of the island and fires were being lit and various forms of meat being roasted. The knights had begun to talk amongst themselves and Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor were gathered around a fire of their own. Viserea went to sit beside them when a grip on her armor stopped her. Turning, she saw Daemon looking down at her,

“Come with me.”

Viserea did as told. Daemon’s tone hadn’t revealed anything and she was unsure what his response to her being there would be now that the fighting was over. The last she had seen him was when she and Rhaenyra had flown to Dragonstone to retrieve Baelon’s egg that he had stolen.

Her anger had faded by now and it was obvious by the way she and Rhaenyra both clung to every word of news about him that they still cared deeply for him. Viserea knew she had changed in the last three years and Daemon’s disrespectful antics held no importance to her anymore.

There had been many nights that Viserea and Rhaenyra spent talking about their uncle. Their feelings for him confused even themselves. While their anger and hurt had faded every time they heard news of the war in the Stepstones until all that was left was worry and concern for him, it seemed as though the fantasy they shared of him being the one to marry both of them was meant to be just a fantasy. The longer the two of them went without speaking to him, the more they had begun to focus on finding their second best option: finding two husbands who would not keep the two of them apart. Viserea mentioning Daemon’s name as one of the only two men she would ever marry surprised her as much as it had surprised Viserys.

Viserea was shaken from her thoughts when Daemon stopped at a tent set away from the rest. He held it open and tilted his head towards it,

“Change, then we can eat.” He said in the same unreadable tone as before.

Viserea nodded and stepped inside, Daemon dropping the bag she had brought to the floor just inside. She hadn’t even realized he had picked it up. She changed into her riding gear, save for the coat she usually wore over it all. She purposely had left her nightclothes back in the Keep, not feeling comfortable wearing them in front of so many knights. Her riding gear was comfortable enough for her to sleep in and more practical for fighting if they were woken in the middle of the night.

Once she was done, Viserea stepped outside the tent and found Daemon had removed his armor and was now sitting in only the pants that were worn under his armor. A quick glance around the camp told Viserea that this was normal as none of the men seemed to be wearing more than that. She sat on the same side of the fire as Daemon, but far enough away that she wasn’t sitting directly next to him. Some kind of animal sat roasting above the fire and the hunger she had been ignoring made itself known.

A million thoughts ran through her mind, but none of them seemed like the right thing to say. What do you say to someone you hadn’t seen until you flew in on your dragon and demanded to be allowed to fight in the war they had been fighting for three years in a place they were now being hailed as King of?

“You’re wearing the rings, but not the earrings.” Daemon suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Viserea glanced down at her hands, absentmindedly turning the only ring she wore,

“I gave the earrings to Rhaenyra before I left,” She told him, looking back into the fire and trying to ignore the way his stare on her made her heart hammer in his chest.

“Why?” He asked her, but there were so many things he could’ve been asking “why” about, that Viserea didn’t give a straight answer.

“What exactly are you questioning?” Viserea returned, arching an eyebrow though she kept her face pointed to the fire.

“All of it, I suppose. Why did you leave her the earrings? Why did you leave? Why did you come here?”

“I left the earrings with her because it seemed a shame for them to simply sit and collect dust. I came here because Viserys would immediately send men to Dragonstone to look for me there. I left because I needed to leave for a while and Rhaenyra agreed,” she kept her responses short. Caring for him didn’t mean she trusted him wholly again. If he truly wanted to know more, he could question her the way she knew he was capable of.

Daemon sighed beside her and Viserea bit back a smirk. He knew the game she was playing and knew that he was going to have to work for her answers. For all the anger she had felt, the fraction of annoyance she was going to cause him was well deserved.

“Why did you need to leave King’s Landing and Rhaenyra, and why did you need to come somewhere that the Crown would not immediately send men to in order to retrieve you, and why did you leave with plans to be away for a while?” Daemon questioned, his tone differing now. There was now genuine curiosity.

“I was tired of being treated differently while Viserys swore he viewed Rhaenyra and I the same. He arranged a proposal for Rhaenyra with Jason Lannister at Aegon’s nameday a sennight ago. Harwin Strong offered his hand to me the same day, but it was not Viserys’ doing. The day after we returned, the same day Ser Addam set sail to bring the notice of the Crown offering you resources, he informed Rhaenyra and I that we would be allowed to choose our own suitors. I told him of Harwin’s proposal and he told me earlier today that he would not approve of the marriage,” Viserea paused, allowing Daemon to ask any questions he may have.

“Why does he not approve?” Daemon questioned to which Viserea sighed,

“He said that Harrenhaal’s loyalty was already ensured with our Master of Laws and that other houses might take it as a slight if father were to be Master of Laws and son was to be wed to the future Hand. He told me we needed to expand our allies,” Viserea answered with a sarcastic laugh, “I held nothing back after that and told him exactly how I have felt during my last couple years of being in court.”

“And will I have the honor of hearing what you told him?” Daemon asked with the same curiosity as earlier.

“You will, but I have to warn you that it is not my proudest moment. There were some comments that are unbefitting for a Princess.” Viserea said, finally looking at Daemon with a teasing gleam in her eyes.

“Well then you must remember that I am the King’s brother when you tell me this. I might have your head for treaso,.” Daemon teased in return, causing Viserea to smile and let out a small laugh.

She knew she should not be so eager to let him in again, but she felt the walls she had tried to keep up come crumbling down. Walls never stood a chance against dragons and the fire they breathed.

Her smile fell when she began to recount her words, knowing that some of the comments she had made were out of line and that Viserys could have easily had her tongue for them, and that she had even mentioned not wanting to end up with a marriage like Daemon’s own,

“I told him that his planned proposal for Rhaenyra and nothing for me proved that he did not view me as his daughter. I told him he viewed you and me as nothing but political pawns and that I would not be married off to someone I cannot stand to be around, that I would never consummate the marriage, and that it would be annulled once Rhaenyra ascended the throne,” She saw a familiar flash of emotion across Daemon’s face when she said this. It was familiar because it was one that she herself had worn any time the realization hit her again, “I then told him I would not suffer the same fate as Aemma because he married me off to a man that valued my position as Hand more than he did me and one that only wanted heirs. I finally listed the two men I would take in marriage and have heirs with, and that if my marriage was to neither of those men, I would do everything in my power to ensure I never produced a child so that Rhaenyra could annul it and allow me to marry who I choose.” Viserea’s voice had grown as cold as it had earlier that day, as if she was saying it all to Viserys all over again.

“So you ran away to avoid losing your head?” Daemon said, trying to tease her although the same energy wasn’t behind it as before. Viserea shook her head but allowed a small smile on her face at his comment,

“It was not my idea to leave King’s Landing. I returned to my chambers and Rhaenyra was already there, wanting to know Viserys’ response to the proposal. I told her what had happened and everything I had said, and she suggested I leave to show I was not just going to accept whatever his response was. She said she would distract him by saying she wanted to tour Westeros in search of a husband and that I should leave to see if new opportunities present themselves.”

“You’re leaving out important details,” Daemon accused, and Viserea found him staring at her already when she looked back up to him, “Details that explain why coming to a war ground was the best plan instead of a childish one.”

“Reflecting on it, the details don’t make it any less dangerous. My lack of self preservation still helped you today, though. You are now King of the Stepstones and there is no denying that Tessarion aided in that,” Viserea replied, knowing the details would make everything make sense. She didn’t want Daemon to know that she had named him as one of the two men she would marry, though. Not yet. Not unless there was some sign that he wanted the same.

Daemon shrugged at Viserea’s comment, not bothering to deny that Tessarion had helped,

“You and your dragon helped today. You could not see the surprise on the Triarchy men’s faces when a dragon larger than Caraxes appeared over the horizon. However, being hailed as King of the Stepstones was not my motivation for fighting here.”

“What was?” Viserea asked, looking up at him again at the same time as he looked to her.

“You tell me the missing details, and I’ll tell you my motivation,” Daemon offered.

“Make the offer again before we go to sleep, and I might accept,” Viserea told him, wanting to enjoy the rest of their night together before she possibly ruined it.

“I can deal with that,” Daemon told her before switching to another subject. Then another. And then another.

The two ate the roasted meat as they discussed everything that had happened over the last two years, from stories of how Daemon had conquered each of the islands of the Stepstones, to Viserea revealing the only dream she had seen was the one of the White Hart showing itself to Rhaenyra at Aegon’s nameday. They spoke to and teased each other as if no time had passed. When asked, she explained the details of how Harwin had offered his hand to her.

“He said that he understood my loyalty to Rhaenyra and he would not try to stand in the way of it…” She paused, watching his face carefully as she spoke, “He said that my loyalty to her would make me the best Hand she could ask for.”

Daemon nodded, his face showing nothing that alarmed Viserea to try and take back her words or hide their meaning.

“Even as young children, you and Rhaenyra showed a certain… devotion to each other.” The use of the word “devotion” sent Viserea’s heart racing, but if Daemon had noticed any change in Viserea, he did not let him stop, “It was a common topic between Viserys, Aegon, and I. I suspect that your loyalties to each other have grown over the past couple years with the betrayal the two of you would have felt due to Viserys’ marriage to Alicent… among other things,” Daemon said and Viserea knew that mentioning other betrayals was his way of acknowledging his wrongdoings.

Viserea nodded in confirmation,

“Rhaenyra is the only person whom I have never doubted the loyalty of, and I know she has never doubted mine,” Viserea said, trailing off before asking, “What did you, my father, and Viserys say of Rhaenyra and mine’s devotion?”

Daemon chuckled at the question, as if it and the answer was amusing to him, “Their opinions differed from mine own. They said it was nice to see the two of you acting as sisters instead of mere cousins and hoped the two of you continued to remain so close as genuine trust is not something you can place in just anyone inside the Keep.”

“And what caused your own opinion to differ?” Viserea asked him, not realizing she had turned her body to face him completely as she awaited his answer.

He turned his head so he was no longer watching the fire and was instead watching her, his eyes casting over her face in an attempt to watch for any slight change, “I started by agreeing with them, saying that the two of you were sisters in some other lifetime. My opinion changed slowly over time, there was no certain moment that defined the change. The moment that my opinion was proven true, whether Viserys wishes to see it or not, was when all of the houses were called to swear their loyalty to you and Rhaenyra as Heir and Hand.”

Confusion made its place on Viserea’s face, “You were there?”

“I would not have missed it,” Daemon answered quickly, as if the idea of missing it was an insult to him and his tone allowed for no argument.

Viserea nodded, deciding not to ask where he was and instead returning back to the original topic, “What was it about that day that made your opinion change?”

“Everything. The devotion in your voice, the way the two of you were unable to keep your eyes off of each other, the look you gave to anyone who showed any sign of hesitation to Rhaenyra.”

Viserea dropped her gaze from Daemon and focused on her hands where she was absentmindedly toying with the ring he had given her, “And what did your opinion change to?” Viserea asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Daemon didn’t reply at first, his eyes not leaving Viserea’s face. The shaking in Viserea’s voice had already confirmed to him that he was right. Viserea finally looked back up at him, and Daemon stood up then kicked out what was remaining of the fire. He offered a hand to her and guided her inside of the small tent.

The other knights’ fires gave enough light that Viserea could make out the objects inside the tent, but not enough that either of them would be able to read the other’s expressions.

Daemon motioned for Viserea to sit next to him on the small pile of blankets inside the tent and she lowered herself to the spot, staying quiet as she awaited his answer to her previous question.

“My opinion is that the feelings the two of you share something far beyond devotion and loyalty, and that Harwin, along with whoever the other man is, are the only two men whose hands’ you will accept in marriage because they are the only two you trust to allow your relationship with Rhaenyra to continue,” Daemon finally said.

For some reason, Daemon knowing of her and Rhaenyra did not cause anymore anxiety to make it’s home inside of her. Instead, she felt relief.

“How long have the two of you kept it hidden?” Daemon asked.

“Four years. Amarda and Ser Ryden have known of it since the first year,” Viserea said, looking at him.

“So many people in that Keep that are supposed to attend to the two of you and yet all but four people are completely blind to the two of you,” Daemon said with a note of exasperation in his voice.

