#Corlys x reader

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt

Corlys: If you’re saying I pick favorites you’re wrong! I love all my granddaughters equally!

Later

Corlys: Oh when was YN born? It was a spring morning. The air was just getting warmer and the flowers were blooming. It was like the whole world became just right on that day.

Also Corlys: When were Baela and Rhaena born?…Uh I think winter? I was probably at sea when it happened, so I’m not sure

[the-heartlines]

“Then you shouldn’t have flown here on dragonback, offering yourself up to my husband and I, like some little whore.”

anonymous requested: rhaenys x corlys x aegon's twin!reader with jealous/possessive sex ~ fem!reader [explicit / 1K] ~

warnings: slight dubcon, size difference, belly bulge, overstimulation, female ejaculation.

“My Lord Corlys–ah!” You wailed as the thick flesh of his cock stretched you out. Your cunt has never been this full before. The only one you have ever had this deep inside you, had been your twin’s. Which was a mere worm in comparison to the great Sea Snake’s. “Shh…shh…my dear.” A soft hand with long nails raked through your silver hair, trying to soothe you as a mother would a babe.

“I cannot, my lady. I feel as if I’m being torn in two.” Tears pricked your eyes as she scraped the back of your scalp in a surprising manner, then gripped your hair back harshly, her lips inches from your ear.

“Then you shouldn’t have flown here on dragonback, offering yourself up to my husband and I, like some little whore.”

She bit the shell of your ear, making you moan as her lord husband withdrew his cock from your cunt and sheathed himself furiously back inside. You clamped around him immediately, feeling a fresh wave of wetness seep from your folds, accommodating the rough strokes of his thrusts into you.

“I believe our little whore likes your torturous treatment of her, my wife.” Lord Corlys rasped above you, catching your gaze which was full of fire. “Fuck, she’s as tight as you were on our first night together. I do believe we’ll keep her here in our bedchamber under lock and key—away from that drunken rapist husband of hers.” He smirked and winked wickedly at you. You heard his lady wife laugh sinfully, sending shivers down your spine that made your clit ache with desperation.

“Would you like that, little whore? Keep you locked away from everyone, but us? No one, not even your pious mother would guess where you are. That you're nothing, but our cock whore to do with as we please?” She licked over your ear and trailed her experienced tongue down towards your nipples, wrapping her lips around the hardened tips, sucking and sending more waves of pleasure that made you whimper like a whore. “Answer my lady wife, little whore,” Lord Corlys shoved his cock to the hilt inside you and gripped your chin possessively as his wife bit your breasts lightly. The pleasure and pain was unlike anything you had ever felt, as you moaned gutturally.

A dragon awakening truly for the first time.

And you knew your answer right away—desiring—no needing this more than anything. Even more than the possibility, the promise, of becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day. What was the cold sharp steel of the Iron Throne compared to the feel of the warmth of your lord's cock deep inside, kissing your womb? Or the hot wet cavern of the Queen-Who-Never-Was’ mouth sucking your teats, trying to milk you for all that you're worth?

“Yes! Yes! Please my Lord and Lady Velaryon! I will be your whore and only your whore!” You cried out, desperation laced in your voice, begging to peak on your lord’s length. One of your lady’s fingers snaked down towards your mound and found the center of your world.

"The little whore has behaved so dutifully." The finger stilled, ghosting above your aching clit. A shameless whine escaped the back of your throat.

“I do believe our little prize deserves to have her little pearl rubbed to completion. Don’t you think so, my dear husband?” Her voice was husky, eyes full of pride as she peered down at you.

“Yesssss, my wife, I would have our little princess choke me until my seed is bursting from her womb.” He hissed, stroking into your swollen cunt roughly, once more. His lady wife answered him by starting to rub your delicate pearl harshly, back and forth hurriedly. A fresh gush of nectar dripped from your cunt, allowing him to fuck faster into you.

“Oh, fuck, Rhaenys! She's the tightest and wettest we’ve ever had,” he cursed hoarsely his words making your hips wound around him. “Good. That’s so good, my husband…and look, my lord.” She said, stunned and pointed to the center of your belly, where your lord’s cock head was very prominent against the skin. “You can see your cock deep inside her womb.” Lady Velaryon applied pressure to the bulge distended into your flesh, pressing a sharpened nail into the sensitive hood of your clit, at the same time.

You shriek animalistically, as your pleasure overcomes you, making your cunt choke and come around your lord’s cock.

“I think our little whore can come even harder, don’t you Corlys?” She continued to rub your clit, pinching it between her fingers.

“My lady, please! It’s too much! I cannot bear it! Please!” Your throat was raw from screaming so loudly, as you pleaded for her fingers to stop their onslaught of your sore clit.

“It’s okay, sweetling, you can come again, just once more.” And your lady kissed you softly, drowning out your sobs, as her tongue intertwined with yours.

“Gods, fuck, yes, good little fucking whore!” Lord Velaryon groaned, continuing to thrust into you, hitting another spot inside you; as your cunt gushed hot liquid all over him, coating him in your fluids. He grit his teeth and groaned hoarsely, mouth going slack, as he released rope after rope of Valyrian seed into your womb. “Such a good little whore.” Your lady breathed into your lips, her fingers slowed on your clit as you shakily descended down from the most powerful orgasm of your life.

The last thing you felt was your lord’s cock slip from your used and drenched cunt, as your eyes closed in exhaustion.

“My dear wife, I believe we shall have another child in nine moons. A beautiful child to replace the ones we’ve lost.”

You felt your lady stroke your hair back, a sweet hum fell from her lips, reminding you of when your mother had done the same. “I do believe, my dear husband, that our little dragon’s womb will bless us with twins if the gods will grants it.” A light kiss was placed upon your sweaty brow, “our little whore must be fucked thoroughly morning, noon, and night, if we’re to be certain.”

“That should be no issue, my lady, she is after all, very accommodating and eager…just like you were at her age.”

“I believe she’s even more of a whore than I ever was.” She laughed breathlessly, a hint of envy behind her words.

You felt her fingers pushing your lord’s spend back inside your cunt, selfishly, as you slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep; satiated and sore, but prepared for whatever your new lord and lady decided to put your body through, for the foreseeable future.

[sorcerousundries]

My baby, Your my baby say it to me

Corlys with a reader having a hard labour

Warnings: graphic depictions of birth, birth problems, spot the rhaenyra reference

A/N: take a shot every time the word babe is said

Content under the cut

Corlys paced anxiously in the corridor, his gaze fixed on the door of the birthing chamber. It had been a difficult pregnancy, one you had found far from enjoyable. He heard the blood curdling screams coming from inside the room. It made his stomach twist and churn uncomfortably.

Finally, the door swung open, causing the lord to halt his restless pacing. “How is she? What of the baby?” Corlys asked, his heart racing, before the midwife could respond, he heard your anguished cries echoing from within and, without waiting for an answer, he stepped past her and into the room.

You lay spread on the bed, your legs opened with a pool of blood drenching your legs, your nightgown and the sheets, your face covered with a sheen of sweat as the midwives and maester stand and kneel at the foot of the bed, some holding your calves reassuringly, one wiping the sweat from your face every now and then, your screams filled with pain as you cry out and clutch the bedsheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

The sight was not one he could have predicted. Corlys was struck mute at the sight of the blood and gore that had soaked all over the bed sheets and your nightgown. His eyes then fell to you writhing in the bloodied bed, wailing in such a primal manner.

The lord of the tides stumbled forward, pushing past the other women and collapsing at your bedside. He didn’t dare to touch you, he was far too stricken by the sight and sound of you writhing in anguish. “What is wrong, my love?” Corlys rasped. His mind racing with possibilities.

Your eyes open weakly as you turn your head to face him, panting with exertion “corlys..” you mutter weakly in recognition.

The sound of his name from your lips snapped Corlys from his daze. He quickly reached down to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He was quick then to take in the sweat that beaded along your forehead. A look of fear passed over his face as he felt the clammy skin, “What happened, love? What went wrong?” He asked as he brought your hand to his face, gently peppering it with kisses.

You try to speak but your face twists with pain as a pain floods your stomach, the maester speaks for you, a fat woman with a kind face “the babe is the wrong way, we have to turn it” she speaks with a sympathetic expression

The wrong way.

Fear gripped the velaryon’s heart, his face turned into a look of dread at the realization that something was seriously wrong with your labour. He did not let go of your hand, he wanted you to know he was there. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, to protect you but knew he could not so easily.

“What will happen to her?” He rasped as he looked to the fat maester that worked between your legs, preparing to turn the child into the right position.

“It is not fatal but it will be extremely painfu-“ you cut her off “just turn them” you grit ending with a groan of pain.

Corlys winced and gently squeezed your hand at the sound of your pained groan. He shifted on his knees, shifting his weight. Corlys’ eyes remained fixed upon your face, watching every twitch of pain and wince from your expression of pain as the maester worked to turn the baby. “Just breathe, love….it will be over soon,” He assured in a gentle, though quivering, voice.

Your cunt feels as though it being torn apart and set on fire as the maester stuffs her hands inside you, gripping the babe, your belly swells as the babe is turned inside you before deflating back down, your screams and wails die down as the pain settles into the constant thrum of pain in your abdomen.

The sound of your screaming filled his ears and caused a deep ache in his heart. His eyes remained glued to your face, watching as the child was slowly turned to the right position. All he wanted at that moment was to hold you, soothe you from the pain that wracked your body.

Corlys clenched your hand impossibly tight, “Hold on, love, hold on…” he encouraged in a desperate tone.

the maester smiles but a worried expression still rests on her face “the babe is in the right position my lady!, just a couple pushes and they’ll be here”

Corlys smiled in relief, “You hear that, love? They’ll be here soon, we’ll have our babe soon,” He assured in a reassuring tone. Though, there was a hint of desperation to it.

He shifted his weight onto his knees, keeping your hand tightly in his. “You can do this, love. Just….just push” Corlys urged.

a faint smile appears on your exhausted face, before it scrunches with exertion as you push, Corlys gently shifted to rest his other hand on your leg, keeping you as comfortable and supported as possible. All the while, he kept his eyes glued to your face. He took in every furrow and scrunch of your features as he silently willed you on.

“That’s it, Keep going You’re almost finished” He encouraged as you pushed. the maester smiles “halfway there my lady, just one more” you take a deep breathe and groan before a piercing cry echoes the room, your face lightens as the maester pulls a babe from between your legs and the midwives all rush to swaddle and clean the babe.

Corlys could have been rendered motionless if it weren’t for the fact that he watched every movement between your legs as you pushed. He saw the babe as it’s head began to crown and Corlys let out an exhale of air from holding his breath.

The lord of the tides watched the flurry of activity around you as the other ladies cleaned and swaddled his child. Corlys’ face remained fixed to your own, “It’s….it’s over, love. You did it…” He rasped.

the maester brings the babe to you swaddled in a navy blue patterned blanket “a boy!, My lady” she places the babe in your arms and you smile down at him “healthy?” You ask “kicking like a goat princess” the maester answers joyfully, you smile down at the cooing baby in your arms.

