#lord jason lannister | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessbellecerise · 5 months

Text

Prove It To You

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | You and your betrothed, Jacaerys Velaryon, are a love match. A feat that has upset many of the people vying for your hand, including Jason Lannister. When he makes a snide comment about Jacaerys not knowing how to please you properly, it’s up to the future king to prove him wrong

warnings | smut, slight insecure!jace, fingering, creampie, betrothed!jace, loss of virginity (m. and f.)

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

In your day and age, finding a love match was extremely rare.

In fact, it was often considered a miracle just to find a couple that could tolerate each other, let alone love one another and look forward to marriage, like you and Jacaerys did.

You supposed that was why your match was often celebrated, your betrothed’s own grandsire, the king of all people, calling for an elaborate feast just to congratulate the two of you.

From all over, Lords and Ladies from the great houses travelled to King’s Landing to bestow their best wishes upon you and Jace. Some genuinely happy for the two of you, some surprised, and some even…bitter that it wasn’t them.

Despite all your protests, you and Jacaerys had been the center of attention all night which was hard for two people as reserved as you were. You supposed you were at least grateful to have your lover by you side, holding his hand under the table so that you were not alone in your discomfort.

Every time some drunk Lord gave a toast or sloppily congratulated you, all eyes would be on the two of you. And every time, you wanted to bury your head in Jace’s shoulder to shy away from the attention.

It was so embarrassing to have people constantly looking at you, whispering their doubts and their gossip. No doubt people were pitying all of the unlucky gentleman you had declined just to be with Jace. Of course, no one would dare speak ill of the future king, but the curiosity as to why you picked him out of all your suitors still lingered.

After all, you had every man from Dorne to Casterly Rock asking for your hand, and yet you chose the sweet, quiet prince who many even hesitated to call him that.

Much to your dismay, the rumors of Jace and his parentage were still active even all these years later. Even when the king himself had named him as an heir, people still wondered. And for many people, especially the men that you had rejected, it made them feel as if your match was a bit…umbecoming.

After all, it was one thing to lose the most beautiful maiden in all of the land to a prince, but to an illegitimate one? Some people that believed the rumors just couldn’t handle that type of rejection.

Some people like Jason Lannister.

The man was sat a couple of seats down from you, but even with how loud it was, his voice still managed to stick out from the crowd. He was as loud as the roar of his family’s sigil, and it was hard to block out all of his jests and drunk comments from where you were seated.

Under the table, your grip on Jace had tightened the more Lord Lannister talked. It was like you were taking your anger at his snide comments out on Jace’s poor flesh, but the prince did not mind. In fact, he was too busy clenching his own fist to notice that it was yours causing him pain. The diplomatic smile on his face began to slip a little bit the more that miserable man ran his mouth.

God’s forgive him—Jace was trying his very best not to kill him.

“And then I said: I’ll buy you a bloody dragon if that’s what you want, but I guess the lady wishes to be with one that has true blood running through his veins.”

The whole section around the Lannister burst out laughing, but you didn’t find his commentary of your last interaction entertaining, and neither did Jace. His jaw ticked, obvious annoyance in his eyes as you shared a look. It was hard to miss the slight dig Lord Lannister had thrown at him by adding in true blood.

A dig that made Jace uncomfortable, just as he always was when someone even remotely questioned who his parents were.

A few seats over, you could see that you weren’t the only ones barely hanging on to your diplomatic smile as Princess Rhaenyra struggle to even lift the corner of her lips at Jason’s recount. Much like her son, she did not like it when people brought up who the father of her children was. And understandably so—as it wasn’t their business who the Princess chose to father her heirs.

You yourself somehow always knew the truth, despite Jace never really talking about it with you. But with the resemblance to Harwin Strong as clear as day, you knew that he wasn’t of any Velaryon blood. Not that you minded though, because if he was, he wouldn’t really be your Jace.

Sweet, kind, and more gentle than any of those other Lords that had approached you combined. Your Jace that was patient and…

Positively about to lose his mind as Jason Lannister made another remark.

“I think it is good, you know. That Lady Y/N choose the prince, because honestly we all know that I can be a bit much at times,” Everyone laughed and agreed at this. But Jason wasn’t finished. “No, no, I think it’s extremely fitting that she chose him, because Y/N is a simple woman and she needs to be with someone…unexperienced to match her naïveté. Gods knows I’ve made plenty of rounds in my days, but Prince Jacaerys is noble enough to never experience such things. A good thing for his future wife, I suppose. Or bad depending on how many children she should want.”

Laughter immediately rang out at the last few parts, and Jace turned beet red as Lord Lannister all but insinuated that he wouldn’t know to…um…satisfy your needs.

Your jaw dropped at the crude comment, disguised as a joke that many deemed funny. You even caught the king and his sons chuckling a little bit, which was the only reason you couldn’t physically do anything about what he said. It was just harmless teasing, that was all. But you knew more than anyone that Jace wouldn’t take it that way.

And you were right.

Your lover had always been quite sensitive, but especially when it came to you and your relationship. He already possessed many self-doubts because his kind nature held him back, often prompting Jace to believe that he was weak. Which was the last thing he was, you assured him, but sometimes when an idea was in his head it was hard to get rid of it.

Which was why the minute Jacaerys believed that Lord Lannister was making a mockery of him, he got angry. And suddenly the warm grip that had been keeping you grounded all night was gone, and you watched with a thumping heart as Jacaerys stood up.

His fists slammed angrily against the table, which caused you to flinch and the silverware to clatter underneath his force. Immediately, the sound of his chair scraping had silence bestowing over the crowd of nobles, everyone’s eyes on him as he stood there.

Worriedly, you looked up at Jace and you hoped that he wasn’t about to cause a scene, possibly jumping across the table to strangle Jason Lannister. It sure looked that way, so you tried to calm him down by standing up as well, gently whispering in his ear,

“Jace, my love. It is all right. Let him mock and let us just sit back down, alright?”

A comforting hand was placed at the small of his back, but even your gentle touch couldn’t shake the anger and embarrassment he felt. With everyone looking at him, whispers began to rise. Rhaenyra’s face dropped as her son turned beet red.

“Is something the matter?” The king asked, and that seemed to be the only thing that could finally snap Jace out of his trance.

The prince looked at his Grandsire, and he was oddly calm as he moved his lips.

“I am fine, your grace,” Jace insisted through a tight smile, his eyes not reflecting the emotions he was putting out. “I’m just a little bit overwhelmed, that is all. All of the attention tonight has clouded my head and I think I shall head to my chambers before I gain a headache. If that is alright with his grace.”

“Yes, of course,” Ever having the soft spot for Rhaenyra and her children, Viserys dismissed him from the feast and Jace took off at a pace faster than you had ever seen him walk.

He stormed out of the grand dining room, and that left only you, the center of attention now that your betrothed was gone.

“I…” Your eyes were steadily focused on Jace’s disappearing back, and you knew in your heart that you had to go after him. To make sure that he was okay, because you knew how these kinds of things got to him. “Is it all right if I be excused as well, your grace?” You asked as kindly as you could, throwing in, “I don’t believe I’m feeling very well either,” so that no one would be too suspicious of you going after Jace.

Of course, it was probably obvious what you intended to do but Viserys dismissed you anyways. So, you quickly bowed and then headed after your lover as fast as your feet could take you.

Jacaerys hadn’t left that far before you, so it was easy enough to catch up to him, slipping in behind him right as he prepared to close the doors to his chamber.

The wooden locks clicked into place and now you were stuck there with him as Jacaerys looked at you with his jaw slightly dropped.

“My love, what are you—”

“I had to see if you were all right,” You told him quickly, quieting your voice as if there was anyone but him around to hear you. “You…left dinner quite early and quite abruptly,” You added, “So I wanted to make sure that Lord Lannister didn’t hurt your feelings too badly with his poor jests.”

At this, you weren’t expecting Jacaerys to scoff at your words. You were surprised when he looked at you fiercely, the look in his eyes one that you had never seen before.

Pure anger.

“It is not my feelings that I’m concerned about,” He then told you, shaking his head, “But rather yours, and what you might feel towards me after his…implications.”

“His implications?” You rose a sudden eyebrow at this, extremely confused as to what Jacaerys was trying to say. “And what exactly did Jason Lannister imply that would effect my feelings towards you?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?” It wasn’t. “He was trying to imply that I won’t know how to fuck my own wife! The nerve he has, saying that to your face. I am sure he hoped it would steer you away from me to soothe his own ego, but I assure you, sweet darling, that while I am inexperienced, I am still well-versed on how to please a lady. I have read many books—”

“Jacaerys!”

You cut him off as heat flooded to your cheeks, which luckily he wasn’t able to see. A burning feeling traveled through your body at such lewd words, words that you had never heard escape from his mouth before. Never in the presence of you or any other lady for that matter.

Words that…sent a flaming desire straight to your core.

“Oh gods,” As if he suddenly realized what he had said, Jacaerys backed away and covered his mouth bashfully. In the heat of the moment, he had ranted entirely too much and now he had flustered his poor betrothed, who looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself as she looked at him. “My darling, I am so sorry. I did not mean—”

You cut him off with a giggle and Jacaerys was floored when you started laughing at his rambling rather than scolding him. Laughing as if what he had just said wasn’t inappropriate, and entirely not a conversation he should be having with you while you were unwed and alone in his chambers.

But alas, you did not seem to mind as you walked up to him and placed your hand in his. Jacaerys felt his cheeks heat up as his sheepish gaze met yours, but you were nothing less than amused as you said, “My dear prince, it is quite alright. I do not mind if you speak of such things with me.”

“But—”

“In fact,” You ignored his protesting and kept going, the burning sensation of your core egging you on. “I quite…liked hearing you say those kinds of words.”

“You did?” The disbelief was evident on his face. Jacaerys couldn’t hide his shock as you shyly nodded, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“I think it is exciting that you think of me that way,” You confessed, slowly bringing your body closer to his. Jacaerys nearly lost his breath as your head craned to look at him, your eyelashes batting innocently. “That you’ve thought enough about us making love that you actually gained knowledge on how to do it properly.”

“I did,” Jace confirms with a bob of his throat. A twitch of his cock at how close your bodies were. “I read…I read all about it. I even asked…a few knights about it so that I could make sure I did it correctly. When the time comes, of course.”

“Is that so?” You purred as you ghosted your lips against his, Jace taking in a sharp intake of breath from the action. His body was screaming at him to just close that gap between the two of you, to kiss you make all his desires melt away. But his mind…the lessons that he had drilled into his head since childbirth, held him back.

Jace knew more than anyone that there was a certain order to these things; that he had to be gentleman to the very last second until you were wed. That he had to be patient and most importantly, not think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you in that moment.

It was improper.

You knew it, and he did too. But somehow, as your lips and his own desire tempted him, Jace for once in his life seemed to not care for the rules.

“Yes,” He breathed out in ecstasy as his mind finally sunk out of reason, giving into the temptation that claimed most men. He looked down at you and then he uttered the words he knew would cause him nothing but trouble.

“Would you like me to prove it to you, my darling?” He asked. And you, having become just as eager as he was, nodded.

“Yes, my prince.” You all but begged him.

And so it was sealed. Jace’s lips met yours in a swift kiss, hot and passionate as you tangled your fingers in his hair. Jace moaned as you tugged, a way to bring him closer without saying the words. Quickly, your lover complied and Jacaerys moaned in your mouth as your body pressed against his.

Likewise, you let out a small gasp as the feeling of his hard member brushed over your thigh. You knew that men got…excited while doing certain acts, but you certainly never witnessed it before and you never expected it to turn you on like it did.

Jace’s arousal only triggered your own, something in between your legs beginning to stir as you deepened the kiss.

Almost involuntarily, your thighs began to grind together causing Jace to smile lightly against your lips and hold you even closer. With clammy hands, he pressed down on your waist and managed to guide your body towards his bed without breaking the kiss. Then, once your back hit the soft fabrics of his sheets, he pulled away and crawled on top of you.

Soft brown eyes met yours and you could see that Jace’s pupils were blown with desire. Lust, an emotion you’d never seen so prominent before, danced across his face and promoted him to reach out and trace the soft curves of your cheeks. He leaned down to kiss them both, and when he whispered in your ear how much he loved you, you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine.

You needed him, and you needed him badly. Your body was aching in way that you never thought was possible before, every fiber in your being craving Jace. Your most intimate parts were throbbing for him, and you wanted him to touch you before the sensation drove you wild. So, in a quick desperation, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Jace looked surprised as you did, shocked by the desperate look in your eyes. He had never imagined that you’d want him as much he wanted you, but alas, he wasn’t going to question it. Like a good boy, he started to comply with your silent request and gently massaged the clothed flesh underneath, his actions causing you to gasp a little bit.

You looked at Jace and the feeling felt nice but—you wanted more. Hastily, you grabbed his hand again and brought it down to ghost over the strings of your dress, already beginning to undo the laces before Jacaerys quickly helped.

Together, you managed to get the tight fabric loosened and Jace nearly drooled as your breast popped out. The sweet sight of your exposed flesh caused his cock to twitch, wanting nothing more than to lean in and capture your breast in his mouth. He wanted to touch you and he wanted to explore you so bad, so that’s what he did.

He left the bottom half of your body clothed so that he could take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, the new sensation taking you by shock. You gasped as Jace’s lips wrapped around your bud, licking and sucking and causing you to moan as you tangled your hands in his hair.

Never had you ever experienced the pleasure of someone sucking on your breasts before, and Jace looked up to see that you had fluttered your eyes shut in pleasure, a smile on your face.

Clearly, you were enjoying his actions which made him a bit more confident as he moved to your other bud. He took that one in his mouth and left sweet marks you’d have to cover in the morning. Licking and marking your chest so that you may remember who you belonged to, and the pleasure that he caused you.

Jace knew you wouldn’t forget; not after what else he had planned for you. After this, he was going to make sure his beloved knew in her heart and soul that the man she was going to marry was more than capable of pleasuring her.

Not that you ever doubted him anyways, but you were throughly shocked when Jace abandoned your chest for something a little more exciting. For something he had learned from Daemon in secret; a sure fire way to get any lady riled up.

Jace trusted his uncle and you trusted him, so when he started to pull the rest of your dress down you didn’t resist him. In fact, you aided him by lifting your hips up, eager to get the restricting fabric off. It felt like it was choking you even though your chest was already exposed. Restricting you from experiencing what you really wanted; what Jace was desperate to show you.

You could see it in his face that he was determined, biting his lip as he glanced your body over. By now, you were fully naked below him and your cunt throbbed as the cool air lapped against it. It caused you to shiver and look at Jace with a questioning look in your eyes, wondering what else he had in store for you.

Fortunately, Jace was generous lover and he didn’t keep you waiting long. Which was why he leaned back down to connect your lips together.

The kiss was hot, desperation spilling over like lava from an active volcano. It burned both you and Jace but the sting felt so good, especially when he started to use his fingers to trace your body.

Ever so lightly, he trailed down and your hips bucked a little as he brushed some of your sweet spots. The spots on your body that had you trembling a little, white hot desire flashing in your stomach.

You didn’t stop him as Jacaerys trailed his fingers lower and lower, but you had to admit that you were nervous. His lips helped a little bit, but the nerves you felt from being touched for the very first time seemed to eat you alive.

You were glad Jace took the liberty of studying before hand because you would have no idea what to do. You let him take control and it was obvious that Jace was grateful as he pulled away from your lips.

Slightly swollen, he curved them into a smile and lingered just below your belly button. Tempting you with his feather-light touches, dazzling you with those big brown eyes.

You swore your heart was going to burst in your chest from all the love and excitement you felt, and you were sure Jacaerys felt the same. You hadn’t the courage to fully look at him yet, but you caught glances of the way his cock was straining against his dress pants. Thick and hard, a fact that made you both nervous and eager.

Slowly, your body grew hot and your mind went blank as Jace leaned down to nibble on your ear. Sighing lightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and shivered when he began to speak.

“Sweet girl, would you like for me to show you what I’ve learned now?” He all but purred, and you couldn’t stop the embarrassingly quick nod that came from after, nor the clench of your thighs as your core throbbed.

“Please—” You rasped out the word like a begger on the streets asking for favor. Only, it wasn’t food or gold that you were seeking.

You wanted him, and only him as you stared up at Jacaerys. Your E/C eyes met his dark brown ones and you could see them twinkling as he smiled at you, obviously pleased with your answer.

“Hm,” He pretended to think about it for a moment which nearly killed you with anticipation. You bit your lip as his fingers danced dangerously close to your heat, obviously teasing you which you hated.

Luckily though, Jacaerys had never been a cruel man, so it was only a few more seconds of torture before he gave in to your desires. “As you wish then, my love,” He decided, and then his fingers dropped to a place that only he could touch.

“Jacaerys—”

You mewled as his slender fingers rubbed your aching core, gasping when he brushed over your bundle of nerves and then crying out as Jace pushed a finger inside of you.

You were wet, so it was easy for him to sink into your cunt but it didn’t make the stretch any less uncomfortable.

Tears kissed your eyes since you had never had anyone’s fingers inside of your cunt, not even your own, but Jacaerys was quick to soothe you with a simple praise. He whispered how proud of you he was for taking him, encouraging you on until he sunk deeper and deeper.

Your tight cunt welcomed his digit reluctantly, but eventually Jace was able to put his whole finger inside of you and he took note of how tight you were. Something in his brain couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted it to be his cock that you clenched around, but as agonizing as it was to have to wait, he knew that this was a crucial step for you.

So, slowly he began to pump his digit in and out, looking for any sign of discomfort from you. He held your gaze and while it did sting just a little bit, you couldn’t deny that the foreign sensation also felt…kind of good.

You’d never felt anything like it, but it made your walls clench in ways that had you moaning a little. Jace took this as a sign that you liked what he was doing and kept going, something inside of you began to awaken. Pleasure, perhaps, stirring inside of your cunt as Jace pleased you just the way he had learned.

You were gasping and groaning, your mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape when Jace’s finger brushed against a particularly sensitive part inside of your sex. Involuntarily, your hips bucked off of the bed, your back curling to the point where Jace had to hold you down.

He licked his lips as your delicious moans filled his ears and decided all of a sudden that you were ready for more.

Slowly, he sank his middle finger into you and then began to quicken his pace. The added digit surprised you, but it was definitely welcomed by your fluttering cunt. And fuck—you never knew anything could feel this good, broken moans slipping through your lips as Jacaerys assaulted the most sensitive parts of you. His thumb rubbed pleasureful circles against your pearl while his middle and index fingers brushed against your sweet spot over and over again. It seemed that Jace had found just the right angle to please you, and whatever it was had you gasping for breath.

It felt so good and it caused your cunt to clench around him, Jace panting as a tight feeling built up in your stomach. It almost…it almost felt like there was something inside of you that was going to burst, like a dam threatening to overflow at any moment. It built and it built, waves of pleasure lapping over you the more Jace played with your pearl. The combination of him hitting your sweet spot and doing that was enough to send you over the edge, and a strange volcano of bliss erupted over through body.