Viserea giggled at his words and the truth behind them, “Don’t get too confident in your abilities to see through us. One of your opinions was only partially correct.”

“And which opinion was that?” He questioned, looking to her and making Viserea realize just how close the two of them were.

“If I answer that, it reveals the details I was leaving out earlier. Tell me your motivation for your fighting here and I’ll tell you the details and in what way your opinion was wrong,” Viserea offered to him, waiting as he debated the offer.

He took a breath before speaking, as if he didn’t want to agree to to the terms, but he knew that arguing with Viserea was useless,

“My motivation was you and Rhaenyra. I stole Baelon’s egg to spite Viserys and the two of you. I saw the way the two of you acted with each other when Rhaenyra was named heir and knew I had no chance of coming between you. I brought Mysaria to Dragonstone and fooled myself into thinking I loved her, and I had no problem setting the Gold Cloaks to the men who joined Otto Hightower to retrieve the egg while I handled Otto myself. I don’t know what I thought would come of that day if it came to a fight. Seeing Tessarion and Syrax land on the bridge changed my mind. I knew I wasn’t capable of hurting Rhaenyra and I was not dumb enough to think you would let me walk away if I did. The two of you left and Mysaria left soon after and I was relieved she was gone. Corlys came to me soon after. He was talking of the war here and I pretended to care about the reasons he gave me for why I should care. I came here because he mentioned the power they were gaining and the threat it would be to Westeros if left alone. I came here because I assumed I knew it was the only way to keep the two of you safe. If we won the war, the two of you were safe; and if they killed me, then it would force my brother to finally take action.”

Daemon’s words had caused a number of emotions to stir in Viserea. They had not looked away from each other the entire time and he had spoken his words without pause which Viserea was grateful for. She wouldn’t have known how to respond part way through. The logical part of her brain told her that she shouldn’t believe his words, or that she should at least be wary of them. The logical part of her brain told her that Daemon had hurt her and Rhaenyra before and that he could be lying. But it was Daemon and Rhaenyra that had always encouraged her to trust her intuition. ‘You are a dreamer. Do you think Tessarion, the very Goddess that gifted you with dreams, would only help you with dreams? Trust your intuition.’

Her intuition was telling her that he was being truthful and to trust him one final time.

“You were wrong about the second man whose hand I would take. Harwin Strong would allow for Rhaenyra and I to continue our relationship, but the second man would do more than that. He would do what Harwin could not,” Viserea told him, the two of them still watching each other’s faces. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, she could make out more of his features, but not enough to read everything that flickered across his face. “Rhaenyra and I’s opinion of him and what he would do is the same.”

“What do the two of you believe he would do?” Daemon asked quickly, as if he was unwilling to wait for an answer.

“We believe he would take both of us as his wives… that he would marry us in the ways of Old Valyria…” Viserea said with a quiet but confident voice. She knew her mention of Old Valyria would confirm any doubts he may have had left about who she and Rhaenyra had discussed.

“A marriage that only Valyrian blood could complete,” Daemon said, his voice just as quiet as hers.

“A marriage that would bring three dragons together, just like those in the sigil of our house,” Viserea confirmed.

“You and Rhaenyra have thought about this for some time,” Daemon pointed out, his tone neutral.

“It’s been an idea that neither of us can rid our minds of.”

“King Viserys would never allow it,” Daemon pointed out, “and I am still married.”

“We have thought of Viserys’ reaction already,” Viserea said, “We’re unsure how to erase your marriage since he is the only one with that power, but we have thought of how to marry without Viserys’ blessing.”

“Tell me how you plan to work around the King,” Daemon commanded, though his voice had not risen in volume.

“It is not a perfect plan by any means,” Viserea warned, “however, it is the best we could come up with until Rhaenyra is Queen. You and I would be wed first, as it would cause the least amount of strife. We do not need the King’s blessing if we take to Dragonstone and are wed by Maester Gerardys in the ways of Valyria. Rhaenyra would propose a marriage to Laenor Velaryon-“

“I am not sure he would be interested in any maidens offering their hand,” Daemon said, cutting off Viserea, though Viserea quickly replied,

“Which would mean he would be willing to keep Rhaenyra and I’s own activities a secret. The marriage would hide his own interests and Rhaenyra’s.”

Daemon stayed silent as he seemed to consider the idea. He had never been one to back away from something just because of the challenge it presented, but this was something that would be difficult on all fronts.

“The marriage would continue until Rhaenyra is Queen?” Daemon questioned.

“We could have all three of us married in Dragonstone with a single raven to Rhaenyra, but there is enough strife between Viserys and you and me without seeming to steal Rhaenyra away,” Viserea explained. It was obvious as she explained all of her and Rhaenyra’s plan that they had spoken in detail of this multiple times and at great lengths, “She is telling him she wishes to sail all of Westeros to look for a suitor, and at the end of it, she will say she wants to wed Laenor. This would end the mess Viserys has made between himself and Corlys, as his son would be Prince, and his grandchildren would sit upon the Iron Throne after Rhaenyra. Once Rhaenyra is Queen, she will have the power to do as she pleases, if another opportunity has not already arisen.”

“And what are we to do while she tours Westeros?”

“In order to keep from Viserys becoming too suspicious of how planned this truly is, we would stay away from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. We could travel wherever we wanted, Rhaenyra is going to send a raven when she is returning to King’s Landing, and we will arrive to announce our marriage. Viserys will be distracted by the plans of her wedding to Laenor, as he has proven before that Rhaenyra’s marriage is the important one to him, and he won’t waste a war on something he knows he will not be able to change. He goes to Alicent for advice, and as much as I dislike her, she would make him see sense if he did try to do anything too drastic.”

“It seems as though you and Rhaenyra have thought of everything,” Daemon said, finally allowing himself to truly consider the idea.

“The only thing we have not been able to figure out, is how to rid you of your marriage,” Viserea admitted.

“I will handle my marriage. I have thought about it before but never had a reason to do anything. This is my responsibility and you two have done enough,” Daemon said quickly.

“Is this your way of saying you accept our offer of marriage?” Viserea asked, a small smile on her face.

“Zaldrītsos (little dragon),” Daemon started, reaching up and taking Viserea’s chin in between two fingers so she was forced to look at him, “nothing will stop me from making you my wife.”

Viserea leaned forward, kissing him as she had yearned to do for years. Any amount of resolve Daemon had left was gone the minute their lips touched. As the kiss deepened, his hand went to rest on her hips and she was pulled onto his lap. One of her own hands had gone to his hair while the other rested on his chest, the heat of him contrasting with the cool temperature of her hands.

As his hands began to explore under her shirt, Daemon broke away and his hands slid out from under her shirt,

“We can’t. Not tonight,” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Viserea.

Viserea nodded, breathing heavily, knowing the risk was too much. Anybody could catch them and the last thing they needed was for her to be with child before they were even married. She leaned in and kissed him softly once more before removing herself from his lap and sitting next to him again.

Daemon laid down and pulled Viserea down with him. She easily curled up against him, laying her head against his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

50 notes · View notes

luxtout · 7 months

Text

Flames Unveiled (Chapter 5- Red Eyes) Aegon II Targaryen X (Bastard Velaryon) Reader X Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After six years living away from Kings Landing, you and your family are summoned back, for reasons unknown. Your mother, Rhaenyra, has different plans for you. You swore to always protect your family, but at what cost?

Warning: References to / sexual content (18+), injuries, cursing, drinking, fights, angst

Tagged: @faesspace

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hands gripped your waist, squeezing your flesh. Your breath hitched as the hand slid up your frame and stopping underneath your chin.

Your eyes remained close, no one spoke, only the feeling of hands roaming your body sent a wave of madness over you. Lips kissed the skin that was bit, causing little gasps and moans to escape your lips.

"Please," You moaned, your voice was needy, you reached for the figure's hair, but could not find anything. The voice was unrecognizable, only humming resuming its sucking on your neck.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, as you pressed your thighs together, pleasure rushed over you. A moan slipped from your lips, as your eyes cracked open to see a flash of silver hair...

The sensation of hot water pouring over your head brought you back from your daydream. You had awoken earlier from the dream, the aches from your core still lingered from the pleasure the dream gave you.

"Was it exciting?" Mara asked, her hands busy lathering soap on your scalp. She had pieced together your nighttime escapade when she noticed the rags beneath your bed, stained with wine and emanating a distinct odor.

"It was different," you sighed, glancing over at your handmaiden. Her fingers worked through your hair, but your mind wandered to the hands that had explored your body. You grappled with the confusing sensations in your stomach, a mixture of feeling both wrong and right. "Mara, I have a question. I didn't understand the sounds. The sounds the women in the pleasure house were making—were they in pain?"

Your handmaiden stifled a laugh, "Oh, let me think of how to explain this... The women were experiencing delight. It is normal, my Princess."

You fell silent, responding only with a thoughtful hum. As Mara rinsed your hair, she observed you clenching and unclenching your fists, lost in your thoughts.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Mara's voice was soft as she applied oils to your body.

"It's just," you began, "I felt off last night. It feels sinful to feel this way." You hesitated to reveal the details of your dream to her.

Mara continued to work, rinsing your body, and then spoke gently, "No, it is not sinful. Those are very normal feelings. They are what drive men and women..."

"Drive them to what?" You asked.

"Has your mother ever discussed... how to perform the marital act?" Mara whispered in your ear; her tone hushed.

You shook your head, a blush rising to your cheeks. "I'd rather not ask my mother about that. It would turn into a very long conversation."

Mara hummed and assisted you out of the tub, her gaze falling on a slight bruise on your waist. "Is that from riding Lyrax?"

You followed her gaze, feeling a slight pang of pain. You hadn't remembered what could have caused it – perhaps a bump or a fall, or maybe it had resulted from Aegon's firm grip when he pulled you away from the man in Flea Bottom. "Perhaps," you replied.

Your riding leathers were laid across the bed, and you instructed Mara to leave and instruct the guards for a carriage to take you to the dragon pit. As you dressed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, noting the light purple bruise on your waist, faintly resembling the impression of a couple of fingers.

The air was moist outside, and you knew that rain was expected later in the day. Lyrax enjoyed all kinds of weather, but he particularly loved storms, blending in with the grey clouds and rain. When you were ready, you made your way to the carriage waiting outside the Keep. Guards stood at the ready, nodding as you approached.

"Princess."

The carriage was comfortable, and you leaned against the cushions, ready for the short journey to the dragon pit. As you settled in, you heard someone enter through the door.

"May I join you?" Aemond was dressed in his riding leathers, and he didn't wait for a response before taking a seat. The carriage door closed, and it started moving along the stone path.

"Well, I don't see why not." You crossed your arms, attempting to avoid his watchful eye. His dagger, one you hadn't seen him carry before, was strapped to his hip, and he lightly tapped his fingers against it. "Have you seen Helaena?"

Aemond adjusted his position in the seat. "Yes, she's well. She wishes to apologize. As do I."

"Why must you apologize?" You responded almost too quickly, clutching at your leather, a noticeable anxious tick.

"For my brother," Aemond began, his hands falling to his knees.

"You don't need to apologize for him, and neither does he," you stated firmly, a slight smile curling at the corners of your lips.

Aemond's chuckle was low, "I knew you would say that. Aegon gets off too easily."

Your smile dropped, and your eyes took on a distant look as you remembered Aegon's growing problems. His once occasional drink at dinner had escalated into replacing every empty cup with more wine, his wandering eyes peering down the dresses of handmaidens. The change was nearly too much for you to bear. The two of you had been great friends, bonding as the eldest siblings in the family, but the mounting pressure seemed to have taken a toll on him.

"Why have you come to the dragon pit, uncle? I thought you had training to attend to," you asked as the carriage came to a halt.

Aemond nodded, "Yes, but Vhagar hasn't taken to the skies in weeks."

There was a lump in your throat as he mentioned Vhagar. "Well, I will leave you to it," you said before quickly walking from the carriage toward the dragon pit. The eager cries of Lyrax reached your ears, bringing a smile to your face.

"Māzigon kesīr, Lyrax," you called out to him, and like a child running to its mother, he squalled and rushed toward you, causing a few men to chase after him. "Easy."

The bond you shared with Lyrax was unique; even after years apart, you both acted as if no time had passed. Lyrax had missed you, and the loyalty he showed you was something you cherished.