Corlys let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His shoulders sagged from the tension that had built within as he watched you gently hold the new babe in your arms. A healthy baby boy

Corlys slowly rose from his kneeling position on the floor, his fingers twitching to touch the child. Yet, he didn’t. Instead, he looked down at you as you held his son in your arms, a look of wonderment on his face.

You were safe, he was safe, he told himself. Looking down at his small family in his arms.

A feeling of fulfilment spread across his chest, making the corners of his lips turn up.

[witchofhimring]

HotD ✨Cat edition✨

Note: I keep seeing cat editions of characters in different fandoms. I will be stealing that idea now.😗

You had been hired to work at a cat café for some extra cash. It sounded like a brilliant idea at first. Being surrounded with adorable little furballs and making money. Great!

No.

Because you were not prepared for the evil you would have to face.

Rhaenyra:

Cat species:

Persian Longhair

Description:

Slightly chubby. Long silver fur. Wide blue eyes with luxurious eyelashes. Has an enormous bushy hair used to swat Otto her enemies. Pink nose. A very pretty kitty.

Personality:

Absolute Princess Complex. She is the most important kitty in the world and you better know that. Feeding time? Her first. Hair not perfect? You better brush it. Many a time she has swatted cats and kittens out of her way. Anything to get that kibble. Her way to get your attention is jumping onto you lap and pawing at you.

She has a more friendly side. When you first met Rhaenyra she was stand offish, looking down at the peasants humans bellow. For weeks you would see her blue eyes looming out from the darkness. At about the three week mark Rhaenyra started to come up to you. A pet here. A pet there. And then she was suddenly all over you. She is actually a very cuddly kitty once she gets to know you. When you have a bad day she will come up and settle on you lap as comfort.

Alicent:

Cat species:

Mancoon

Description:

On the smaller end of the size scale. Brownish red fur that is slightly wavy. Huge brown eyes that look into your soul. Face constantly looks like she's sad.

Personality:

Very shy. It was about two months in when you first caught sight of her. Because she is shy Alicent spends most of her time in the boss's office. She is very peculiar about touching. You have to pet her a certain way or it is bye bye. Does not like to be picked up and it is very rare for her to sit on anyone's lap. Loves personal space. Her bed is hidden away and she shares with no one, except Aemond or Helaena.

Viserys:

Cat species:

Persian longhair

Description:

Skinny with long but thin strands of hair. Has a few bald spots. Has narrow watery blue eyes. His whiskers nearly droop to the floor. Owns a stain that drags behind him as he walks.

Personality:

Sleepy. Boy likes to have his beauty sleep. He's a bit shy but not as much as Alicent. Because of his health he stays in the back room. When you have breaks he will snuggle against you and sleep. Sometimes he's a bit grumpy from the medication. Viserys is a mostly good cat. Not too naughty and enjoys being pampered.

Demon Daemon:

Cat species:

a demon Persian longhair

Description:

Thin, lanky. Narrow blue eyes. Large front paws. Tail is slightly crooked and bobs as he walks. Shinny silver fur that he is very vain about.

Personality:

That cat is evil incarnate. He will look deep into your eyes and bat away a cup of tea right onto the floor. Somehow attracts a gaggle of admirers who thinks him destroying ornate pillows adorable. You know what is also adorable? When you have to fix said pillows.

If he's not destroying property then he plays the "catch me" games. Will rub non stop against you. But the second you bend down to touch him Daemon is gone. Then when you go back to your job he is back again, the crashing of a $40 mug announcing his arrival.

Otto:

Cat species:

Mancoon

Description:

Thin hairs that stick up, crooked whiskers. Has tiny brown eyes that constantly look like they are judging you (because he is). Very thin but large.

Personality:

Unsettling. Sometimes you questioned if he even was a cat. He slinks around the room and will not let anyone touch him. Spends most of his time on a perch glairing down at the servants little people bellow. Hates Rhaenyra for whatever reason.

Laena:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Black kinky hair that is short. Small and light of her feet. Has big brown eyes and enormous ears.

Personality:

A very sweet girl. Very popular with the customers. Probably one of the few cats that doesn't start fights with the other cats. That being said she is very picky about food. Will stick her nose up at certain kibble if it is not up to her standards. Will not play with toys roughed up by other cats.

Laenor:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Curly black hair, surprisingly long for a Devon Rex. Wide brown eyes and tiny whiskers.

Personality:

Pretty friendly. He sometimes likes to follow you around. Prefers adults and will usually go up to someone when they arrive. Doesn't cause any problems.

Corlys:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

Curly and surprisingly poufy hair. Straight whiskers that never seem to bend. Large paws with sharp claws (you once tried to trim his nails and people could hear his wails across the street). Brown eyes.

Personality:

Vert stern. He acts like the general of a military base. Marches up and down the entrance, eyeing everyone who comes in. Acts as a sort of peace keeper between Otto and Daemon. He does let people pet him but will not be picked up. He will only sit on your lap if you are a frequent customer or employee/boss.

Rhaenys:

Cat species:

Devon Rex

Description:

White curls adorn her body. Her ears are huge and her blue eyes have a water quality to them. Delicate features but do not let that fool you.

Personality:

You swear if she was a person Rhaenys would be one of those posh ladies that lived in your neighborhood. Prefers the company of ladies and will sit like a little person on a chair. Only likes to be pet on the head. When she thinks no one is looking Rhaenys bats around a little a little pink ball.

Harwin: (Dishonorable mention)

Cat species:

British Shorthair

Description:

A heavy set boi. Brown fur and deep brown eyes. A slightly squashed face. A small but surprisingly powerful tail.

Personality:

A sneaky bad boy that sneaks inside and is the cause of more work (aka the kittens he fathered). Is not one of your cats. Bad boy snuck in an got Rhaenyra pregnant. Kept sneaking in afterwards and boom, suddenly three new kittens. You later discovered that he had been living quite comfortable in Rhaenyra's hidey hole, only coming out when you were not looking. It was only when he decided to come out and steal a customers feather boa that you discovered Harwin, a stream of pink feathers in his wake.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Types of hotd men as yandere

characters : Viserys, Corlys, Otto and Larys

warnings : obsession, implied murder, gaslighting, abuse of power, incarceration,

Info : Oh man the dilfs where one is none well what can i say lords of a house come and save me…even larys our snake like clubfoot

masterlist

video gif by me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viserys (compelling) : The King of the Kingdoms Viserys was a man who enjoyed throwing parties, organizing tournaments and making peace.

He was happiest when his family and people were well…and his beloved wife. Aemma Arryn, his first wife, who had once been the only one in his life to make him happy with Rhaenyra, was now over.

His little Rhaenyra soon grown up with Lady Alicent in the gardens for hours he had to realize that it was time to marry again. He was the king every party tried to turn his daughters to him but the king had his violet eyes on a lady for a long time. A lady-in-waiting to his former wife, a flower at court who held back until the dragon approached her.

Viserys beneath all the friendly smiles, the jokes and his fascination with his true home of Valyria was one thing above all…a man with power and a man with power was everything in his world.

He was the blood of the dragon, the head of the family and even without a dragon, as king he had the influence he needed. She was his and with his peaceful smile he had married her that long spring in King's Landing.

Had flattered her with gentleness, vulnerability and gifts…even though she never had a choice. Had publicly executed any voices that dared to call his wife a "mistake" and the age of peace wavered, his allies became uncertain and his small council had more to discuss. But despite everything, he didn't care, for the first time he became his half-grandfather Maelor Targaryen.

He took a new dragon Vermithor and for his wife the dragoness Dreamfyre, ,,I know it may seem intimidating darling but now you belong to me she will accept you" he encouraged her as he stood behind her his one hand placed on her side never gently always with a certain pressure, a pressure that let her know he would not let her go. His other hand placed on hers gently and warmly as he instructed her to touch Dreamfyre's snout.

They would fly through the air together like Jahaerys and Alysanne they would fulfill the dragon dreams and she would not die with a dragon by both their sides she would have a son and he would keep his wife in the flesh….er would not make the same mistake again. Her prayers for him to come to the realization that she was not a Targaryen were ignored with a kiss, a warning look or a raise of his voice.

,,Forgive me, darling, but you see once you're sitting up it's not so bad, is it?" he asked as she sat on Dreamfyre, completely stiff and afraid, giving him a forced smile that satisfied him. ,,No-no it's…wonderful so beautiful" she replied and held on tightly to the harness of the dragoness who seemed confused and didn't know why a non-dragonblood was sitting on her.

But all this seemed to be just the beginning of the forced dragon excursions, during which she hid her deadly fear under smiles and gratitude. The parties and games all for her to make her happy. She was not Aemma, no, she was something he could make her into. His perfect Targaryen wife who would fulfill his dragon dreams and he would do anything to keep her happy with fire and blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Corlys (Taking) : The Sea Serpent a legendary merchant, sailor with the blood of ancient Valyria and two dragons in his family. A man who honored the wealth and influence of the Hightower family and one of the lords and men of the small council.

He was one of the king's most important and powerful allies and had blood that once belonged on the throne. But above all, he is also a legendary sailor and the old tradition of sailors is not only dedicated to the sea but also to the women he met on the voyage, who he kept in inns or simply took.

Adventure and exotic animals were the sailor's domain, but one day they had been at sea for two years. The sea serpent longed for a woman, his crew longed for the warm embrace of a woman and perhaps it was in a moment of alcohol or frustration that they headed for the next best island and pulled off a heist, a heist in which he got himself a mermaid.

Her voice softly pouring him a beer minutes before, now yelling at him to let her go as he grabbed her and took her onto his ship. The captain had finally found the pearl on his journey and he would use this beauty for more than just the night. ,,Let me go back to my home!" she protested, trying to get the door of his cabin open, his sweetie had not yet realized that the ship had been at sea again for hours.

A smile escaped him as he approached her and saw her practically throw herself against the door before the wood gave way and she fell to the deck in front of his crew. ,,Mermaid, I told you this was your home now," he reminded her as he pulled her up by the arm so she could see the sea, the wood of the ship and his crew.

From then on, she was initially his, locked up like a fish in a box in his cabin, serving him. But after a few days he let her on deck and gave her small tasks to do, keeping her at work so that she didn't have to think about home.

At night he made her happy by taking her at his own pleasure, making it clear to the crew that she was his. He tried to teach her his passion for sailing on smaller ships and took her ashore with him, even if she ran in next to him. ,,Pearls and shells for a beautiful woman of the water" he praised her and bought her a glittering necklace of the ocean which he put on her.

His hand gripped her chin firmly and demanded a kiss in thanks…in the end she would do what he wanted her to do, he was in charge of her.

At the end of the journey he saw how nervous and energized she became his pretty mermaid probably thought he would take her home. ,,You are now a woman of the water and a woman of the household Velaryon my love" he shattered her hopes as he saw tears running down her cheeks salty as the sea which he brushed away and pulled her to him his fingers playing with the necklace.

The necklace with pearls and shells a sign that she was his, his concubine as soon as they returned to Driftmark. He would deal with Rhaenys and his children had to accept it, but a sea serpent would find a way to wrap itself around his favorite.