“Mhmm, Jace! Oh, gods! I’m gonna—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as suddenly, your very first orgasm rushed over you and stole the very breath from your lungs. You nearly stopped breathing as your cunt clamped down on Jace’s fingers, your sweet arousal coating the digits and the sheets underneath you. No doubt they were drenched from the sin that Jace had just pulled from your body, but that was the absolute least of your concerns.

Your were more worried about the fact that your mind had gone blank, your eyes hazy as you experienced the foreign pleasure.

It caused your body to nearly go limp and you were mumbling incoherent nonsense as Jace watched you. Brown eyes drank in every single detail that was in front of him, burning the image of your sweet cunt coated with your juices in his head. Coated with your orgasm that he pulled from you, despite never even laying with a woman before.

To say he was proud of himself was an understatement. Jace was so happy that he made you come undone with his fingers, but he was so hard that he could barely find it in himself to gloat.

Not when his cock was still straining against his trousers, reminding Jace that the best was yet to come.

His fingers had only been round one. But—you quickly realized that there was more in store for you as Jace began to get undressed.

One by one, you watched with anxious eyes as each article of Jace’s dress clothes came off. First his tunic which had you staring at his defined chest, then his belt which had you trembling in anticipation.

Finally, when Jace’s trousers came off and he was as bare as you were in the moment, you held your breath as your eyes focused on his hardened length.

It was the first time you had ever seen a man in such a way and Jace’s cock intimidated you. It stood tall against his stomach, almost taunting you as he walked closer.

As if he could sense your nerves, Jace’s expression turned to one of sweetness and reassurance as the prince mounted you and positioned himself near your entrance.

Slowly, he began to stroke the tip of his cock against your folds which caused you to pant heavily. You wrapped your legs around his waist like it was instinct, and Jace’s right hand came up in order to loving stroke your face.

He stared into your eyes, and then he began to push himself in.

The pain that everyone described wasn’t so bad, especially not when Jace had already warmed you up. In fact, you were pleasantly surprised that it was no more than a slight sting, that died down as Jace stilled his hips inside of you.

He waited until you were more comfortable to start moving, looking at for the slightest signs to stop. He was always so sweet, your dear betrothed. So loving and gentle with you.

But now, it was time to be anything but.

The ache you had for him was becoming unbearable so you moved your hips to let him know it was okay. Holding on tight as he began to push past your barriers, your walls and hands gripping him tight.

Jacaerys groaned at the feeling once he was fully sheathed inside of you. So tight—fuck, you were so warm. He swore that you were sucking him in, already on the path to milk him dry.

He felt like he was going to come and not that the prince had any complaints, but he wanted to last longer for you. To make your first time special, so he held on and slowly moved his hips.

His pace allowed you to feel everything, every drag of his cock along your walls. It caused illicit moans to escape from your lips and your fingernails to dig into his back.

Jacaerys winced a little at the feeling but you didn’t notice due to the pleasure clouding your senses. The only thing you could focus on was the fact that his cock was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

So good—so sweet. Your prince was all yours, and you proved this by leaving small marks on his shoulder.

If anyone asked, Jace would simply tell them they were bites from bugs. Never would he reveal your secret, for he knew what the two of you were doing was forbidden.

But he didn’t care.

The future king didn’t understand how something so wrong could feel so right. It truly felt like you were made for him; born to take his cock for all eternity.

The thought of this caused Jacaerys to snap his hips more violently. His pace sped up and soon his cock was driving in and out with lewd sounds filling the room. The sound your wetness coating his cock became all that he could focus on, his own moans echoing throughout the room as he chased his peak.

Likewise, you were mewling underneath him, eyes closed in bliss. The feeling of him inside of you caused pressure to build in your stomach, which only accentuated when he reached down to play with your pearl.

Gasping, your eyes shot open and you moaned while Jacaerys held your gaze. He was confident in the way he moved his fingers, trusting his uncle and the books that provided his knowledge. Every source he sought out said that this would be action that brung you to your peak, this would make you come undone.

And Gods, how right they were.

Jacaerys watched as you began to writhe underneath him and how your eyes rolled to the back of your head the faster that he played with your sex. He toyed with all of the spots that made you feel good while simultaneously keeping his pace, rocking in and out of you.

It felt so good that you could hardly breathe, let alone think straight as you let out a shout and came without another warning.

Your legs locked up, your cunt clenching down on him and you held onto Jacaerys’ body for dear life as you moaned and writhed underneath him. Your eyes fell to the back of your head and sure enough, not even a second later Jace was joining you with his own peak.

The prince closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he joined your hands together before letting his seed coat your walls.

Nevermind the consequences or the fact that you weren’t even married yet, Jace just wanted to feel you and he did. He made sure that the two of you were as close as possible, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and burying himself as deep he could go.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and you drank them in, drank him in as a warm feeling coated your body. You were breathing heavily and you had never felt so sweaty, but you were content laying underneath Jacaerys and looking into his eyes.

At that moment, nothing else mattered to you and when his lips captured yours, you felt complete.

A little sore, but it didn’t matter as Jacaerys pulled away and stroked your face.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, and you nodded as a smile crossed your face.

“I’ve never been better,” You told him honestly. “That was…amazing.”

“I’m glad I was able to prove myself then,” Jacaerys said, and you both let out a laugh as he pulled himself out of you, rolling over so he could lay by your side.

You had to admit, you felt a little empty now that he was no longer inside of you but the warmth of his body was quickly able to make up for it. Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lay on his chest whilst you both caught your breath.

You both knew that you only had limited time to hold one another other, since the feast was still raging on and neither of you wanted to be gone for too long. It would be too suspicious so the time that you did have, you cherished it in silence until finally it was time to get dressed.

Your cheeks were hot the entire time you slipped your dress back on and the smile never once left your face. You were so happy, you felt like you could barely contain yourself as you faced Jacaerys again.

Soft hands cupped your face and brown eyes met yours. Jacaerys leaned in to kiss you and you let him, resting your forehead on his as you sighed.

“Back to the monkey fest we go,” You told him sadly, not wanting to go back. You wanted nothing more than to just stay with Jacaerys and lay in his arms forever. You just wanted to be married already and never have to leave your chambers again if you didn’t want to. And you could tell that Jace felt the same way, but you both knew it wasn’t possible. Not tonight, at least.

“We shall be married soon enough, my love, and next time we won’t have to,” Jace promised as he grabbed your hands. They fit perfectly together, and you smiled as he kissed the back of yours. “Next time, we will not invite Jason Lannister and there shall be no more questions as to if I can please my wife.”

There was still distain in his voice and you knew he was still irritated by Jason’s comments. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t upset too, but after what just happened, you knew you didn’t have anything to worry about.

“I think you’ve already proved that plenty,” You told Jace, giggling.

He smiled.

“Come. Let us go back before they come searching for us,” He suggested, and then off you two went, unable to wipe the smiles off of your faces, and the look that Jace threw towards the eldest Lannister once you got back to the feast was full of smugness, knowing that he proved him wrong and that his future bride had absolutely nothing to worry about.

#hotd #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon

951 notes · View notes

frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃

pairing: aemond targaryen x lannister!reader

warnings: nsfw headcanons at the end SO NOT FOR MINORS, aemond is a good husband, reader has lannister features, breeding kink, spanking, hair pulling, anyways that nasty stuff but not so nasty.

author's note: i aged the green children so, aemond loses his eye at 15/16.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @alicent-hightowers

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

— brief story:

When you were a child, your father let you under the guardianship of your uncle, Tyland, who was part of the small council of the King.

That was how you met him. You grew up together.

King's Landing was your home, and the Targaryens were your family.

Helaena was like a real sister to you. You really couldn't remember your own.

Aegon had his sick sense of humor, but he never truly bothered you.

And Aemond... his simple existence brought you comfort.

And you did the same for him.

You would always assure him that he'd find a dragon someday.

He'd always compliment your blonde locks.

You had so much in common with the prince, it was like you were made for each other. It was like destiny.

Queen Alicent looked at you as a daughter, since you treated her family so well.

"Mother says I'll be marrying Aegon." Helaena said, playing with her centipede.

You thought the bugs were gross, but you appreciated the way your friend was so fascinated by it.

"That's unfortunate. I love Aegon, but we both know he's not up to marriage." You said, paying attention to your sewing.

"I wish mother could have betrothed me to Aemond. At least he cares about me." Helaena murmured.

Aemond wasn't anything to you but a friend, and you still felt jealous from his sister's words.

"I wonder when will I get married..." You sighed.

"Don't worry, Y/N. A lion and a dragon shares the same heart." Helaena smiled.

You frowned, grinning awkwardly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Helaena shrugged. You could take a wild guess, but your friend always seemed to talk nonsense.

After the royal wedding, your father took you back with him to Casterly Rock, where he would be finding you a suitor.

You'd still be in touch with Aemond and Helaena, sending letters to know about their well being.

That's how the young prince told you about his eye incident.

That's how you told him about your possible betrothal to the son of Prince Qoren Martell.

Aemond was quick to beg to his parents to make you his wife.

Lord Jason Lannister couldn't refuse the King, even though he wanted to. After all, he was refused by the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra.

The ceremony had to wait until your first blood.

No one would guess that it would take years for that to happen.

You and Aemond exchanged letters through the years, and you've seen his personality change in it.

Through his words, you saw the boy prince turn into a man.

And after you turned into a woman, at the age of 18, you married the twenty year old prince.

When you saw Aemond for the first time in years, you couldn't recognize him.

Yes, he was missing an eye. But he was so... incredible handsome. A totally different person.

It awaken something in you.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other. I remember how you used to play with the cats around the Keep and... I have a present for you. I hope you like it." Aemond gave you a red box with a golden ribbon wrapped around it.

You chewed on your bottom lip and opened the box, not expecting a feline to jump on your lap out of it.

"Aemond!" You exclaimed with a large smile in your lips, "You're giving me a lion cub!?"

The prince bit back a smiled to your reaction. It made his heart warm to see you so happy.

"He will be trained so he doesn't get violent in the future. You're the first one of your house to have an actual lion. What are you going to name him?"

"Have you seen a lion named dragon?" You wondered.

The prince frowned, chuckling. "Hm, no?"

"Well, me neither! Probably raising a lion is easier than raising a child."

"Let's test that, shall we?" Aemond smirked.

— your relationship:

Aemond is possessive. He doesn't like to leave you alone with any man, especially if the man in question is his brother.

He constantly says that he wants lots of children.

Aemond likes to play with your blonde locks between his fingers.

He hopes for your children to have your hair and his eyes.

Most of your time alone with him, he likes to chase you around your chambers, and play like you're both children.

He misses the lost time with you that your father took from him.

He lets you take off his eyepatch, and leave soft kisses on his scar.

You often says how handsome he is.

He often confesses his love for you.

Aemond is a cold-hearted person with everyone, but you.

— your nsfw relationship:

Aemond is vocal. He growls and moans a lot. And he actually feels really comfortable doing so.

And he notices how your cunt clenches around him when he does so.

He likes to fuck you on all fours. He can easily slap your ass and pull your hair at the same time.

He's obsessed with pulling your hair.

He kisses your arched back, using his hand to play with your clit, watching you turn into a whining mess.

"Can I cum?" You'd ask, having your face smashed against the mattress while your husband is pounding deep into you.

He loves to control your orgasms. And also, to gaslight you.

"I don't know, princess. Can you?" Aemond teased, smacking your ass hard.

And if you cummed without his permission, he'd punish you.

Aemond was trying really hard to get you pregnant.

In the first week as a married couple, none of you left your shared chambers.

He discovered a breeding kink just to the thought of your cunt leaking his cum.

And even when you eventually got pregnant, we couldn't stop fucking you.

Your swollen breasts full of milk, your swollen belly carring his children... everything about it made him hard.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon imagines

4K notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 23 days

Note

I don't know if you accept requests, but I'm going to risk it. Did you see the last photo of Harry Collett and Tom Taylor (the future Cregan Stark)? Could you write a Harry/Jace x reader x Tom/Cregan threesome? I'm obsessed with them

Push & Pull

It's basically Lannister tradition to create a scandal on your nameday, or maybe that's just you.

Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader x Cregan Stark | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, jealousy?, am I the drama!YN, typos, etc.

A/N: hello nonnie! i do take requests, but i dont explicitly state it because ive been having a hard time writing. i had an idea for a jace fic when you sent this, so it felt really timely, but then that fic i went to die 💀✋ so im tryna revive my spark writing smth else. i know you said a threesome but i just 💔 the best i can do is them tryna one up each other. I AM SO HYPE FOR THEM FR FR but i didnt really see the actors' photo together, just them in the trailer

"Is that the older Velaryon boy?" I mutter to my brother in between taking a sip of wine.

Jason turns where I'm looking and takes a sip of his own wine, "indeed."

"He's rather easy on the eyes, isn't he," I smile at my Jason.

He raises a brow, "and you are rather engaged, aren't you?"

"Engaged to be engaged," I shrug, looking around the room again, "and I do not even see our man of the hour anywhere."

"Lord Stark is travelling here from Winterfell. One would expect him to be late."

"Are you not the same brother of mine that said impressions have their weight in gold?"

Jason narrows his eyes, "clearly that was Tyland."

I roll my eyes at him and look away. I quickly turn back to Jason after I notice something, "oh, look. He's coming over."

"Lady Lannister."

I avert my gaze from my brother, to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who gives me a nod in regard.

"My prince," I smile and curtsy.

He smiles back then turns to my brother, "Lord Lannister."

Jason raises a brow and nods curtly.

"If your sister will allow it," Jacaerys turns to me, "I would like to ask her for a dance."

I giggle under my breath. I share a look with my brother. Jason assesses my expression before turning back to the dark haired man, "my sister is not accepting dances this moment."

I turn to Jacaerys as he gives me a questioning look, "may I enquire why?"

"I hurt my ankle," I mutter, "whilst getting off the carriage."

Jacaerys' forehead visibly wrinkles, "you took a carriage here?"

I purse my lips into a soft smile, "I did."

"To Casterly Rock?"

"I was visiting a lady friend who lives not too far from here."

"... I see."

Just as Jacaerys says this, the doors open, and Lord Cregan Stark's arrival is announced as he walks in. As he swaggers in, I am struck by a delicious idea.

"On second thought, my prince," I extend a hand, "my ankle is feeling rather better now."

I feel my brother give me a dirty look, but before he can say anything, I am whisked away for a dance.

Jacaerys leads me as we dance, holding my hand firmly as we glide across the floor, and pulling me closer than what was needed when the movement called for it.

The truth was, I didn't mind it, but there was nothing I loved more than putting a man in his place.

"You're being quite familiar with your touches, Jacaerys," I mutter when we as close enough.

I see his eyes light up when I call him by his first name. He chuckles, "can you blame me for wanting to be so?"

I hum as he spins me around, "I doubt many refuse your advances anyway, with the life of a princess up for prize."

Jacaerys ends up behind me as we continue with the dance. I feel his breathing as we continue with the next steps. Once we pull away and face each other again, I speak, "it is an honor to be the first."

Jacaerys looks at me in confusion when I curtsy rather than take his hand. I smile, "I have another waiting on me," then walk away.

It doesn't take long for me to weave my way out of the dancing bodies, nor to find the said person waiting for me.

I press my lips together into a soft smile as I approach the towering man, "Lord Stark."

Cregan nods and extends a hand, "my lady."

I take his hand and smile when he kisses my knuckles, "I do hope your travels were safe."

Cregan straightens up and tilts his head, "safe?"

He takes a step forward and brushes my knuckles, "I arrived to see my future bride ensnared in the jaws of a dragon."

I clasp my hands together and raise a brow, " I believe the Velaryon's sigil is that of a seahorse."

"And I believe he is set to inherit the throne after his mother, the king's appointed heir."

I purse my lips and lock eyes with Jacaerys from across the room. A moment later, I turn back to Cregan and smile, "political talk has always bored me."

He shifts on one leg, "I would not bore you on your nameday."

"Then dance with me."

Cregan takes a second, then offers me a hand.

Not a moment later, the two of us are dancing with the rest of the crowd. Cregan is much more wary with his touch, more courteous, and modest.

I cannot help but tease him with lingering touches and with the bat of my lashes, "you are surprisingly graceful for someone of your stature."

Cregan chuckles, hands gripping my waist with more intention, "perhaps the same could be said about you, my lady."

I raise a brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, with your injured ankle and all."

I tilt my head, eyes locked on his as we change partners. I keep my attention locked on Cregan as I come back to him the next measure.

"How do you know that?"

He tucks my hair behind my ear, "your brother told me as you danced with Jacaerys Velaryon, how you humored him, despite your reluctance."

We spin around and switch partners again.

This time, I cannot keep my attention on Cregan as I find myself face to face with Jacaerys, himself.

He immediately speaks, "I did not know you were waiting upon Cregan Stark."

I do the steps with him and purse my lips, "why would you need to know who I wait upon?"

"I thought I made it clear," the corner of his lips quirk, "I wish to be familiar."

I chuckle, taken slightly off guard, "and I thought I made it clear that I did not."

Jacaerys' hold on my hip lingers, "did you?"

My breath hitches when he pulls me flush against his chest, arms around my waist as we twirl. He breaks away, seconds too long, and we change partners again.

Except I don't, and neither does Jacaerys, for then the music finds its completion. We stand in front of each other, staring, as the rest of the room breaks into applause.

"I would like to share another dance with you, my lady," says Jacaerys.

"She is already spoken for," another answers for me.

I peer up at Cregan as he comes between us. He blankly stares at Jacaerys. It lingers and becomes rather painful. Eventually, he gives him a nod in regard, "your grace."

"Lord Stark," Jacaerys clenches his jaw before nodding back.

I stare at them as they stare at each other for another prolonged moment. I purse my lips then sigh, "I am actually feeling rather parched. Would you two boys like to pour me a drink?"

The two of them turn to me, but before they could respond, I'm already heading off to the banquet table. My brother's eyes shoot daggers at me as I approach.

277 notes · View notes

bookofbonbon · 2 years

Text

i know yours - aemond targaryen.

pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

warnings: explicit language. implied sexy times.

summary: people watching with Aemond turns into an interesting conversation.

word count: 470+

gif credit: @vera-kozhemiakina (x)

People watching was something that you often did with your close friend, lover and betrothed Aemond Targaryen. An odd match to most but, the only one Aemond (and you) wanted – quite simply, it was you or no one. Although not ideal, Alicent knew that if she did not grant him this, his wild and wilful nature compounded with his hot temper would result in something she would rather avoid.

Your hair moves in the summer breeze, the cool air blowing in through the open windows and offering some reprieve from the stifling heat as night began to fall. You stood hidden in the shadows with Aemond on the second floor, watching over the festivities as Lord’s and Lady’s became steadily wine drunk.

Watching one Lord in particular, your eyes follow Lord Jason Lannister. Intrigued by his wildly off beat and ridiculous dancing as you lean comfortably against Aemond, his hands braced against the rails on either side of you.

“Lord Jason Lannister is…” you trail off, trying to find the right word.

“A cunt,” Aemond quips without hesitation, recalling previous conversations with the egomaniac.

