#Could he not wait until we landed? Good lord

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader 

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing. 

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k 

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court. 

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise. 

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand. 

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon. 

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs. 

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“ 

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair. 

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea. 

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations. 

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break. 

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers. 

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens. 

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses. 

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps. 

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head. 

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow. 

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm. 

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off. 

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations. 

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay. 

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens. 

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read. 

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother 

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him. 

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone. 

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull. 

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone. 

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle. 

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes. 

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount. 

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child. 

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man. 

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words. 

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest. 

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter. 

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes. 

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow. 

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest. 

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor. 

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Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard. 

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him. 

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows. 

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand. 

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out. 

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback. 

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated. 

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly. 

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises. 

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room. 

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers. 

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm. 

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow. 

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek. 

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch. 

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe. 

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity. 

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later. 

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep. 

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm. 

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him. 

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly. 

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face. 

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow. 

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite. 

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine. 

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me. 

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach. 

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration. 

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.  

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masterlist 🔌 

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

[imagine-darksiders]

Me and the other passengers on my row trying not to make eye contact while the couple a few seats ahead of us have the most explosive breakup at 35,000 feet, 4:23am:

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats Pt. 2

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Part 1

“Princess Y/N of house Velaryon.” The guard announces.

Rhaenyra’s heart skips a beat, surely he is mistaken.

“Mother,” Y/N says, racing toward her. “Your grace,” she corrects herself.

Rhaenyra wraps her eldest child in her arms. “Mother will do just fine.”

Y/N buries her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“How did you get here?” Aegon would never let her go of his own free will.

“Daemon,” Y/N breathes. Knowing that her stepfather will owe her for the half truth.

“Where are the children?”

“In King’s Landing.” Y/N tells her, “to keep Aegon’s wits about him in my absence. He wants to come to an agreement, he’s more than willing to bend the knee. I only ask that he and Helaena be spared…as for Aemond Targaryen, he is a murderer.” Y/N’s voice breaks, “we will avenge the murder of my brother.”

Rhaenyra’s strokes a hand over her hair, feeling the dark waves that remind her of Lucerys. “Aegon and Helaena will receive full pardons based on your testimony. Rest assured I appreciate what you have done on my behalf.”

“Thank you.” Y/N pulls back marginally, realizing her mother’s pregnant belly should be between them. “Where is the babe?”

Rhaenyra shakes her head.

Y/N covers her mouth with her hand, “I am terribly sorry.”

“It is no fault of yours, darling girl.”

“I should have been here with you.”

“When I offered your hand in marriage, I had no idea Aegon was capable of love. It has complicated all of this.”

Y/N nods, “speaking of my husband. I should send word that I am well, lest he take out his frustration on Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra taps her chin, affectionately. “I will fetch a scroll.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon’s youngest son is the only one of his children to share Y/N’s dark locks. His wife insisted they name him Aegon. After my dearest love. She said.

Aegon agreed of course as he can deny her nothing. The child wails nonstop, in the absence of his mother. At all of four months old, Aegon is the only one who can quiet him besides Y/N. As such, the King is now attending the small council meeting with a babe in his arms.

Their daughter, Dahlia, the eldest of the twins will sit the iron throne one day, through his line of succession and Rhaenyra’s. At all of six, she is sitting at the table. His other children Visera and Laenor have not been properly protected under the guard, they too must stay in his sightline.

“Gods be good.” Alicent frowns at her son.

“What is it?” Aegon huffs, arching a brow at her.

“The small council is no place for children, your grace.” Alicent explains. “They would be better tended by their maids.”

Aegon nods, “right. As you all know, two nights ago, the Princess Helaena was attacked in the children’s chambers. Our heirs were threatened and Queen Y/N was taken from us. During which time, not a single guard could be found on the entirety of the royal floor! Because you were-”

Aegon looks to his children in turn, “cover your ears my darlings.” He smiles, waiting until they have done as they’re told, holding his own hand over his infant’s ear. “Where were we, mother? Oh, that’s right, no one was guarding my children because you were fucking the royal guard.”

The council members lower their heads in acknowledgement.

“The men who carried out this attack, entered under the guise of rat catching. I want them found and swiftly executed.” Aegon demands, patting his sleeping son’s leg.