To sneak up to her at night and make her feel like she had never left his boat. ,,I have taken you and you are mine…never forget that" he had said to her that night and gently stroked her cheek, the same thing he now did every night knowing that she could do nothing but nod, agree with him and hide behind her "savior" when the wrath of the water dragons and the princess came crashing down on her. Because he always had a hand on her…a protective hand for his property.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Otto (paranoid) : Otto Hightower a man of pride, influence and an old rich house of trade with the great rock tower at Oldtwon. The brother of the head of the house the hand of King Viserys and with his children Alicent and Gwayne with whom he pursued his own plans that would come to pass in time.

But since the death of Jaehaerys, the leech had attached itself to the new King Viserys, influencing him, drilling him and replacing his own tokens with the green of the Hightower. The green of the House of Hightower took over more and more slowly but surely…until the day he lost his beloved wife.

His lady wife dead, he had loved her, enjoyed her love, had children…but despite her death after his grief and after seeing that damned grin from the rugged Prince Daemon, the leech felt the Targaryen's poisoned blood for the first time.

Leading his daughter to Viserys, taking his own son to the city to keep an eye on Dameon while the lord himself resorted to a game that would bring him both influence and a woman he had seen long before.

Since trading with the Baratheons his grandchildren were related to the Baratheons, Ser Otto had taken himself a wife of the house. The blue eyes and the black hair the blood of the stag flowed through her and since his marriage he felt something.

What was at first a mere plaything that could be moved now became something he was afraid to lose. I will vow to the gods to protect you my lady," he had told her as he had draped the cloak around her, his hand on hers and kissed her.

She was pretty was the prettiest of the house prettier than the princesses, prettier than the queens she was prettier even than his first wife…she was his and he would not let him lose her in the upcoming fight for the throne for which the foundations had already been laid with the birth and the years after Aegon's birth his first grandson.

With that came the first dispute and another and another and at the latest when Daemon returned from the Stepstones and his violet dragon eyes settled on the new wife of the Hand, Otto felt his hand on hers.

Jealousy was more poisonous than any poison he had ever used. It was jealousy that kept him awake at night when he lay next to his beloved doe, his fingers gently playing with strands of her hair, the color green adorning her clothing.

Before the king and the law, she was his, "But what if she isn't? What if something happens?" he asked the questions and watched as she continued to grind fiddly while he lost himself more and more in the spiral in which she was seduced by the Targaryen prince night after night.

Dameon was the greatest enemy to himself and his family and the prince was known to stop at nothing. Especially not when the war was brewing and Otto saw what this conflict was capable of when not only Harrenhal burned but Daemon killed Vaemond in front of everyone and Otto stood in defense of his wife.

,,It's done enough dear this is for love and your safety…I will not lose what is mine" he said as he practically fled with her to Oldtown she was taken to the tower and even though the rooms were large and the tower encouraged exploration it was her insecurity that clung to the stone as Otto became more paranoid and insecure.

Doubling the guards was just a way of keeping her safe, every meal had to be tasted and he was the only one with the golden key to her room. He graced her with his presence as often as he could, but in his dark eyes, once soaked with love, there was nothing but obsession and paranoia.

His hands held hers painfully as she looked up at him on the bed and he made sure that no one was here, that there was no flame burning that he hadn't lit himself. ,,You are safe here with me in this tower and no dragon or prince will change that I will not allow you to be taken from me by him" he murmured but his gaze seemed to pass through her as he turned with hatred towards the first prince of the realm.

His beloved wife was his and no one would come near her in his paranoid existence no one would harm her as long as his beloved just stayed here even if the dragon fire broke over them she was his and he would rather raise the sword against himself and her than let Dameon even near her for was this not the duty of a man to his beloved wife?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Larys (controlling) : House Strong whose then head held the hand of the king for a time, the firstborn son a legendary knight and a member of the Golden Capes with the zwietegbornene son in the shadow Larys Strong or Clubfoot as he was called by his enemies and any others who hoped to hurt him, a nickname he was long accustomed to in his role as advisor to the queen and someone who had his insects everywhere to see and hear.

But most of all, he was slowly getting what he wanted…the deaths of some for his own advancement, the advancement of his own house, and the king of whom he knew that with his connections he could get even more of what he wanted.

The death of his brother and father in the tragic fire made Larys Strong the Lord Strong of his house and the castle the only man with the crest and the one who could now assert that right undisturbed. And so it was that he continued to stay in hiding at the side of the Queen of the Witches, assisting her with the little nasty things and killing his insects off the corpses.

While for all the others he remained the ignorant one with the clubfoot while he realized that the party of the blacks wanted his head soon but for that they had to get it first which is why the lord stayed around the castle…until he found her in his vaults as Lord Confessor and Master of the Whisperers. He found a pretty butterfly in his cells between his cages.

,,A sight I don't often see, what beauty has strayed here, deceiver?" he asked as he stood in front of the cell, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He knew he was a lady-in-waiting of Rhaenyra who had helped her "queen" to escape and was captured. So why shouldn't a cripple put something beautiful at his side?

Why shouldn't he also show what a lord had the power to do? Because he had her life in his hands and she had no choice when he came into the cell, his torturers beside him ready to use the hot iron rods on her.

It didn't take much more than two fingers for her to land the golden brooch of her queen's dragon next to her severed body parts and she swore herself to him. ,,You will see I am not a man of cruelty my butterfly…I can be gentle but you know that" he murmured to her as she came into his chambers with bandages wrapped around her two stumps but he had already provided replacements.

She was his, his to dominate and control was something he had always had in one way or another and he would not give that up. By putting on the golden finger prostheses with the symbol of butterflies and insects, it was just a small sign that she was his. The clothes that were once black with dragon symbols turned green and matched his color.

He raised his hand from the walking stick to use it to play with a strand of her hair. ,,Nothing is more beautiful than seeing you," she greeted him when they met, whether at lunch, in the morning or in the garden. He saw her tense up, her wince when he ran his hand over her golden prostheses and kissed her.

But it didn't matter, he didn't have the blood of hundreds on him to stop using her. Nothing happened without his command, his look or his word.

The pretty butterfly lady always walked beside him and a meaningless smile graced her lips, her eyes mostly focused on the colorful flowers, especially the black and red colors that signified Rhaenyra's former existence. But apart from that she was his and Larys put this on show with clothes, gestures and alliances…but there was one thing above all that he would not miss.

One look was enough and his pretty butterfly gave him a kiss and for him it was pure love, love that he had never experienced and it felt like he could laugh at all those who had laughed at him so far.

He had the title of Lord, he had lands and he had his wife who was his in every sense of the word and he would kill anyone in the shadows who would take his darling from his control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Corlys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet

summary: it's in the title :)

notes: why is writing fanfic so easy compared to original works :///

warnings: written with afab!reader in mind, smut, mentions of corlys' god complex

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie  @a-beaverhousen @ilikeitbetterangsty (hmu to be added/removed!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He knows his size. That’s all I’m gonna say. Takes care of you real good, massages you if you feel sore.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands, especially his fingers. Also knows exactly what his ringed hands do to you, and uses it to his full advantage.

Loves your ass. Corlys is definitely into spanking, and it shows.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

All this talk of legacy makes me 100% sure that he always cums inside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you on every centimeter of Driftmark, and then some.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s seen the world, of course he’s experienced (also he’s a dilf so…)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s a tie between anal and doggy. He really does love your ass, and anal is a way to be super super close to you. Doggy is just for the view tbh.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a serious person, and that translates into the bedroom.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Definitely has a manscaping kit from Lys.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think he’d be surprisingly romantic and gentle with you, but then he notices the size difference between your head and his hands and…

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

While he’s away, he does it to relieve himself, but he doesn’t need that when you’re there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size kink, breeding kink, bondage and dom/sub dynamics

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere really, as long as it’s not public

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A display of power from you gets him a little bit excited tbh. It’s more pride than anything, but he still finds it hot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share you. You’re his, and it should stay that way. Also, he wouldn’t enjoy subbing or being tied up, but he loves it on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving, like the man he is. He’s also disgustingly good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Look at him. He does whatever gets your brain mushy.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Seldom, if there’s been a long time period without seeing each other.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as the risks aren’t any of his No’s he’s okay with experimenting (on you)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lasts forever. He needs a little rebound time, but he could go at it all night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s traveled the world, so I’d assume he’s brought some stuff back.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loves to tease you. As said, he wants you to be a little cockdumb. Especially if you’re very powerful normally, there’s something about you being a babbling mess for him that just gets him going

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Silent and deadly

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Brings you lingerie from Lys and Myr to tear it apart

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He knows his size, and his size is big :)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high I’d say. He needs it, especially if he’s had a long day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes care of you for a while, but as soon as you’re cuddling together, he’s gone

[howyouloveyourdragon]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ

pronouns: they/them (there is use of the word 'suitor' but that's only because I couldn't think of another word to use and as we know from my 'only fair' fic i don't feel the need apply real world childbearing mechanics and there isn't much talk of it so you can imagine your body, gender etc however) warnings: suggestive at times, none others that i can think of, lmk of any if you find them! summary: History remembers names, not blood, he knows that all too well so why are you so important to The Sea Snake, the bastard of the Rogue Prince A/N: In this, Rhaenys has been dead I'M SORRY i couldn't find a good time or reason for her not being his wife and i didn't want to mess with the lore too much. race of reader's mother is never mentioned however reader is daemon's bastard, i hope you like it! open to a part 2 but only if you'd like one, this is a lot more slowburn and reader centric than my other stories but i love book!baela and wanted to look at her relationship w/ reader a bit prompt divider: firefly-graphics wordcount: 1516

YOUR FATHER'S FIRM hand on your shoulder distracts you from the dark affair around you. Another dead. Another important house on the verge of extinction. Daemon squeezed and let out a shaky breath, it wasn't due to the grief that death brought, you were sure, but rather the grief of another loss of aid and another oncoming threat of the House in mourn. If he had to deny another suitor he wasn't sure Rhaenyra could hold him back from his rage this time. It was the middle of war and he was as politically aware as his wife but that didn't mean he was happy about betrothals in war. He was forced to marry young and he would never force the same on you, he made that promise to himself many moons ago. Daemon huffs and soon the warmth of him turns away from you again. You swallow around the lump in your throat and cast your eyes to your half-sisters. Baela shares an anxious glance while Rhaena stays staring ahead with tense shoulders. She clenches her jaw and looks down. Baela gestures with a tip of her head to beckon you over. You take cautious steps but reach them without difficulty, the sound of your feet beating down on the hard ground rings in your ears. It's deafening in the surrounding silence. It is a small ceremony but not any less intimate. Baela tries to send an encouraging smile but it comes out forced. She grasps your arm a little too tightly and tugs you away with your arms interlinked.