“Aemond!” you scold quietly, turning in his brace.

“I speak only the truth,” he shrugs.

Rolling your eyes, you let the comment go but, not before remarking sarcastically, “and what would you know about cunts?”

You wait a beat for one of his witty remarks but, it does not come - not right way, at least.

You feel Aemond close the remaining space between the two of you, his body pressing impossibly closer to yours as his breath fans across your ear and cheek - his lips hovering nearby.

“Mm… I don’t know,” he ponders mockingly, a ghost of a smile that you cannot see tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’d say I know yours pretty well.”

Your eyes go wide, cheeks burning as you press your hand against his mouth with such force that you push him against the opposite wall as your eyes search wildly for any stragglers who may have heard the risqué statement.

“You cannot say such words a loud, someone may hear,” you whisper frantically but not bothering to defend your maidenhood, fingers loosening on his mouth.

“I speak only the truth,” he smirks lightly from behind your fingers, eyes twinkling with mischief but, it's gone as quickly as it comes when you do not smile.

“Hey, I promise you need not worry, my love,” he reassures, seeing the genuine fear in your eyes if people found out about your pre-marital activities. “I would never allow you to be in harm’s way.”

Calm washes over you and your resolve breaks, knowing his words to be true. Shoulders slumping, you lower your hand from his mouth but, he captures it in his own before you can completely drop it. Bringing the tips of your fingers back to his mouth, he presses a gentle kiss against them before laying your hand to rest between his own and over his heart.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 7 months

Text

Traditions and Expectations: Pt. 1

Pairing: Aegon II x SisterWife!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, slice of life

Word Count: 7k

Summary: It is Targaryen tradition for brother to wed sister, as you'd done with Aegon. But with no eligible son for your daughter, you've had to look elsewhere for a betrothal. The question is whether to abide by Targaryen traditions or allow your child to follow her heart?

Tags: chubby!aegon, domestic life, arranged marriages, canon-typical incest, brother-sister marriage, mother/daughter themes, family expectations, hubby/wifey stuff, smut, vaginal fingering, breast play, nipple play, multiple positions.

Tagged: @lovelykhaleesiii

***

Your mother decided you'd be Aegon's wife on your fourteenth nameday. It is customary in Valyrian tradition for the eldest son to marry his eldest sister. As Targaryens, one of the last families who escaped Valyria's downfall, you followed this tradition despite societal and religious norms in Westeros. You being the eldest daughter and Aegon being the eldest son, the betrothal was set and you'd be married when you both reached maturity. Your entire life people knew you'd marry Aegon. It was simply a fact you'd known growing up.

But, unlike your mother, you will not have it as easy.

You sat in the cushioned chair on your veranda which overlooked the small courtyard outside Maegor's Holdfast, and pondered on marriage. Down below, your eldest child, Daella, practiced her archery skills on targets in the training yard. Thirteen with cascading lengths of silver hair, Daella had beauty, brains and brawn. She stood tall and slender, a petite waist cinched by a leather belt. She is the epitome of beauty, but also strong and bold. It did not matter how many times you scolded her for wrestling with the stableboys and firing off arrows, Daella still did it. It got to a point that you gave into her adventurous nature, letting her ride off on hunts with her grandfather and uncle and take up archery.

You watched her taking out arrows from her cloth target, and wondered if her husband will let these passions flourish. Many Westerosi men dislike women who take on "men's sports' '. To them, ladies of noble status should stick to dancing and reading poetry, not participating in archery challenges and learning how to skin animals after a kill. Having a bride who can out-ride and out-shoot them might displease them, therefore ruining any chance of a betrothal. Were your eldest son, Baelon, born first and Daella second, they'd be undoubtedly matched. But Daella is much older than Baelon, who is your third child. Vaelen, your second boy and fourth child, is not a suitable match either. You and your mother concluded that Saera, your second child, would marry Baelon. Vaelen will likely marry the baby in your belly, or another noblewoman.

This means you need to find a husband for Daella. Most noble marriages are political ones, so naturally you'd want a lord that is close to The Crown and doesn't mind marrying a dragonrider. On the table beside you, you looked at the four scrolls you'd received today. You'd spent ages pouring over the different noble houses in Westeros, searching in vain for a husband that would please your daughter. She wouldn't marry just anyone. You told your mother you wanted Daella to have a happy marriage. You wanted her to experience the love and warmth you often felt with Aegon. In the end, it came down to four possible suitors.

Fourteen-year-old Tymond Lannister was a nephew of Lord Tyland, current Master of Coin. Lord Tyland told you all about his handsome nephew who could wield a sword, battle ax and morningstar. A boy like him, he said, could handle the fiery Daella. His father, Lord Jason, agreed to a possible marriage between his son and Daella. It would benefit both parties: The Lannisters are one of the wealthiest families in Westeros. Having them tied by marriage will ensure the wealth of the kingdom stays intact.

Twelve-year-old Osric Arryn is the younger cousin of Lady Jeyne Arryn. You heard about his jovial and tender hearted nature from people around him. A husband with a soft heart but a firm hand might intrigue Daella. Lady Jeyne’s reply alluded to them coming to terms over her dowry. Another good match for Daella and the family. The Arryns have a large army as well as The Eyrie, an impenetrable fortress. She will be well protected and cared for there, which mattered to you greatly.

Thirteen-year-old Edmure Tully is the auburn haired, freckled, strong man you thought Daella may like. You'd seen the boy once at a tourney, standing much taller than most his age with a man's body starting to grow. Being her age, she might relate to him better. His father, Lord Grover, told you while Edmure might seem hard on the outside, he had a heart of gold. A marriage pact with House Tully brings more security to them in the Riverlands.

All three of them accepted. All three of them are good matches. Yet, it is not these that give you pause. It was the fourth scroll that still remained unopened. You saw the aquamarine seal with the Velayron seahorse stamped in the middle, and hesitated. It had been several years since you’d last seen your nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Since then, Jace has become Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, married to Baela Targaryen. Luke lives on Driftmark alongside Lord Corlys, his grandfather, and his bride-to-be, Rhaena Targaryen.

It cannot be Luke who has reached out to you. You’d recalled hearing about Jace and Baela having children of their own. Admittedly, you couldn’t get the children’s names straight but you knew they had a boy and two twin girls. You picked up the unopened scroll, and rolled it between your fingers. Glancing back into the yard, Daella had switched from archery to axe-throwing. Ser Criston told you she’d become intrigued by it after seeing a man doing it at a tourney for your wedding anniversary. You only asked her to use the smaller ones to avoid injuries. Jace and Baela’s son must be her age. Your father received the news around the time you’d given birth to Daella. But, you might have that information wrong.

“Ah, there you are, my love.”

Aegon appeared from behind you, hands behind his back and a grin on his face. He gave you a soft peck on the cheek, and took the chair opposite you. A maid served him a cup of wine, which he drank from right away. You continued staring at the scroll in your hand, afraid to open it. You know what will be written inside. No doubt it was your sister, Rhaenyra’s, idea. A part of you considered the idea since Rhaenyra will one day be queen, and with Prince Daemon at her side, your entire family may be at risk.

“How are the children?” he asked you, looking down into the yard where his sons trained with Ser Criston.

“Fine. Daella’s aim is improving impressively,” you answered absentmindedly, not fully focused on him.

“Hm,” he nodded, “Vaelen’s swing is improving as well. I know he mopes about his sword training, but I told him it’s important for the sword to be as sharp as the mind.”

“Aegon.”

“Wife?”

“Jacaerys…He has a son, doesn’t he? I remember Father mentioning it once or twice before.”

“He does,” he said cautiously, holding a cheese cube in his hand. “I believe his name is…Gods, what is it?” he racked his brain for a moment, then said, “Aerys? Aenys? I don’t remember exactly. It starts with an ‘Ae’. Why do you ask?”

“I received a raven from Baela this morning,” you told him.

He popped the cube in his mouth, then actually looked over at you. Seeing the worry on your face, he asked, “And what does it say?”

“I am not certain,” you said. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

He picked up the scroll from Lord Jason, read it, then said, “Marriage proposals?”

“From Lannister, Arryn and Tully,” you told him. “They all agreed to make terms.”

“And that one is from Baela?”

“Yes,” you showed him the small paper with its seahorse seal.

“You wrote to them?” he asked, bemused.

“I had not. It came this morning with the others.”

Aegon looked at you, then said, “Are you going to read it?”

“I can’t,” you said, shooting out your hand to him, “You read it.”

“Darling, I do not see what the harm is in reading a letter,” he chuckled. Aegon took the scroll from you, and broke the seal. Your stomach churned when he read the first word, “Dear Princess YN, I hope this letter finds you and your family well. My sister, Rhaena, informed me that you and Aegon are making plans for a marriage pact for your daughter, Daella. As you know, Jacaerys and I have a boy who is her age named Aeron-Ah, yes, that’s the boy’s name!-” Aegon snapped his fingers with a satisfied smile, “I propose a marriage between our two houses. I understand the relationship between our families has been detached for several years. But, I have very fond memories of our youth, and I hope with this union we can begin to repair that breakage between us. My lord husband and I will be arriving in King’s Landing in a fortnight for Prince Baelon’s birthday tourney-Who told them about it? Did you?”

“Certainly not. It must’ve been Father or Rhaenyra.”

“Hm, I suspect as much. ‘I will be more than happy to discuss possible terms with you then. I eagerly await your response. Signed, Baela.’ Hmpf, how informal of her.”

‘Memories of our youth’. What memories? When Luke cut out your younger brother’s eye and never received punishment? When Luke and Jace teased Aemond for not having his own dragon? All the numerous times that your father favored Rhaenyra and any of her offspring over you and your siblings? You’d gone your entire life being told that when Rhaenyra ascended the throne, your family was a challenge to her rule. The eldest of Viserys’s children from his first wife, he’d proclaimed Rhaenyra his heir. When Aegon was born, he should’ve immediately been named heir to the throne, but he wasn’t. Now, Aegon showed no interest in being king and never mentioned a desire for it. But, with her husband Prince Daemon in her ear, Rhaenyra might feel threatened by Aegon and his four children.

Your children.

Not only your children, but your sister, Helaena, and brother, Aemond, too. Their children, twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, young Maelor, and baby Rhaenor.

Your uncle and Rhaenyra’s husband, Prince Daemon, is not well known for his kindness.

“What is your decision, love?” Aegon asked you, putting the letter with the others. “Marry our daring Daella to one of these lords or the unremarkable son of Jacaerys Velaryon?”

You looked out to the yard once more. Daella stomped her foot in frustration as her axe missed the target completely. A picture of Daella meeting Aeron and finding him insufferable came to mind. Your daughter got along well with most girls and boys she met, being sociable and charming to everyone. But, when she did not like someone, she made it very obvious. Sometimes too obvious. What if she met Aeron and disliked him? On the other hand, what if she didn’t? It’d be ideal for everyone involved. It is the most obvious choice. Everyone will say so. So, why were you so hesitant to say ‘yes’?

“I want her to be happy, Aegon,” you told him softly. “I want her to find love and happiness as we have. I don’t want her shackled to a man she isn’t at least fond of; having children out of duty instead of desire.”

“I am afraid, my dearest,” he took your hand gently in his, “That our union is incredibly rare in this family.”

“That’s not true,” you replied, finding comfort in his touch, “There is Aemond and Helaena as well.”

“Alright, then somewhat rare.”

“Mother, Mother!”

A voice caught your attention from behind and you turned to see Saera appear. In a dress of cream and gold, she reminded you of princesses in fairytales. Her silver curls tied into a simple plait down her back, her violet eyes struck most people immediately. So much like her father’s, but he insisted she resembled you. Saera, eleven years old, came rushing up to your husband, and sitting in his lap. She beamed at you as she spoke.

“I had my dress fitting for Baelon’s nameday,” she said. “Grandmother helped me pick out the colors for it.”

“Oh, was that today, love?” you asked her, slightly disappointed. You looked over your shoulder to see your mother walking in after her, in a gown of emerald green and black. Her signature Hightower color. “Mother, why did you not say anything?”

“You had more important matters at hand,” she answered, kissing the top of your head before taking up a wine cup. She spotted the letters on the table. “Any agreements?”

“They all accepted,” you told her. “There is one that has surprised me, however.”

“Oh? Who?”

You handed her the letter, “Baela Velaryon. She and Jace have a son Daella’s age.”

“Is Daella getting married?” asked Saera, who took up a bread with strawberry preserves on it.

“Not yet,” Aegon told her, playfully taking a bite of her bread to which she whined. “But, your sister is of age for betrothal and your mother has insisted we decide this very second who it will be.”

“It does not need to be ‘this very second’,” you replied. “I have received responses from Lords Lannister and Tully, as well as Lady Arryn. Any of their sons would make a suitable match for Daella, and their alliance could benefit our house. But then, I received Baela’s proposal.”

“And it gives you Pause.”

“It does.”

“Why, Mother?” asked Saera, smearing jam around her mouth as she finished her bread.

“It is complicated to explain, dove,” you told her kindly. “You’ll understand when you are older.”

“Saera, love,” Aegon said, lifting her from his lap, “Why don’t you go with Dyana to see your cousins, hm? I’m sure Jaehaera would love to see your doll collection.”

“Why can’t I stay?” she moped, getting off his lap but not leaving. “I want to know who Daella’s going to marry.”

“You’ll hear about it when we’ve made a decision, alright?” he promised, kissing her forehead. “Now, go. Dyana…”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Saera reluctantly left with the maid, and left the three of you alone. “Father will approve of the match highly,” you told her, returning to the conversation at hand, “And so will Rhaenyra. I bet anything this was all her doing.”

You thought about your elder half-sister. Rhaenyra was the daughter of Gemma Arryn, your father’s first wife. When she passed, King Viserys assumed he’d never remarry or have more children, so he named Rhaenyra heir to the throne. But then, he wedded your mother, Alicent Hightower. Any sensible king would’ve saved everyone the headache and named Aegon heir, but not your father. He valued Rhaenyra and her bastard sons more than any of his other children. He’d never do or say anything against her, no matter how severe the crime. You bitterly remember the night Aemond lost his eye in a fight with Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena. Your father should’ve demanded an eye for an eye or at least a serious punishment be dealt. But no. He told them to apologize and leave it at that. He’d never do anything to upset his precious Rhaenyra. It’d broken your heart when you visited your father’s sick bed, hoping to read to him, and in a medicated haze he’d called you ‘Rhaenyra’. When she had Jace, Luke and Joffrey, it became obvious they are not true Velaryons. They did not have the skin or hair of their father, Lord Laenor, but instead the coloring of Ser Harwin Strong. Commander of the City Watch.

This only soured the relationship between your families.

That resentment in you did not want your eldest daughter, your first born child, married to Rhaenyra’s grandson. Yet, the looming threat of Prince Daemon crossed your mind. If his grandson married your daughter, Rhaenyra will no doubt cherish any children they have.

“Princess Rhaenyra means well,” your mother said, taking Aegon’s seat when he offered it to her. “She will be our queen one day, whether we wish for it or not. I do not need to remind you that Prince Daemon-”

“-I know, Mother,” you cut her off, not wanting to hear it out loud. “Rhaenyra…She is quite lovely to the children…”

“She adores them,” she agreed. She paused for a moment, “She put forward the coin for Saera’s and Daella’s nameday gowns.”

“What?” This caught both you and Aegon off guard.

“She has?” asked Aegon.

“She has,” she nodded. “She said princesses of the realm should always be dressed in fine splendor.” She looked between the both of you, then back to you, “YN, listen to me. Do not make the mistakes I have made when it comes to your children-”

“-Mother, you’ve never-”

“-I have,�� she insisted. “Don’t pass down whatever grievances you have with Rhaenyra’s family to your children. They’re young. They should be playing and growing alongside their cousins, not being separated from them. A marriage between Aeron and Daella might work out for everyone.” When she saw you and Aegon unconvinced, she said, “Besides, it is tradition. The King will insist upon it should Rhaenyra bring it up.”

You wondered where this advice came from. During your girlhood, your mother constantly grumbled about ‘Rhaenyra’s sons’ and their baseborn features. It’d been her who often questioned their birth in private. Yet, since Rhaenyra’s return to King’s Landing, you noticed the pair becoming much closer these days. You’d spotted them walking in the gardens, sharing meals together, and working together to better the kingdom. You wondered what transpired to bring about this forgiveness and unity. Perhaps you can do the same. You gingerly accepted back Baela’s letter, and thought on it more. Baelon’s tenth nameday celebration would be in two weeks. You had plenty of time to think over your answer.

“Invite them all,” Aegon declared, picking at more cheese on the table.

“Invite who?”

“Lannister, Arryn, Tully, and Velaryon,” he said. “Daella can meet all their sons and see if she likes any of them.” Neither you or your mother said anything, he went on, “You said you wanted Daella to find love and happiness. She can only do that if she’s given multiple options instead of one. You’ve always been the romantic one out of us, and what is more romantic than finding love at a tourney?”

“Aegon…”

“YN, you know Daella. If we tell her to go left, she goes right. If we tell her the sky is blue, she’ll tell us it’s green,” he continued. “If we happen to invite all these suitors, she might take to one of them on her own.”

“She’ll suspect something.”

“She won’t if we all keep it to ourselves,” he responded with a smirk. You sometimes forget your husband’s cunning nature.

“Aegon has a point,” your mother told you. “Invite them all and we will see if she takes to any of them.”

You mulled it over in your mind, then nodded, “Yes. That seems the best route for this.”

“Ah! You fool, that hurt! Father!”

Vaelen’s contemptuous voice came from down below, and you saw your youngest sprawled on the ground at his brother’s feet.

“Well, get up and hit him, Vaelen,” Aegon called back.

“I’m tired!”

“Your opponent isn’t going to care,” he said. He grunted and put down his wine cup. “Time for me to intervene,” he looked over at you, “Write to them and personally invite them. Have the seamstress make her a special gown, and the jeweler can fashion a tiara for her. Something golden with rubies. Maybe sapphires or emeralds to stand out-”

“-I will see it is done, Husband,” you laughed, “Go see to your sons.”

He kissed you one more time before going down to the yard. Aegon lifted Vaelen to his feet, handing his sparring sword back to him, and spoke to Ser Criston.

You spotted Daella standing with Aemond, who was helping her pick out a selection of knives instead of axes. Aegon was right. A strong-willed girl like Daella won’t accept a marriage pact because she’s told to do so. If you wanted her to have a happy marriage, she’d need to find it on her own.

“I know you don’t like to admit it,” your mother began, drinking from her wine cup, “But Aegon is right.”

“Mother, how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Decide Aegon and I would be right for one another. At any point during our childhood, you could have decided to not marry us, but you did.”