“We have been interrogating rat catchers for days, thus far we have no leads.” Otto explains.

A slow smile spreads over the King’s face. “Then hang them all.”

Alicent blanches.

“Anything else?” Aegon asks, watching Visera begin toying with Otto’s chair.

“A letter arrived from Dragonstone, your grace.” Lord Tyland informs him.

“Oh?” Aegon says, “from Rhaenyra?”

“From Queen Y/N.”

Aegon swallows, “did you read it?”

“No, my King.”

“Good,” Aegon reaches for the rolled parchment.

‘My dearest Aegon,

Please know that I am well. We would like to begin negotiations to end the blockade and create a peaceful transfer of power. This will require your cooperation, I hope you will meet me at Dragonstone to discuss this matter farther.

Forever yours,

Y/N’

Aegon exhales, sharply.

“What is it, your grace?”

“The children and I are off to Dragonstone.”

“Whatever for?”

“To negotiate the terms of Y/N’s return.”

“My King…”

“And if you cannot agree on said terms?” Alicent asks.

Aegon frowns, lifting a shoulder. “To war then.”

“He is unhinged,” Otto whispers to his daughter.

“As I warned he would be.” Alicent rises from her seat. “He is quite…devoted to her.”

————————————————————————

“It has been three days since you sent word to King’s Landing. We must assume Aegon’s silence is his response.” Daemon seethes, around the drawing table.

“Give it time.” Y/N insists, “you owe me that.”

Daemon smirks, “I owe you nothing, spoiled thing.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums. “My mother does not yet know how I came to be here.”

“And you are not going to tell her. Otherwise, my distaste for your usurping cunt of a husband will be demonstrated at length.”

Sunfyre roars, calling their attention to the nearest window.

Daemon huffs, “I’ll be damned.”

“And he’s brought the children.” Y/N rejoices, running out to join her family.

Jacaerys is already helping to unload her children from the makeshift carriage on the dragon’s saddle.

“Mother!” Dahlia and Visera charge Y/N nearly knocking her backwards.

Laenor runs after them with his little legs as Aegon the fourth, stares at her, babbling in his father’s arms.

Y/N is moved to tears, “you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” Aegon cocked his head to the side.

“It’s a rather large ask,” Y/N explains.

“For you, the world.” He replies, with a kiss to her temple. “Now, where is Rhaenyra? We have much to discuss.”

“Her grace will join us soon.”

Aegon nods, “I request a small audience, before the council.”

“That can be arranged.”

“After which your brother might tend the children whilst you show me your quarters.” Aegon whispers.

Y/N smirks, “of course.”

Part 3

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight

[divinesolas]

the shortest marriage tour | finale

summary: you go through a whirlwind of events; struggles with wedding preparations, feasts in your honor, wedding ceremonies and the fun that comes with being married.

w.c: 6.6k

c.w: fluff, also a good amount of smut, father daemon, idk how weddings work, not proofread

a.n: i had so much fun with this series thank you all for the love !! sorry this took a little longer than expected i did not think this part would be so long 😭😭 MORE BEN TO COME TRUST !

benjicot series taglist: @poppyflower-22 @earth4angels @godofstory @melissaliciousx @jessie123878 @callsignwidow @kezibear @knight-of-flowerss @kitkat1sstuff @valdezthg @multyfangirl @duck-duck-goose2 @charvsz @bxdbxtxh15

part one - part two

As you had expected your parents were not happy with your wish to get married under the weirwood tree. Your father had been especially furious and the two of you got into a screaming match. You two have always had a playfully hateful relationship but you have never hated in the man and he you yet in these moments it was almost as if you two were enemies. Even your mother seemed more willing to give into the idea but your father was firm in denial which led you to now where the two of you would not even speak to one another.

You spent the majority of time with your mother though it was tense, she sort of danced around you as you mostly took reins on your wedding, picking out the food, contacting the seamstress for your dress it shocked your that your mother did not seem to be as involved until she dropped the bomb on you. “Your grandsire wishes for there to be a feast in your honor at the red keep. He,, wants to see you wedded in the sept.” you smash a glass on the ground as you glare at her. “And you tell me this now?!” “He is my father and your king, your grandsire he wishes to see you married,” she sighs as she watches you begin to pace around the room.