"Father thinks they might turn on us." Baela tells you plainly. Her expression is strong and not for the first time you miss the playfulness that usually lies within her eyes like a knight of your childhood fairy tales. "I think we need something to keep them distracted, a wedding." You freeze and furrow your brows. "I thought Jacaerys wanted to wait for the war to be over?" "He does," She sighs and scrunches her nose quickly, the only action betraying her emotions. "I fear he has taken to the Snow girl Mushroom has spoken of." You sigh and move to stand before her, clutching her hands in your own. "Listen to me," You demand firmly. She reluctantly flutters her fierce eyes open and looks into your own, the first sight of vulnerability hidden beneath her irises but you knew this girl better than you knew yourself. You had held and loved her since she was a mere babe in your arms. "You are strong, you are beautiful, you are a Targaryen." Her shoulders softened. "Any man who does not trip over themselves to please you is a fool and I know of one in particular who cares for you more than you know." For only a moment her brows pinch. Her lips twitch of their own volition upward. "Whom?" She asks, dark eyes wide. You put a finger to your lips and shrug. "Perhaps you will discover tonight..." You trail off. "at the festivities, no marital behaviour however that I will remain strict on." A breathy laugh drops from her and you're both walking again, though this time toward the large estate you have been residing.

The bright moon is dancing among the sky as much as you are beneath it, or at least that is how you perceive it as Rhaena giggles sweetly and lets her fingers guide your own. Raucous music and laughter fills the empty space outside as the scene plays like a sonnet to your hope. The war is not yet won but you are sure it will be soon. You only stop moving once a new dance partner catches Rhaena's attention in the form of a friend. You nod and part from her although your spinning and smooth movements don't stop and your eyes drift around the fire you are all circling around. Your eyes linger as you see Baela's beaming grin while Alyn Velaryon extends his hand. Prince Jacaerys clenches his jaw from beside her. You feel glad you have no attention on yourself as you snicker quietly, at least you think there is not. He may not have the hair of a Valyrian but he certainly had the spit of fire within him. Your sister had been the centre of attention all night with her coils wrapped in beautiful braids and her figure draped in the most gorgeous of gowns. She was the image of heart-stopping charm. Half the men and women present would be accusing her of using enchantments by the night's end. Suddenly you feel a warm hand connect with your waist from behind you and you gasp quietly.

Corlys Velaryon's attention was not easy to garner but once you felt it it was hard to remove and he knew this. Corlys had been watching you for what felt like hours with his gaze firmly planted on your untroubled frame, how you guided his granddaughter so effortlessly, how your eyes look glassed with the roaring flames reflected in your eyes. This wasn't the first time he had seen you of course, in some respects you were family but this was the first time he had seen the ferocity in which you fought, how you had avenged that young man that had been slain earlier that day. He distantly hoped that the man meant little to you–that it was merely an act of loyalty to his House and not personal. The last he had seen you before the war was at Laena's funeral when you were only seven and ten summers old. You had been still a child and his beloved Rhaenys was beside him.

Now, his fingers tickle up your sides before spreading along either your arms. It sent delightful shivers up your skin. "My lord..." you murmur in acknowledgment while his breath runs down your exposed neck. "I was not expecting you." He hums and a smile curls his mouth, not that you can see it. "Greetings, princess." Amusement flickers in you. "I am no princess." You remind. He grumbles quietly. "But you should be." He retorts. "And so I shall treat you as such." He winds his fingers to lace with your left ones and spins you around so that he can press his lips in a kiss to each knuckle. Your breath hitches. Your eyes narrow in suspicion and rake over his handsome face. "If you are attempting to charm me, you will reap no reward." You purr, face tense and unrelenting. He only chuckles warmly. "I only hope to seek your approval, princess." "Approval?" You laugh. "Approval for what?" "To court you." Silence. Your brows pinch and your head tilted downward. "Court me?" You ask, your tone thick with suspicion. He nods, not elaborating. "I thought history only remembered names, my lord." The edge is sharp to your words but they don't cut him, only entice. "Then they would remember the Liege Velaryon with the intellect of a maester, the wits of a Queen and the beauty of not only the stars threaded in your eyes but the moon that entraps my heart." His words aren't rushed nor forceful. Instead they are intentional and planned, much different than the other men who flirted spontaneously and then lost interest within the night's end. You cock your brow. You don't respond, then a familiar presence is beside you. "Lord Corlys." Your Queen and stepmother greets but he doesn't change the direction of his gaze. "Your grace." "I have unanswered inquiries of your fleet, might we speak privately?" You can see a tick in his jaw but still he rises and finally looks at her. He nods, his smile forced, and steps away. His touch lingers on your hand as he follows Rhaenyra and despite your wishes, your eyes track him until he's completely out of sight.

The rest of your night is spent with fleeting glances from yourself but also those around you and you only stop once the fire has tired out on you. Your sisters decided to wander back to their chambers but sending enough guards to follow after them, Your father hangs back to wait up for you, not dozing asleep like you expected him to. Once you approach him while flushed and exhaustion ebbing at you, he extends his arm and walks you back soundly. However, there is a tense thickness to the air you're not quite used to yet. Daemon only breaks the silence once you reach the door to your chambers. "I want you to think wisely." He states, firm as always. You look at him and know there is no way to deceive him. You nod slowly. Your father is a calculated man but he was not cruel. "You are the blood of the dragon and I do not want you settling for less than your worth." His tongue curls like it's spewing fire but the tone stays authoritative and safe. His steps echo once he leaves you to wrap your hand around the stocky doorknob and turn. You have a lot to think about but as soon as your gaze slipped through the large window, the illuminating moon whispered the sweetest future for you to decide.

[agent-barnes40]

Snow

It's snowing for me and thus snowy snow with the Targaryens

@akela

Young Rheanyra doesn't understand her best friend's obsession with the snow. She doesn't quite understand that to her friend it meant that they can hear pure silence out in the Godswood. It meant that for a while, they can disappear into the snow and be hidden for hours.

"Princess, you need to stop gawking," Otto mumbled quietly toward the teen.

"They are my betrothed, Ser Hand. I can watch them all I want." Rheanyra said, looking toward him, a bored look on her face. The other ladies looked at the group and then noticed the other person in the snow.

Daemon watched as his partner flopped into the snow inside the Godswood. He had a smile on his face the entire time as the person let themselves get buried in the snow while his daughters buried them. "Girls, be careful!" He called out, leaning against a tree.

Viserys loved seeing his favorite people altogether, and with the snow. Aemma was making sure Rheanyra was bundled up while their shared partner was leaving small berries in the snow for the wild animals.

"Be careful, sweet!" Aemma called out, looking up at their partner for a second. Viserys let out a loud laugh. "They are always careful, Aemma."

Older Rhaenyra held a bundled-up Joffery to her chest as her other children ran around her lover. Their eyes were full of love as they played with the boys. "Jace! Do not shove snow down Luce's shirt!" The person called out, a small laugh bubbling out.

"Let them be boys, jorrāelagon," Rheanyra called out, a smile on her face.

Young Alicent laughed as her friend tossed a snowball at her. She hurried to bundle up a bit of snow to toss back. "Alicent!" Her head jerked hearing Rheanyra call for her only for a snowball to hit her in the face.

"Unfair!" She called out.

Alicent smiled watching Aemond's carer show him the snow, Aegon was already faceplanted in it and Heleana was bundled up trying to hide from it. The toddler babbled as he watched the person scoop up snow and hold it out in front of him. "Careful of the cold with him!" She quickly spoke, making the person look up. "Do not worry, My Queen. I know to not shock him."

Corlys and Rhaenys watched as their lover played with Laenor and Laena in the snow of Driftmark. The two chuckled when the children tackled them to the ground.

Aegon held his glass of wine, watching as his love sat in the snow, letting it drop on them. "You do not need to be getting sick, my love."

The person laughed softly, turning to look at him. "The Maester's can take care of me, do not worry, my prince."

Heleana laughed as her children's carer showed them a frosted leaf, telling them about how it freezes over to preserve itself. She couldn't hide her love for the carer.

Aemond had a warm cloth pressed under his eyepatch as he watched his lover study the trees being covered in snow. "My love, I will need to head in soon." He warned, pretending to itch under the leather of his eye cover to show that he was hurting.

"Let us go in now, my love. I need not you being sick."

[gulnarsultan]

corlys velaryon x targaryen reader ( he married her instead of rhaenys ) , setting ( nsfw )

The reader may be Rhaenys' sister or older sister. Maybe she is the child of one of King Jaehaerys' children. Your marriage is most likely arranged. But what you didn't know was that your looks and personality had stolen Corlys' heart. Corlys had submitted her marriage proposal in court. Your marriage is set in a short time. You are so excited for your wedding night.

"Scenario."

You wait in your bedroom, dressed in your nightgown. When Corlys enters the room, he's watching you like a hungry wolf. He approaches you and your lips passionately connect. His hands make fun of your breasts as Corlys kisses you lustfully and hungrily. You lie on the bed and spread your legs for Corlys. Corlys sits between your legs. His fingers pump your cunt and asshole while his tongue licks your cunt. You ejaculate in Corlys' mouth in a short time. Corlys rubs his hardened penis against your wet cunt. He throws one of your legs over her shoulder. You whine and chatter as he slowly inserts his penis into you.

"Too big. I can't."

"You can do it, sweet Princess."

He pushes his penis all the way into your cunt. It's waiting for you to get used to it for a few minutes, he. He starts to fuck you with a slow rhythm. Pain is quickly replaced by a sense of pleasure. Your lips once again connect with lust and desire as Corlys ramps up his pace. Minutes later, you both reach orgasm. Corlys empties its seed deep in your cunt. After she cleans you up, he wraps her mighty arms around you. You sleep hugging each other.

[adria-draca]

Corlys Velaryon - a Valyrian Treasure

Rhaenys is the moon to mine own vast sky

about mine own grandsons' pate'rnity, i shalt at each moment lie

those gents calleth me the sea snake

kinda s'rry yond i couldn't attendeth vaemond's wake

- Spit It Like Shakespeare (Adria Draca)

[lunarmoonanons]

Embers on Seawater

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Corlys and his granddaughter YN talk on the morning of her 6th nameday. Not a official chapter to Fire and Salt, but still canon to that story. 

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist

Lord Corlys Velaryon strode throughout his castle on Driftmark, in the early morning of his oldest grandchild’s birthday. He walked with slow steps, occasionally looking behind him to catch a glimpse of his granddaughter’s white hair as she tucked her head behind pillars and stone, attempting to spy on him. 3 steps then pause, 3 steps then pause, the game continued until the lord reached a turn. He hid behind the wall, watching as the little girl walked cautiously forward, searching for the seemingly disappeared man. Corlys waited till she was near enough and jumped forth to grab the girl, his large hands lifting her small body in the air as she squealed in joy. 

“I’ve caught you! My little one, you are not quick enough yet!” He teased and spun her around, placing her on his hip and pinching her flat nose. “Have you been up since dawn?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” YN bounced her head, her white curls wild around her cheeks. “I’m too excited.”

Corlys chuckled and carried her to the Driftwood throne. The man hoped to see one of his grandchildren sit upon the throne. Since it seemed Jacerys would take the Iron throne, there was a possibility YN would have the Driftwood. Once he sat, with her on his lap, Corlys placed her small hand on the wood. 

“One day YN, perhaps you will have the Driftwood. You sit upon it and hold Driftmark as your own.” Corlys smiled at the girl who gave him a puzzled look. 