Your mother stared at you for a moment, then she confessed. “I did not decide right away,” she told you. Seeing your raised eyebrows, she nodded, “Yes, that is a myth. I told your father I wanted to wait before announcing your betrothal. It’s a Valyrian tradition to wed brother to sister, so it made the most sense. But looking back on my own marriage and marriages of those around me, I was hesitant on my decision. I didn’t want my daughter to suffer a loveless marriage, never knowing true companionship or romance. I worried you might end the same way as I did with Aegon.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Aegon used to bawl his eyes out whenever we took you into another room. Your wet nurse would set you on the ground, and you’d immediately crawl over to him. As you grew, I saw how you behaved around one another. You enjoyed each other’s company over people at court. You spent nearly every waking moment together and refused to be apart for more than a few hours.” She smiled softly, looking out into the yard, “One day, I sat up here with your father while your brothers trained in the yard. You came out with Helaena, and you stood right there,” she nodded to an open spot that overlooked the yard, “And watched him. You didn’t say anything, or make yourself known to him. You simply watched him with this soft smile on your face, full of complete content.”

You nodded, vaguely remembering a day similar to that. “Then he noticed me there,” you finished for her.

“And the smile that you both shared,” she grinned, “Made up my decision. You stared at one another, fondness and love in your eyes. He then said, ‘Princess, my opponent begs for mercy. I shall make it your decision to spare him or deny him.’”

“And then I said to show him no mercy,” you laughed, remembering a young Aegon, long-haired and skinny, standing where Baelon did now.

“Aegon would do anything you asked of him,” she said. “Daella will find a similar love one day. Whether it be with one of the suitors or someone else entirely, she will have it.”

“Mother, did you see that?!” Daella’s voice called from the yard, beaming at you excitedly. “I hit the center! Look!”

You saw the thin blade stuck halfway into the target, and smiled at her, “Wonderful, darling. You’ll be an expert with your uncle’s instruction.”

She went back to her knife throwing, and you put aside any thought of arranged marriages and family feuds for the moment. You did have a nameday to plan, and invitations to send out.

“What does Saera’s gown look like?”

****

Knights, hedge knights, sellswords, and lords came from all over to attend Prince Baelon’s nameday tournament. You spent days planning feasts and gatherings that will happen throughout the week. Not only did each day have its own competition and accompanying feast, but the final celebration included performances by singers and mummers, magicians and animal performers, and several courses. You told the small council you’d spare no expense for your son’s tenth nameday. It would be a nameday to rival them all.

Yet, while handling all these duties with your pregnant belly, the thought of Daella’s marriage proposals loomed over your head. Neither you or Aegon brought up the subject around her, but she seemed to suspect a plot nevertheless.

“Lord Tyland visited the training yard this morning. He complimented my knife throwing skills,” she said to you at dinner the night before the tourney, “He said he couldn’t wait for me to meet his nephew, Tymond.”

“Well, he is very fond of his nephew, Daella,” your husband said first. “He talks about him as if he is the boy’s father. Perhaps he is hoping you two will meet and get along.”

“I wonder why he might have that idea,” she looked pointedly at you, “Mother?”

“The Lannisters have always been an ambitious family,” you told her. “Lord Tyland most likely hopes you will meet his nephew and grow fond of him. You are a Princess, after all. The King’s granddaughter and Prince Aegon’s daughter. Maybe he hopes a Lannister-Targaryen marriage would bring his family great fortune. Do not think anything of it, love.”

“Mother, I am fully aware that I have flowered now and am of marrying age,” she said to you.

“What does ‘flowered’ mean?” asked Baelon, chewing on string beans.

“It means she’s a woman,” said Vaelen. “I read it in a book.”

“Boys,” Aegon hushed them. “Yes, darling, you have flowered and are of marrying age, but your mother and I don’t plan to marry you for a long time. I recall telling you never to grow up so then you’d never marry and leave me, but,” he shrugged, drinking his wine, “Here we are.”

“You may have flowered, but you are still too young for marriage in my book,” you added.

“Not too young to make arrangements for me, though,” she retorted, cutting into a slice of beef and eating it. “Whoever he is, I won’t marry him.”

“Whoever who is?”

“Whoever you’ve both chosen for me,” she said. “I won’t do it. I don’t want to get married.”

“You are a princess of the realm,” you responded, “Marriages not only help politically but also continue our bloodlines and names. It is your duty as a princess and a Targaryen to marry to protect and continue-”

“-I don’t want to,” she snapped. “I won’t go through with it. I don’t want to get married to some stupid lordling who can’t find his backside with both hands.”

“No woman does,” you told her, “But as women of the realm-”

“-Surely there is more to being a ‘woman of the realm’ than marrying and having babies,” she remarked. “Why must we be stuck in this one role in life when there is so much more we can offer? Look at all women throughout history. Princess Visenya. Princess Rhaenya. Nymeria of Dorne. Look at Nana. Look at Aunt Rhaenyra. They’re both on the King’s council and have his ear. They’ve contributed more to the world than having babies.”

“Nana only became the queen because she married the king,” you said. “Rhaenyra may be the heir, but she married Ser Laenor and had children of her own. All the women you named married and had children to continue their legacy. How can you expect to continue a legacy without marriage or children of your own? Do you plan to live forever?”

“I won’t get married,” Daella repeated, having no real answer to your question.

“You will,” Aegon said more firmly, “We all have our part to play in this world and yours will be to marry.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Daella,” he groaned, “You are a princess. Some would say you’re born for this.”

“Was I now? I thought I was born because you and Mother wanted children; not because you must have them.”

“We did want to have you,” you implored her, “But it was also expected that we would. Daella, we’re not doing this to upset or hurt you. It is what every princess does: I did it. Helaena did it. Your sister will do it after you.”

“I don’t care who has done it before me,” she said, no longer focused on her meal. She stood up suddenly, “You can’t make me.”

“Daella…”

She spun around and left the hall. You leaned back in your chair, feeling dejected and defeated. Your eyes met Aegon’s.

“Will I have to get married one day, Mother?” Saera asked you, pushing her vegetables around on her plate.

“No,” Aegon said, “Because you vowed you’d never grow up and leave me. A Targaryen must keep to their word.”

He tickled her side and the mood in the room lifted. Yet, Daella’s forceful words stuck with you. You knew she’d never take kindly to the idea of marriage. Your daughter is a free spirit, a bird that wishes to fly untethered to any solid thing. A part of you felt guilty tying that bird down, but it did not need to be so. Aegon’s warm hand taking up yours caught your attention. You met his eyes, and saw the softness in them.

“I will speak with her,” he said, moving to stand.

“No, no,” you shook your head, standing up before him. “I will speak to her. This is a woman’s conversation, Aegon.”

He conceded, nodding and returning to your other children. You bent to kiss him, then left the hall towards Daella’s bed chambers. Rays of moonlight still shone between the pillars coming from the open courtyard, a cool breeze coming in from the city. This did nothing to distract you from your worries. Daella seemed to believe marriage stood in the way of her future greatness. She needed to know that it is not so. As you reached her room, you heard the faint, melodic voice from behind the door. Singing. Daella’s light singing voice reached you and you smiled. With a gentle knock, you opened the door.

“-I dream of fair maids of summer, with flowers in their hair-” you heard her sing quietly at her vanity, brushing a comb through her silver curls.

“-I dream of maids of winter, with snow in the air,” you sang after her, walking into the room with a disarming grin.

Her eyes found yours in the mirror, and her face soured. She stopped singing at once, pretending to be focused on her hair. You shut the door and approached her. Neither of you said anything as you took the brush from her, and began undoing her braids for her. Her curls went through your fingers like silk, shining in the faint candlelight glow.

“A bard sang that song on my wedding day, you know,” you told her, starting to gently run the comb down her hair. “It’s where I first heard it. I loved it so much, I asked him to sing it a second time. I thought it was such a beautiful song-”

“-I don’t want to get married.”

“As you’ve stated previously,” you nodded. “If you do not wish to be married, love, then what do you want?”

Daella did not speak right away. You saw the desire to speak plainly inside her, wishing to pour herself out to you. Though, the fear of being rejected or dismissed in favor of your own wishes disagreed with this. “You can tell me,” you assured her, looking at her in the mirror.

“I want to travel, Mother,” she told you, imploringly. “I want to see the world; go across the Narrow Sea and see the Free Cities and meet different people, and see different cultures. I want to go about the realm on my dragon, seeing my grandfather’s kingdom and meeting his subjects. You and Father used to go into the city all the time-”

“-Yes, but we still married,” you interjected. “My love, you do not have to choose one life or the other. Being married…” you took a breath, pausing your brushing to think. You never imagined having this conversation. You merely accepted your cards when your mother dealt them. “Being married isn’t being tied down to one place. It is not a prison sentence. It’s having a companion. It’s having someone to share those dreams with. You can still have a full and rich life whilst having that other person. Look at your father and I, we betrothed and still saw wonders together.”

“The Street of Silk is not a worldly wonder, Mother,” she drawled.

You tapped her shoulder sharply, “I meant the times that we went dragon riding together.”

“Where did you go?”

“Everywhere,” you answered. “We went as far as The Wall once. I told your father I wanted to see the world, and he promised me we would. Yes, we still visit our old stomping grounds from time to time, but that is nothing compared to our progress around the realm.”

“You? You and Father went on a progress together?” she looked back at you in disbelief.

“It’s originally been your grandmother’s idea,” you’d finished brushing her hair, but did not stop. You fondly remembered you and Aegon seeing the different castles and meeting the lords and ladies of the land. “Your father disliked the idea since courtly duties bore him to tears, but I told him it could be fun. We’d meet different people, and see new things. We went to The Wall to meet the Night’s Watch. We saw Winterfell and the big heart tree there. We went to the Maidenpool, and saw The God’s Eye from a distance. We visited The Twins. It was lovely.

You finally stopped brushing and told her, “Being married does not mean you’ll be forced to stay in one place. You’ll have someone else to share those new experiences with and grow together from them. It’ll bring you closer to them.”

“I doubt it,” she scoffed. “You’ll marry me off to some insipid little lordling who will insist on keeping me locked in a castle, having his babies and running his household for him.”

“No,” you replied. “I planned on marrying you to a man of your choosing.”

This information caught your daughter off guard. “You did?”

“I did,” you nodded. “At first, I will admit I sent out propositions to certain lords and ladies who have sons your age, but I’d intended for you to pick at your own leisure. You are not as fortunate as other Targaryen women to have ready-made brother-husbands,” you lamented, “But I hope you may find happiness like I did with your father. As with songs, I cannot pick that for you. You must choose whether you like them or not.

“Your brother’s nameday celebration will be a good chance to not only find a possible match, but perhaps make friends and allies outside of King’s Landing. Lord Beesburry has a granddaughter who also enjoys songs and dancing, and Lord Rosby has two who are fond of horses like you.” You put your hands on her shoulders, and said, “Do not worry about marriage for now, my love. Go to the tourney, seek out happy nights and enjoy your youth as I did.”

She smiled at you, the expression reminding you of your Aegon. “Thank you, Mother.”

You kissed her cheek and hugged her from behind, smelling the lavender in her hair. You left her to finish preparing for bed, and walked alone to your own chambers. Taking a seat at the vanity, you stared at yourself in the mirror while undoing your hair. You and Aegon took your progress right after your wedding. You’d never left home before, and you’d always wanted to see the world beyond King’s Landing. The promise of adventure and excitement encouraged you to take the leap into the unknown. Flying Moonfyre with his Sunfyre nearby, you felt like you could take on the world.

“How is she?” Aegon walked into your chambers, finding you by the vanity.

“Better than before,” you told him. “I explained to her that marriage isn’t the end of your life. You can still enjoy it while being with another person.”

He snorted, “Forgive me, my love, but I’m afraid not many lords would agree with you.”

You put down your brush and leaned on your elbows on the table. Head in your hands, you knew he was right. Adventure is not something lords think about unless they mean about themselves, while their wives stay home. “I suppose I can only pray then,” you decided, “That she finds what she wants.”

“It is the only thing we can pray for,” he said, coming up behind you and kissing your neck. “I sent the maids away for the night. Dyana and Myra are seeing the children to bed.”

You turned in your seat, smirking up at him, “Is that so? I wonder what reason you’d have to do such a thing. Myra needs to help me undress.”

His fingers ran up your back to the strings of your gown, “Undressing you should be my responsibility.”

He cupped your chin to kiss you lightly, then gradually continued until your lips locked together. “And it’s the only responsibility you’ll readily agree to,” you teased, standing up and kissing him.

“That and the children.”

“And the children,” you agreed.

Arms wrapping around you, you felt him deftly untying your dress, the cool night air brushing on the warm skin. You kissed him tenderly while undoing his belt, letting it fall to the ground. Unbuttoning the front of his jerkin, you slipped it from his shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt. Aegon peeled off your gown down to your shift and bodice, which he undid with deft, swift fingers. That subtle heat you knew well started building in your lower stomach as he kissed down your neck to your collarbone; you felt up his arms to his shoulders, giving a light squeeze out of habit.

Much like you, Aegon appeared to gain a few pounds himself, no longer the lanky boy he’d been in his youth. Not that you cared in the slightest. You ran your hands down his chest to his breeches, where you untucked his shirt and removed it. He pulled at your shift until you became bare in front of him; his hands pawed at your hips and backside while kissing you deeply. A soft moan filled your mouth as his tongue slid inside, you untied his breeches and tugged them down until they fell on their own. You reached down for his cock while he grabbed at your breasts, groaning softly at the hand wrapped around his shaft. Then, he started walking you backwards towards your bed.

Falling down onto the soft mattress, Aegon’s lust burned hotly. He left soft kisses along your throat to your breasts, which he grasped gently. You whimpered, feeling him take position above you, his semi-erect cock against your bare sex. His cock twitched in your hand in every stroke, and you felt him grow harder and harder. Aegon suckled your breasts, rolling his tongue around each one before giving a delicate suck. You whined at the tenderness just as much as the roughness. One hand still on your breast, the other slipped past your belly to your sex, which dampened at the anticipation of his touch. Two fingers started sliding up and down your slit, dancing over the folds while yours did so along his member. You moaned at the fingers dipping amongst them to your clitoris, where your pleasure spiked inside you. It throbbed against his fingers, a thing he noticed and responded with a roll around your clit. Aegon never failed to pleasure the most intimate parts of you; he knew exactly how to get the fires burning within you, stoking them like logs inside a hearth. He groaned against your skin, gradually bucking his hips into your hand. You repaid the act with tender squeezes from hilt to head, using beads of precum to slicken his length.

“It’s too bad you already have one in there,” he grunted, pecking across your breasts to flick his tongue over one of them. “I’d love to give you another right now.”

"It is a shame, truly," you replied in a laugh, free hand going up into his hair and tugging the wavy curls. This move brought him back to your lips, which immediately locked with yours. "I never say 'no' to you filling me; not since our wedding night, when you took me over and over again just to make sure it took root inside me."

"Well, everyone made such a big fuss over it," he smirked above you. "I thought I might as well be thorough."

He kissed you right as he slipped two fingers into your fluttering sex. You kept yourself spread out for him, grinding against his hand to get it deeper inside you. It reminded you of all the times you'd both scurried off together to dark corners of the castle, heat in your cheeks and hunger fueling your desires. You remembered your journey around Westeros following your wedding, and all the places you'd coupled throughout the kingdom. A majority of them started exactly like this.

"Remember Maidenpool, love?" you asked, your thumb rubbing the underside of his tip.

He smiled, "Do I? I recall it often." He kissed you, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before giving a tender tug. "When you pretended to be a maiden again, flustered and ready to be deflowered by me..." he stopped touching, and pushed your thighs further apart, kneeling up and away from you. Hands on your knees, he lifted them up slightly and said, "I don't believe I've fucked you as hard since then."

You then sneered at him, fingers trailing down his front to his cock again, "But, Your Grace," you pouted, "Shouldn't you be careful with me? I have never gotten this far with a man before."

Aegon let out a shaky moan, and plunged himself inside you suddenly. Your body took a moment to adjust, but as he started thrusting pleasure and desire bursted inside you. Grabbing your hips, Aegon kept you in place in each push. You could feel his exact length and girth stretching and filling you every time your bodies met. It became a sensation you enjoyed.

"Your Grace," you whined, cupping your breasts to pinch your nipples, "Your Grace, please don't stop. Nobody's ever fucked me this way before. It feels so good."

He chuckled, violet eyes looking down at you in unfiltered lust, "Is that so? I find that hard to believe. A beauty like you has never had cock before?" he started pounding you faster, your breasts bouncing from the force and the sound adding to your grunts. "Not even an inch?"

"N-No, Your Grace," you replied. His tip started prodding your center, making you see stars as the orgasm slowly built inside. "No, never. Your cock's the only one I've-I've ever had." You started rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, keeping your breasts together with your arms so they continued bouncing. The light brush against your sensitive clit added to your pleasure. "Please, Your Grace, keep going. Don't stop. I want you to make me yours."

"Gladly."

He rolled you onto your front, face in the pillows, and entered you again. Aegon held onto your waist as you both met in the middle. The wet sound of his balls hitting your sex drive your passion further down. Just like in Maidenpool, and every time since, Aegon kept his strokes steady and deep. Hands reaching around to grasp your tits brought you up to a kneeling position, locking you close to him as he bottomed up into you. This new position made you see stars. Your sex tightened around him, your clit throbbed at his touch, and you didn't hold back your moans. The repeated, whispered phrase, 'Your Grace', amplified his arousal and you knew it considering his shaky breathing and low groans.

Your orgasm came all at once, quaking your thighs and tightening your grip on Aegon's arms as he kept you firmly in place. It blinded you to everything around you; Aegon became the only real thing in the room. Normally, you kept your volume down to not disturb anyone, particularly your children, but not tonight. Not now. Not when Aegon's thick shaft and reddened tip brought you to the end of your climax. His own soon arrived, his cock slipping out with a wet pop, and hot streams spilling onto your inner thighs. Mouth pressed to your shoulder blade, you could feel the vibrations from his throat against you. You held him close until he'd finished, dick still twitching against your thighs.

You both stayed in that position for several seconds, your warm bodies climbing down from the peak in every quivering breath. You collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. The pregnancy made everyday tasks tiring, and sex only worsened the fatigue. Aegon's arms snaked around your waist as he brought you close to his chest and kissed your shoulder. You thought of the sticky substance sliding around your thighs, knowing you should wipe it away but not having the strength in your arms to do so. So, therefore, your husband did it for you, however lazily his ministrations.

"Daella will be fine," he said, tossing the cloth aside. "She is a smart girl. She would never choose an empty-headed boy or a brute. If she happens to pick the Velaryon boy, well…accidents happen all the time.”

“Aegon,” you kicked him lightly and he laughed.

“I only jest, my love,” he assured you, kissing your neck.

“But, if she were to pick Jace’s boy?”

“If he makes her happy and treats her well, then I suppose I shall live with it.”

You shook your head in a laugh, intertwining your fingers with his to bring to your chest. Tiredness nearly drowned out the worries turning in your mind. Your childrens’ happiness is all you’ve ever cared about. This should not be any different. Daella will pick the right choice, and you’d side with whatever decision she made.