"Ivestragī's sōvegon," you cooed in his ear as you mounted him. Let's fly. His grey wings spread, running slowly before pushing up into the air. Your fingers wrapped around the reins as you leaned to the side. You felt the light droplets of water as you rode into the clouds. Underneath Lyrax, you heard the roar of another dragon, and Vhagar nearly knocked Lyrax off balance.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Aemond eyed you from Vhagar. Vhagar's towering presence over Lyrax caused him to roar at the giant.

"That was a very dangerous move, Aemond," you scowled, trying to adjust yourself in the saddle.

"Why not ride together?" Aemond proposed, his smirk widening as he issued the challenge.

"Fine, if you can catch up with us," you responded, feeling Lyrax shift beneath you. He let out a triumphant roar as he dropped down, spinning through the wind. Such daring maneuvers were not uncommon when you rode with Lyrax, and you loved the exhilaration and the sense of freedom that came with them. Riding on the back of Lyrax was where you felt most alive. His speed and agility made it seem as though he could slice through the air like Valyrian steel.

Aemond made every effort to keep up, but his dragon struggled to match your speed. Vhagar's massive body dipped low, and his wings stretched wide above you. Lyrax shot forward, twisting and soaring upward before plunging down, sending you both freefalling toward the ocean below. You braced yourself for Lyrax to halt the descent and shoot back upward.

"Sȳrī gaomagon," you praised him, rubbing his head. Well done.

Aemond peered down at the scene from above, his heart sinking until he saw Lyrax gracefully ascend to meet him. He couldn't help but laugh at your boldness and audacity.

You both flew like that for hours until the rain started to coat your face. Landing the dragons in the rain proved to be the most challenging part, with the wind picking up as you closed in on the dragon pit.

Lyrax darted inside the pit, cooing in contentment before disappearing from your sight. The carriage was just a few paces away, but someone stood at the opening: the Queen.

Aemond remained behind, his gaze fixed on you until you nodded your goodbye. "Come here, dear. Before you get sick," the Queen's soft voice beckoned.

"I apologize, Your Grace. I hope you were not waiting long," you said as you took the seat opposite Alicent. She was attired in a dark green dress, with a black cloak draped over her, and her hair was elegantly coiled around her head.

"You do not need to apologize. I have heard that once you and your dragon are in the sky, you will stay up there for hours," she remarked, reaching out to take your hand. "You remind me of your mother when she was younger. Always with her dragon."

"I have heard stories. Is there a reason for this meeting?" You asked, your anxiety growing, waiting for her to mention your escapades with Helaena.

"We must make proper preparations for your name day celebrations," Alicent smiled, and the carriage started moving as you both discussed the upcoming event.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

"Se dāria emagon ivestretan issa hen aōha kȳvana syt issa brōzi tubis." The Queen has told me of your plans for my name day, your voice softened as your mother's fingers ran through your hair.

"Gaomagon ao daor raqagon skoros īlon planned?" Do you not like what we planned? She sounded eager to know, her fingers halted, causing you to quickly shake your head. They both planned a three-day event, on the first day would be a grand feast, the second day a tournament, and the final day a ball.

Switching back to the Common Tongue, you addressed Jace, who was sitting in the corner of the room, and Luke beside him. "No, I think it's brilliant. But is it too much? I am only turning eighteen."

Rhaenyra smiled, "You are the daughter of the heir to the throne, my future heir. The King has approved."

Jace, however, changed the subject, "What were you saying before in Valyrian? It was hard to keep up." He was grinning, and his comment prompted laughter from both you and your mother.

"Jace, you never truly liked to learn Valyrian unless on dragon back," you replied with a laugh. Your mother joined in, and the tension seemed to ease.

"Sister, what about your flying today? I believe I heard two dragons overhead," Jace pressed.

Squirming in your seat, you began to explain, "Uh, Aemond was going to Vhagar-"

But your brothers' groans and your mother's stiffness interrupted you. Jace spoke firmly, "Do not go near him, sister."

"He did not try to feed me to his dragon. It was a friendly race," you defended yourself, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I will always remember what he is, brothers."

How could you forget.

Rhaenyra decided to change the subject, "That's enough now. Boys, why don't you take the air with your sister?"

Groaning in unison, your brothers reluctantly stood from their seats. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror; your hair hung loose, and you wore a simple blue dress that was a bit too long.

The courtyard was teeming with people, gardeners meticulously tending to the flowers, and the ladies of the court huddled together, whispering as you walked by.

"Dear sister, do you not bathe?" Jace sneered, his voice carrying so that the ladies could hear, and Luke began to gag.

"I will feed you to Lyrax," you retorted through clenched teeth. Your face burned with embarrassment as the ladies around you laughed and quickly walked away. "Did you find pleasure in that?"

The boys were consumed by uncontrollable laughter, Jace wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he gathered his breath. "Y/N, do you realize this will be our last moon together as a family?"

Your head cocked to the side, puzzled. "Why would you say that?"

The smile faded from Luke's face as his brother explained, "After your name day, you are to be married. Some lord will take you away to a part of Westeros, and it won't be long until you become Queen."

You shook your head, whispering softly, "I will not become Queen in this lifetime. You've seen how they challenge our mothers, right? For the realm to follow a second woman, it would shatter. No one would pledge fealty to me."

"I will kill anyone that tries to-"

"You will do no such thing, do not be stupid, brother," you admonished Jace, pinching his side. "Be smart, if anyone overhears this talk..."

"Niece, nephews, what a pleasure to see you all here today!" Aegon's voice interrupted your conversation. He stumbled into the courtyard, not holding a drink, but his brother was at his side.

You took a step forward and addressed Aegon, "Aegon, I thought you would be piss drunk by supper."

Aegon drew nearer, laughing as he pointed his finger. "That time cannot come soon enough, right, brother?"

Aemond straightened his posture, glaring at your brothers behind you. Jace attempted to hold you back, but his grip loosened with a shrug.

"Then I should not deprive you of your drink, uncle," you said, waiting for him to leave. But he didn't. He clasped his hands in front of him, smirking and unable to contain his excitement, rolling back on his heels with a chuckle. "May I ask what's funny, uncle?"

Aemond turned to his brother, appearing just as bewildered as the three of you. Jace and Luke attempted to reach for your sleeve, but Aegon finally stepped forward and leaned in close. His lips grazed your ear as he whispered, "Nothing. I was just thinking you would be such a lovely bride." He paused, then added with a wicked tone, "Or whore."

Your vision was blurred with anger, and neither of you noticed your hands raising, delivering furious strikes to each other. Anger seethed through both of you, with his hand finding your head and chest as your retaliation came in the form of slaps. Jace, Luke, and Aemond stood still for a moment, watching in disbelief as you both exchanged heated words in Valyrian, and the fight escalated from punches to slapping.

"Cease this!" Guards began to rush into the yard. Jace and Luke restrained you, while Aemond did the same with Aegon. Both of you were now bruised and bloody, with Aegon flashing a pathetic smile, revealing teeth stained with blood. "What is the meaning of this?"

Your chest heaved as you listened to Aegon speak, "We were just having fun."

The guard looked between the two of you, "You both will have to report to the King."

"The King?" You both whined, as the guard already started to escort both of you up the stairs. Embarrassment was all you felt as you walked shoulder to shoulder with Aegon, who seemed to share the same feeling.

"This is your fault," you accused, keeping your gaze on your gown, your fingers curled over the fabric, noticing specks of blood on the material.

"My fault?" Aegon laughed, sounding astounded by the accusation. "You struck me first."

"You started it. You got mad that I got the best of you in a fight." That comment caused Aegon to stop moving, and he only glared at you with clenched fists before resuming his steps.

The guard left both of you in the King's bedchamber, even though it was empty. Your lip quivered as you looked around, and Aegon had already made himself comfortable, helping himself to a glass of wine and pouring a second. "Here."

You were hesitant to take the glass, but you needed a way to soothe your anxiety. The wine was a sweet Dornish blend. Aegon downed his glass, and you followed, placing the glass back on the table.

"What is the meaning of this?" The King hobbled in, his breath was rigid as he tried to balance himself on his cane. The Queen and your mother ran in behind him, and you prayed to the Gods that Daemon did not show up.

Both of you spoke in a jumbled rant, trying to explain what happened, but the King, your grandsire, did not want to hear it. "Enough."

"Y/N, tell me why you struck him," Rhaenyra demanded, her lips pressed in a firm line as she waited.

"I do not know." Your words shocked Aegon, his eyes widened slightly. "We were talking, and I-"

"It was a playful jest," Aegon interrupted, pouring himself another glass of wine. "My niece and I were at a crossroads on dueling. She wanted to try since she could not hold a sword, and she decided to use her hands. It was a fair fight."

The Queen's lip quivered in anger, glaring at her husband. Your mother looked down at you, as if she did not know what to do. The King moved closer, saying, "Say your peace with each other and be done with it."

Alicent's face reflected the same look she had when Aemond lost his eye. She did not think that was sufficient. "She struck the prince."

"He struck the princess," Rhaenyra interjected, watching her father for a response.

You and Aegon felt like spectators in the verbal war that was about to start. Alicent turned to look at your face, noticing a bruised forehead, cheek, and a split lip. Her eyes shifted to Aegon, who had blackened eyes, a split lip in two places, and a gash on his cheek. She quickly made her way to Aegon, striking him where he stood.

He held his head down after the blow, but you heard him sniff, adjusting his posture to avoid any eye contact.

"He did not mean it, Your Grace," your voice faltered, noticing the tears forming in his eyes. "I am equally to blame."

Everyone stood still, watching to see what was to happen. "The both of you leave as we discuss your proper punishments."

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, nodding as you turned to leave the room. Aegon stood frozen for a moment, but he quickly turned and followed you as his mother came near him again. You could hear the murmurs of the three adults inside before the door closed behind you, leaving you both out in the hall.

Aegon's eyes were glossed over, his jaw clenched in anger or sorrow. His fists clenched and unclenched, letting his guard down.

"Aegon," you started, your hand reached for his, but he hastily turned away, his face contorted with emotion.

"Don't you touch me," he spat, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Like you said, you're equally to blame, yet I get punished, always. You cloud their judgment because you were born a girl, and I, a disappointment. Now they are furious that I am taking you down the same path."

You stepped closer to him, licking your lips, tasting the blood. "If you weren't an asshole, you would not be treated like a disappointment."

Aegon licked his teeth, laughing bitterly. He did not respond, just stood in silence. The blood on your dress darkened, and you tried to rub it off with your nail. You fought the burning sensation in your eyes, but a tear rolled down your cheek. You were once friends with this man, shared jokes, played games, danced, and now you beat each other senseless.

A click of the doorknob made you both stand straight, and everyone walked out in a line, the King struggling to keep up with the women. "We have come to a decision. You both have confirmed it to be a game, but at your age, you should know better. Both of you, back to your bedchambers at once. You will stay there until prompted."

Your eyes found their way to Aegon one last time before he stomped away. Rhaenyra took your arm, guiding you with her free hand on your lower back. The Queen stood watching everyone disperse before following her son to further his punishment.

"How dare you make a fool of this family?" Your mother shouted as she closed your bedchamber doors.

"I made a fool? It is not I who started it!" You finally let the tears fall.

"Then tell me, why did you not speak the truth to your grandsire, the King?" Her hand rested on a chair, motioning for you to sit, but you refused.

"I do not know." You lost your voice again, causing your mother to laugh.

"If I bring your brothers here, will they tell me the same story? That they 'do not know?' Please, Y/N, the Queen wanted you to be as equally punished as Aegon. Be grateful she pardoned you."

You hated Aegon, and you were glad he was getting punished, but why did the thought bring tears to your eyes? "Leave me be."

Rhaenyra sighed, placing her hands in yours, "You are to be a woman grown. Your name day will change everything you know. If the gossip of this fight came to light... You are lucky."

You bit your lip, causing it to sting, "Leave."

Rhaenyra nodded, kissing your forehead as she made her way to the exit. You let out a sob; the air in the room was suffocating. Your dress was ruined; you grasped for the strings, ripping them from the corset. Torn fabric and string pooled around your feet, leaving you in your chemise.