“A wooden chair? I have plenty of chairs, grandfather.” YN said as her little head cocked to the side. 

“An important seat, and you will be the head of high tide. Watching over and leading our house.” Corlys corrected. 

“What if I want something else?” 

“Such as?” 

“I want to live on the seas. On a dragon or a ship. Or both. I want to sail everywhere, like you. The gods made me wrong, I’m supposed to be a good girl and want a big house but I want the sea.” YN pouted to him, lightly playing with the ends of his locs. 

“You are perfect as you are. There are no gods that could make you wrong.” Corlys rubbed her back to comfort her. “Our gods, as Sailors, are the wind and sea.”

“I don’t want a wooden chair. I want a dragon, or a ship. Please don’t make me have the throne.” YN pleaded, her violet eyes staring into his. 

“I will tell you this, let the thought stay with you till you are 9 when your youngest brother  is old enough to think about Driftmark, if you still do not want it I will indulge you.” Corlys compromised, hoping that in time YN would like the idea of heading a house. “ And if you still have not claimed a dragon by the time you are a woman, I will have a grand ship built for you.” 

YN smiled and gave him a tight hug. She loved her grandfather more than she loved the sea. But knew her placed wasn’t on a chair, it was in the air or oceans.

[the-heartlines]

"Whisper it into my ear, little whore. Beg your lord for your lady's tongue upon your pearl, my little dragon princess. Beg your father to let your mother fuck you."

anonymous requested a sequel to this fic: rhaenys x corlys x aegon's twin!reader ~ fem!reader [explicit / 1.5k] ~

🔞 warnings: begging, pregnancy, lactation kink, breast sucking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, female ejaculation, mommy kink, daddy kink, pseudo incest. 🔞

my ao3 ~ taking requests for fics

The threat of war loomed on the horizon, emerald green bleeding into crimson black, tensions rising with every day that passed. The end of your pregnancy was nigh, which delighted your lord and lady, bringing them joy in such depressing, dreadful, and dreary times. Especially for you. You could barely walk up the stone steps of the castle, let alone climb upon your dragon, Sunspyre, or dare ride her. 

Your emotions had increased sevenfold with every passing moon, and you cried every time, desperately, wishing you could fly, soar through the air, taste the salt of the sea, feeling the lovely breeze upon your flushed cheeks. But instead you were a prisoner to your ever growing body, stuck in this lavish room, with swollen ankles, and tear stained cheeks, glaring out through the open windows, the skyline and sparkling vast blue taunting you. You cried when you heard the maesters warning your lady of how important bedrest was in the final weeks of your pregnancy. You sobbed even harder, almost wailing for your very own mother, when you realized how precisely strict the guidelines were, not even allowed to venture anywhere near anyone who might see the swollen bump underneath your gowns. Who may gossip and spread rumors, truths...of your whereabouts. For no one knew for certain where the princess had run off to, on dragonback, escaping the eve of her wedding to her twin brother.

For your lord, and especially, your lady, were particularly protective of you and their babes. 

Twins were growing inside you, two heart beats beneath your very own. And you were so very thankful to the seven that it wasn’t his, your future-husband-to-be's. He was a drunk and a wastrel, as your younger brother had put it many times.

Your heart and Sunspyre’s spirit decided that your combined destiny would be here, for the ocean had always called to you, ever since that fateful night on Driftmark almost a decade ago, where everything changed. 

And Sunspyre had landed here, upon sand and stone, where you had found refuge with your most gracious hosts, who had been nothing but kind and attentive, since the day they found you…made you theirs.

The Sea Snake and the Queen Who Never Was were the most generous, most giving, and the most possessive of you. They called you their ultimate treasure and treated you as such, with their hands and tongues upon your body and deep inside you. 

Growing up in King's Landing, you were always treated second to Aegon, your twin, being nothing more than a pawn in your mother and grandsire's game; but here in Lord Corlys' and Lady Rhaenys' presence, you were truly a princess, a precious prize to be proud of. Their hidden pearl of High Tide.

Being hidden away as such, was a small price to pay, to appease and please them, but your passions and emotions were beyond what you could take, and you needed your lord and lady more than ever before. You needed their constant attention and devotion, the pleasure they inflicted upon you so easily after all these moons.

"Please, please, my lady," you begged Lady Rhaenys, biting your lip, looking at her wickedly with wide violet eyes. "Please make me come, sweet mother." Your tone drips tempestuously, along with the wetness of your cunt, taunting her with the sweetness that could draw her poison out like venom from a snakebite. Your cunt clenches around nothing, feeling so, so empty. You needed her fingers, her tongue, to fill the emptiness. Anything she will offer at this point. 

Even a cock.

Lady Rhaenys steps towards you, licking her lips, breathing in deep, and you know she can smell your arousal, all for her...

But her lord husband's hand halts her movements suddenly and you want to protest his demand, but know better not to, for he could deny you your release another night. Or two nights, which was hell in itself.

"Say it again, sweetling," you hear his rough, leathery voice command, as daunting as the sea on a stormy day, as he stands opposite you. You eye his cock, growing hard as iron and leaking against the fabric of his breeches. He's as desperate as you are and it makes your clit throb, nipples harden into tiny rubies. His fingers curl into the long tresses at the nape of your neck, pulling your head taut, the shell of your ear scraping against the silver of his beard. The sensation makes your belly pulse with more want and you whine. "Whisper it into my ear, little whore. Beg your lord for your lady's tongue upon your pearl, my little dragon princess. Beg your father to let your mother fuck you."

Lady Rhaenys approaches the both of you, staying silent, keeping her hands steady at her side, but she's shivering, like you are shuddering. 

You let out a laboured breath, obeying, heartbeat and heavy breasts heaving with pure lust.

"Please, father," you whimper, whispering into his ear, your wetness seeping down your inner thighs like tears, staining the silk sheets below. You then look right into your lady's gaze, molten violet, similar to your own. "Please, mother," you sob, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Please, fuck me. Please!" You cry, beginning to tremble, the emotions overwhelming you.

"Yesss, that's our sweet daughter," Lady Rhaenys hisses, her sharp fingernails raking through the thin night shift concealing your nakedness, shredding the fabric to reveal your swollen bosom and belly to her eyes. "Look, dear husband," she traces her nails over your puffy nipples, pebbling even more underneath her touch, squeezing them. You shriek as white liquid beads like little pearls form the rosy peaks, dripping down her fingers.

"Her mother's milk has finally come in." Lord Corlys says, grinning, his leathery voice deep and smokey, pride lingering on the tip of his tongue. "Drink, my dear wife. See if her milk is as sweet as her honeyed cunt."

Your lord's hand guide's his wife's chin towards your chest and her soft lips immediately wrap around your nipple, beginning to suck.

"Mother!" You gasp, as her mouth greedily drinks down your milk, her hand gripping the protruding roundness of your belly, possessively, where pale pink marks have formed, marking and claiming you as hers; theirs.

Your lady stops sucking, pulling from your breast for a moment, your milk glistening upon her lips, pushing your back against the soft bed. "Her milk tastes just as sweet as her cunt, my lord husband." Lady Rhaenys pulls Lord Corlys down by one of his locks of his silver hair making him hiss. "Have a taste." And she kisses him deeply, slipping her tongue into his mouth, making you moan when your lord groans and bites his lady wife's lip, drawing his attention towards you.

"Fuck, just as sweet as your milk, my wife." 

They both stare at you, eyes starving for more of what your body produces, both wanting to satiate their thirst and hunger with all of you. And so you spread your legs, giving them a view of your sticky thighs, your cunt slick with the most insatiable need that only they can satisfy.

Before you can think, speak, beg, your lord's mouth is fastened to your cunt, begging you with his tongue upon your aching jewel at the crux of your core, that he sucks with his lips at the same time his lady wife's mouth is once again encircling your swollen teat, savoring your succulence. 

Both moan, murmuring around mouthfuls of your flesh, hands cradling the swell of your babes growing inside you, praising your body for its sweet offering, its sweet sacrifice.

Both your gracious lord and your lady, worshipping your body like some kind of deity, a goddess.

"Thank you, father! Mother!" Your climax hits you like a colossal tidal wave, pulling you under its depths, and you're drowning, body spasming, until you come up for air, gulping in deep breaths of air. Your cunt gushes, your juices flooding your lord's mouth as he drinks his fill, coating his beard and face.

"Yes, yes, sweetling, you're most welcome." Rhaenys strokes over your flushed, tear stained cheek, and you realize you're crying again, the emotions overwhelming you once again.

"Thank you, princess, for our gifts." You fade in and out of consciousness, exhilarated exhaustion seeping into your veins, moaning, feeling a thicker, more girthier piece of flesh replacing your lord's tongue. Your overstimulated cunt resists at first, until fingers press the pearl just above your slick entrance, demanding your compliance. 

They share another kiss with the other, sharing your taste with the other.  "Now let your father thank you properly, sweet daughter." And with that your lord father grits his teeth, slipping his cock into your tight heat, as your lady mother's fingers help ease his passage, and they both fuck you into oblivion, until your unconcious, dreaming of the silver haired offspring, dressed in the colors of Velaryon and Targaryen, with both the sea and salt in their soul, fire and blood in their hearts. Young dragons you will give both your father and mother, your loyalty forever lying with them, sacrificing your body, until your dying breath.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Ok but like canon? 😭 Bestie i think you just write so well i believe you, no matter what 😭 oh water is wet thatll do ok

Right so. Criston 🤢 IDK MAAM HE JUST GIVES MEE THE ICK THE HEEBIEGEEBIES its giving nice guy its giving sad boy its giving "omg why do girls always pick the bad guys" HAUL HIS ASS AWAY FROM ME

Next daemon 🫦🫦 my reaction to him starkly contrasts that of criston cos at least he knows hes fucked up. IDK MAN I HAVE NO MORAL COMPASS WHEN IT COMES TO MY BABY GIRL I JUST THINK HES SUPER HOT AND HECK YEAH I WANNA END UP WITH HIM

Then corlys. First time ever reading for him and i was like huh yes yes i see this happening very real actually it isnt that bad untill you get to the end 😳 it really be all men. He really making pressure from others or guilt from rejecting him. I gotta say. Scariest shit from the entire bunch cause thats some meta manipulating fuckkkkk

THEN OTTO 🤢 MY GOSH I THOUGHT YOU WOULD MAKE HIM HOT BUT NAH NAH HED DO THAT HED DO THAT 100% I WAS EVEN OPEN TO HE IDEA OF THINKING HE WAS HOT BUT NAH HE JUST 100% MAN (DEROGATORY) ok i just calmed myself and thought of how id feel if this were daemon and did a 180 and i have nothing further to say your honor pretty privilege is real

NAH HARWIN 😍🤤🤪 AWOOOGAA BARK BARK THE FACT HE WAS REJECTED IN THE FIRST PLACE WAS WACK idk idk idk he can break my bones (back) if he wanted to wait what i didnt say that and like this one out of everything IDK I THINK OF HIM TO BE A MAN OF HONOR even though he was a total slut for rhaenyra SO IDK MINUTE DISAGREEMENT TO HIM KILLING SOMEONE but also yes yes he would in fact kill someone for love

Yeah idk aegon also gives me the heebiegeebies in the show but like 😳 the more fan content i see of him the more im like wait wait wait hollup i see it i see it now also his actor is just so lovely 🤤 thats really it tbh BUT BACK TO THE FIC uhhhhh idk how i feel ur honor its canon next question

Aemond yeah his unhinged version brought out by severely intense emotions would definitely seek blood no questions asked. Ok maybe some questions asked but like yeah he'd give you reasons to love him GIVE HIM A CHANCE DUDE WANTS SOME LOVE HE GOT MUTILATED AS A KID AND HE CHOSE YOU WHEN HE SHOULD HAVE CHOSEN ME

what do you think of their {hotd} reaction if reader rejected them because she is in love with someone else {someone without power like a soldier or a blacksmith idk} and she wants to marry for love? {reminded me of sir criston with his oranges and cinnamon XD} thank you very much in advance :*

Note: All I got to say is the reader better prepare herself for the trouble. Also, I’ve just noticed this is my first time writing for Criston 

The rejection would not be well taken by Criston, similar to how he reacted to Rhaenyra. There is nothing he can cling onto but his honor, so he is confused on why you would reject him, even after knowing that he is willing to leave it all behind just to be with you. In the event that Criston ever encounters the person whom you are interested in, he will pound into him and it will take a bunch of effort to pull him away. By the end, the person’s face becomes unrecognizable. Once this is done, you won't have anyone else to turn to but him. 