***

A/N: wow, it's been a while since I've written anything hotd. If you can't tell, this is part of my dad!aegon universe lol I hope you enjoyed this and give it a little reblog or a like.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aegon ii smut #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon fanfic

401 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 8 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my GOSSSSSH, with every chapter I post, we get closer and closer to the end and I'm literally wriggling in my chair in excitement, like holy shit! hahaha, anyway, I so hope you enjoy this new chapter and the remaining ones to come! ENJOYYYYY <3

Chapter 101: The Merciless Queen

“If we are to give Flea Bottom gold to build new dwellings, whose to say that the other small folk across the realm won’t decide to take arms and demand the same?” Lord Tyland Lannister, elder brother of Jason Lannister and Master of Coin argued, seated amongst the other Small Council members who seemed to be in a disarray since the slaying of their previous King, Aegon.

It had been a few days since his death, and whilst Aemond and yourself could not keep your hands off of each other, there was no denying the tension that still circled around the two of you.

You had been coronated as Queen Consort, a short lived affair in the throne room with only the Small Council present, letters written to be sent out shortly thereafter to their supporters. There was no celebrations to be had, no drinking or dancing. It was short, brief, and most importantly, political move.

And now, all sat in wait for the more pressing question at hand.

What was to happen to the treaty?

And yet despite this question, and the sheer multitude of meetings with the council, Aemond let the unknown hover over your head like smoke, filling your lungs thickly and choking you.

When once Maester Orwyle had asked the same question, which was asked more than once a day, Aemond had barely given the man a second glance, and redirected the question elsewhere.

In no time however, much to the urging of Otto Hightower and Lord Jasper Wylde, word would soon reach Dragonstone, and the Green Council would need to be ready for such events.

There was a very real possibility that at the knowledge of Aegon being indisposed of, and the Greens thus only having one dragon rider, may invoke the wrath and fury of all the Black’s power.

And in this moment, they had it.

And the council, knew it.

There was an all encompassing feeling of dread that filled each member. The anticipation being a most poisonous thing, and at any loud noise or uncertain sound, Alicent Hightower would jump in her seat, eyes skating to the doors of the chamber they were in, or looking out the window to the skies.

“Then see to it that they do not.” Breezed Aemond, the Conquerors Crown seated atop his head, ruby glinting in the light of the chambers.

“I do not see why we need to do so in the first place, Your Grace.” Maester Orwyle spoke, “The small folk are not in need or want, nor do they know more than what they have.”

Aemond blinked slowly, finger impatiently tapping on the table as he looked at his men and mother, the gold ring upon is finger clunking on the wooden surface.

“We have the gold, not much, but enough. As it is, their disdain for us was exaggerated by my brother and his selfish disregard for their needs." Aemond began, "I couldn’t care for what they do below in their shit and piss, but my Lady wife has spoken of the benefits of having the love of the small people, and we are in dire need of support.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling the eyes of all the Lords at the table, and the ever present scowl of Alicent Hightower directed at you. Swallowing, you licked your lips, fingers finding your council sphere and spinning it in its dish.

“My mother is loved by the small folk, as was I,” Before they dubbed me the Merciless, “‘The Realms Delight', they named her, most beloved and fair, much the same for my sweet aunt Helaena."

You paused, letting your gaze stop on Alicent, "Where as when they think of the King, they have little good things to say. Two Kinslayers on the throne would no doubt further press their disdain." You turned back to Aemond, "The support of the common folk is important when ruling, it makes things easier, and if the time comes, they will take up arms to support your cause.”

Larys Strong’s voice carried across the table, his high lilt directed at you. His hands were crossed over the top of his cane delicately between his knees at the table, “My spiders have told me that there are ample supporters of your rule, Your Grace.”

You scoffed, “Supporters of the Faith perhaps, or the whispers of the old militant sect even, but that support lies with Alicent, and they would surely have issue with mine and Aemond's union, as is our tradition as Targaryens, and also the very issue of us both being Kinslayers," You looked to Alicent, "Which we are very much reminded of. But the small folk, the true small folk who live in poverty, where sickness and disease is ripe, have no positive feelings of loyalty towards a King who does not see them and gorges upon riches unimaginable. My father took to the streets and killed every rapist and murderer in Flea Bottom, punished thieves and crooks, and the small people felt safer.”

“They were scared out of their wits.” Otto sighed, “The small people need nothing but the clothes on their backs. Simple minds think not of extravagant pleasures.”

Anger rolled through you, “Having proper housing and not living in the streets is not an extravagant pleasure. I would say it is a right for them to live freely and happily, to pursue their desires and passions.”

Jasper Wylde placed his long fingers upon the sphere, several gold and silver rings adorning the digits, “The Queen makes a point, Your Grace. King Jaehaerys was loved by the small folk for his benevolence, and the actions of Maegor the Cruel brought him nothing but trouble. Perhaps the spending of a few Gold Dragons on Flea Bottom’s worse affected slums could bring you support, especially now that the treaty is in question.”

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, opened the conversation for the treaty to be discussed.

Again.

All eyes were now on Aemond, who sat stiffly in his chair, one elbow upon the armrest, the other still tapping against the table.

“Has word reached Dragonstone?” Aemond questioned Larys, noncommittally.

The brunette leant forward, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, “As it were, a spider intercepted an attempt to alert them. Though I have no doubt they will receive word by the morrow.”

The King hummed.

“Will the treaty be renewed, Your Grace?" Maester Orwyle began, eyes flicking to you, then back to the King, "I believe it to be prudent that we do so. As it were, we are outnumbered in dragons. You are but the lone rider here at the Keep.” You narrowed your eyes at Maester Orwyle, “Perhaps if we sent word and new terms, Rhaenyra will be-“

“-No.” Aemond’s word cut through the air like a knife. Crisp. Icy.

Final.

“No?” Otto questioned, “The realm will fall to war again if-“

Your heart beat against your chest like a drum, iciness spreading across your skin and at the base of your skull.

No.

“What do you mean, no?” You breathed.

Aemond did not turn to face you.

You snapped, “If you do not sign a treaty, they will come for you, Aemond. My mother and father will come to claim what is theirs.”

The King’s nostrils flared, “Let them. I ride the largest dragon in the world. If my half-sister wishes to declare war at the risk of your safety, then it shall be your blood upon her hands, not mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“My blood?”

Aemond did not even turn to face you.

Your hands slammed against the table, and you shot out of your chair, leaning towards your husband as you sneered, "Have you learnt nothing? You are blinded by your hatred. You will be our ruin, not Aegon.”

Aemond breathed sharply, eye solely on you as he spoke to the table, “Send coin to Flea Bottom. Hire masons and workers, or let the small folk build it themselves.” He looked to his men before finishing, “Clear the chambers.” He commanded the room, and all Lords and Lady Alicent, stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving Aemond with an enraged wife.

“Are you to doom us all with your stubbornness? Have you gone mad?” You growled, “Your thirst for the throne will kill us, Aemond. My mother and father are not to be trifled with. My brother and sisters are not to be trifled with. Do you think that we will survive this?”

Aemond simply stared at you, hand still on the table tapping, whilst the other gripped the arm of the chair fiercely, knuckles white.

“Is it your true desire to have another war? Or is this a foolish little boys dream?” You said in disbelief, looking down at him from your standing position, hands still flat against the table to ground you, “I barely survived the last one, and yet you wish to play games with my mother and father? With my life? Do you know what they will do to you? What they could do to you? You would be dead before you even reached the skies.” You sneered.

The King’s lips pulled into a thin line, brows furrowed as he looked at you, barely contained anger burning behind the violet of his eye.

“They would not do it if it meant jeopardising your life.”

You flinched backwards, as though he had hit you, curling your hands into fists at your sides as you tried to steady your breathing, but panic coursed through your veins, and your throat grew tighter with each passing second.

"Is that a threat?”

Aemond frowned at you, the lines in forehead pulling the crown down in the slightest of movements. It was as though he was offended by your question, and though you had questioned every natural fibre of his being.

“You think I would harm you? After all that has happened? After all I have done for you?” His voice became raised, anger leaking into each syllable.

You scoffed, “You just said that them acting would put me at risk. What will you do? Have Ser Cole at my side, sword ready to cast against my neck or plunge into my heart?”

Aemond leant forward and sneered, “Do you truly think so lowly of me? I did this for you! I love you!”

“Then do this for me, too! Renew the treaty, Aemond.”

“I can’t do that.” He breathed.

The backs of your calves hit the edge of the chair as you leant back, looking at your uncle from down your nose, “You can. But you won’t.”

Aemond did not respond.

“Sign the treaty.” You said more sternly, anger causing the words to come out harsh, and biting.

The King's broad chest rose and fell in his robes shallowly, his one eye watching you as his hands flexed upon the table.

“Why do you wish to sign a treaty with them? After all they have done?” Aemond growled.

After all they had done?

“They cast you aside! Abandoned you here to be tormented by Aegon.” Aemond continued, voice rising.

“They did not abandon me!” You snapped, hurt and betrayal causing tears to prick in your eyes.

“Oh? But they knew what would happen to you once you were wed to me. They let you be raped. You were sold to me like a brood mare.”

“And who did those things to me?!” You screamed, a tear falling down your cheek, “Who, Aemond? Who raped me? Who defiled me? Who scarred me? Because it wasn’t them.”

Aemond’s anger seemed to bleed out of him as he looked at you.

You pushed the chair backwards hard with a kick of your foot, sending the high-backed wooden seat to crash against the stones loudly, “You raped me. You hurt me. You did that. Not them. You! You act as though you’re innocent in all of this!”

“I don’t-“

“-I will not survive another war.”

The anger was back.

Aemond’s lips curled in disgust, “You expect me to bend the knee to your mother? The very woman who wished to punish me after her son took my eye?”

Your face fell, “No.” You declared, “I expect you to give the treaty a chance. Countless lives will be lost if you start another war, Aemond. Needless blood will be shed. Could you live with yourself knowing this?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly, that it seemed that Aemond had not even needed to give it a second thought. As though he had already weighed all possibilities against each other, as though he had measured the odds.

And still, he had said yes.

You swallowed thickly, wishing the damn lump to leave your throat. And so quietly, you asked a question which clawed at you from the back of you mind. A question of doubt. Of fear. Of another ‘what if’ that you had to bat away with a swift blink of your eye.

“Even if it is mine?”

It was an uncomfortable sort of silence, and this time, Aemond did not answer straight away. Not like how he had a moment before. As though he had not weighed up this question in his mind yet, or perhaps he had, and had come to no conclusion. You watched his face as he stared at you, his seeing eye flickering across your face as a finger twirled the ring upon his hand.

“I will not lose you." He began, making a move towards you, "But I will not bend a knee to Rhaenyra, and kiss her old cunny for the sake of peace.”

His tone was final, he had hissed your mothers name like a curse, and there was no changing his mind. No shifting of the tide that had been steadily building for months now, a tide which had moved away from the shore, sucking the water and life away from the beach, revealing the jagged rocks that were hidden beneath.

You blinked again, another tear falling down your cheek.

Your uncle continued, “And if it need come to war, then so it shall be.”

It was so point of fact.

So emotionless.

Toneless.

Void of anything other than finality.

War was to come.

And there would be no changing that.

“But,” Aemond’s voice startled you from your thoughts, your eyes racing over his face, “You are Queen now. My Queen. Something that is and was always your birthright.”

“Like my mothers.” You sneered.

Aemond ignored your comment and continued, “And you, as Rhaenyra’s heir shall sit the Iron Throne in her place. And then, when the time comes, our heir shall follow."

It was clear to you then, that Aemond had thought on this.

"If Rhaenyra’s concern for succession is blood, then she can be satiated in knowing that the daughter she denied shall sit where she is owed by her birthright.”

You stepped towards him, hands clenching and unclenching, “Aemond, please. Think about this. You are asking me to depose my mother.”

“I ask nothing of you. I am telling you, zaldritsos. I will not have you be pushed aside again for your bastard brother. I will not bend the knee to my half-sister. This throne is ours. It is ours by birthright. And I will be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

The air in the chambers shifted, and you inched towards your husband as he continued to speak.

"Do you think that if I bent the knee to them, that your father would let you stay wed to me? Think on it a moment, Y/n. Do you think that your mother would let you stay wed to a monster? The man who killed her son? They will take you from me."

You stepped away from him, turning your back as your mind raced a as you looked around the chambers, eyes casting out the veranda at the clouded skies. Dread settled in your gut.

You didn't want to be parted from him.

You loved him.

The air was charged as you spoke, voice shaking, “So what now? Are you to send word to them?”

Aemond stood behind you, the chair scraping against the stone floors.

“I will be sending Otto and Ser Cole to Dragonstone as envoys to give word to Rhaenyra and Daemon. They will be told that their blood sits upon the Iron Throne as Queen. They will be allowed to live where they do. My half-sister can have Dragonstone, I have no need for it when I have Kings Landing and you. And they will bend the knee.”

You shook your head, still not turning to face him, “You should know that they will not.”

“Not if you don’t encourage them.”

Your eyes widened as you spun on your heel to look at him.

He was deathly serious.

“You wish for me to ask them to bend the knee to you?” You laughed.

Aemond frowned, “A letter from the Queen is a hard one to refuse. Especially if the Queen is their own daughter. Tell them of the fears that you have. That war will break if they do not swear me as their King and you as their Queen. They can remain on Dragonstone, and you shall remain here, with me. Where you belong.”

He seemed so sure that it would work. So sure that a simple letter from you would bring the water back to shore. But the tide was gone from your reach, and you were anchored on the coast atop a beached ship with no way to get off.

Aemond stepped forward, cupping the side of your face gently as he looked at you, "They will listen to you.”

You grasped his wrist tightly, “I am not so sure.” Your voice was quiet, so fragile, like the finest of glass from Essos. One octave higher, one shift against your throat could cause them to crack or break.

If you did this, you would be betraying them.

You would be deposing your mother.

Aemond pulled you into a reassuring kiss, one he poured love and adoration into as he cupped your face in his hands. When he pulled back, his eye roamed your face softly, “I do not wish to see bloodshed, nor do I wish to see you harmed. This is the only way, surely you can see that."

And you did.

You did see that.

You saw it all clearly.

Your husband pressed another kiss against the top of your hairline, your eyes sliding shut as you breathed through your nose, preparing yourself for what you had to do.

"I trust that my Queen will know what to do.”

And you did.

You knew what you had to do.

And so with a short nod, you agreed to his terms.

“I will have Otto deliver your letter by hand.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

405 notes · View notes

judycantfail · 6 months

Text

#is this anything?#this was put in my drafts in 2020 #i did add a newer pic of dabi though lol #cersei lannister #lord garmadon #hela #blackfire #dabi #jason todd #damon salvatore #they are all so gender to me #gotta be one of my favorite genders #my posts

106 notes · View notes

myladysapphire · 5 months

Text

My Lady Strong (V)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2,323

CW: maniplation and bullying, toxic relationships, stalking, obssession

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n we get to see some of aemonds perspective and lets jsut say hes a 'little' mad and obssessed with Aemma

“My Lady strong” Aemond mumbled, taking her hand in his arm as they walked into the great hall. It had been four years since the event of her ninth name day, and since then her and Aemonds relationship had become more and more turbulent.

“Aemond!” she grumbled, walking forward, a smile plastered on her face as they entered the feast held to celebrate their bethrothal.

She had officially become a woman in the eyes of the court and the gods. Her moons blood having arived four moons prior, allowing plenty of time for Alicent to prepare her for her wedding to Aemond, a duty her mother should have performed. But her mother scarcely came to red keep, her favorite child and only daughter had quickly become forgotten over the five years since driftmark.

Though the past four years had been spent with sneers and loathing glares, atleast on Aemmas end, between her and Aemond. These past four years had been some of her favoruite.

She had quickly become a favoruite at court, with lords and ladies throwing themselves (literally in some cases) at her, to get a glimmer of her attention. It seemed that the second her and Aemonds obsession with eachother ended (as far as Aemma was concerned, though Aemond still stalked her and obsessed over every detail of her, just now in secret).

She had her beloved ladies. Girls from throughout westros, handpicked by Alicent and her mother (a very rare event and scary event, that she knew they both had loathed, and she loathed the thought of the two people that hate eachother to such a large event that the court had even taken sides, just to find her freinds) to be her closest friends and her confidant.

There was five of them in total, Cassandra Baratheon, her dearest friend and fellow hater of Aemond, Rosia Tyrell, the youngest of them at ten and one namedays, having replaced Yara Reed, after she was sent to bear island for her marriage to lord Rickon Mormont, then there was Cerelle Lannister, Jason lannister. Maergret Fossway, and Cersci Costayne.

They had been her ladies for four years now, though she knew soon enough they would all have to leave, they would be married off and scattered throught westoros, and she would have new handpicked friends coming and going every few years. But she still adored them, though her and Cersci had a turbulent relationship, these girls were her sisters and she dreaded to think of life without them. Life without their daily tea and gossip, or their walks through the gardens, their days without tormenting Aemond with petty pranks. Yara had been older than them all, being seven and ten namedays already, and she being three and ten would be the youngest, and once wed would arrange all their marriages herself and be able to let them go when she felt they were ready, and not as soon as possible to help appease a waring family.

“Aemma!” Aemond sneered, they had reached the high table already, “stop daydreaming!” gods, he was annoying.

Patting down her dress and they moved to sit, she spoke “can you for once not be so cruel, we are too wed in seven days, lest us be civil” she spoke, her smile still pastered, a fasle calm to all onlookers.

But to Aemond he could tell she was worried, the pranks she would play on him had stopped, the teas and walks with her annoying ladies had halted, and she now spent most of her time in her room or the library.

Since her moon's blood, She was scared, and he had been making her scared, for years, and now they were actually getting married he could tell she was scared, of what, he wasnt sure.

He had been cruel and taken his pain out on her when she was innocent. A mistake he can never take back. And yet he had no remorse for it, as he would torment her, calling her lady strong, whispering bastard in her ear in the guise of sweet nothings. He would deliver dead pink Hydrid tea flowers (also known as Aemmas Rose), with their heads cut off in her room. Shredding what was once their favorite books, and leaving the remanst scattered in her spot in the library. He had taken over every corner she had once seen as hers.

“Hmm” he sighed “fine, prephas…on one condition” he spoke, seeing the fake loathing she loved to look at him with turn to…hope?

“What? You get to pluck out one of my eyes? Or no, I must pluck out my little brother's eye? Oh wait that is your right, an eye for an eye, something i agreed with in case you have forgotten, which if the last five years have been worth anything then you have-”

“Aemma” he shushed her, “gods, i do not want your eye, and yes i may have forgotten that you had taken my side once you found out what had happened, but that does not change that you” he whispered the next part, moving closer “are your whore of a mothers bastrad”

She flinched “that is not somehthing i can control, and you know that, so you can't fault me or hate me for it, espcially when in seven short days i will be your wife”

“Gods, I know that, I do, but everytime i look at you and i see your wretched brothers.”

“You think i dont know that, me and my brothers never gor along, do you not remember their ‘pranks’, such as the black cells? You remeber that don’t you? Rememebr how you wouldn’t rest until i was found, and when you did you were the only one who could sooth me, you were the only one who could get me to sleep. What happen to us Aemond, why did you turn to hate, when all i hver gave you was love. I understand we had somesort of obsession with one another but if it was really that bad then why did you not tell me, instead of hiding behind your pitiful excuses. We could have had a great love Aemond, and instead you made me hate you, so what what is this one conditon you desire, because i can assure you i'll do it, but it does not mean i will stop hating you, and i doubt it will stop you from hating me” she spoke these words, with a cold smile, looking out onto the feast, a fake look of happiness, as if they were the perfect couple, the couple she knew they could have been.