“So i am just meant to throw all the planning i have made out of the fucking window?!” Her face hardens, “I am your mother-” “then you should have told me! i would have been angry and furious but i would have compromised because he is the king but most of all you are my mother, and i shall always listen to my mother first.” Her face drops at your words, she walks over to you and grips your shoulders pressing her forehead against yours. “I am sorry. I should have told you sooner but you just seemed to happy and i dont know i did not want to ruin that for you. Maybe just wait a while longer to inform you.”

You sigh and take a step back before nodding. “I understand, well what am i to do with all ive done?” “We could hold a smaller event there?” You run you hands down along your face as you try not to curse. “So i am bound forever to have a boring wedding in front of the sept with every stuck up lord in all the kingdoms who wish to kiss my ass.” She laughs, “You sound so much like your father.”

You frown at the mention of your father and she grips your hand. “Speak to him.” You try to turn away at her words but she keeps you firmly in front of her. “He will never admit it but he misses you he has been mopping about since you two fought.”

You sigh. You hate to admit it but you miss him too and it pained you to see your mother upset that you too were not in a good place. So that night you walk out onto the beach to see him sitting on the dock staring out into the ocean. He does not turn to you when you sit down next to him but there is enough space between you two you are able to place the bottle of wine you had brought down with you.

“its seems we both lose father, i am to be married by a sept in kings landing.” He turns to you as you take a long sip from the bottle. “by whos decree?” “your brother, the king.” He takes the bottle as soon as you place it down and take a long chug from it. He sighs, “i will fight this, my daughter will not be married in a fucking sept.” “why? because its not the wedding you wished for me?” “because its not the wedding you want.”

You let out a stiff laugh with no joy in it as you admire the ocean. “im sorry.” You two sit in silence before he places a hand on your shoulder. No more words are exchanged but they dont need to be the two of you understand one another, actions speak louder than words.

The next day he argues against you getting married in the sept, much to everyone’s disbelief he flies out the next morning to kings landing to argue against it. It would be wrong for both of your beliefs, neither of you believe in the new gods and it would be out right disrespectful to both of you. After days of arguing with them, that you now know were the hightowers not so much your grandsire, daemon returned successful telling you a feast would be held in your honor but nothing more.

You are overjoyed and immediately run to write to benjicot about the news. True to his word the two of you had been exchanging letters back and forth since you left, the letters have been sweet, he tells you what he���s been up to, updates about the construction of the walk which is pretty much done and he even lets oscar and kermit write little notes to you asking you to come back because its boring with you around.

You had thought marriage would be miserable and leaving dragonstone would be much worse but this just proved to you your life would be full of a lot more joy then you had thought, you miss them, you miss being in raventree hall in the riverlands you miss the bright colored grass and waking up to the sound of ravens crowing and cattle moo’ing outside. You missed him.

The letters were nice but they could not fill the gap being without him made. You tended to tell him about your family and about the wedding preparations. The letters were always very sweet and normal until one day about one week away from your wedding a particular long letters is sent by ben to you and you were particularly curious about since he took much longer to write this one.

My love,

I hope all is still well since you last wrote to me. I apologize for the long wait i had been unsure of how to word my feelings properly as of late. I have been feeling particularly, off, as of late. Nothing bad of course but you have always run through my mind rampantly but as of recently i have begun to dream of you. See you when i close my eyes and when i think of you i begin to lose control of myself. My body my mind shivers and shakes at the thought of you. I should not say these things but it has been the only thing i have managed to think of. I imagine your lips, the way they had felt on mine but i imagine them going lower down my jaw to my neck down my chest.

Yet i would never allow you to go lower it would be rude you are a princess, i must worship you. find myself on my knees and defiling you. I imagine the way you would sound as i slipped my fingers inside you. would you scream in delight? or are you the type to sink your teeth into the side of my neck to silence yourself? would you be able to contain yourself as i lick at your most sacred area? would you pull on my hair has i wrap my lips around you bud? and when i stand to slide my way into you would your nails run marks down my back i am sure to be teased about?

i would wear your marks with honor. take me however you wish i would allow it i would let you do anything to me. I have imagined this all too well, so well in fact i have carved it into my memory that every night i must have to act upon my urges with my hand.