Contrarily, Daemon will find everything about this to be very amusing. You, a lady, are falling in love with a man who is beneath you. Although he could have killed the person and been done with it, he wants you to see how pitiful they are and how you are meant for something greater than some blacksmith or soldier. Whether you choose to accept it or not, the outcome is still the same: Daemon will kill your romantic interest and claim you as his own. 

Corlys doesn't anticipate your rejection; he was certain you felt the same way. He constantly upheld you and worked to ensure that everything worked in your favor, demonstrating his unwavering devotion to you. He believed that you only deserve the best and that the life you deserved would not be given to you by a commoner. Also, for love? Corlys promises that even if at first you don't love him, you will eventually come to. He'll keep showering you with the most lavish presents and sincere praises. Sooner or later, you'll have to go to him, whether it's due to pressure from others or guilt from rejecting him.

It’s moments like these that remind Otto of your youthfulness. What a naïve young girl you are, not understanding how the world operates. Otto will be offended to learn that you are interested in a commoner, the person you rejected him for. Simply put, he'll send the commoner away—possibly to his death—and still wed you. It doesn't matter to Otto if you don't desire him; you will have to eventually because it is expected of you as his wife.

Simply put, Harwin is heartbroken when you reject him. More so, when you confess to him you want to wed for love, to which Harwin contends he does love you. That if you choose him to be your husband, he will give his entire heart and soul to you. He will become irritated upon learning that your love interest is a commoner, and Harwin will be more inclined to confront them. In order to provoke them, Harwin mocks them and claims they don't deserve you, resulting in a fight where Harwin is victorious. Now nothing stands in his way. 

At the moment he sets his eyes on you, Aegon already considers you to be his, so when you reject him, he lashes out in anger. He'll claim you have no choice in the matter while squeezing you too firmly. When he learns that you turned him down, the prince—a Targaryen over some bloody commoner—it will take a big swing at his ego. Aegon will adamantly maintain that they must have duped you and that you are simply confused and in need of direction. For claiming to want to marry for love, Aegon insists you'll love him; you must. 

Aemond doesn't lash out despite being infuriated that you would reject him. Aemond makes it clear that he will marry you, regardless. When Aemond learns of your romantic interest, he will confront them and make a big show out of it, right in front of you. He will mock them and even challenge them into a fight, which they will lose to him handily. It's Aemond's way of showing you how pitiful and deplorable they are. And whether you decide to see it or not, Aemond will still kill them. And if you so badly want to marry for love, then you should start feeling something for him now that you're stuck with him.

[bks-writing-adventures]

His Strong Girl (Aemond X Strong! Reader)

Warnings: Brief mentions of bullying and gore, brief mentions of sex, Alicent being a momzilla.

Word Count: 6.5 K

Summary: Aemond has always loved his Strong Girl, she's nearly of age to mary, and he wants her before anyone else can have her.

120 AC

As children, Aemond had always loved her. Even though he knew that he should not. His mother filled his brain with poison, to hate Rhaenyra and all that was part of her, and that included her children. The Strong children, all four of them. It was easy to hate Jace and Luke. They teased him. They found him a pig and called him the second son. They laughed at him and kept them out of their fun. They were kind to the other children in the court, but for reasons he could not understand, he was different. It was so hard on his young brain. He was all that he was supposed to be. H

e could read and write, he had light hair and light eyes. He always prayed at dinner time, and he always wore clean clothes, always had his hair brushed. He did all of his lessons. So what ever could be wrong with him? When Joffrey came along, it was easy to hate him, too. There was no doubt that he would grow into the sculpting hands of his older brothers. As soon as he would talk, he would be name calling and lying too. But when it came to her. Well, it was impossible. 

Her eyes were warm and kind, muddy brown like her brothers and her father. There was a small distance of age between them, a year and a half, but he could hardly tell. She was smart for her age. She was not puzzled by her lessons, and she listened well, could smile and nod. She cut her own food and lived in her own world. He kept his distance for a long time, whenever the whole family was forced together for weddings and funerals. But slowly, like butter beneath rays of sun, he warmed. He grew calm in her presence and peeled back his layers to be vulnerable.

To meet her in the library when she was in her pyjamas, and to whisper gossip that they had picked up in the halls. He had two sides of him. The side that hated the Strongs, and the side that loved. He was good at making sure they did not cross, that was, until the day his aunt died. He never knew much of her. He knew that she was pretty and powerful and rode the greatest dragon in the world. But he did not cry for her. He only stayed quiet as the respects were paid, and his eyes wandered the mourners for her. 

She was caught up between her brothers and their cousins. Black looked odd on her. She always wore pink or blue, maybe red, but hardly ever. Despite being half Targaryen, she had no like for the color. She was all about pastels and ruffles and frilliness. He frowned as he watched, and the feet between them felt like miles. As the group looked over to him, he offered an awkward grin, only to be returned with nothing. His heart sunk deeper into his body, and he tried to give her a light wave, to grab her attention.

But there was nothing he could do, and he could feel her slowly slipping from his fingers. Disappointment ate away at him, and he said nothing to her the entire day. And she made no effort to talk to him, either. And so when evening came and he was alone, with no gossip to speak of in the library, and no puzzles to put together, he found himself in the dragon pit. Tiptoeing carefully, listening to the snore of beasts who had survived all of the worlds wars. The scratch of their claws against stone, and finally, the hiss of fire as it nearly caressed his face. 

The sight of Vhagar was one unmatched, and he moved as though he were being controlled, a mere puppet of the gods as he slowly climbed the scaly creature. He screamed into the wind as it lapped at his hair, and he laughed with joy as they landed with a thump and a roar. All that he was missing in his life was against his palms, and his skin burned with the leather of the saddle. His heart had gone above the clouds, and it hadn’t come down, even as his shaky feet hit the floor, a smile bigger than he had ever worn stretched across his face as he moved to scurry away and back to bed.

He would tell his mother in the morning. She would be so proud. But fate had something else brewing for him, and he was met with the sight of his nephews and his cousins. He clung to the words he had heard from his mothers lips, and he threw them mindlessly as fists collided in the air. He did not remember half of it. And he did not know when it would end, gripping blindly at whatever he could find. A stone the size of his foot, lifting it above his head quickly, every one of his cells begging him to go through with the action. It could have only been a second, maybe not even. 

From the moment he saw the dagger in his little nephews hand, he knew that this was all over. This temporary shot of joy, and it died like a flame to ash as blood soaked his hand. He couldn’t hear his scream, but he could feel it deep in his lungs as he smacked against the ground, clawing at it. He shouted profanities as the guards dragged him to the maesters. He stared at his mothers face, and he sat still as he was surrounded by all of his family. And as he prayed for comfort, he was met with only fighting.

Shouting back and forth between his mother and sister, his father was of no help, and every other moment he was stabbed with a needle, his mouth curling at the feeling as his nails scratched against the armrest of the chair. He knew the eye was gone, but seeing it laying broken in a dish like the bad parts of a chicken. It broke him, and he stared at the wall as blood hit the floor, and when he was finally asked where he had heard the words he shouted, he stared at his mother. Her brows were furrowed, a deep crevasse in the middle. Her brown eyes were shining with a mix of sadness and fury, a touch of fear as she looked over at him. He swallowed his pain and spoke a lie.

 “Aegon.” He whispered out, and shut his eye for the rest to come. The last thing he remembered of that night was the look on her face, and the way her fingers curled, as if she wished to reach out and touch him, only to be quickly whisked away by Rhaenyra and Daemon. That was the night he decided his mother was right about them. All of them. Even his sweet, Strong girl. Because if she were truly strong, she would have come to him. Despite their orders, she would’ve comforted him. But instead, he was alone. Alone and scarred. 

127 AC

When he learned that his sister and her bastard children would be coming to his home, he tried his best to act as normal as he could. He ate his breakfast of pork and eggs, sharpened his sword and trained with Ser Criston. He ignored the groans of his brother, and watched quietly as his sister bounced her babies on her legs. He could almost smile. But he knew exactly how the children came to be. And if Aegon were not his brother, Aemond would have his head on the wall. Dread grew in his stomach as the sun reached its peak, and he hit against Criston’s sword with the ferocity of a thousand men. With every strike, he thought of the night he lost his eye. He thought of the dagger against his skin, the way he was treated so coldly, and how she had done nothing. And every night after that he felt as though he were frozen, reliving the moment over and over. He could feel the pain in his cheek and forehead with every twitch in his lips. 

Soon, the Prince promised he would stop smiling altogether, because maybe then, the pain would stop. And so when he saw his nephews, he stared them down, like a wolf to a rabbit. He liked to watch their discomfort, but his gaze, much to his distaste, softened when he caught sight of her behind them. She had grown beautiful with the years that had passed. Her once chubby cheeks were still round and flushed from the cool air, and her brown curls were pulled back by pins. She wore a pink gown that leaned toward purple, a bit dusty in its tone, covered in small swirls and patterns that he could not process from where he stood. His sweet girl. Her eyes were large, and freckles covered her. He didn’t remember her ever having freckles before, and it took Criston’s voice to break him from his trance.

 “You will be ready for the tourneys in no time, My Prince,” the Knight spoke, to wish he scoffed. 

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” He responded, his voice quiet and cold. He did not see the pint in galloping around on a horse, fighting other men and yelling like animals, all for the attention of ladies that were as shallow as a tide pool. No. He would save himself for her, if she would have him. And he was certain she would.

 “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked, his voice louder than before, brows raised. Jace turned to look at his younger brother, and their faces paled. They were afraid, and the thought made Aemond’s heart fill with joy. He threw his sword to the dirt for his men to pick up later. 