He remained silent, looking down at the table before standing and rezching his hand out “would you like to dance?”

She was shocked, not once in his life had Aemond asked her to dance, he despised it, would do everything to avoid the act, so the shock on her face wqas hard to disguise, as she nodded her head and accepted the outstretched hand.

“You hate dancing” she mubled, as his hand descended to her waist, their hands outstretched.

“ i do” he nodded, before pulling her closes, and sniffing her hair.

Gods if only she knew, knew that he only did those things so that he was always on her mind, as she was on his. “ and yet its the only way i can get this lcose to you before we are wed.”

She jolted back, not enough to worry onlookers, but enough to cause Aemond huff, and pull her even closer.

“What?!” she hissed “ you hate me?!”

“I never said that” he spoke truthfully.

She huffed “no, but it was heavily inplised” she sneered, “what were all of those-thoose…you were a bully for all thoose years, you ignroed, me berated me… called me” she looked around before whispering “my lady strong-”

“That's because you are, my..lady..strong, you are a strong and you are mine. Your mother made you a bastard but she also made you mine.”

“YOU-” she said, a little too loudly, “you are mad”

“The best targeryens are” he replied, “i want you, i need you, i always have and always will. I just liked to play with you a little” he msiked, “ and in seven days i get to play with you even more”

The song ended, and Aemond went to sit down. Leaving Aemma all the more confused. Just how he liked it.

Later that night Aemma sat alone in her chambers, her ladies having just left to retrie. Her conversatiuon with Aemond replaying over and over in her head.

She had always been a little slow, always compared to her great grandmother Daella. She was always called naive and had things dumbed down. And Aemond had always liked that she supposed. When they were younger he had always liked to dumb things down for her, even if she understood, making her reliant on him. She would stop thinking, stop wanting to understand things for herselves, because Aemond had made her believe he would do it for her. But she didn't know that, she overtime just started to think perhaps everyone was right, she was slow and needed the extra help. The help Aemond always amde surehe was giving her, even when she thought he hated her, he still did it. He had made her entirely reliant on him, and she would never know.

“Aemma?” she heard someone whisper, unsure of where it was coming from.

“My lady strong?” the voice almost taunted.

“Hello?” she called out, standing up to look around “who's there?”. Aemond stepped out of the shadwos, causing her to jump “Aemond? What are you doing her” she asked, hand on her heart, and taking a deep breath.

“Too see you, my bethrothed.”

“We-we can..cannot be alone together until the wedding night..you should go” reaching for her seven pointed star pendant.

“I should, but we should also talk.” she sat down on her bed, reaching for her and pulling her down next to him.

“yes, yes i suppose so” she agreed, nodding her head, hand still wrapped around the pendant.

He smiled, not the cold one she was used to, but a warm one, one she had longed to see again (not that she would admit it) “good” he moved closer, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek.

That night they talked, it felt liek the old days, when they were the closest of friends. When they were envied by all for how close they were. It was like they were children again, and it made Aemmas heart skip a beat.

The next day at breakfast, her ladies were told what had happen, with Cassandra shaking her head, “no! We hate him, hes a bully,”

“Yes but he is also to be her husband, they should be close” said Cersci.

Clapping her hands, Cerelle agreed “oh its perfect, hes obsessed with you! After this we should go to his chambers and you two can go on a walk through the gardens, and have a picnic” she gusehd, grasping Aemmas hand.

Cassandra huffed “he has been nothing but cruel to her, and all of a sudden we love him? No its one of his games, hes taunting you”

“No” Aemma shook her, “no, hes changed, last night it was like we were the old Aemond and Aemma, before driftamark. He cant be-he-” she shook her head, her head dropping. “ its too cruel, even for Aemond. Why would he wish to strat a marriage based on a cruel game?”

“Beacuse hes mad!”

The ladies at the table all gasped at cassandra.

“What? He is, everyone can see that! He lost his sanity alongside his eye-”

Aemma slapped her arm “ Cassie! Dont say that, you werent there, that night was horrible!” she sighed, “ all know is that this is the start of something, we could be civil. Our marriage was meant to ease the conflict in our familes, and we agreed to try, and just let me be a little delcusional please” she laughed, “you all are!” causing the ladies to huff, “i mean it, like Maergret batting here eyes at Daeron verytime he visits and he doesnt even glance your way and he calls you Mary! And Rosia, Cregan Stark? We met him once and you have not stopped obsessing over him, not to mention he had a wife when we met him. And Cassie, lord Redwyne?” she gave her a look, “and dont get my started on you Cerelle and Cersci, i may be slow but dont think i havnet noticed to two of you!” she taunted, “let me think there might be a chance, please, and who knows you may be right, but either way in a week i will married, and he will be my husband. Whether we like him or not!”

Aemond thought she mad, not as mad as he, but as he watched her, sat in the gardens, as he hid behind a rose bush. One night of his undivided attention on her and she, well it was playing out perfectly. The games he had been playing fro years. The constant thought of eachtother on the others mind, the way he taunted her, made her beg fro his attention. Allowing one night of undivided attention to make her think they would be them old selves again. The old Aemma and Aemond. The Aemond who would slaughter the whole of Westros for her, the Aemma who believed very word he said and relied on him to do everything for her. The Aemma who when it came to the inevitable war would believe her mother had hated her, forgotten her, and that he was the only one who loved her.

It was fun to taunt her, yes. But he loves her, always has, but he supposes the rumors at court were right, perphas all his sanity was in the eye stolen from him.

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut@idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19 @wolfiealina @unique7676 @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @flrboyd @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

222 notes · View notes

marthawrites · 3 months

Text

Red Lions and Hidden Dragons

Unnamed male character x Lannister!fem reader & Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!fem reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: Close kin to Jason and Tyland Lannister, you arrive to King's Landing with a party of fellow lions to celebrate the birth of Prince Maelor Targaryen. You weren't expecting to catch Prince Aemond's eye, but once you do, neither of you can forget it.

Includes: SMUT. This is porn with plot to set it up. Featuring lust at first sight, allusions to obsession (from reader and aemond), voyeurism, unprotected vaginal sex, male masturbation, allusions to exhibitionism, stalking, male receiving oral sex, reader receiving oral sex, minor degradation, vaginal fingering, and somnophilia

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be one of the filthiest things I've written. Double warning: This fic is heavy on the voyeurism and Aemond is a creep. If you do not like that then do not read this. Reader is a Lannister and is implied to have blonde hair. Everything else is up to you! Reader's lover is implied to have ginger hair. Everything else about him is up to you. As always, I hope you enjoy this (filth)!

Golden sunlight warmed your honey curls as they cascaded down your back in gentle waves. Following close behind was a guard armored in the colors of House Lannister. A woman walked beside you who also donned your House's colors in a more practical attire–sword not included. “Is it everything you wanted it to be?” She asked you with bright curiosity as her gaze swept over the Red Keep's gardens.

Spring's blooms weighed heavily in the air and if it weren't for a forgiving breeze all of those fragrances would be unbearable. Your nose tickled with an edge of a sneeze you could never quite expel. “It's absolutely lovely,” you replied with a happy sigh, leaning into your friend and lady-in-waiting. “Although… if I don’t go inside soon my eyes will be pinker than a pig’s bottom and leakier than a cracked chalice.”

She laughed. “I can bring supper up to your chamber if needed. Sneezing on any one in the royal family could be punishable by death!” She gasped with feigned severity.

You rolled your eyes. “The only one I’m worried about sneezing on is Princess Helaena. With her little Maelor only being just born the last thing she–and he–needs is extra germs.”

You and your family, closely related to King Viserys’ Master of Ships, Tyland Lannister, had only arrived this morning. It had been a long trip. Jason Lannister, Tyland’s elder twin, sent a party of lions to King’s Landing to celebrate the little princeling's birth. “Perhaps you will catch the eye of a lord–or Prince–while you’re there,” he had whispered to you with a wink upon your departure.

Politicking had never been your strong suit. Would it truly be so wrong to marry someone for happiness instead of glory, lands, and wealth? You thought not, but the rest of your family thought yes.

“If the Princess even attends a public dinner,” she answered slyly.

With a light-hearted shrug you looked over your shoulder and asked the knight, “Ser? Do you remember the way back to the Great Hall?”

“I do, Lady Lannister. Ready to return?”

“We are.”

Once inside the Red Keep you immediately felt better. No more tickly nose, or itchy eyes, or scratchy ears. You arrived back just in time, too! Judging by the collection of people and their plates, supper had been served only a short time ago. You and your lady found a seat where you could. Nodding a polite greeting to Tyland, you sat and fixed a plate. While politicking wasn’t one of your strong suits, people watching was.

You ate, and you watched.

Who observed the watcher?

Smearing creamy butter on a still warm roll, you tried to keep tabs on the conversations around you. Truthfully, it was half a bore. Sooner than later it all jumbled to indistinct murmurings. Paying half attention at best, and once you finished all the savory flavors of meats and potatoes, you helped yourself to fruit for a sweet palate cleanser. Wonderfully ripened berries and crisp grapes took over your senses. On one particular juicy bite–when you barely covered your mouth in time to catch a dribble of springtime strawberry juice–a blush rose to your cheeks as your gaze swept over the crowd to see if anyone witnessed your etiquette mishap.

A few seats down, and across the table, the glint of a single violet eye danced with your mishap.

Aemond Targaryen. Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your napkin nearly slipped from your fingers as you realized he watched, and saw, and didn’t turn away from your guilty gaze. His one seeing eye trailed from your chin, down the front of your bodice, and back up to your face. The combination of his perfectly neutral facade and naturally bowed mouth made him impossible to read. But the glint in his eye? You swore it gave away his amusement. Perhaps even something more.

The blush in your cheeks dispersed–spreading and lowering–and with a delicate curve of your mouth you gave the King’s second silver-haired son an entirely different look. With extra care, now, you bit into a plump grape, daring to hold his gaze. Your heart hammered with anticipation and excitment and part of you wondered if he could see the pulsepoint in your neck thumping.

He squinted at you; so slight you might have missed it.

Desire roared in your belly.

It was nearly the end of the hour of ghosts when Aemond made his way to the library on silent feet. The castle was quiet except for a few guards and servants carrying out night shift duties. He paid them little mind as he walked with a small stack of books tucked beneath his arm. Sleep eluded him. Even reading did little to settle his mind. He thought, with a hint of hopefulness, that a walk might allow him to finally relax.

A slight squeak of door hinges was the only sound announcing his arrival. It seemed no matter how many times it was oiled it always squeaked. Most of the time it didn’t matter much. But, on late nights like this, it made Aemond feel as if he interrupted something holy. Sacred.

He’d always been a studious boy–so much so that it followed him into adulthood. Perhaps that is why he felt a pang of guilt upon midnight arrivals; he found as much solace in this place as he did the training yard. Sometimes he had half a mind to bring a pillow and blanket here to sleep in one of the chairs, the floor, or, more comfortably, a settee.

Quietly, out of habit, he walked between the rows of books, tomes, and scrolls, and placed each piece of borrowed literature in its place. Before he truly heard anything, the fine hairs along his neck stood. His pupil widened to take in the dark. A little voice in his head told him to stay quiet and look.

A phantom? He hadn’t felt the fright of ghost stories for a long, long time.

But, no, it wasn’t a thing of nightmares lurking in darkened corners of this peaceful place that caught his attention. It was someone. And, judging by the sounds that perked the fine muscles behind his ears, it was more than one person.

Soft sounds made their way to Aemond’s ears as he stalked on silent feet. Heavy breathing. An inward hiss of breath. A muffled voice–low and sultry–sent his cock stirring to life in his pants. And then, right at the peak of a barely contained moan, a giggle.

Staying to the shadows Aemond peered around a bookshelf and what he saw knocked the wind out of his lungs. A woman–not just any woman, but you–straddled over the lap of a man with your skirts bunched up around your waist. The chair creaked beneath your combined weight, its legs thumping against the rug-covered floor with the force in which you rode him–in which he bucked up into you. Aemond saw why you giggled and a hot rush of blood flew up to his head and down to his cock alike. Your breasts were free from your crimson supper gown and they bounced as you fucked whosever cock it was that you were riding. One of the man’s hands squeezed a mound of your soft, perfect tits, letting it bounce against his palm as his mouth sucked your other nipple.

Stepping further back into the shadows, Aemond, as discreetly as he could, moved a few books upon the shelf so he could watch between the newly formed gap. He had the best–truly the best–sight of you. Your cheeks were colored so prettily, lips parted in the epitome of bliss, and your eyelids fluttered as you ground down against him. Aemond saw your hand push through and squeeze your lover’s ginger hair as he nipped and suckled over your peaked nipples.

“Think anyone will show up here?” You asked, rolling your hips against him in a gloriously wonderful grind.

If Aemond were any further away he wouldn't be able to hear you. His ears were perked right to you, however, and he heard your voice–all raspy with pleasure. He palmed at his cock over his pants, the bulge prominent and uncomfortable in its confides.

“If you keep being loud I bet someone will,” he teased before kissing you. He gripped your hips firmly with both hands and began to coax you up and down on him again. Before you could break away from the kiss those same soft sounds from before filled the air. This time they were louder, sharper, both of you chasing pleasure to climax. “Can't believe you wanted me to fuck you here tonight. Of all places in this big castle. Shit–Gods, yes, keep bouncing like that. Keep fucking bouncing like that.”

You barely held your moans back and the little ones that slipped free had Aemond palming at himself firmer. Your moans, and slapping skin, and bouncing tits had the prince dizzy with desire.

How in the actual Hells was this happening?

He nearly spent in his pants when climax washed over you. You were so lovey, and so perfect, and so greedy with your need it made Aemond want to tie your lover up and fuck you right there too.

You could take it. He knew you could. You'd be debauched enough to take two men and still claw at them for more.

Your lover's seed covered your belly in a splattered mess and Aemond nearly groaned out loud.

He'd lingered too long. He shouldn't have even stayed like he did–should have left as soon as he realized what was happening. But that didn't stop him then and it didn't stop him now as he lingered behind for an extra moment, watching you fix your clothes back into place.

The edge of your desire was finally sated. For now, at least. With a satisfied sigh you smiled and tilted your head, looking down at your lover while he whispered something to you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

That's when you saw him. What? No… it couldn't be! The shadow of the prince just there! Just behind that book shelf.

Aemond side stepped and ducked slightly. Shit shit shit. But it was too late.

“I think I saw someone,” you gasped with an excited warble to your tone.

Whatever else you said, or whatever your reaction might have been, would remain a mystery. That's all Aemond heard before slipping out of the main doorway–the door's squeak the only evidence that anyone else had been in the library.

As much as Aemond wanted to see you during the morning meal, he didn't want to risk it. Would you squirm in your seat beneath his gaze, or would he beneath yours?

Once finished, he exerted himself in the training yard–the image of your blissed out face and bouncing tits still seared onto his mind.

Fuck.

How long were you visiting the Red Keep? Surely Aemond would go mad before long.

After training and before lunch, the prince found himself loitering along a balcony that faced the gardens. It was a quiet spot, one not often frequented, and it served as a perfect place for him to relax and collect his thoughts after training. It proved to be an uneventful rest until a glimmer of golden hair and red breezy gown caught his attention from below.

You.

He stared, watching like a hawk from above. You were on the arm of the same man from last night. Based on his attire Aemond recognized him to be one of the Lannister servants.

Pathetic. The man was a servant. Not a husband, or betrothed, or even someone worth your name. You were a loose wanton thing. Licentious. Aemond watched you drag your male servant off the main pathway until you were out of sight.

And then, on a jolt of lust filled curiosity, he grabbed a nearby spyglass and looked for you again.

A few minutes passed before he saw you through the reflective lens. And when he did the front of his pants immediately became tighter.

Hidden amongst the garden's layout you and your secret lover kissed and touched and pressed together. He saw your mouths move with words he wished he could hear. You were light and playful and eager. Fuck–so eager.

Aemond watched as you sunk down to your knees and pulled his cock out. You took it in your mouth over and over, again and again, like you’d wanted nothing more than to have him in your throat.

Did you enjoy this more, you pretty little whore? Or did your red headed lover?

Aemond's need screamed for friction–for anything–but he remained painfully hard and untouched as he watched, not wanting to miss a single second.

Time ticked by so slowly, so quickly, and before long Aemond saw you swallow, smiling up at your lover as he tucked his spent, softening cock back into his pants. You turned your head, then, looking along the balconies, and Aemond barely had time to step out of sight.

You saw his silver hair and the reflective glare of his spyglass in the late morning sun.

The prince wasn’t half as sly as he thought.

You barely spoke to Viserys’ second-son–barely knew him–yet it did little to stifle the lust drowning your blood.

Two days had passed before Aemond caught you for a third time. Duties kept him busy and he wasn’t able to stalk around the castle after you.

The first time he stumbled across you had been a complete accident. So had the second time. Well… mostly. If he hadn’t caught sight of you entering the gardens he wouldn’t have begun spying on you from the balcony.

The third time, however? He hoped for it.

Might have even prayed for it.

Watching from within the safety of a slim corridor behind the room’s main wall, Aemond peeked through a series of small holes specifically made for spying; servants and their incessant prying. You were sitting in a chair with your legs draped over each arm. Your male servant knelt between your spread legs and feasted on your cunt. His soft groans and slurps, combined with all of your sweet gasps and moans, made the sounds of Aemond freely stroking his cock nearly non-existent.

It was too much. Too fucking much.

You were too perfect. Putting on a show for him and everything. He knew you liked being watched. Why else would you be taunting him, luring him, snaring him in your lewd traps time and time again?

The man slipped his fingers into you while staying on your clit, and the way you tugged at his hair sent Aemond biting down on his lip.

“So sexy like this,” the ginger’s raspy voice rumbled up at you. “So sweet and tight.”

You sighed and giggled, turning his face back against you. “I'm not done. Keep going,” you said, sultry.

He did and you lost yourself.

But before you could finish he asked, “shall I wear an eyepatch next time? Lean into your little fantasy with the prince?”

“Gods, yes.”

He worked you with fingers and tongue again, pushing you to the edge of pleasure. “Say his name. No one is around to hear. The one eyed prince here, right now, eating your sweet cunt.”

You squeezed both hands in his hair and came undone; a tiny, shuddered, “Aemond..!” escaped your lips at the peak of your climax.

Aemond's cock pulsed mightily in the choke of his hand; streaks of his seed dripped down the finished wooden wall. He had to have you.

It was the hour of the owl when Aemond prowled into your chamber. You looked peaceful sleeping, so pretty.

He stood at the side of your bed, head tilted slightly as he looked down at you replaying all the visions of you in his head over again. The backs of his fingers traced along the slope of your face; silken. He dipped lower, sliding down the curve of your neck and across your exposed collarbone. You didn't yet stir and so he slid lower. The swell of your breasts were wonderfully soft beneath your thin shift; nipples peaked beneath.