You spent hours sitting on the floor, whether it be to read or to think. No one came to relieve you from your chambers, but you did not mind. A knock at the door startled you from your book, quickly finding your red and black robe, tying it around your waist. "Come in."

Aemond walked in, and Mara followed after, "I thought you could do with some dinner."

A smile formed on your lips as you watched him help Mara place the plates of food on the table. Mara eyed you with a wide smirk, but you lifted your hand to leave. "Thank you, uncle. You did not need to go to these lengths."

"No bother. The least I can do after my brothers... antics this evening." His voice was low, like Aegon could hear the conversation. He pulled out a chair at your table, pushing it in after you settled in.

"I apologize for my appearance..." You looked to the floor, the remains of your dress still coated the carpet and wood. "How is he?"

Aemond poured you a glass before speaking, "My brother knows his stunts will leave him in a compromising position with our mother. He does them anyway, but this time I truly do not understand why he did what he did."

You sipped at your glass, "I thought he would grow from these... He was never like this when we were children." You glanced at your plate, meat pie and roasted vegetables, making you suddenly aware of how hungry you were.

"It has been years since you had last seen us. Before, you were just a girl... now you are a woman grown." His eye lingered over every part of you, making you wish you had a gown on. "Your name day will come soon enough."

"I would rather wait. Your mother has come up with a very elaborate three-day celebration leading up to the day. It is something to entertain all in the realm, that is to be sure." You started cutting at your plate. Aemond moved his plate around, looking at the food in distaste.

Silence engulfed the both of you, turning your stomach sour. You watched his hand drop his fork, leaning forward as his fingers grazed yours. "Uncle, is the food not to your satisfaction?"

You did not know why you asked that, if it was genuine or if it was to cut the tension, but Aemond didn't respond. His hand rested on yours, his cold stare sent shivers down your spine, thinking of the dream you had.

"Uncle?" Your gut twisted as he scooted closer, his hand trailing up your arm to your face. Panic welled up inside you.

You sat looking at him for as long as it took for the food to grow cold. His eye never met yours, only glaring at how his thumb and forefinger rubbed your soft features. Your hand crept up to his, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. In a flash, he let go, lifting from his chair and leaving the room.

You sat unbelievably still; shock went through you as the door clicked shut. Your eyes shifted to your plates; the food now turned your stomach upside-down, raising from your seat with a tremble.

"I thought he would never leave." A voice spoke from behind, and Aegon entered the front room with a stumble.

You jumped, "Aegon, what... How did you get in here? Did the guards relieve you?"

Your uncle was dressed in the rags he wore the night before; his shirt was a tad oversized for his frame. He discarded his cloak on the floor as he eyed your table.

"The passageways, remember?" He brushed past you, his hand brushing against your back and arm before sitting at the table. He picked up the fork Aemond was holding, shoving the food into his mouth.

"Did they not feed you?" You noticed his pace, clearing his plate and moving to yours.

"What was my brother doing here?" He questioned, ignoring yours. His eyes were focused on you, raking over every detail.

"It is not out of the ordinary, he comes here with supper, and we talk." Your voice was quiet as you watched Aegon pour two glasses of wine. "Why did you lie to them?"

He halted, his glass barely touching his lips, "We are not friends."

You nodded, "Of course not. You are my uncle."

"Not even that." You did not understand, "Drink."

You slowly reached for the glass, sipping the sweet blend. Aegon followed, his violet eyes staring into yours.

"I did not tell them because my sister cares for you. Last night, she begged to show you mercy. Aemond made me swear not to tell anyone, and I don't know why. I honor my family. You, I do not."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, drinking more of the wine. "You hate me that much?"

Aegon laughed as he refilled both of your glasses. "I don't hate you... I loathe you. Ever since we were kids, if you got in trouble, you were never punished, it was me being punished. When you left, it was like a weight lifted from my shoulders, but then you returned. You can speak out whenever you like, strike whomever you like, sneak about, and yet face no retribution. When I cut your hair, I felt a piece of you crumble, finally showing some weakness. I wanted to leave you in Flea Bottom with those people, but I didn't-"

You interrupted, "Then why didn't you? You said it yourself; you loathe me so. Trust me, Uncle, I abhor you. You claim I can do as I please, yet you can disgrace your wife by visiting whores in a pleasure house. You drink every moment of every day, beat on my brothers, and whisper cruel comments in my ear. The blood of the dragon flows through me just as it does through you."

He smiled down at you, raising his glass to his lips. "Seems you have gotten me all figured out, haven't you?"

You gulped your wine. "You blame me for your beatings, but maybe it's because you shame your wife, your mother's daughter, and the King doesn't love you because you're not his daughter."

After those words left your lips, Aegon slammed his glass against the table, standing up. His lips formed a straight line as he licked them, watching you squirm. You attempted to straighten up in your seat, waiting for him to speak.

"Is that so?"

You nodded, "Why are you here?"

He let go of the table, stumbling around it. "Just wanted to stop by before I left."

Confused, you snapped out of your chair, "You're planning on leaving? Are you going to Flea Bottom?"

You were both face to face, not uttering a word to each other. You wanted to leave with him, to see what he does, who he sees. You wanted to leave the confines of your room. His eyes raked over your face, leaning in closer. "Go to bed, niece. You've gotten into far too much trouble for this day."

"I wish to go," you demanded, "Take me with you."

He pushed you aside, walking to his cloak. "No. Do you want a repeat of last night? I suggest you stay here, or else I tell the Queen of your times spent in a pleasure house."

You followed him, "If I am to be with you, nothing will happen."

"Did you forget about our conversation? I loathe you; you abhor me?" He cracked a smile, fastening the clasp before fixing his hood.

"I understand, and my hatred towards you will be pushed aside if you take me with you. Just for tonight, then we can ignore each other forever. Please, I want the freedom before I am to be sold off as some old lord's wife."

You saw the conflict in Aegon's eyes, anger and pity mixed together as he sighed. "Get dressed."

A small smile appeared on your face, and you rushed to the clothes underneath your bed. You turned around to Aegon. "Don't look." You would normally be shy about changing in front of someone other than a handmaiden, but your excitement clouded all anxiety. As you slipped on all your clothes and grabbed your hat, Aegon made his way to you.

"How did you know I was finished?" You cocked your head, annoyance lacing your words. Aegon grabbed your hat, shoving it on your head to cover the white streaks.

"At least hide these." He quickly took his hands from your hat, walking to the secret passageway and pushing back the door.

The familiar rush of adrenaline filled your body as you both rushed down the stairs. Aegon shushed you as you both hit the open air. Flea Bottom was just as lively as the night before, with music and laughter.

As you made it down the stairs into the streets, Aegon kept you within arm's reach. You tried to pinpoint where the music was coming from, wanting to listen to the drums all night, but Aegon gripped you by the arm, dragging you down an alley.

"Hey! I wanted to—" You protested, but Aegon placed his hand over your mouth. His face was close to yours, making it hard to see who he was hiding from. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the flash of a gold cape.

"If you don't want to get caught, I suggest you pay attention to your surroundings," Aegon whispered harshly, letting go of your mouth. His hand reached for your forearm, and he weaved in and out of the crowds of people before leading you into a tavern.

The tavern was different from the one you and Helaena had visited; this one had lively music playing as people danced and sang. You couldn't take your eyes off the musicians, watching their feet tap to the rhythm.

A bump to your shoulder pulled your attention away. "Here, drink." Aegon had two glasses of wine, handing one to you. You nodded, taking the glass and raising it to your lips. You gulped it all in one go, and Aegon followed suit, turning to the barkeep, "Another."

This time you were both served something stronger in spirits. As you lifted the glass to your lips, you both twitched from the strong taste. The beat of the drum vibrated in your bones, and the animosity you felt between each other seemed to disappear. The drinks piled on as you both clearly became intoxicated.

Hours passed as you both left the tavern, returning to the Keep became more of a challenge. You both hummed, running into walls and each other, stumbling up the stone steps. Your hat fell to the ground as Aegon's hood slipped while he tried to bend down to pick it up.

"Forget it," you hiccupped, "I have no... no need for it."

His hand still wrapped around the hat, "You forget, no one can notice you."

Your legs twisted in front of you, stumbling in the passageway hall. Aegon barely caught you, laughter echoed as he stumbled over you.

"We... We must find my chambers," your speech slurred as you finally found your footing. You reached your hand out to him, and he hesitantly accepted, his body shaking as you tried to guide him to your room. You found your chamber with the door cracked slightly.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you spoke, "I must take my leave, uncle. It's late, and I am... drunk."

Laughter spilled from his lips, and he walked closer, "Why should we stop now?" He pushed past you and walked back to the table where your wine was left. The passageway door was left open, and the cool air filled your room. You watched Aegon discard the glasses and bring the pitcher, drinking straight from it.

Laughter left your lips as you watched the wine spill down his chin. He slowly walked closer, and his fingers gently lifted your head, bringing the pitcher to your lips, feeling it drop down your chin. You both stood in silence, drinking your wine for hours.

"I still loathe you, Y/N," his voice croaked, his eyes were glazed over, almost as if tears were going to fall.

"I know," you felt a burning in your face as you swallowed a lump in your throat, "I still abhor you too."

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #game of throne #daemon targaryen #slow burn #aegon x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #enemies to lovers #house targaryen #house velaryon

103 notes · View notes

tyxoxo · 1 year

Text

One Night Only - VII.

ch.6, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: only suggestive themes in this chapter, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction),

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads @glitchfiles @devinitysann @jamy99hoe @pradajaehyun

a/n: don’t come for me! i know it’s been a minute 🫣

**edit: forgot to write that jeno changed his clothes. just imagine him in his all black fit from Milan!!:)

Chapter 7

He had to have been the most foul person to ever step foot on this subway, thinking he could get away with trying to put his hands in between your thighs. It was painfully obvious that he was attempting to get to where you secretly needed him the most.

“Jeno…” The way his name fell from your hushed lips made him go wild. Even if you were going to tell him to stop, it wouldn’t keep him from daydreaming about spinning you around to face the subway doors, letting everyone on the other side watch the two of you fly by as he took you against the foggy windows.

Even bonus points if he managed to rip your flimsy flannel open as he fucked you from behind, breasts pressed against the plexi glass from his relentless thrusts.

He was aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath; practically begging to be exposed.

You whispered out his name again, not even realizing that you snapped him out of his wild daze.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your ear, causing your back to arch and ultimately intensify the way your ass fit perfectly into his groin.

“We can’t do this here…” You fought against your desires, trying your hardest to not let your words drift off into a moan. There was no way the other subway-goers couldn’t hear you. Your tone was quiet enough to hear a pin drop but everyone was practically squished against one another, you and Jeno included. The only thing that set you apart from these strangers, was your guilt from struggling to behave.

“Why not?”

“There’s kids in here…”

He briefly turned his head from the front of the train to the very back. Due to his one-track mind, of course he didn’t notice.

“Fuck…” Disappointment was evident in his expression, forehead dropping onto your shoulder from the realization that he was cock-blocked.

You purposely dropped your eyes down at both of your shoes, knowing the civilians were probably disgusted, and would maybe even consider reporting you to the nearest authorities; this was Seoul after all.

Regardless, Jeno kept his claim on you, making sure his hands were locked on your waist for the entire train ride.

“So…what is there to know?” You asked as the two of you scoured the outdoor flea market. You didn’t know of any other way to start a conversation, but you hoped something would come out of it.

Neither of you were on the hunt for anything in particular, but the multitude of booths gave you both plenty to look at.

From antique’s, to handcrafted jewelry, to “hand-me-down’s” in a stand alone thrift section, there could be something worth buying.

“What would you like to know?” Jeno knocked his shoulder into your own as a signal for “shoot it.” But you were certain that he had no idea how many details you wanted to discover.

“Well, you seem pretty tame at the moment, which is why i asked.”

He scoffed at your statement, knowing that he was so close to causing a scene on the subway. But he could care less about the old farts or the young bloods. He was never one to respect authority.

“I mean yeah, since we’re very well acquainted now.” He said his snarky comment rather loudly, to which you gave a rather loud and abrupt “shhh.”