It is sinful and this letter is scandalous but i cannot stop myself. I dream of your perfume and the way it fills my lungs i could never get enough of you. Do you picture me? as i picture you?

with all my love, ben.

A knock on your door has you screaming and you slam a book on the letter as the maid walks into the room. One of your hands cover your mouth as you rush to take deep breaths. The maid looks startled at you as she almost drops the tray she had been holding in her hands. “tea?” you gesture her to place it on your table and she rushes to do so before she quickly leaves and you cannot manage to get your breath back to normal as you peer down at the letter once more. that monster! he had rejected all your teasing touches and scandalous words during your month there only to send such a letter to you now? right before the feast and your wedding? You stand up to pace as you think about what to do.

You first thought is to burn the letter and act like this never happened. But you did not want that. You liked the letter, a lot. Much more then you would like to admit with the way your soaked. You hate him. Why would he do this to you? An idea suddenly pops into your head and a grin appears on your face. You can play his game too, and win.

You rummage around in your drawers before finding what you wanted before running back to your desk and getting a paper in ink out before writing to him.

my beloved,

well hello to you too. you are certainly posses the best penmanship out of all the men ive ever written to. This was certainly a surprise to open up imagine i had been around my family! how awful. though before i begin i would like to tell you i have been well, and my dress has finally been completed though by your words that certainly does not matter much to you. Have a pictured you? you certainly already know the answer i have told you as much? do you remember the night you had rejected me out in the woods?

i had gone back to my room and touched myself in ways i had hoped you would. did you not hear me? when i cried your name on my lips as i peaked? i tried to be loud enough i guess i will need to try harder. You should know i am never one to be quiet. as for your predictions and thoughts i shall leave you guessing until our fateful wedding night but let me leave you with this. if you shiver at the mere thoughts of me you will certainly love what i plan to do to you.

if you forbid me from going on my knees then i can certainly find other ways to play with you. my hands would slide down your chest as i wrap my hands around your cock and stroke you until you are shaking and then i would push you back onto the bed and ride you until you are seeing stars. i would grab your hand and have your rub my bud as your hips thrusted up to meet mine in a fury and as you grow closer i will tell you to wait. and you’ll wait and wait and wait until you are begging me to let you release and when you do i will not stop. Maybe you’ll flip me over and take me again? who knows im just throwing out ideas.

i hope you’re taking notes as this is what how im expecting our long waited first night to go. since you missed my scent so much i hope this letter brings you some relief. and maybe even my other gift will too, they’re freshly washed maybe you’re disappointed by that you dirty man.

my heart,

you sign your name and grab your lipstick to apply it and press a kiss to the bottom on the page before soaking the letter in way too many sprays of your perfume before you roll it up and slip it into the small pouch you had put one of your pairs of underwear in before tying the small bag to your bird. “Go take this to benjicot.” Your bird flies off down the familiar path its probably done a hundred times by now and you try to shake off your nerves. Maybe you shouldnt have done that. what if someone else gets to it? you won’t know until you see him in the keep as he certainly wont have enough time to get one out to you now.

You ring the bell and ask the maids to run you a cold bath. as cold as they can make it. You begin to feel sticky and you could not stop lightly shaking as your hands itched to bring you some sort of comfort but you forbid yourself until you got into the bath and dismissed the maids knowing nobody would bother you for the rest of the night.

You anxiously await seeing him. you had ridden with your parents and viserys joffrey and aegon in a carriage having left your dragon in raventree not too long ago with some maesters until you return soon. You arrived a day earlier than your siblings and benjicot and rush to see your siblings the second they arrive. You have a quick greeting with them until you urge them to follow you.

“Why the rush dear sister?” “Maybe because she is eager to see her soon to be husband jace.” baela laces her arm through yours and grins at you. “I am excited to meet this mystery man, father even talks highly of him.” “and father talks highly of no one.” rhaena cut in but you merely laugh and shake your head. “Or maybe it is because i am eager to get this feast over with who wants to spend the evening with the fucking hightowers?”

They were completely right. you were more than excited to see ben and looked around the compound for him as soon as you arrived. You force down the pout that grows on your face as you cant seem to see him anywhere and turn to your siblings who all stare with a knowing look. “What? don’t look at me like that?” Jace places a hand on your shoulder but the mischievous grin he has on his face offers you no comfort. “Don’t cry dear sister im sure he will show up soon.” You slap his arm off your shoulder as they begin to laugh and you roll your eyes. “You are an insufferable little shit.”