You teased him even in slumber.

He gently squeezed the mound–testing the suppleness of your body–and reveled in the sensation. With curious delight he pinched the bud and smirked when a small sound hummed between your lips. He did it again. Harder. Your nipples pebbled tighter and saliva built in Aemond's mouth.

That made you stir. Your eyelids trembled over your eyes as if you'd startle awake.

Aemond's hand sunk beneath your blanket and whispered up your smooth thigh. Within the span of a few breaths he found the waist of your smallclothes and tugged the ribbons open. His heartbeat thundered. He couldn’t help it. He had to know. Grazing his fingers lower, still, he ghosted over that delicate space between your thighs. You were warm through the thin cloth of your smallclothes. Insanity threatened to take him over.

Again, you stirred. And this time your eyes fluttered open. Those pretty pools widened and for a moment you couldn’t tell if you were still dreaming, or if this was truly happening.

Prince Aemond. In your room. How did he get in? You’d lusted for him since arriving. Now, here he was; perhaps the Gods indeed answered prayers.

“Shh,” he hushed, fingers lifting to his lips to shush you further; a smirk visible at the corners of his mouth. “Why pretend when you can have the real thing, lady Lannister?”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond imagine

300 notes · View notes

cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

1K notes · View notes

1-800fandomqueen · 5 months

Text

Primae Noctis

King Viserys x fem!AFAB!reader (OC)

WC : 3.6K

SW : Reader is given a name to make my life easier, however there is no usage of "Y/N," and physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and up to interpretation. PWP, Jason Lannister is an inadvertent cuck, oral, both m! and f! receiving, unprotected PiV, creampie, breeding kink, - you can't tell me that vizzy t doesn't have one -

If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is the first installation out of a few others, I'll be doing Aemond, Aegon, Daemon, and possibly other hotd characters.

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

“Droit Du Seigneur,” which translates to “right of the lord,” is a mediaeval practice that’s also known as Primae Noctis, and it refers to the assumed legal right of feudal lords and kings to deflower and bed subordinate women on their wedding night, instead of new their husbands.

“Presenting Lady Braella of House Kneight, to King Viserys of House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The boisterous voice of the Kingsguard calls out, opening the door for you into King Viserys’ chambers. You’re still in your wedding dress, a beautiful garment of a light cream colour with gold embellishments, it looks surprisingly opulent and fit for a member of royalty considering that your family is poor, and had little money to get it made.

You stand with your hands clasped in front of you, gaze lingering on your shoes as Viserys quietly dismisses the guard, “Thank you, Sir Erryk,” a slight chuckle in his voice, “That will be all.” The heavy door closes with a resounding thud, leaving you alone with the King of the Kingdoms. “Good evening, Lady Braella, would you like to take a seat?” An arm covered in black fabric that’s trimmed with red lifts up and gestures towards two seats that are directly in front of an ornate fireplace that burns softly, on the left side of the room. On the right, lies the sculpture of Old Valyria that the King seems to have worked endlessly on.

You give a polite nod, finally lifting your head up to take in your surroundings. There’s a desk next to the chair, endless amounts of books stacked up on the surface and the area around it, various half-melted candles littered throughout the room, basking the room into a very light golden glow, but still leaving it rather dark. In the next area of the high-arched chambers is a bench seat in front of the window, a chaise lounge, another softly glowing fireplace, and finally the Kings’ bed, a plush looking thing with a dark oak four-poster frame, and soft looking red and gold sheets.

‘It’s a good thing that the bed appears soft,’ you think, ‘considering I’ll be laid across it later.’

The thought causes you to blush, and you can feel the heat rushing to your face. Gently sweeping your dress underneath yourself as you take a seat, hands coming back up to clasp in your lap. The king looks at you with a soft smile on his face, and a knowing look in his eye. “Could I offer you a cup, Lady Kneight? Possibly for the nerves?” already reaching for the pitcher of wine and one of the goblets next to it, “Yes thank you, my King, and unfortunately it is no longer to be Lady Kneight, but Lady Lannister, my Lord.” Reaching out to accept the cup offered to you, nearly downing half of it in one gulp. “But you are not yet married, and until you perform your nuptials and Jason Lannister beds you, you are still Lady Kneight.”

Remaining silent, you continue to take generous sips of wine, feeling down at the reminder that you are to marry a man that does not love you. You come from a small farming isle, your father is the most wealthy and successful farmer on the Island, and all the other citizens declared him Lord and representative because of this, but in terms of King’s Landing, in the eyes of the King himself, you were to be considered very poor and impoverished. The only reason Lord Lannister asked, or more so demanded, for your hand was to try and obtain the Isle for himself. Your father was very old, you were the last attempt out of a long line of failure and loss, and unfortunately the years of strain had already caused irreversible damage, and your mother died shortly after you were born. Lord Lannister believed that once your father died he could then possess the largest farming plot, and then after that, the whole town. You can feel the overwhelming sadness, the future ahead of you is dim; a long life of being the broodmare for some proud lion who will show you no love, no kindness, and will expect you to sit by quietly while he continues to indulge in women, cups, and chase after power.

You feel a warm calloused hand place itself softly upon your own that are still clasped in your lap. You tear your eyes away from the random spot that they had focused on upon the wall, turning to face the King you find that he has this melancholy look upon his face. “As you know, I lost my wife, Aemma, and my son Baelon, not long ago. The council has been demanding of me to remarry, to take a new bride for the prosperity of the kingdom and the propagation of the Targaryen line.” His eyes have begun to drift away from yours, the death of his wife and child weigh heavily upon his mind still. You’re suddenly filled with doubt, you shouldn’t be here, not so close to the death of his wife, it’s rather selfish of you, you think, even though it’s the law that you be here.

“Even though I am one for tradition,” He carries on, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across your knuckles. “I must say, the notion of arranged marriages is not one of my favourites. At least luck was in my favour with my marriage, I had known Aemma almost all my life, I was familiar with her, which made everything much easier. However I offer you my commiserations, to be forced to marry someone of whom you hold no knowledge or familiarity with. And if you’ll allow me to speak freely my Lady, I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck with such an excuse of a man as the Bastard of Casterly Rock.”

You feel your eyes widen as you choke on the sip of wine you had just taken. The King was allowed to speak freely of course, he is the King after all, but you didn’t expect such crass and crude honesty from him, especially towards someone who consistently supported and pledged fealty to the King, whether out of cowardice or not. He makes a shocked face as you begin to cough, sliding to the edge of his chair to reach out his left hand and place it on your back in a comforting manner. He doesn’t remove his hand from your own or your back even after you’ve regained control of your breathing and ceased coughing.

The room is silent for the next few moments as the two of you look at one another. The King has a soft smile on his face as the two of you resume your conversation, you find that speaking to him is actually rather easy, considering the fact that he’s the King. You speak on everything from your parents to the model of Old Valyria that he’s constructing, a large and eager smile overtaking his face when you ask him about the subject. Eventually after a few more cups of wine on both your parts, the mood of the air shifts, more tension arising between the two of you.

The King slides off his seat, placing his cup back on the small table before reaching a hand out for your own. “Thank you my King,” placing it in his hand, “There’s no need for formalities, my Lady, you may call me Viserys.” now reaching his hand out for your own to help you from your seat. “Of course, Viserys, and you may call me Braella, if it suits you.” The two of you stand facing each other, just a hair's-breadth away from being chest to chest, The room is feeling very hot, but as much as you’d like to blame it on the two fires that circulate the air, you know it’s because of your close proximity to Viserys and the knowledge of what comes next.

He brings a hand up to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. The heat that emanates from his skin floods your senses, his skin rough yet soft at the same time, providing a certain comfort. Parting your lips as your eyes flutter, the air moves around you and grows warmer before a pair of lips slot against your own. Letting out a soft sound as you press your lips more intently against his own, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, your nails no doubt digging through his shirt to his skin. Viserys’ other hand comes up to cradle your face as well, pressing a little harder into your skin as the two of you fervently kiss.

When you break the kiss, he begins to guide you towards his bed, still slightly panting for breath. He guides you until you stand at the edge of the bed, “May I?” hand gently caressing your back. Nodding your head gently, Viserys begins to undo the laces of your dress while still maintaining eye contact with you. His fingers are quick yet nimble as they loosen the strings, and soon your dress is sliding down your shoulders, leaving you in nothing, as you had removed your smallclothes earlier. He raises a brow at this, “Ready are we?” gently teasing you, offering you a hand so you can step out of your dress. You giggle, more heat coming to the surface of your face. You ignore his comment and instead begin to undo the fastenings of his shirt, going through the clasps as quickly as you can.

He shrugs off the shirt as you glide your hands featherlight down his chest. As you drag your hands down you also begin to slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, as your hands reach his breeches you gently palm the bulge that sits there. Viserys throws his head back with an audible moan that echoes lightly across the empty stone walls, eyelids slipping closed, his hands slightly clenching at his sides. You untie the laces and reach a hand in to grab his cock, one of his hands immediately comes up to loosely rest on the back of your neck, you lower his breeches just enough to pull his cock out, watching as it gently bounces up. Viserys is well endowed, it’s a good length and your fingers just barely wrap all the way around, the tip is pink and glistening in precum.

Glancing up at him to find that he’s already looking at you, mouth parted and pupils blown. You realise that he’s waiting for you to do something, but you’re not exactly sure how to do it. You suddenly grow very nervous, eyes darting away from his own, he seems to notice this, bringing up the one hand that isn’t on the back of your neck to encircle your own, he tightens his grip and subsequently your own, before moving your hand up and down his length. He groans and speeds it up a little more, moving your hand to stroke over the head, collecting the precum on your palm to spread it and make the glide of your hand easier. “Oh, keep going.” words breathed out, continuously letting out groans as he lets go of your own hand to let you take over completely.

You keep going for a while, slowly tightening your grip and speeding up which gives you a steady stream of moans from Viserys, until you remember something some of the married women told you about; how men found a woman using her mouth pleasurable. You toss a quick glance upwards towards Viserys before leaning forward and licking the tip of his dick. He gasps loudly, the hand resting upon the back of your neck moves to card through your hair, gripping it tightly. You do it once more in hopes of getting the same reaction from him, doing it again and again, then you take the tip into your mouth, gently sucking. Viserys thrusts his hips forward a little, “Keep going Braella,” his breathing picking up, “Keep going.” He keeps giving little thrusts as you take him further and further into your mouth.

Eventually he gets closer and closer to the edge, quietly murmuring the words “Stop, stop,” as he pulls out of your mouth, his cock throbbing. He gestures a hand towards the pillows, “Get on the bed.” before he works to pull his breeches all the way off. You lay on the bed, slightly propped up by the pillows, watching as he climbs onto the bed, laying slightly on his stomach before grabbing both of your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, gripping your hips and pulling you towards his mouth, immediately beginning his ravishing. You let out a loud cry, hands going down to his head, grabbing his hair. Viserys licks and sucks on your clit, with various licks downwards to collect more slick, moaning out between ravenous slurps, the vibrations causing you to moan out and grind your hips against his face. He moves his mouth down to your opening, tongue prodding around to stretch you out as his nose now rests against the bundle of nerves. Pushing his tongue in and out as he periodically shakes his head from side to side, providing stimulation to both areas that makes you squirm around on the bed.

The pressure builds up in your lower abdomen, warmth building deep in your bones. Viserys moves his mouth back up to suck on your clit at the same time he pushes two fingers into your hole, quirking them up straight into a spot that makes your head spin and sends you immediately into your peak. You let out moan after moan, not caring how loud you’re being and who could hear you. Your hands are still clenching in his hair, pulling on it and you’re bucking your hips up and down without abandon only for Viserys’ arm to come up and hold you down, his other hand still working you to completion. You squirm around as pleasure turns into overstimulation, moans turning into whines and gasps.

“Oh- Viserys please! Viserys please, it’s-it’s too much!” He looks up at you, mouth still attached to your centre. His eyes crinkle at the corners as you feel his lips quirk around the edges before he doubles down, still working you through it, as the first peak melds into a second one. It’s a blinding pleasure, and you lose feeling of your limbs for a moment, slightly twitching and convulsing, riding your high.

The second you come down you feel Viserys remove his mouth and fingers before he immediately slides his way up the bed, moving your legs from his shoulders to around his waist. There’s not even a moment for you to catch your breath before he’s pushing the fat head of his cock into you, the both of you letting out moans as Viserys slides in slowly, pausing as he reaches your maidenhead. He leans down towards you, lips slotting over your own, spreading the taste of you. One hand goes to cradle the side of your head while the other works its way under your back, pulling you flush against him. You worm your arms up, placing one around his neck and the other into his hair. Pulling his mouth away from your own he gives you a reassuring smile, the hand cradling your face thumbing against your lips. “I’ll be gentle, Braella, as gentle as possible. Are you ready?” offering him an enthusiastic nod at his question, lifting your head up to press your lips back to his own as he begins to move. He thrusts forward gently, continuing to push as he meets the resistance of your maidenhead, soothing your painful whimpers with a stroke of his thumb on your cheek and deepening the kiss. Viserys pushes until the painful pressure suddenly snaps, the pain dissolving into gentle pulses as he finally pushes all the way in.

Viserys stills for a few moments, allowing you a little time to recover, then he pulls almost all the way out, the head of his cock still pressed snuggly inside, before thrusting back in. He immediately begins a steady pace, letting out a groan everytime he pushes in. He breaks the deep kiss that the two of you were in before trailing his kisses down your neck, sucking spots into the tender flesh. He works his way down to your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently before blowing cold air on it, causing you to cry out. Switching to the other side to continue the ministrations.

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, lips slick and shiny with spit as he looks at you with dazed eyes, speeding up his thrusts. “I offer my apologies, Lady Braella, there’s no way that the Proud Lion would ever be able to make you feel this way. He’ll make for a pathetic excuse of a husband, and an even more pathetic lover.” You’re barely paying attention to the words he’s saying, the faster his thrusting grows, and the harder his pelvis hits against your own, the more lost you find yourself becoming. “Maybe I’ll spare you from such a fate, hmm? Keep you in my bed, keeping it warm, giving me heirs-” you let out a small whimper, clenching around him tightly. “Oh do you like that idea? The idea of me making you mine, of keeping you full of my seed? Warm and swollen with my child-” His words stuttering off with a groan.

The hand that rests against your face goes down to hold onto your hip, using it to pull you down on his thrusts. The change in angle causes him to hit something that makes white sparks shoot behind your eyes, letting out a loud moan. You begin moving your hips with each of his thrusts, letting the tip of his dick pummel against the spongy spot inside you. “Viserys please, please, I wanna, I have to-” Feeling the pressure build up quicker and quicker, you move your arms down to his back, nails digging half-crescents into his skin. “Go ahead, let go for me.”

It builds, and builds, and then it snaps. You scream out, loud enough for half of the Red Keep to hear you, maybe even loud enough for your soon-to-be-husband and the rest of the wedding party who are waiting in the chapel for you to finish so that way you can begin the ceremony and thusly be locked away in Casterly Rock for the rest of your life.

You can feel yourself clenching and pulsing around Viserys, he lets out moans that rival the audibility of your own, his hips stuttering, pace becoming uncoordinated. He pushes his hips flush to your own, dick twitching as he fills you with rope after rope of cum, it goes deep, and the heat from it makes you moan out. He does a last few little thrusts before pulling out, Viserys presses his hands to the insides of your thighs, holding them apart slightly so he can watch his spend slowly drip out of you, before scooping it up with a finger and pushing it back inside of you. You squirm to the side, too overstimulated for anymore, but too tired to really move away from him. The both of you pant for breath as Viserys removes your legs from where they hang over his hips still, allowing you to stretch them out, he then pulls you onto your side before laying down as well, facing you.

You lay in silence for a moment, looking at the content smile upon Viserys’ face. Reaching a hand up, you push wisps of his recognizably Targaryen white hair out of his eyes and away from his face. He pulls you closer, letting out a contented hum as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck you close your eyes, the both of you basking in the afterglow and taking the time to collect your breath, you feel yourself slowly slipping asleep, finding the utmost comfort in the bed of the King.

After a few moments Viserys sits up, gently laying you back on the pillow and pulling the downturned covers over your body as the fires in the room had gone out sometime during your bedding, and now a chill was bouncing off the stone walls of the chambers. Before you can sleepily mutter out your confusion Viserys offers you a gentle shush, murmuring out a quiet “give me a moment.” as he stands to put on a pair of loose linen breeches and a billowy shirt, throwing a long red robe overtop of them.

He leans down to bestow you with a small kiss, giving you a cheeky smile as he stands back up to his full height.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Lady Braella, I must inform Jason Lannister that he will no longer be getting married.”

Originally posted June 4th, 2023.

#king viserys #King Viserys I #Viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd x reader

196 notes · View notes

sayafics · 5 months

Text

Envious cravings - Part 2

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter!

Unfortunately, this chapter was so long I had to split it into 2 parts, so Part 3 will be up soon, I promise!

That also means Part 2 does not contain smut. However, I promise lots of lovely Criston x OC, Daemon x OC, and smut moments in part 3 ❤️

Part 1

Masterlist

The days had passed by slowly, a treacherous peace imbued in the air of the Keep as the Blacks and the Greens existed in peace.

That did not stop Visenya's mind from racing every passing second, did not stop her from hesitating with every word and every breath - fearful she would say something wrong, do something wrong. Terrified she would anger her uncle, and he would expose her dalliances to all the Court, for them to mock and humiliate her.

She had thought distancing herself from her dearest Knight would help, but it only caused an ache to fester in her heart as she ran into his arms in the shadows of her chambers only days later. She blubbered and whimpered in his safe embrace, unable to speak of the secret Daemon held over them both.

No. If she was to tell him Daemon knew, Criston would wreak havoc - he would go on a rampage and hurt everyone in his path to get to Daemon.

Or perhaps he would leave her all together and choose his white cloak over her love.

No. She did not want such a possibility to be in question.

Criston could not know.

He couldn't.

Visenya spent countless nights praying whilst Criston dozed upon her bare chest. She traced shapes across his back and massaged his scalp as fervent pleas and frenzied whispers passed her lips.

She prayed this would pass and that Daemon would forget. She prayed the Blacks would leave the Keep and return to Dragonstone.

She prayed and prayed and prayed.

It seemed that the Seven had not been as attentive as she'd hoped - for it was only mere days later a rumble of excitement danced through the Keep.

A wedding, her handmaidens spoke.

A Lord from House Lannister, the knights muttered amongst themselves.

Lord Jason Lannister, it was announced in the Small Hall that night, had been offered the hand of a Targaryen Princess at King Viserys' behest.

But Rhaenyra was wed with children, and so was Helaena.

Oh.

Dread settled in the pit of Visenya's stomach at the news, her face pale and hands trembling.

From his place behind her seat, standing tall and proud, Criston ground his teeth in a bid to prevent slurs and seething protests from escaping his lips.

Lord Jason Lannister was a hunter and a warrior, a man far too proud and arrogant of his accomplishments and his family name.