A few shoppers turned to view your utterance, to which you quickly diverted your eyes from the sudden onslaught of attention.

“Hmm, let me guess. You want to know why I'm being so nice right now. Or maybe you want to know when I'm gonna ditch you…”

He looked up towards the sky as he listed his malicious theories; a shit way to ponder on all of the possibilities.

You could only shake your head from your decision to initiate talk, but you couldn’t help but remain curious.

“You know you’re like a billion red flags right?” You snapped back with something only half as presumptuous; never quite on your “A” game with someone as forward as him.

“Yeah, and what does that say about you?” He said with a smirk. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not tug on your lips with every word he spoke.

Sadly, he was right.

You were just as unstable as him, to all of a sudden be around him more often than your old self would’ve wanted to.

“That I should be ashamed of myself…”

Somehow that amused the both of you. And hearing him laugh for the first time, actually stirred something within you, even his eye smile making your cheeks turn scorching hot.

“But seriously though, what made you want to work at a bookstore, doesn’t seem like your kind of vibe. Having to be quiet all the time…”

“I mean, Renjun and I both wanted something lowkey and not super complicated. And could you imagine me in retail or fast food, sounds terrible right?”

You covered your mouth as you imagined the scenario, entertained by his facial expressions and agreement with his own statement.

“I definitely couldn’t. But you should really treat Mark with more respect, he’s way too lenient with you, or any of us for that matter.”

You couldn’t help but scold Jeno, for all the times he was inconsiderate to your nothing-but-nice boss.

Jeno gave a sarcastic pout, and an aura of silence after catching sight of a ring at one of the many handcrafted jewelry booths. As he began to approach the tent, you inspected the banner attached to the front, reading “Brimstone Jewelry” with a Leviathan Cross situated on both ends.

You followed behind him, hanging onto the back of his black jean jacket to keep up with his stride.

As you stood side-by-side, you watched as he grabbed the grunge-inspired silver band, face showing interest in the decorative etchings.

Eventually, who you presumed to be the owner, approached the two of you, hoping Jeno would buy it.

“You like it?” The woman had a unique look to her. Despite being middle-aged, she seemed to be just as lively as the younger demographic: with dyed red fringed hair, spiked cuffs, and an all black sheer dress.

Jeno could only respond with a “mhm” and a subtle nod, raising the ring to get a good view of the sticker on the inside that gave the size.

“Do you have this in a size 9?”

“Yes! Let me get it out of my box!” The lady bent down to grab the container that was hidden underneath the table by a white drape sheet. In it, was the ring he had asked for, along with others that were just as edgy.

It was noticeably bigger and once Jeno placed it on his right middle finger, you felt your knees buckle.

He looked so hot, with it on. Even though his black jean jacket covered the veins on his arms, you could see them branched out on his hands, complimenting the avant-garde design of the ring.

You hadn’t even realized that your mouth was hung open as he held up his hand in the sunlight, not until the lady smiled and laughed at your expression.

Jeno was oblivious until she spoke again,

“Are you guys a couple?”

She was daring to ask such a thing, and you tried to gulp down the lump that formed in your throat like an aftershock.

Jeno placed his hand down, giving an obvious and shameless “why would you ask such a thing” look.

“No.”

Jeno’s curt response, without a reassuring glance, made the air around you go cold, despite the relatively warm day.

What did you expect? And why did it make your entire body slump into a low-spirited posture?

“Didn’t mean to intrude, young man. Just thought I’d ask because I have some really nice couple rings.” The lady gave a sympathetic bow, one that was ignored by Jeno as he tossed the ring on the table and walked off without you.

You were in disbelief, not only from his brusque actions, but from the entirety of the situation. It seemed like he retreated anytime your presence was known…did you even really exist in his mind? Or only when it benefited him?

Of course, you were probably overanalyzing. But this was the second time he withdrew after the two of you engaged in such a way.

You mentally shook your head of your inordinate thoughts, giving a delayed bow to the lady on behalf of your anarchic partner, if that even was the appropriate title.

“How come you didn’t buy it?” You eventually caught up, with your subconscious never failing to make you grab a hold of his arm as the two of you walked. Surprisingly, he didn’t shrug you away, and you could honestly care less if he secretly hated it.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to…”

If you ended up following through with your spur-of-the-moment plan, you could no longer say that you didn’t have feelings for Jeno. All of the denial would be nonexistent from this point onward.

Because the moment you decided to walk back up to that same booth, you would make it your mission to have Jeno fuck you with that ring on, one way or another.

“Where are you going?” He looked back after feeling you release the back of his jacket.

“I’ll be right back. Can you find me something to drink and some shade, like frozen lemonade or something?”

As you attempted to keep your whereabouts unknown, you were stopped in your tracks by Jeno’s firm grip on your wrist, causing you to whirl back around to face him. His jaw was clenched, probably due to your equivocal decision to go alone suddenly, especially in such a busy crowd.

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“I’m gonna go check something out, can you find me something to drink in the meantime?” You tried your best not to involuntarily point your head in the direction of your objective, fearing it would give your plan away.

“Tell me.”

“I said i’ll be right back!”

Because of the increase in your tone and the attention drawn to the two of you now, Jeno had no choice but to let go. He seemed to walk away in the opposite direction, where you had both eyed a drink stand minutes prior. You continued your journey back to the jewelry booth, hoping the lady wouldn’t tell you to go away because of Jeno’s ill-mannered attitude.

Surprisingly, she smiled upon seeing you step up again to her booth.

“Back again huh?”

“Yeah I couldn’t stay away.” You offered an awkward laugh to fill the once-cold space.

“Could I buy that size 9 ring we looked at earlier?”

“Of course! But may I ask…how come he won’t?”

She seemed to be the nosy type, but for some reason you didn’t mind, even envying her audacious personality.

“Uh-uhm. It’s a surprise for him. He never tells me or shows me what he likes so I thought why not.”

A terrible lie, one that she might see right through.

“Well, I must say it fits him. You guys look good together. Just make sure he treats you right…been there, done that.”

She spoke low as she put the ring in its own matte-black holder, assuming Jeno was nearby to hear.

You bowed from her conscious advice after handing the money, to which she waved goodbye as she handed you the brown paper gift bag.

The bag was adorned with the same Leviathan Cross sticker on both sides, indirectly foiling your plans to keep it a surprise.

As soon as you left the booth, you took out your phone to see if he texted where he could possibly be. And there on your lockscreen was a single message.

2:27pm

[jeno]: i’m at the drink stand we saw earlier. you should see a bunch of bright yellow chairs

[you]: ok, heading over now

It was impossible to hide the rush of excitement that forged within your body. You just knew he would love it, even if he tried to outwardly display annoyance from your persistence.

You held the bag close to your body as you made your way to the stand, almost stumbling past a few people in the process.

There, in the distance, you saw him. And despite the toxicity, he took your breath away at every glance: the way he sat in the chair with the typical male leg cross—ankle up and resting on the opposite knee while scrolling through his phone made you grip the bag even tighter.

He had successfully fulfilled your request, with two large cups of what appeared to be frozen lemonade placed on the outdoor green mesh table.

It wasn’t until you got in arms-length distance that he looked up from his phone, eyes following the brown paper bag as you placed it on top of the table.

And once he looked from there and to your smug grin, he instantly knew.

“What the fuck?” He leaned forward, switching to a normal sitting position simultaneously.

His profanity garnered a mother with her two young children to cover their ears as she stood nearby ordering at the stand, but neither you nor Jeno cared about her own censoring. You began sipping the slushied drink through the straw as you shifted in the bright yellow chair, watching with a smile as he inspected the familiar sticker on the bag.

“Try it on again.”

You spoke in between sips, not surprised to see him obeying your command within a second of your sentence.

After a hefty amount of rustling through the bag, he pulled out the matte-holder, and with it came the satisfaction of a lifetime.

As soon as he slipped it on his right middle finger, your mouth hovered over the straw, just like when you first saw him with it.

He looked down at his hand with intrigue, and soon fixation as you scooted your chair over to him.

He sat frozen in his seat as you leaned over, chilled lips hitting his ear in two breaths,

“Now fuck me with it on…” Where did all of your daringness come from? Not even you could answer that, but based on the rush of how he gathered all of your belongings and your wrist, he was determined to find out...

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

168 notes · View notes

wholesomefluffdaddy · 2 months

Text

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 4

Current Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous 🌔

Enid was particularly boisterous today. I assume the increasing fullness of the moon is to blame. This must have caused her to desire an increased need for physical contact. I am unsure as to why though. Much of the day was spent begrudgingly placating her whims. I only acquiesced because it was less bothersome than her pouting.

Despite the physical contact of holding her hand, at her request, she continually brushed up against me. When I commented on this peculiar behavior the werewolf's face became flushed with color. Her response, in hushed tones, was that she was 'scenting' me. When I asked for clarification as to why and for what purpose she gave some vague incoherent rambling answer about werewolves being territorial, which may confirm one of my earlier hypotheses. I did not comment further on the behavior but it did decrease somewhat. I decided that it would be more productive if I educated myself on such matters independently. However, it was most difficult to find a moment of solace with Enid clinging to me like a particularly stubborn flea.

Increased aggression and resource guarding must also be another side effect of the waxing gibbous moon. Enid kept repeatedly growling at people who tried to approach our table at lunch. However, if this was indeed resource guarding, I find it odd that she let the vampire and siren join us. Perhaps she didn't feel threatened at losing her food because the vampire's diet differs from her own. That could explain her passive acceptance of the mosquito Tanaka. But why Portokalos too? Siren and werewolf diets overlap. So why was she accepted but not the others that passed by our vicinity? It remains unclear.

Several other werewolves, or 'furs' as Enid calls them, were also on edge today. Enid nearly got into a physical altercation with another werewolf that was trying to engage me in conversation. She looked simply stunning as she partially wolfed out and threatened the other werewolf with maiming if he continued conversing with me. There was much snarling and displays of intimidation. Eventually the other werewolf backed down. After that encounter Enid insisted I wear my snood for the rest of the day. I protested at first, explaining that I had no intention of returning to our dorm simply to acquire another piece of clothing. Besides, I have already made my stance known that I shall only wear the garment on special occasions. An unremarkable Thursday hardly qualified its use.

Enid was quick to explain that it would keep other 'furs' from bothering me. I considered her statement before ruefully agreeing that a decrease in social interaction would be rather enjoyable. Before I could rise from the table to retrieve the garment, Enid produced it from the contents of her backpack. My incredulity must have been apparent as Enid voiced an answer before I could ask. She said she brought it 'just in case.' She must have predicted the erratic behavior of her fellow kin. I was touched by such foresight by her on my behalf.

I decided to wear it, as it would have been foolish of me to pass up such an opportunity to be left alone in peace. I was both surprised and not that my snood now smelled strongly of Enid. It was in her bag after all. Admittedly the experience wasn't too unpleasant. Either the snood itself or Enid's strong scent did prevent any further interaction with other werewolves. I was most impressed by its efficacy. Enid seemed rather pleased with this outcome as well. I was given a wide berth by any subsequent werewolves as I walked the academy halls.

Unfortunately I forgot to remove my snood when I arrived at my mandated appointment with my therapist. Her eyes were drawn to it repeatedly before I voiced the reason for its appearance. Strangely enough she raised no comment before proceeding to ask about my journaling. I decided to share the briefest of snippets about my impromptu outing with Enid during the waxing crescent moon. She seemed oddly fixated on the maladies that afflicted me that day. She asked me to guess as to their origin.

I cited my lack of sustenance prior to the outing and the low Autumn temperatures. She asked me to explore the symptoms that couldn't be accounted for by obvious external variables. I posited that I could have contracted a mild virus, not uncommon this time of year. She seemed dissatisfied with my answer. I failed to see its relevance to our already irrelevant sessions. She asked about my relationship with Enid. I stated that we were roommates. She asked if that was all. I added that we are also friends. She repeated the question and I repeated my answer.

The rest of the session was as trivial as to be expected. However, at the end she gave me an additional assignment to my journaling; to document my physiological and emotional responses to interactions with my peers. An unusual request. I'm most certain she'll be dulled to a tortuous degree when I recount my lack of response to every student, teacher, and extraneous other I come in contact with between sessions.

#ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x enid #wenclair #wednesday is oblivious #wednesday is soft for enid #wholesomefluffdaddy

26 notes · View notes

sublieu · 5 months

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა✧ ┊ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 ┊ ✧໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Azure, having been revived and stuck in purgatory has a little conversation with Nezha about you

𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜: *none available sadly*

𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜: 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 , 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.9k words

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝. 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: obsession, major warning for toxic love (you'll understand this later), arguing, descriptions of murder

𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜: @zuzuthesnake @chimemori

我的第一個也是唯一的愛┆"All creations/edits belong to ©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ;𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝"┆Do not retranslate, republish or copy this work without permission

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐... 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝...

Also p.s: the vote I gave previously has a meaning for something different :)

Another ps- Could you please remind me of the name of the creator for the "likes" and "reblogs" border? I want to ensure proper credit. Thank you!

It was cold 一 having been stuck in this bland, deserted hell space called purgatory for days or maybe even years. Since then, he hasn't been the same; He just sits there, his eyes darkening from both loss of sleep and tears.

He's finally alone. And he hates it.

He hates how cold he is, he hates the feeling that no matter how long, or how far he walks, he'll never escape. This was his punishment for him to face alone, and no one could fix it.

At least that's what he believed, is he wrong? He hasn't spoken to anyone for who knows how long, time doesn't exist here, only a slow descent into madness.

His appearance has changed slowly over time, his once light blue fur dulled to grey, his hair turned from orange into a dark greyish color, and his eyes, once bright pink now turned into deep magenta both from crying and from tiredness. He wants to sleep, but he can't, again he doesn't have a body so even if he tried he'll never feel the euphoria of rest that mortals so carelessly waste for minuscule pleasures like gaming.

As Azure stares into the blank space, it's as if he's staring into a void that has swallowed him whole. He can't help but reminisce on old times, like that one time when he and his sworn brothers would sit and mock heaven and the insufferable men who called themselves kings. But now, those memories only bring him sadness and regret. He knows that he would've been a good king to both the people of heaven and earth, but he's already seen the damage he's caused to Earth from his ambush of the king for the throne. The weight of his past mistakes is heavy on his heart, and he can't help but wonder if there's any way to make things right.

Until he remembers you. [Y/n], daughter of the Jade Emperor and youngest princess of the seven daughters of the emperor.

He remembers the first day he was introduced to you, way back before he even knew the Monkie King, Your soft supple skin, your precious tender eyes, unmarked by the many suitors the Jade Emperor would bring as they fell to your feet; None of them made you feel a speck of love and as a result, you would be nicknamed 'The Princess who could not love'

All of this changed after Azure became your royal knight, no matter where you went, Azure was right behind you, watching you, protecting you. It was annoying at first, to have complained to your father on multiple occasions about how much the blue lion breathed down your neck to ensure not a single flea or fly pitched atop your head. But even then he was the only person willing to deal with your rude mouth and harsh words.

After spending some time together, you began to see Azure in a different light. You started to enjoy his company and found yourself looking forward to your moments alone with him. As you got to know him better, you began to see the little things that made him special. You started to make little crafts for him whenever you had free time, and you would sit beside him whenever you ate. Before you knew it, you had fallen for him. It didn't help that your sisters teased you about your crush, but you couldn't help the way you felt. As time went on, you grew even closer to Azure, and other guards began to notice how much you cared for him. You didn't mind, though. You were happy just being near him, and you knew that he felt the same way about you.

Of course, your father heard the news from a couple of your sisters once they giggled to themselves while walking away from the peach garden, having been stopped by their father.

"What is the meaning of this little chattering amongst my daughters?" He chuckles as his daughters run into his arms, "Father, would you believe that our beloved sister [y/n] has a crush on one of your celestial warriors?" Lianhua snickers to herself as her sister Xi Wang Mu gently slapped her sister's shoulder, "[Y/n], the princess who couldn't love has a crush on a celestial warrior who is her bodyguard! Kind of ironic don't you think Father?" The girls giggled to themselves as they ran off to their other four sisters in the palace and left their father in the hall to ponder on this newfound information, he was enraged, to say the least.

"YOU DARE TO ESTABLISH A RELATIONSHIP WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE? ESPECIALLY WITH ONE OF MY CELESTIAL WARRIORS? THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED."

He screamed in your face as you looked down in shame, you looked both sides, none of your sisters dared to look at you out of fear of getting reprimanded by their father; You felt alone, worse with the fact that Azure got found out for attempting to ambush your father and get you to run away with him.

Azure knelt there, not that he wanted to, only because other celestial warriors held him and his comrades to the floor with sharp weapons grazing their necks, Azure spoke up, only to be silenced shortly after.

"You leave her alone she has nothing to do with this!" "SHUT UP BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REASON TO." Nezha silenced him as he held him down with a fire wheel, burning the lion's mane slightly as Azure quieted down; The Emperor went back to scolding his daughter as she dared not to look at him from the fact that she was crying harshly whilst wiping away her tears.

"I GIVE YOU MULTIPLE SUITORS, WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT THIS LION YOU CALL YOUR LOVER-" "HE UNDERSTANDS ME, FATHER"

The room grew quiet, Nezha, the other celestial warriors, your sisters, and Azure with his comrades shared a look of shock. "HE MAKES ME HAPPY, I KNOW HE WOULDN'T LEAVE ME TO BATTLE ALONE, HE WOULD BE THERE TO PROTECT ME, TO KEEP ME SAFE SO HOW DARE YOU TELL ME WHO I CAN AND CANNOT LOVE?" You cried as you held the broken hairpin Azure gave you, the emperor was shocked before yelling once more only to be silenced by your yelling.

"I WON'T STAND FOR THIS-" "THE MEN YOU BRING TO ME HAVE NEVER TRULY CARED FOR ME, BUT HE'S DIFFERENT. HE COMPLETES ME, HE MAKES ME LAUGH, AND STAYS BY MY SIDE WHEN I CRY. HE TREATS ME BETTER THAN ANY OTHER MAN YOU COULD BRING FROM BOTH HEAVEN AND EARTH. SO I DEMAND THAT YOU RESPECT MY CHOICE AND STOP INTERFERING WITH MY RELATIONSHIP-"

You fell to the floor from the slap your father gave you, your mother looked shocked and so were your sisters and Azure as he attempted to fight Nezha off him only to be held down by more celestial guards.

"Don't you EVER speak to me like that when I scold you"

You look up at the man you once called your father, shock and hurt evident on your face before you run out of the courtroom, one of your sisters rushes out to console you as the doors close, and he sits back on his throne as he began settling a suitable punishment for Azure and his comrades.

"I hereby banish thee from heaven, you are not to return and be forever damned to live out the rest of your life on earth" Nezha nods his head as they carried the perpetrators out of his courtroom, his daughters followed behind them, leaving the Jade Emperor and Wangmu alone.

"My king, don't you think you were a bit too harsh on our daughter?" She held his hand as he groans and pinched the bridge of his nose "Niang please, it's already hard to have to face my daughter after this" he looks at the gold and white doors, "But, still, don't you think it's fair you owe her an apology?" She rests her head upon his shoulder as he kissed her hand, looking in the direction she was looking on.

"Azure lion betrayed me and seduced my daughter into thinking he loves her, I only want to protect her." "I know that well my love, but don't you remember when we were younger? Remember how I acted similar to her, I too was once crowned the Princess who could not love" She looked down and smiled at the memory of the Jade Emperor attempting to court her, a soft blush grew on her face as the emperor now softened his gaze at that sugary memory. Now rethinking back, [Y/n] always had her mother's traits the most the only thing that belonged to him was her stubbornness and how she judged people.

"Am I a horrible father?" he looks down at his hand, the one that he struck on his youngest and most beloved daughter before your mother held that hand. "You never were, just misunderstood at most, but I'm not the one to say that. Go to her Yuhuang, please." She steps down off her throne and waits for him to follow, which he does shortly after as they walk down the halls to your favorite spot.

Whilst walking, they found the Garden of Peaches you loved spending your quiet time in, they heard hushed cries and consoling from multiple voices; Your eldest sister held you as you hugged her, turning into an inconsolable mess of muddled makeup and puddle of tears.

"We're so sorry [Y/n]" "We didn't know father would be so angry about this" Lianghua and Xi Wang Mu coddled you as you kept crying in Xi Wang Mu's kimono, even then you couldn't stop crying, it hurts to know that the man you loved so much was bound to be thrown out of heaven from both yours and his stupid decisions.

Wangmu looked at her husband and put a hand on his back, nodding for him to go to you as he entered the garden, your sisters stood up and held their hands before them as you still sat there, refusing to acknowledge your father and king; Your sisters left you both alone as Yuhuang sat close to you.

"Please talk to me [Y/n], you know I hate seeing you so upset" he held your hand only for you to yank it away and move far away from him, he sighed and sat closer to you before holding your hand firmly.

"Let go of me" "[Y/n] I'm trying to talk to you" he pleads for you to look him in the eyes, stopping once you refuse to look at him. "Your highness, I do not wish to speak to you as of now" "Do not refer to me like I am just a King" "Why not? No father of mine would hit me across the face and then throw out the only person that made me happy enough to live in this hellhole called heaven." "[Y/n]"

He said your name sternly, to which you stopped whilst still refusing to look him in his eyes; He gave up trying to get you to look at him and just held your hand. "Is that how you really think of this place?" he asks as you just nod, he looks at the pavement before speaking up "As much as I am against this, I am willing to allow this relationship to prosper." You look at him in shock as he continues, "Once a month I will allow Azure and his accomplices to come to the castle, with the exception that you will continue referring to me as Dad once more" "You really mean it?!" you piped up as he nods, causing you to squeal and kiss your father's forehead as you praised and thanked him, causing him to chuckle as he hugged you, sharing half a peach as you look out into the cloudy abyss.

And he kept his word, starting the next month, he allowed them to roam the castle, but mainly because you missed talking to Azure so much; Hugging him tightly and kissing his nose and he spun you around, a purr left his throat when you pet his ears as you stayed in your room for the rest of the day till it was time for him to leave.

Every chance you got, your love for him grew stronger, and it didn't help that you were given the ability to send letters to one another, some romantic and some rather suggestive but even still, your love did not falter one bit.

But over time, his letters started to slow, and he stopped coming to heaven due to his 'busy' schedule, but even then you still sent him letters professing your undying love to the lion.

Until one day, after months have passed with no letters from him, one did return! But not one you expected.

──────────────────────────────

Dear 'Princess',

Please stop sending letters to my husband. This is his wife, he is now happily married and has kids of his own to take care of alongside the woman (I) he chose to marry.

While he does read your letters, understand that you will never be his #1 priority, because he is married and has his children who he loves and cares for.

Look below to find pictures of him and I alongside our children sharing memories.

From what you can tell, he is very happy and living a life where he doesn't need to waste his breath coming to visit you because you cannot get over him.

So for the sake of my family, leave him alone, go and find a husband I don't know nor do I care, just stop talking to him.

-Signed Bīng shī gōngzhǔ

──────────────────────────────

You read it over and over again, seeing pictures of Azure with the presumed wife and children, tears flooded your face as your heart broke into two; Tearing and burning every picture and gift given to you by Azure, one of your sisters knocked on your door before entering and screamed when she saw your figure.

Your hair was a mess, your eyes were red and your clothes were crinkled and almost torn. You looked like a demon in silk clothing as you kept destroying what you had of Azure, hatred for the blue lion filled your heart as you promised that the day you saw him he would die.

After having found out what his wife sent to you he was beyond enraged, killing his wife and murdering his children before going on a rampage in a nearby village before falling unconscious. Wanting to one day explain his situation to you at some point to put your heart at ease.

*Now back to his present*

He was teleported to a room, one that he didn't remember so clearly, he was back in his original form but cuffed by a binding spell before a door behind him opened, and there sat Nezha with a blank expression before he spoke.

"Do you wish to see [Y/n] again?" he starts as he drinks the water he carries into the room before offering Azure a separate bottle of his own to drink, which he obliges before speaking.

"There's a catch here, isn't it?" "There is, but you will not like it" Nezha continues as another celestial guard summons a circle, there you lay in bed, surrounded by wires and a heart rate monitor as Azure looks at it in shock and guilt, having remembered that he placed you in the scroll.