“And what of you, niece?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. Jace moved his shoulder to create a wall between them, but it did nothing for her curious eyes. She simply stood on her tiptoes, looked at him, and smiled. The sight brought a smirk to his lips, and when he walked to his chambers, he did so with a newfound confidence. He was quick to change into his outfit for the evening, one that covered every inch of his body, not even his wrists exposed. It made him feel better. As if it hid everything under. As if he were not still the runt of the litter. Even with all his training, he could never seem to grow.

He would always be the smallest of his kin, but what he lacked in size, he could make up for in skill. He could hardly wait for the evening meal. He was not hungry, but he was thrilled. To see her, to tease her. And maybe, if he were lucky, she would meet him in the library like old times. As he paced back and forth, he practically counted down the minutes until the sun finally fell. He groaned as they gathered for yet another meeting, but he could put up with it, if it meant seeing her. 

She stood beside her mother, and it was only then that he could see a hint of resemblance between them. They had the same way of standing, and they were close in height. They shared a curved nose and a cunning gaze, but she only wore it softer. She had not yet seen violence, she had not watched the light fall from a mans eyes. She had not yet lost a love, and he could see her smile softly as the betrothals of her brothers were announced. He relished in the way that she nudged her brothers and gave them a teasing raise of brow before she remembered her surroundings, trying to return to her previously serious demeanor.

A smile pulled at his lips, and his eye narrowed as he stared at her, compelling her to look up at him. Please. He thought to himself, feeling his heart leap as their eyes met. She was just so beautiful. But the peace of her gaze was quickly broken when Vaemond began to speak of their heritage, and Aemond watched in displeasure as her brows furrowed, as her big eyes stared at the floor in shame. 

The others, he could smile at. But to see her caught in the fight, to see her be called names.

 It disgusted him. His back stiffened, and he bit his tongue. He would have plenty of time to speak to her later, to hold her in the years to come, to fuck the bastardy out of her. But he would have to wait. His hands curled in on themselves, and in a fraction of a moment, Vaemond was gone. His head hit the floor with a sloppy thump, Helaena turned away, her eyes huge and her hands on her head, and he watched as his Strong Girl practically mirrored her, her thumbs pressed against her ears and her fingers over her eyes. He sighed, staring at the body on the floor, his gaze slowly following the bloody sword until he was gazing at his uncle. Daemon. An interesting man he was. And slowly, Aemond smiled. This would be an interesting night. 

When dinner time came, he took his seat and looked at the rest of the table. Baela and Rhaena, Rhaenyra and Daemon, and next to them, there she was. He smiled a little to himself. They always did that, sitting around her like a human shield, practically hiding her from his view. He followed his mothers words as she called for prayer, and he smiled to himself as his mother spoke of Vaemond Velaryon. The old man could never shut his mouth. The food came out in small rounds, starting with potatoes and bread, and he gazed at her as he licked the remnants of potato from his thumb.

Her eyes were so big, and he loved watching her cheeks get nice and flushed. And even more, he loved seeing how angry her brothers got, all while her mother remained clueless. When the main course came out, he stared in silence as the roasted pig sat in front of him. He could tell how this was going to go, lifting his head to stare right at Luke, seeing the beginning’s of a smile on his mouth. His hands curled into fists, and just as he moved to stand, she spoke. “Luke. Do not be impolite,” She whispered softly. She was soft and sweet, but she had such a bold presence to her when she wanted it. 

“But-” Luke began, and she gently shook her head. “Eat your carrots. Mother said to be on our best behavior,” She said softly, reaching over to start cutting his soft boiled carrots up. Aemond frowned, slowly leaning back. He had so much anger to release, and no real reason to release it. She was a gem, that girl. She could so easily diffuse a situation. She was the type of woman that she be on the throne. They could share it together, one day. As the evening grew old and their stomachs were full, the music began to flow delicately on the harps. As soon as he saw Jace’s eyes brighten, he stood, walking around the table like a shark circling a helpless seal, placing his hands on the back of her chair. 

“Aemond,” His mother spoke up, her voice filled with caution as she sat up straight. “Do not worry, mother. I only wish to know if my lovely, strong girl wants to dance with me,” He responded, his fingertips moving across her curls. Rhaenyra bit her cheek, and he could feel the tension growing like a cage. 

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys spoke, his hands flat on the table. 

“Brother,” She said softly, gazing back at him. Their eyes met for nearly ten seconds, and finally, he looked away. “I will dance with you,” She spoke, pulling her chair from the table and gently taking his hand. “If you promise not to stomp on my toes,” She says, teasing him a little as he pulled her to the stone tiles. 

“I will do my very best,” He whispered, his hands curling around hers. Her touch was so delicate, and he found himself taking a small whiff of her wrist. Raspberries and cashews. It was a unique scent, but it was hers. He wanted to bathe in it, paint it onto his pillow. “I have missed you,” He said softly. And he had. He often found himself dreaming of the possibilities. Of bringing Vhagar to her bedroom window. Of taking her to the skies and bringing her to the forest, where they were not a Prince and a Princess, but only teenagers in love. “You will be a woman grown soon,” He said softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms as he spun her under his arms. It would only be eight months before they were the same age, and it was only eight months before she would finally be on the marriage market. He just had to make his claim before anyone else could.

 “I know,” She said softly, her fingers trailing to the cuffs on his wrist, touching the golden dragons with her gentle strokes. “I feel as though I was 9 only yesterday,” She mumbled, and he smiled in return. 

“Tell me about it,” He mumbled, his hands moving down to her waist, his touch gentle. His eye wandered to the necklaces she wore, the ones that layered. The shortest was to her collarbone, and the longest was just between her breasts. A seahorse. A Velaryon symbol, something that didn’t belong to her, and they all knew it. His fingers slowly wandered to it, his thumb rubbing against the emerald eyes and the golden details. “This is a symbol of your fathers house, is it not?” He asked softly. His fingers slowly wandered up to cup her face, his fingers against her jaw, licking his lips.

 “It is a symbol of the sea,” She said quietly, and he could see the turmoil in her eyes. He could feel the gaze of his family on him, and he knew they would not be pleased. But his mother was simply delighted, a scheming smile on her face.

 “You like the sea, my lady?” He mumbled softly. They were hardly dancing anymore, he was just holding her close, holding her face, his thumb pressing against her lips. 

“Who does not?” She asked softly, smiling a bit. She was always so sweet when she spoke of the sea, and he could see so much excitement in his eyes.

 “I must admit, I have never had great love for it. Smells of salt and dying fish, and sand simply gets everywhere, the seagulls chase me,” He mumbles, making her laugh a little, brows raised in amusement.

 “Perhaps they just like the look of you,” She said, and he smiled, head tilted. 

“Is that what you think?” He asked. 

“Well, if I were a seagull, I would go for you. Your hair would make a good nest,” She teases, making his eye roll. “But truly, you must be going to the worst spots. I have missed Kingslanding. The shores are beautiful,” She says. His heart thumped, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. 

“Then you should stay,” He responded softly, leaning a little closer. It was hard to remember that they were surrounded, and that they were not the only people in the world.

 “And how would I go about that?” She asked softly. 

“You could marry me,” He spoke softly, and the whole room went silent, the notes on the harp fading out. Her brows raised, and she looked like she might giggle. She couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, blinking slowly. 

“You do not mean that,” She said softly. 

“Oh, but I do. You would be so happy here.” He mumbled, pushing some falling curls behind her ears, whispering gently against her skin.

 “Wait for me, will you?” He mumbled. Her face flushed, and he could practically feel her heart pounding beneath her skin. She was about to speak, but the doors opened and cakes began to roll out, small cups of pudding, trays of lemon cakes and cookies.

 “(Y/N), come sit,” Rhaenyra called, and she gazed up at Aemond for a moment, as if trying to speak, but nothing would come out. Slowly, they parted, moving to go back to their seats. Her cheeks were so warm, and she prayed that no one else could tell under the warm light of the candles. Immediately, Rhaenyra leaned toward her, searching her face for discomfort. 

“What did he say to you?” She asked, noting the odd look of.. Something on her daughters face. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t discomfort. She just couldn’t place that expression. 

“Nothing, mother,” She said softly. All eyes were on her, and Daemon wore a smirk like a man would wear a crown.

 “I believe she has feelings for the boy,” He whispered, making Rhaenyra’s eyes widen. She looked disgusted, for a brief moment, but she quickly hid her distaste, blinking it away as she took lemon cakes onto her plate. 

“We will talk about this later,” She said quietly, plucking the sweetened lemons from the top of the cake and placing one in her mouth. Daemon reached over and took the cake itself. They had a system. She would eat the fruits, and he would eat the parts she did not want. Meanwhile, she reached for a cookie, breaking it into small pieces on her plate, trying her best not to look at Aemond. She could tell that he was getting the same treatment on his side of the table, a knowing smile on his face as his mother shook his arm, trying to juice information out of him. He only chuckled to himself, taking a few sips of his wine. When the dinner finally ended, she was a blushing mess as she followed her mother, looking over her shoulder to see Aemond going in the other direction, a silent agreement in their eyes. They would see each other in the library tonight. As she took her bath, all she could think of was him.

 Him and his offer, and the more she thought of it, the more she smiled. She trusted him more than she ever could a stranger. And she began to think of how she could convince her mother to let it happen. She trusted that Aemond would never hurt her. Maybe men that acted out of their place, maybe annoying nephews at the dinner table, but never her, and she was confident in that. And perhaps the marriage could bring the family together. Rhaenyra had wanted Jace to marry Helaena, after all. She did have a desire for the families to mix. That was it. That would be her selling point. “Some time alone, please?” She asked the maids as they scrubbed her body and hands.

 “Of course, Princess,” They responded, quickly leaving. She sighed softly, ringing out her loofa as she looked at the mirror. Perhaps if she had children with Aemond, they would come out with white hair. Maybe they would have a better life than her. Her eyes then wandered to her seahorse necklace, and she remembered her father, before his death. Her life had been an odd one. She felt like she had a new father every couple of years, and in truth, she had. She had the father who’s seed she grew from, who taught her how to count and tucked her into bed during his shifts on the nightwatch.

She had the father who taught her how to fish, and which shells made the best necklaces, and which crabs were dangerous. And then she had the father that taught her to be bold, the one who married her mother the day after his own wife died. That had been a tough one, and in truth, she still was not warmed to Daemon. She did not like the way he treated her precious mother, and she swore to herself that she would never have a marriage like theirs. When she was finally dried of her bath, she looked out to the stars.

 She looked for her favorite constellations, and she smiled as she remembered the library in the Red Keep. It was beautiful and large and full of enough books to last a lifetime. She was quick to get into her pyjamas, and even quicker to open her door, looking up at her guard. 

“Excuse me,” She said softly, stepping out. “Are you going somewhere, Princess?” He asked, a look of confusion on his face. He had a long beard, and she was sure he had seen him before.