A man much too old that had once proposed to Rhaenyra only to be turned away - a man that was ancient in comparison to a Princess as young as Visenya, but of course the rotting corpse of Viserys Targaryen saw no such discourse in such a match, with his child-bride Queen at his side.

Viserys announced that the betrothal was to take place the next day, staring at his daughter with a stubborn smile even as his flesh peeled away. Visenya could only nod as nausea bit at her throat, so quick she had been handed away. So fast she would be sent away.

Tomorrow, he had said.

Tomorrow, and she would no longer see her brothers and sister.

Tomorrow, and she would have to leave her mother.

Tomorrow, and she would no longer be Criston's.

One day, he had said. But it seems he was far too late now.

Visenya had cried herself to sleep that day, tiring herself out after she berated her Shield, after she begged him and pleaded with him, after she pushed him and yelled at him, after she told him to leave and begged him to stay.

Criston was ready to ask her to elope, for them to run away in a manner that he had asked Rhaenyra once. But he knew she would refuse, just as her half-sister did.

Criston had asked Rhaenyra as a saving grace for his shattered vows, to restore his honour and keep the fraying threads of his life together.

Rhaenyra denied him in favour of her riches and her crown.

But Visenya? He would ask her out of love, out of undying devotion and utter adoration.

But Visenya would stay out of loyalty to the Greens, terrified to leave them to be torn and ravaged by the Blacks.

She could not leave Aegon, her dearest twin. Could not leave him to be burdened by a throne he did not want.

She was older than Aegon, but Aegon was a boy - thus, the responsibility of claiming the crown as its rightful heir bypassed her and fell upon her breaking brother's shoulders.

Visenya could not leave him to bear such a weight alone - she was too loving, too kind, too caring. So Criston knew he could not ask such a sacrifice of her, knew she would not be able to bear the distance between herself and her brother. He knew she would not say yes - not to this.

***

"Are you ready, Princess?"

Criston's words were sombre from behind the doors, his throat tight as he waited for a reply.

Visenya stared at her reflection in the mirror - eyes flitting across her dusted cheeks, the rubies that weighed upon her throat like droplets of dragon's blood, the thick and velvety crimson of her gown that seemed to darken in contrast to her pale hair that was let loose down her back with three intricate braids meeting at the back in a poor reflection of a crown.

Her eyes burned at the sight - today would be the day she lost Criston forever. Jason Lannister would be welcomed to the Court with open arms, and use her as a brooding-mare in exchange.

"Princess?"

Still no word. Terrified her voice would break as she called out to her knight, she made her way to the doors instead.

Her hands trembled as she creaked the door open, just enough for Criston to peak inside. His shoulders fell with visible relief at the sight of her, knowing she was alive and breathing, even if she was not happy.

He could not help himself as he marvelled upon the sight of her, eyes roving over her figure as his breath caught in his throat and he heated within his armour.

He coughed harshly, aware of the eyes of the King's Guards beside him as they waited for him to usher the Princess out so they could escort her to the banqueting hall safely - "Princess," he looked crestfallen now, as though the words he was about to say had shattered something within him, "it is time."

Visenya took a shaky breath, nodding softly as her hands came to fidget with her hair - "you look beautiful."

Criston's softened whisper caused tears to well in her eyes, her throat ached as her chest weighed heavy - would this be the last she heard of his sweet words?

Even if Lord Lannister had decided to live in the Keep, which was unlikely in itself, he would not let another man breathe near her - a virgin princess was far too good of an opportunity to lose to another.

A bitter tang tasted upon her tongue, all this hassle and all this hurt simply because she was a virgin.

Visenya looked towards the ground, trying to hide her flaming cheeks from any onlookers as she smiled faintly at Criston's words.

"Come. The Queen is waiting outside the hall for us."

Us.

Oh, how she wishes it was Criston she was to wed tonight. How she wishes it was him her father had said yes to. How she wishes it would be him who fathers her children. Him who brought her desires to life. Him who loved her and cared for her and adored her.

Visenya stayed quiet, unwilling to speak, knowing she would do nothing but break. She simply nodded at the man, her eyes waning with terror as she stepped back from the door so he could push them open further.

Criston could have fallen to his knees at the sight - perhaps he would have, did they not have witnesses as of this moment.

But he knew better - he recalled his vows and prayed fervently to the Seven to help him stay bound to them.

He held out his arm for the Princess to take, guiding her towards her fate with a withering heart and a miserable soul.

***

The Queen dismissed the King's Guards with a scattered wave, walking slowly towards her daughter and Ser Cole - there was a grave look upon her face, as though she was staring into a reflection as she gazed upon her daughter.

Alicent had worn white at her wedding, a symbol of her purity and her intact maidenhead.

Visenya wore red, bathed in blood as though she was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to a ravenous beast.

Gone was the dragon. In its place remained a girl, so young and so unprepared, she was not sure how to say no anymore. Unsure of how to beg for what she wanted, who she wanted.

Criston could not complain. He had kept quiet just the same - he held a scrap of hope that despite her marriage to the Lord of House Lannister, the King would ensure Criston continued to protect the Princess and stayed at her side.

It was that dwindling ounce of hope that had him bite back his tongue, fearful of saying a word lest it mean he was to remain in the Keep whilst she was shipped away.

Alicent's smile wobbled at the sight of her daughter, so beautiful and so brave, her eyes watering as she cupped her face in her hands - "you look so beautiful, my sweet child."

Visenya leaned into her hold, eyes closing tight to stop tears from leaking down her face. Still she didn't speak a word.

Alicent placed a soft kiss upon her head, and the arm that was wound around Criston's tightened - "come, my dear girl. The King is waiting."

Alicent turned towards the lumbering doors, the post empty as Alicent hoped for a moment of privacy with her daughter - she was not sure why. Perhaps it was to see if she truly wanted this - Alicent was sure she didn't.

But even then, to deny would make no difference as Alicent had lost her power in Court the day Viserys had chosen Rhaenyra over Aemond.

Alicent's hand reached towards the doors to rap her knuckles against it and call to the knights to part them open. Instead, a gasping breath caught her attention.

"Princess!" Criston watched her in alarm - Visenya had only taken a few stumbled steps towards her mother before she had stopped, taking one gasp full of air before another.

A hand came and pounded upon her chest, the first words she had spoken all day came crashing out in an agonised whimper, "I cannot breathe."

Alicent rushed back in a flurry, pulling her daughter from Criston's grasp to hold onto her shoulders firm, "Visenya, you must calm down."

"No, n-... no, cannot breathe. Please, mother."

Her skin flushed red as the tears flowed endlessly - no, she could not do this, she couldn't.

Not when she knew she didn't love the Lannister Lord. Not when she knew the man she did love stood only a mere few inches away.

Alicent was at a loss of what to do, her heart aching at the sight of her child in such a state of fear and panic, "my child. My sweet girl, I need you to breathe. Take slow breaths for me."

Visenya only shook her head vigorously, her breaths coming out fast and shallow as her skin began to blanch under the wobbling lights of the flamed torches that set the Keep alight.

Criston found he could not watch any longer, hands moving on their own accord to gather the girl in his arms and pull her close.

Alicent's hands fell to her side as she watched the scene in confusion, brows furrowing, and her heart sinking as she watched Ser Cole cup her daughter's face in his hands, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

His eyes were soft, they were quiet and warm as they met lavendar hues pooled with dread and misery. Visenya's harsh breaths felt hot against his skin, and he found his eyes flitting between her panicked ones and parted lips with worry.

"Breathe, Visenya."

Her name was a quiet whisper upon his lips, as though he wanted to savour the taste of it upon his tongue, as though he did not want others to hear the precious name and repeat it to undeserving ears.

Visenya trembled in his grasp, her hands leaving her chest as she wound them around his wrists and closed her eyes tight. Her head shook minutely, her breaths now ragged gasps as she lost herself in her tumbling thoughts.

She felt something soft brush against her head, her eyes opening just in time to see Criston press his head against her own as his hands pulled her closer to him.

"Come on, love," he pulled her hands towards his chest, exaggerated breaths leaving him as he looked into her eyes and through her soul, "breathe with me."

Visenya leaned into his presence, trying so hard to copy every breath and every movement. Trying so hard to stop her trembling hands and stand on steady feet.

Alicent watched their kinship with a heart of dread - her daughter was in love with her knight, a realisation which made Alicent fester with guilt, knowing she could not stop Visenya's undeniable future.

The girl would have to marry, and it would be to a Lord not to a Knight.

It would be to Jason Lannister and not Criston.

The minutes ticked by, but Visenya's tears slowly dried as she composed herself. Her hands never left Criston's plated chest, and his hands never slipped away from her twitching grasp.

She pulled herself back to stand taller, her face flushed red from the tears and panic but also from embarrassment. To have broken so quickly and openly, Visenya almost felt ashamed to meet her mother's gaze.

She could hear Alicent's approaching steps, and every whisper in her head became a blaring scream to let Criston go, lest her mother grow angry at the betrayal the knight had committed. But there was an incessant part of her, frail and timid, that could not bear to part from him so soon.

A weightless hand pressed against her cheek, and Visenya's eyes fluttered closed at her mother's voice - relief flushing through her body.

"Come, my child."

The three simple words had Criston relaxing under Visenya's touch, unsure of why the Queen had not acknowledged his closeness to the Princess and punished him, but far too grateful to question such a thing aloud.

It was Criston who stepped away now, eyes falling to the ground in submission to the vows he made that continued to loom over him.

Visenya's hands fell to her sides, fingers twisting in the soft fabric of her gown as she nodded in dissent, a grim smile upon her face.

***

The banquet was flourishing, Courtiers and Lords, Ladies-in-waiting and maids, even the knights were participating in the festivities. All except a sour-faced Shield who stood behind the Queen on guard, watching the Princess grimace as Lord Lannister spun her around the hall in a graceless frenzy.

Criston gritted his teeth at the sight of Lannister's wandering hands and sly whispers, he stood straight as his eyes lay fixed upon the Princess instead of attending to his duties and guarding the Queen from potential harm.

Daemon watched the seething and rageful knight from his place at the table, Rhaenyra at his side with his hand clasped between two of her own and placed upon her swollen belly. Daemon's lips quirked into a shrewd smile as he watched Criston's hands clench into fists when Lannister dipped the Princess low to the ground and shamelessly gazed down the valley of her breasts.

He gave Rhaenyra's hand a light squeeze, pulling his hand from her tightening grip to saunter his way to the Knight. He reached for a goblet, before thinking twice and reaching for another - the good Ser would need a drink, was he to watch his lover be pawed at by a man he envied.

The wedding would take place soon, the dreadful pair would exchange their vows, and their marriage would be sealed in the eyes of the Kingdom. And then, it did not matter how much Ser Cole glared and sputtered, for the Princess would no longer be his to claim.

Daemon could have almost laughed at the idea of a heartbroken Criston wandering through the halls of the Keep, so lonely and miserable.

But there was a part of his mind that blinked back to the night he had caught the pair in the throws of passion, remembers how he touched himself to the sound of her sighs and climaxed at the sight of her pleasure. He remembers her pliant body and her rasped moans.

Daemon had kept the secret to himself, so sure an opportunity would present itself to him where he could wring the sin for all its worth and bathe in the rewards of keeping such a twisted secret.

But following Criston's raging gaze to find the Princess still trapped in the wily arms of an undeserving Lord, Daemon felt a scratch of envy wedge itself in his throat - a bitter and burning sensation that spread through him, causing him to look away and pretend as though he had felt nothing at all.

Criston had not taken her maidenhead, and if she were to wed tonight, it seemed Jason Lannister would stake his claims upon it instead.

Daemon drew close to the man and stood with his back against the wall, taking careful sips from his goblet as he held the spare out to his left.

He tutted when Criston did not acknowledge him, a wretched smirk pulling across his face as he goaded - "one drink shall do you no harm, good Ser. Perhaps then you can stray your gaze from my little niece."

Criston stiffened at his words, shoulders straightening as his glare shifted from Lannister's cooing over the girl to the ground beneath his boots - "I am merely exercising caution, my Prince."

"Ah, of course. A brave knight indeed."

Criston could hear the mocking tone beneath his words, but he held his tongue so careful to draw attention to their conversation.

"Take it."

Criston simply turned to look at Daemon, a blank stare upon his face.

"As your Prince, I believe you are obliged to indulge me."

A mocking grin broke out on Daemon's face as Criston nodded his head with a clenched jaw and snatched the goblet from his outstretched hand, "of course, my Prince."

"Good. Drink your fill, I believe my niece will not be needing your keen attention tonight."

Criston made no move to drink from the goblet, his hands wrapping tight around it as his knuckles blanched at the force.

"After all," Daemon continued, a lecherous lilt to his voice as his eyes swam with amusement, "my darling niece shall no longer be a virgin tonight."

Criston held his tongue still, breaths escaping him in ragged breaths like smoke from a dragon before it roared its burning flames. He threw back the goblet with a mighty force, dismissing Alicent's wary glances that she threw over her shoulder at the unexpected pair.

Criston gritted his teeth, expecting flavoured wine in place of the sour ale that burned in his throat.

Daemon gestured for another drink to be brought, this one stronger than the last and Criston threw it back with an ease that should not be found in a man who had taken such sanctimonious vows - but he had already broke one, what harm would another do?

"Do you think she is excited?" There was a touch of laughter to Daemon's words, crazed by the idea of pushing the Knight further off the edge with every word despite how bitter the words sat upon his tongue, an added fuel to his own envious cravings.

"Do you think she is ravenous?" Daemon couldn't stop his words, couldn't stop pushing and prodding and hurting. "I think the brat would scream, do you not? I think she would be upon her knees begging the Lord Lannister for such-"

His words were cut off as the gobelt was shoved into his chest. He stumbled sideways at the force as a wild laugh escaped him, and his eyes followed the seething form of an unchained beast.

Criston shoved past Lords and Ladies, growled at his fellow knights who approached in question, glared at the Queen who called for him to return to her side.

His eyes were fixed now upon one place, one person.

Visenya. His Visenya. His Princess.

And upon her was a wretched leech, a venomous serpent who was undeserving of holding such an angel in his embrace.

Criston reached for the pommel of his sword, eyes blazing with the fire of a thousan suns as he cast it aside. The clang of the metal against the tiled grounds startled those around him, and their frozen figures and aghast stares were what dragged the attention of his Visenya and that vile beast beside her.

Visenya's brows furrowed in concern, a soft frown upon her lips as she tried to move closer towards him, his name a whisper upon her lips.

Lannister held her by the wrist, his grip so tight it made her whimper, and it made Criston seethe.

Before Lannister had an opportunity to pull the girl behind him and draw his sword out to cut Criston's head from his shoulders, the Knight had launched forward - a powerful blow was thrown against the Lord's face, and ever the hunter and warrior that he was, the old man collapsed to the ground with a painful groan.

Lannister had dropped Visenya's hand, and she paused for a moment where she stood. She wanted to reach out to Criston, to have him hold her and reassure her that this wedding would not go through, but a sea of eyes were upon them and whispers already began to spread.

Criston's eyes met her own, his gaze roiling with unbridled possessiveness and anger - anger that Lannister had touched her, anged that Lannister believed himself worthy of marriage to her, anger that Lannister could touch his princess all he wanted and Criston had to hesitate even in the darkest shadows of the Keep.

Criston searched her eyes, there was a breath that was long and heavy, and Visenya knew what he was searching for - she nodded.

Criston's head snapped back to the Lord, who was stumbling upon his feet as he spewed a littany of curses. Criston bared his teeth, an animalistic snarl escaping him as he lauched after the man once more.

For every blow the Lannister Lord landed, Criston would return with eight more. He disarmed the weakening warrior, and in the midst of a screaming crowd, he pulled the man to the ground and climbed atop him - he railed upon his with relentless blows, uncaring of the witnesses, of the fear because Visenya had said it was okay. Because Visenya had also wanted this.

Vinsenya watched her dear and daring knight beat the man half to death with morbid fascination - she felt as though she should be terrified, felt that she should be sickly and horrified.

But something twisted with her gut, something that had her cheeks flush as she pressed her thighs together when a familiar heat spread between her legs.

There was something arousing about his brutality, something tantalising and tempting about his possessive nature and undying fidelity.

Even as the crowd grew rowdy around her, she found she could not make her eyes leave the sight of her raging, angered knight. Of her Criston.

It was not until a hand wrapped around her forearm that she snapped out of her sinful fantasies, breath catching in her throat to meet the narrowed eyes of an amused Daemon.

He tugged the girl closer until her chest was pressed against his own, and he leaned in close, his breath hot against her cheeks, which flushed a heavy crimson - "I have to say, I did not think of him able to go this far. But, dare I say, little niece - you look ravishing. I can see why your loyal dog would risk his life to keep you to himself."

She swallowed roughly, thinking of what to say to deny his claims despite knowing Daemon had seen Criston pleasure her from his place within the walls. But then her heart stuttered to a pause, 'risk his life.'

That was what Daemon had said.

But, what did he mean by such a thing.

It was as though Daemon could see the confusion painted across her face, and he tutted with a pitying smile. Daemon's hand found her face, squeezing her cheeks roughly as she winced. He brushed her lower lip, biting his own at the sight of the reddened flesh before blinking himself free of his desires.

He twisted her head roughly, his grip unrelenting even at her startled gasp and dreadful cry - "no!"

Daemon wound his arm around her waist, anchoring her back against his chest as he freed her aching cheeks from his grasp.

Visenya watched in horror as the King's Guards tore Criston off the Lannister Lord, Otto Hightower yelling commands to have the knight taken to his chambers, to be confined within them until the time was right to call for a hearing.

He would be sentenced for such an attack - House Lannister would ensure it.

Would his title be stripped from him? Would he be sent back to the empty lands he came from? Or would he be sentenced to death?

Her heart sunk at the thought, eyes burning with tears as she saw the raging man meet her gaze with no ounce of regret and an endless river of love and promise.

Behind her, Daemon tightened his grip around the girl, a quiet shushing that calmed her despite her best efforts to ignore it.

Daemon turned the girl to face him, drawing her closer as she hid her face in his chest and allowed her fearful whimpers to escape freely. Her hands were twisted into the fabric of his fine tunic, just as his hands were tightened around her waist.

Rhaenyra watched the pair with a haze of confusion and anger, unwilling to lower her gaze even when Daemon had searched to find her still upon her seat at the table with a hand resting atop her swollen belly. But with a whimpering girl in his arms, holding onto him despite being so fearful of him, Daemon found he did not care for his wife's furious gaze.

One thing was for certain now, Daemon would not allow his darling niece to wed the House of the Lions. She was a drgaon, through and through - she would not submit to anyone but her own kind, Daemon would ensure it.

Taglist: @hangmanscoming @marihoneywk @serving-targaryen-realness @unicoreads @heartb8k2 @flirtymoonsblog @whimsicalfungi @ahristata

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc x criston cole #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #criston cole x oc #criston cole x reader #ser criston #ser criston cole #criston cole #criston cole x you #criston cole x targaryen!reader #envious cravings

221 notes · View notes