"If you give up the rest of the Jade Emperor's powers alongside a fraction of yours, we will be able to revive her, but, all memories of what happened before her getting captured in the scroll will still be stuck in her memories. Not only that, we will allow you to live comfortably both in either heaven and earth, under the guise you give at least half of your powers in an attempt to find a new emperor"

This was a good deal, but even then he ponders on this, while it would be nice to be able to finally have a full conversation with you once you woke up, it would be difficult for him to just give up half his soul just to be ruled and controlled under Nezha's command, yet... He loved you, and he was more than willing to do whatever it took for you to forgive him.

"...Fine, but under one condition" "What is it it?" Nezha asks as he takes out a lotus flower themed vase. "If she does not marry me, then I want my freedom, my friends, and my soul back." He looks at the lotus prince, before hearing him sigh and roll his eyes.

"A deal is a deal"

#lmk azure x reader #lego monkie kid azure lion #lmk azure lion x reader #lego monkie kid azure lion x reader #lmk azure lion #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie king #lmk x y/n

34 notes · View notes

yalocalfanficaddict · 7 months

Note

Hello, if you’re into MatchaBlossom would you be down to writing something Halloween related with them? 😊

I think Vampire!Kaoru/Werewolf!Kojiro would be super fun, but I also love Witch!Kaoru so it’s genuinely up to you dear author!

Thanks in advance and have a nice day 😘

I am so so so so so so soooo sorry for how late this was!, Annon! I've been fairly busy and so I never truly had a chance to write this properly and I hope I did this justice because it'e been a while since I've watched the anime!! Please do give me any feedback and I'll post this on my AO3 account if you wish to bookmark it there to read it again! It'll be titled 'Love Bites.'

Warnings: Blood and mild language

Word Count: 2069

With a pleased hum, Kojiro came from the kitchen to personally deliver the meals he had tossed together. “Alright, here's the Caesar salad, the house soup, and spaghetti with extra meatballs.” He purposefully gave Kaoru the spaghetti, almost as if to test him and his already thinned patience.

“You know how much I detest garlic, Kojiro,” Kaoru spoke and pushed the plate back to the chef, his words clipped with detachment.

A tight grin flashed over Kojiro’s face as he shrugged, stealing the plate of spaghetti and meatballs. “Oh well, maybe you shouldn’t come to an Italian restaurant, then.”

“Maybe you should try and shave your unruly body hair to not scare any of the ladies with them mistaking you for some sort of animal.”

“Maybe you should get some more sun, you’re looking awfully pale today.”

“Maybe you–”

“Uh, guys? I was the one that ordered the spaghetti…” Miya chimed in, causing the pair to snap from their passive-aggressive bickering. Kojiro slid the plate to the boy before tucking the large tray under his arm.

A softer voice joined in. “Can I still order poutine? I forgot if it’s also served in Italy.”

Reki rolled his eyes with a groan. “Is that all you Canadians eat? I do not get how you stand that stuff when the cheese melts, and it gets all slimy,” he gags to add effect.

Miya cackled before wolfing down on some of his pasta. “Y’know…that’s rich coming from you, slime-boy,” Miya spoke between mouthfuls.

Kaoru smacked the back of the cat-boy’s head, earning a wince. “It’s rude to speak with your mouth full, Miya.” As he struggled to hold his composed persona, Kaoru felt his stomach churn. The stench of garlic mingled with the sharp odor of silver from the woman a few booths down, not to mention the lack of blood he had made his head spin. Kojiro felt cruel enough that when Kaoru lost their personal beef, he was forced to go a month without it. Thankfully, in a few more days, it’ll all be over.

Kojiro must’ve noticed the faint sway Kaoru had as his brows pinched together. “Don’t you want something to eat, Pinky?”

He shook his head while simultaneously stuffing the bile that rose up in his throat back down deep into his stomach. He sipped of cool water to refresh himself, and condensation wets his hand and lips. “I’m fine. I had something else before heading out.”

Kojiro grunted, unconvinced. “Just don’t pass out or anything. I don’t think your stupid robot could carry your unconscious fat-ass.”

With Kaoru on the outside of the booth and the closest to Kojiro, he not-so-subtly kicked him in the shin. Smirking, Kaoru savored how he yelped from the shock and hissed from the pain. “Maybe bumbling flea-bag also shouldn’t underestimate my capable Carla.”

“Hey!” He whined and placed a fist on his hip.

“Father, Dad, please don’t have another one of your lover’s quarrels in front of me and my food,” Miya requested, mouth rimmed red with sauce. “Please just kiss and make up—for everyone's sake and their sanity.” As the grown men sputtered in protest and denial, Reki cackled and clung to Langa for support, who blinked in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” Langa asked. Even if it wasn’t specified, everyone knew the question was for Reki to answer. “Did Miya get adopted? Why did I not know about this until now?”

Reki patted his fellow skater reassuringly. “No, no, Langa. It’s only a stupid joke.”

“Oh, okay.”

Kaoru felt terribly sick as he felt heat licked the back of his neck. The last time he checked, he didn’t see Kojiro that way…they always squabbled and taunted each other since Adam came along! But that was also the most recent time he had considered any...potential for them. No, don’t be ridiculous, he thought. That’s just the little brat talking.

All that overthinking didn’t help Kaoru’s unease, and this time Kojiro wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Okay, enough’s enough, precious. You need to eat something, and you’re not leaving my kitchen until you get something.”

A large hand wrapped around Kaoru’s arms and tugged him out of the booth, ignoring his protest. Some of the complaints involved insults such as ‘Put me down, you mangy-mutt!’, ‘I said I didn’t want anything, you Loony!’, and so on.

The rare chef glanced at the pair—one more than the other—but would otherwise not give them any attention. Kojiro tossed Kaoru into the freezer and locked it, shutting them inside. The sensor lights flickered on, casting a milky-blue hue along Kaoru’s cool porcelain and Kojiro’s warm bronze complexion. Puffs of vapor left their mouths, but only one started shivering.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kaoru snapped as Kojiro pulled and tugged on his collar.

“Well, how else will you bite my neck to get some blood?”

Kaoru folded his arms over his chest and huffed, pivoting away from him. “That’s not how it works, you’d be dead you mangy cur!”

He could hear the rustle of clothing and footsteps before being spun to face Kajiro. His chin is pinned between a thumb and an index. Kojiro faked a pout and planted his free hand on Kaoru’s hip. “Oh, come on, now. I’m trying to help you out, fang-face. Besides, I don’t want to have to take care of you if you go feral during the Halloween S race…there would be so much blood if someone crashed.”

With a grumble, Kaoru shoved Kojiro off and pushed him to the crate, where he sat on one of the chef’s thighs. “So is this your way of calling off my beef punishment?” He asked as he rolled the cuff of his sleeve. He shouldn’t be this desperate for some blood, let alone Kojiro’s, but he could practically smell each pulse under his skin. It made his nerves jittery, and his blood-lust hit harder than he thought. Kaoru’s mouth watered while his fangs grew more defined and sharpened with each anticipating second.

“Woah, hold on there,” Kojiro chuckled. “Isn’t there like an important artery there? I thought you didn’t want to kill me.”

Kaoru sighed but continued to yank his sleeve up his arm. “Ever heard of veins?”

Before any more time could be wasted, he brought the bare forearm to his lips and searched for the safest vein to satisfy him. He sank his fangs into flesh, and satisfaction came in an instant. Would it be wrong to say that the soft grunt and shift of discomfort underneath Kaoru didn’t help him with his slipping control?

“K-Kaoru, are you done yet?” Kojiro asked.

Not realizing how much blood he drank for how long, Kaoru took his last sip before pulling away, panting. “Thank you,” he mumbled, wiping his chin.

“If you need more, you can take it, but I need a moment. Here." Kaoru reared back as Kojiro began to unbutton his shirt. “You’ll need better access...right? Well, I won’t exactly be able to go skating on Halloween, so do what you need to do.”

Kaoru couldn’t tell if his face grew hot from his new blood intake or from seeing his shivering chest exposed. When his icy hands began to wander along Kojiro’s bare torso, he glanced into rusty-red eyes with great questioning. “Why are you doing this? I mean, I tormented you so much for the past week.”

“Pity isn’t the right word, but it’s something to that effect. I understand the struggle of being…different, so I want to help, I guess.”

After silence settled in the frigid air, Kaoru began to drink his fill, careful not to latch onto the more lethal options along Kojiro’s body. Kojiro’s face pinched and twisted in unease when Kaoru sucked his more sensitive areas, so he would lick the marks to soothe him. They’ve done this before on rare occasions, but the comments from the restaurant booth plagued his mind.”‘Kiss and make-up?” Absurd. Well, they can and have made up now and then—especially after living two hundred years together—but kiss? No, vampires and werewolves don’t mix well in romance. He and Kojiro only became friends over their shared enemy, Adam. But Kaoru did enjoy the taste of Kojiro’s blood over others. Yet, it could be excused he’s a werewolf, making it something new and exciting instead of dull and bland.

“You done, flat-pulse?” Kojiro panted, snapping Kaoru back into reality. “You sorta stopped. Don’t tell me my blood doesn’t actually do anything, all because I’m a werewolf.”

Kaoru shifted his balance on Kojiro’s lap and looped his arms around his shoulders. “You are such an idiot. I’m what Adam calls a defective vampire. Otherwise, he’d be able to drink your blood, too.”

He pretended not to notice the calloused hands that traveled to his hips and waist.

“Oh, my bad.” Kojiro chuckled, fog fanning their faces. “I’m probably also a little defective then, too.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Kaoru questioned, eyes sharp and narrowed.

He pretended not to notice how the hands began to fist the navy-blue fabric of his kimono, just below his obi.

With a huff, Kojiro angled his head upward to keep as little eye contact as possible. “Dammit, how do I say this?”

“With your words.”

“No duh,” he snarked, finally looking back at Kaoru again. “What I wanted to say…is that I think I like, like you?”

Kaoru stumbled off of Kojiro’s lap and pressed himself against the bare wall nearby. It's mostly out of shock and surprise, but he also needed something to keep himself standing. “What the hell?! Why say that now of all times?” Kaoru shrieked.

Before he could utter another word, Kojiro had crossed the room and clamped the hand over his mouth. “Keep it down, please?” Kojiro wet his lips and removed his hand when Kaoru gave him a weak nod. “Listen, forget I even said anything. I know it’s stupid, but I don’t know how it happened, and I needed to get it off my chest.”

“What the hell, Kojiro? You don’t just dump that out of nowhere,” Karou spat. “And what about all the women you chase after? Don’t tell me that you randomly confess feelings after you pay for their dinner.”

Kojiro winced at his words, almost regretful. “About that,” he awkwardly grinned. “I only went after them to make you jealous.”

“How cruel,” he mused.

“Unlike someone I know, I don’t eat people I’m interested in!” Korjio complained, throwing his arms defensively across his chest.

Karou chuckled in a rather cruel tone. “That was one time.”

“Well, who knows if you’ll do it again—or if you’re telling the truth! I personally believe I’m sticking my neck out on the line by telling you how I feel.” Kojiro raised an eyebrow at Karou in a theatrical manner.

“Was that pun intended?” He finally steps toward Kojiro, and a sly grin reveals his razor-sharp fangs.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring the crude remark. “It was a dare, and I was young and foolish back then, so I say it doesn’t count.”

“You? Young?” Kojiro scoffs, finally letting his arms fall limp at his sides. “So that was when? The dark ages?”

Karou threw his head back with a laugh. “Probably, I’ve lost count by now. Tell you what, you take me somewhere tonight, we can give it a go, and you’ll see for yourself if I still eat my lover-boy’s.”

Kojirou sputtered as he chased Karou out of the frigid room. “Hold on, now. Karou…you mean that?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug as they walked back to the booth. “Why not? If it doesn’t work out, it’ll only be a speck of dust in my lifetime.”

As Karou was greeted by Miya and his eager waving hands, Kojiro grabbed him by the bicep and spun him around. Kojiro’s breath warmed the side of his neck as he whispered. “Would eight work fine?”