 “Yes,” She answered, making her way down the corridor without saying anything else. She made her way as quiet as she could to the library, passing a rat or two that made her heart jump. That was something that she had hated about the Red Keep. There was nothing on the windows, so animals would come and go as they pleased. She much preferred mice over rats. Something about their tails tickled her brain in the worst of ways. When she finally did reach the library, her eyes searched for him, and she felt disappointment rising in her like steam when she could not find him. Perhaps she had gotten the wrong message. Maybe she made up the language of the eyes. But she would not waste her trip, beginning to pick out a book or two on constellations and The Moon and The Tides.

 “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” His voice made her jump, and she gripped her skirt as her eyes searched for him. “So close, my little doe. Look down,” He spoke, and when she did, she found him hiding under one of the tables in a pile of blankets. She smiled, crouching.

 “Are you hiding?” She asked softly. She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but she could feel warmth radiating from him.

 “I am not hiding. I simply wanted to see how long it would take to find me,” He responded, reaching for her hand and pulling her down. This was much easier when they were kids, but now he was longer than the table, and the needed more pillows. 

“So you have just been watching me walk around aimlessly?” She teased, making him nod.

 “Oh, of course,” He spoke softly, his hands finding her cheeks, squishing them gently. “I want to speak with my sister,” He mumbled softly, pulling her closer until her belly was against his chest. “I will not marry you until I get her permission,” He said softly. She nodded softly, leaning her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, and she smiled at the feel of the vibrations.

 “I did not take you for the type to want Mommy’s blessing,” She mumbles, making him scoff. 

“I know better than to take away her little girl. She owes me this much, for all that has been done to me,” He spoke, and her hand slowly made its way up to his eyepatch.

 “I am sorry that I said nothing that night,” She mumbled, and he softened against her touch. 

“You were only a child,” He said quietly. 

“As were you. None of us deserved all that has happened to us. If it is any help, I stole Luke’s desserts for a week,” She mumbled gently.

 “Ah, yes. That is the most appropriate punishment,” He teased, making her roll her eyes. 

“I did what I could.” She speaks, her lips brushing against his forehead, placing a small kiss there. A bit of his hair got into her mouth, and he squirmed, making him chuckle. 

“Are you trying to make a nest of my hair?” He asked, recalling their earlier conversation.

 “Oh hush.” She mumbled, curling up into him. Neither of them meant to fall asleep, but it was just so warm and comforting, and slowly, they fell into a slumber, feet sticking out of their fort. When they woke, it was to yells so loud they thought someone was killed. Both sat up far too quick, smacking the tops of their heads against the wooden tables. In shame, they crawled out quickly, her eyes big as she stared up at both of their mothers.

 “What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra asked. She sounded so angry, but her eyes were not on her daughter, they were on Aemond, her lips pressed into a fineline.

 “We were having a sleepover,” He said simply. “You know what that is like, don’t you sister? Didn’t you used to have sleepovers with your friends quite frequently?” He asked. He couldn’t speak without being antagonistic. 

“Aemond!” She and Alicent exclaimed at the same time. 

“Mother, please. I promise it was nothing. We were only speaking,” She said softly, eyes on the floor as she was pulled closer, her face and neck inspected for marks. “We just wanted to do as we used to as children, that is all,” She said softly. Rhaenyra slowly calmed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

 “He did nothing to you?” She asked.

 “Of course not. Aemond would never hurt me,” She spoke, feeling Aemond’s hand moving to her shoulder. 

“That much is true,” He spoke. “Sister, it has been a long time since we have spoken face to face,” He said, his eyepatch on the floor, having fallen off in his sleep. He wanted her to look at him in full, to see all that he had become. 

“That it has,” Rhaenyra spoke, her face void of emotion. 

“You know that I love your daughter. That has never been a secret. Do not deny her happiness because of one misunderstanding.” He said, making Rhaenyra’s face slowly fall. Her eyes looked to Alicent, as if she had any part in this. She simply shrugged, mouth parted. 

“What are you saying, Aemond?” She asked her youngest son. 

“I am saying that I wish to unite our families. I will marry (Y/N).” He spoke, leaving no room for discussion. Rhaenyra stared blankly at the pair. She had wished to stop the resentment between the families, and this would be the perfect way. But she could not bear the thought of her daughter staying here, alone with him, with them. She knew that (Y/N) would marry one day, but she just didn’t realize how soon that would be. But as she saw her daughters smile, and the hope in her eyes, she just could not say no. “Very well.” She spoke after a moment, letting out a deep breath.

 “I will allow it. But you will wait the moons until her name day. We will ensure that this is what she truly wants,” She spoke, nodding to herself. Alicent was more hesitant, running through the possibilities in her mind. This was not what she wanted, not one bit. She wanted as much distance between the two families as possible. And what would the people say when they learned that the Prince was marrying a bastard? Her blood was good as dirt, and she came from a family of liars and narcissists. But no matter what she said, she knew her son would do as he pleased, so finally, she nodded, looking down at the floor. 

128 AC The wedding day came quicker than either of them had expected. For at least three hours a day it was just planning, planning, planning. Trying on rings and taking them off, getting as close as they could without their chaperones making a fuss, whispered compliments and holding hands under the table. And of course, having to remind Alicent that this was not her wedding. “Oh, but wouldn’t a green dress be so lovely?” She asked, holding the fabric to (Y/N)’s skin. Rhaenyra could sense her discomfort, giving a light shake of her head. 

“No. She has already decided to wear a gown similar to mine,” She spoke, and as Alicent went to open her mouth, she quickly spoke again.

 “Don’t you remember that from when you were young? How old were you, nine or so? I found you in my chambers trying to get the dress on. It was much too long for you then,” Rhaenyra smiled fondly as she sipped her tea. 

“It will not fit her,” Alicent pointed out, to which Rhaenyra smiled. 

“It is a good to live in the time of seamstresses, is it not? I have already had it expanded and altered to suit her. You should worry about your son. Black leather at a wedding would be quite improper,” She spoke. Aemond sighed, slowly making eye contact with his betrothed. The pair were rather calm, but their mothers… were certainly something. 

“I have already had his clothing commissioned. He will wear a fine beaded doublet of dragons and seahorses, in nod to her…. Velaryon heritage,” Alicent spoke, her voice soft and sarcastic, making Rhaenyra’s eyes roll. (Y/N) could not take it anymore.

 “In all respect, this is my wedding. It is our wedding. We do not need this petty argument ruining our day. We both have fine clothes to wear, we have stunning rings, invitations are sent, and that is the end of it.” She spoke, looking between the two older women, watching them go silent. And so the pair would sit and wait for the day to come, resting together in the gardens, watching the sun fall and rise as they ate their meals on a blanket. They were romantic and disgusting, living in their own little world, just them and their chaperone.

 “I cannot wait until we are finally wed and can be alone,” He sighed, rubbing her hand, kissing the top of her engagement ring. It was golden and covered in stones. It was far from traditional, and it was exactly the type of thing that she enjoyed.

 “Nor can I,” She said softly, smiling as she saw a bunny running across the grass.

 “Only a few days left,” he said softly. “You are certain you want to go through with this? There is still time to call it all off,” He mumbled, making her scoff.

 “Of course I am certain. I will just have to prepare myself for more of your mothers comments,” She responded teasingly. 

“Oh, Gods. Are do not want to think about that. I only wish to think of what it will be like to finally kiss you, to share our names and bodies… to finally sleep in the same bed and wake up to the sight of you every morning,” he murmured, making her cheeks burn.

 “Stop it,” She mumbles, too embarrassed to listen to any more of it, placing her hands on her ears, making him chuckle as he pulled them off. 

“I am thrilled to see your pretty face all sleepy and puffy, and to share our evening meals, to have painting after painting made of you to hang on my walls until I cannot escape those pretty eyes,” He smiled. She squirmed under him, flattered and grossed out, covering her crimson cheeks. “Hm.. the bugs are coming out,” He sighed as the sky got dark and frogs bred in the distance. She sighed, and they carefully packed up their things and made their way back to the Keep. Alicent was watching them from her balcony, and the two walked a safe distance apart. Only a few more days they would have to hold themselves together. And finally, on the 18th day of the 11th moon, all of the Lords and Ladies of importance were packed inside the Red Keep. Beautiful gowns twirling under candle light, the best of music echoing from the harps. Aemond tried to breath as he walked in, his eyes finally finding her. 

And gods, he would marry her a million times over. Her curls were full of pearls and small pins, half of her hair up and the other half down. His palms were sweating, pressing against his doublet. He was painfully aware of everyone looking at him, but he couldn’t look away from her.

 “(Y/N).” He murmured softly as she finally stood in front of him. He was struck dumb by her beauty, blinking slowly. 

“Aemond,” She said softly, their voices quiet and kept to the loudness of a breath. Both of their faces red as the Sept read off some text, but neither of them were paying attention. Hurry up, Aemond thought to himself, getting increasingly more anxious as the minutes passed. And finally, as silence covered them, he reached forward, held her cheeks, and pressed a big kiss to her mouth. It was sweet and awkward, and their teeth bumped for a brief moment. All of the love they had collected for each other in the last months came oozing out, her hands holding his until they finally parted, looking at each other, their breath lost.

 “And you have… kissed your bride.” The Septon spoke, a bit awkwardly, as if this had never happened before. And it had not. The crowd was quiet, looking around for the reaction they were supposed to have, until they finally erupted in applause.

 “I love you, My Strong Girl,” He whispered into her ear. She smiled up at him, arms around his shoulders as flower petals flew like rain.

 “Aww, thank you,” She said, making his eye squint. She laughed, her thumbs pressing her cheeks.

 “And I love you too, my One Eyed Prince,” She mumbled, feeling his arms around her waist, holding her close as if he wished to absorb her. And so the One Eyed Prince and The Strong Girl lived the happiest they could, despite the violence around them and the whispers in their ears, their love never died. Burning furious and strong like Vhagar’s flame, and with every five years that passed, they would have wedding after wedding after wedding, until they were wed beneath all the gods and above all the land. Until their love could not be denied, and until they died, where their ashes were mixed and mingled with the shore, covered in shells and seahorses.

I think this might be the longest fic i've posted so far! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you to everyone who reads.

♡- BK

[goldensunflowe-r]

Laenor loca come here! I want to tell you something! You should have seen who they tried to set me up! Fuc*ing white boy!!! But I tricked them AND it was HILARIOUS!!

[controld3vil]

𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine. 

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks. 

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother. 

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.” 

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request. 

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now. 

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that? 

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat. 

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief. 

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant. 

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom. 

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?” 

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face. 

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it. 

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her! 

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to. 

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black. 

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace. 

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose. 

“I told you, Alicent is fine!” 

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate. 

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide. 

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.” 

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know. 

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.” 

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess. 

“Congratulations!” 

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy. 

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful. 

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there. 

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast. 

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth. 

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.” 

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.” 

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!” 

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could. 

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate. 

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back. 

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of. 

“Why are you pouting?” 

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm. 

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father. 

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast. 

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind. 

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.” 

She looks at you, astonished. “What?” 

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.”  Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury. 

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?” 

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.” 

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors. 

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out. 

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon? 

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?” 

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far. 

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one. 

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly. 

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin. 

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea. 

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas. 

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war. 

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband. 

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain. 

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply. 

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly. 

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face.