“Oh, how dramatic, you big brute,” Karou mused as he shoved him away. “Sure, that’ll suffice, but don’t be late and don’t be tacky.”

“Tacky?! Me?”

Miya cleared his throat. “Everything’s fine now, dads?”

“Just peachy, little dude,” Kojiro replied calmly before growing red. “Wait, we’re not your fathers! Oh my god, I—”

Everyone besides Langa and Kojiro erupted into fits of giggles and laughter. “I still don’t get how it’s funny,” Langa sulked.

28 notes · View notes

sephirothsplaything · 19 days

Text

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 10

A/N: The second to last chapter of Act One!!! I'm honestly surprised I've made it this far

word count: 1982

CW: mentions of blood

Rhaella’s eerie silence greatly perturbed Talya.

The resounding sounds of crunching footsteps were scattered round about them as the two women made their way through the streets of Flea Bottom.

Talya momentarily paused, eyes shifting to Rhaella tersely. The girl hadn’t uttered a word since her savage outburst. Her violet eyes had glazed over, catatonic to the world.

Lips pressed into a line from worry, Talya turned away. She could not deny the cold fear that ran through her. She wondered what the white worm would want with such an unstable individual.

Stopping in front of the brothel doors, Talya escorted Rhaella inside, rushing her by all the numerous ladies of the night who were curious at the sight of the highborn girl’s entrance.

“Here, sit,” Talya said. Rhaella obeyed the command, weakly situating herself onto the ragged wooden chair.

Rhaella’s brown hands trembled profusely. Talya’s eyebrows furrowed in concern but fought the desire to comment.

Talya disappeared behind the sheer curtains, leaving Rhaella alone with her thoughts.

Or lack thereof.

The blood stains on the dress she wore had since dried, crusting over uncomfortably. Rhaella hadn’t noticed nor reacted to the figure that made her way across from her.

“My lady?” A soft voice called out.

Rhaella knew that voice. It poured out like gentle rain, washing over her senses. Her eyes snapped up to the sound.

“Astris.” Rhaella breathed out. The first word she had uttered since the incident.

“Oh.” Atris cooed. Her pale hands engulfed Rhaella’s, putting a stop to its exertion.

Rhaella’s eyes raked over Astris. She had hardly changed, her hair was still black as the night sky.

“Your hair’s grown,” Rhaella murmured. Astris smiled softly, it was all she could do.

“And yours is as lovely as I remember,” Astris replied.

Despite her frayed state of mind, Rhaella managed to conjure up a small smile just for her.

Their reunion was cut short by the curtains shuffling back. Astris’s soft gaze hardened as she stood up from the seat.

The woman; Tan and slender with brown locks of hair fastened to the middle of her head. That wasn’t what pulled Rhaella’s attention. No, it was the calculating dark eyes that caused her alarm.

“Rhaella Targaryen, I see you’ve found your way,” Mysaria said, voice thickened with accent.

Rhaella did not speak for a moment. This woman was not to be trusted.

“There’s nothing white about you,” Rhaella said finally.

Mysaria smirked slightly.

“You must be hungry, Talya informed me you had been imprisoned almost a day’s end,” Mysaria said.

She gestured to a girl, no more than ten, Rhaella was sure, who brought forth a steaming bowl of porridge unfamiliar to Rhaella’s nose.

“No, thank you,” Rhaella said, pushing the bowl to the side.

In truth, Rhaella was starved beyond belief. But she was unsure if stomaching food was a possibility right now.

“I understand,” Mysaria said, eyes darted to her blood-ridden dress.

“I suppose murder would kill the appetite.”

Rhaella glanced at Talya. It was reasonable to believe that she must have told the white worm many things regarding her.

“You’ve brought me here, for what purpose?” Rhaella asked.

Mysaria smiled. Not one of endearment or comfort. The action unnerved Rhaella. She truly regretted not bringing the wooden stake with her.

"I need you to pass on a message to your father,” Mysaria said.

Rhaella glanced at Astris, whose face gave away nothing. There was no saving grace in this room. Rhaella Targaryen would once again be a pawn.

She was in no frame of mind to accept this.

“You know my father?” Rhaella figured it was entirely possible. She had been vaguely aware of his previous doings. Brothel whores were certainly not beneath him.

Mysaria nodded. “He and I were quite close at one time.”

Rhaella’s blooded hands clutched her dress. The bitterness she wielded against her father was only bolstered by the statement.

“I see you have a multitude of spies.” Rhaella inquired, eyes moving between Talya and Astris.

“Why use me?” Rhaella asked.

Mysaria stood abruptly, moving to the opposite side of the room. Rhaella watched as she poured some sort of liquid into a cup.

“I wished to satisfy my curiosity,” Mysaria said. She slid the cup in front of Rhaella, the vague smell of mint wafted to her nose.

“Regarding?” Rhaella questioned. She eyed the cup suspiciously, having half a mind to fling it at Mysaria.

Mysaria’s eyes sparkled clear with entertainment.

“I wanted to see how a spoiled Targaryen girl would fare in the face of danger,” Mysaria said.

Her? Spoiled? Rhaella thought less so. She had no mother, lords and ladies whispered about the state of her mind. And of course, she was dragonless.

Some spoiled Targaryen she was...

“ Tell your father I am willing to extend my help, should he need it,” Mysaria said.

War was indeed coming. However, Rhaella held no such desire to be a messenger.

“Tell him yourself, surely you have access.” Rhaella retorts.

“You’d want to drink that.” Mysaria hummed, waving to the cup.

“It’s moon tea.”

Rhaella froze. Yet again, she was the fool, Paying the price for her vulnerabilities.

“No.” Was the brilliant response Rhaella could snide.

Mysaria raised an eyebrow. “Then, you are content with baring a child out of wedlock?”

Rhaella’s hand moved to her womb. The humiliation would be much too great.

And what of Aemond? Was his intention to trap her this way?

Her father was right. Her weakness made her sick.

Rhaella seized the cup, downing it with little hesitation. She would bite her tongue and do Mysaria’s bidding.

Rhaella glared at the White worm, clear with hatred. She loathed it, She was no more than a tool for use.

Mysaria watched on in satisfaction. Rhaella had relinquished all fight she might have clung to.

“They say when a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin.” Mysaria mused, almost to herself.

There were no Gods in this world, none that could spare Rhaella from this anyhow.

“I am eager to see what side you shall land on.”

Mysaria left Rhaella’s company, exiting through that same curtain.

An overwhelming numbness had taken over Rhaella’s form. She had tasted it at her mother's funeral. Anger combined with an immense dread.

Astris, who had been silent for the entire exchange, sighed. Her heart had longed to intervene, to protect her lady.

Rhaella had not moved an inch, eyes deadened with unplaceable emotion. Her curls were tangled and streaked with blood. Astris took a hand to her head, attempting to smooth the frays down.

Grabbing a brush, Astris raked through Rhaella’s silver curls, as she did when she was once in her service. Rhaella’s eyes closed at the action, leaning back slightly.

“I am sorry for not seeing you all this time,” Astris said. Her nimble fingers were magic, needling her thick locks into a braided style that Rhaella had favored in her younger years.

“It’s not your fault, I’m sure,” Rhaella responded. She imagined that a Pentoshi bastard like Astris hadn’t been deemed the allowance to move freely.

Once Astris had finished, she placed her hands on Rhaella’s shoulders, admiring her handiwork.

“You look pretty,” Astris commented. A slight blush graced her cheeks.

Rhaella raised a brow in doubt. “Even like this?”

“Especially like this,” Astris affirmed.

Rhaella had truly missed her. Astris seemed to always know just the thing to say.

“Astris?” Rhaella said. The dark-haired girl’s head tilted in reply. She could practically see the wheels turning in Rhaella’s mind.

“Have you done sorcery of any kind lately?”

Astris giggled in response. Even now, Rhaella’s curiosity found its way.

“What would you like me to do for you, my lady?” Astris asked.

Rhaella mulled over her nightmares. The whispers of madness hissed inside of her.

She longed to make sense of it all.

“Aura reading,” Rhaella responded. She already knew how to proceed, as they had done many times before.

Astris allowed her fingers to run across Rhaella’s palms, eyes closed in concentration. Her eyebrows furrowed.

It was as if something was blocking her.

“I cannot...” Astris trailed off. It was not that she could not see. No, rather a presence had held her vision shut, forcing her to witness its overwhelming intensity.

Astris suddenly jerked her hands away from Rhaella, her dark eyes shook with panic.

“What?” Rhaella pushed. The reaction had taken Rhaella aback.

“There is a darkness here, in you,” Astris whispered.

Outpours of questions scratched at Rhaella’s throat. What will become of this? Of her?

“What is it?” Rhaella asked.

Astris tugged at her sleeve, perplexed. She parted her lips as if to utter something.

Whatever it may have been, she decided against it.

“It is beyond my understanding,” Astris said finally.

Silence enveloped the two; Astris who would not speak and Rhaella who was tortured with thoughts.

“There is a boat here to send you back to Dragonstone.” Mysaria’s voice cut through.

It nearly made Rhaella jump out of her skin. She wondered how the women could move so quietly.

Rhaella’s focus turned back to Astris, her black-haired beauty.

“I’ll see you, sometime,” Rhaella said.

“And I you,” Astris said.

____

The rickety boat safely transported Rhaella to the bay of Dragonstone. Her hesitation became apparent as she lingered outside the doors.

Rhaella took the liberty of entering, making little noise in the process. She could hear the voices of her family in the main room. Her grandmother’s voice placed her at ease.

“Rhaella?” Princess Rhaenyra called to her.

Rhaella found the expression of shock to be slightly amusing. Her sisters ran to her, wrapping Rhaella in a bone-crushing hug.

“You will mar your dress,” Rhaella said. Baela’s grip did not subside nor did Rhaena’s.

“Fuck this dress.” Baela scoffed. “We thought you’d been killed.”

Rhaella glanced around the room, the stares burned into her skin causing her discomfort. She caught the eye of her father, nearly missing the flash of concern that briefly presented itself.

“Baela was determined to fly to the keep on Moondancer,” Rhaena added.

Rhaella appreciated the sentiment. However, Moondancer was no bigger than a Warhorse. The she-dragon wouldn’t fit them both.

“Well...as you can see, I live,” Rhaella said. Walking over to the painted table, her hands were enveloped with those of her grandmothers.

“Rhaella, the blood.” Rhaenys gasped . The stains ran deep into the material of her dress. For some reason, she almost did not mind it.

“It isn’t mine.” Rhaella cut her off. She gave Princess Rhaenyra a pointed look

“I assume you were informed of the situation?” She asked. Princess Rhaenyra nodded.

“How did you manage an escape?” Jacaerys spoke up suddenly.

Rhaella looked to Daemon. She thought about Mysaria—their relationship.

Her eyes darkened.

“ A friend of yours, Father,” Rhaella said. “She showed me much generosity.”

There was no need to elaborate on the matter. Daemon knew precisely as to whom she spoke of.

“Viserys has surely been slain.” Daemon averts.

The room filled with discussion concerning how best to proceed. Rhaella slipped by her grandmother. Guilt laid heavy in Rhaenys’s eyes.

“I wished to find you, but there was no time,” Rhaenys said.

“I do not hold it against you,” Rhaella said. Another thought fluttered to her mind.

“Grandmother, how did you flee?” Rhaella asked. Rhaenys recalled the memory, ghost of a smirk gracing her face.

“I broke through the dragonpit on Meleys during the ceremony,” Rhaenys said.

The dragonpit? A realization took hold of Rhaella.

“There..is a beast beneath the boards,” Rhaella muttered to herself.

Suddenly, a sharp cry was let out by Princess Rhaenyra. She clutched her stomach in pain. Rhaella looked down to see blood dripping onto the floor.

“The babe is coming.” Rhaenyra wheezed out, doubled over in great agony.

Panic ensued, Rhaella felt the hands of Rhaena clutch her arm.

“Send for a maester,” Daemon commanded.

____

#house of the dragon #black oc #oc character #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaena of pentos #fire and blood #asoif fanfic #hotd fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy fiction #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #hotd season 2 #alicent hightower #otto hightower #rhaenyra targeryan

11 notes · View notes