“she does not deny she is about to cry oh dont cry dear sister.” you knock lucerys on the head and he winces, “once you can hold a fucking sword in your hand then you can speak to me like that.” “You’re so mean sister.” you open your mouth to argue but a whistle behind you and when you turn around a big grin forms on your face. You rush away from your siblings and when you get close enough he wraps you in his arms and spins you around once before setting you back down on the ground and pressing his forehead against yours.

As much as you wish to kiss him you know that would cause too much of a scandal so you simple press a kiss against his cheek as he grins. “I have missed you.” “I missed you a lot more.” You press your head into his neck where you lips are right next to his ear. “Did you like my letter?” He hums as his arms tighten around you, his head dips into the crook of your neck and he takes a long deep breath in. “did i like it?,” you feel him pinch at your side, “You know the answer.” you pull away slightly and look him in the eye. “And what of my gift?” He rubs his nose against yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “the things i have done with your gift are, unspeakable.” you feel the heat build up in your face as you slap him his shoulder and push him away.

“no hugs for us?” You turn to oscar and kermit and you throw your arms around their shoulders. Your siblings had walked over at some point and had begun introducing themselves so when you turn back around it looks like they are full on interrogating him. When you slip your arm though bens he shoots you a smile that screams ‘please save me’. Jace in particular has his arms crossed as he glares at ben, “oh relax jace he is a nice man.” your brother huffs and benjicot wipes a bead of sweat that drops down his forehead.

“You’re scaring him, trust me if he wanted to defile me i gave him many the opportunity yet my purity is in tact.” This has your brother tensing as baela covers her mouth with a laugh, “Whatever are you talking about?” “when i had waited for him in the library in nothing but my silk night gown he merely took off his cloak and told me i must be cold imagine my disappointment.” he deadpans as he looks between the two of you and turns back to you alarmed when ben merely turns away with his ears bright red “tell me you are jesting.” “if it will make you feel better.” “it would.” “then of course i was kidding! do you really think i am so deprave?”

he glares at you as a guard walks over and tells you your parents wished to see you and you turn to ben who squeezes your hand. “i shall see you later.” he lifts up your hand to press a kiss on the back before he walks off with a small wave. “he seems sweet, you pick well dear sister” You smile at baela and thank her as you watch ben walk off with oscar and kermit in his tail. it really hits you that you’re going to be married in a few days time and you cant help but grow more and more excited. “you really like him.” “i do.”

Your afternoon is a blur, you watch as your siblings greet your parents and dreadfully greet alicent and her children who look less than happy to see any of you but you all suck it up for the sake of the day knowing you’ll be gone before the sun even rises tomorrow. You are suddenly rushed to your room to get dressed in some fancy dress and some ridiculous hair that has you itching. its just for one night, you repeat to yourself over and over agin in the hopes you will not tear off your clothes or scratch at your hair so the pins would fall out.

The only thing that brings you relief is seeing benjicot sitting with the rest of your family at the end table with a spot empty right next to you. “well you clean up nicely.” He certainly did. His hair slicked back away from his forehead while outfit is completely black with red accents, if you look closely you could see little ravens stitched into the fabric. a light blush covers his face as he looks you up and down as he smiles, “you are the prettiest woman ive ever seen.” you slap his shoulder lightly as your grin, “and you are the most handsome man ive ever seen” his chest puffs up at your complimentary words and he helps you into your seat.

Your grandsire and your parents give speeches you don’t bother to listen to simply playing with bens fingers under the table until people start coming up to you to give you there congratulations. this was the part you hated the most, where every lord and lady comes up and tells you how happy they are for you and sneakily try to tell you they brought a very nice gift that you will probably never look at and you have to sit there with a painful smile as benjicot took over as you barely even wanted to look at these people. He was a much better communicator than you were and everyone who spoke to him seemed please you were happy at least one of you would be good at dealing with the stuck up lord and ladies.

Except when he walked up and you could tell he was growing angry. you place a hand on his chest and scoot up further in your chair in a silent motion telling him you’ll handle this. “lord braken,” he bows his head and aeron practically hides behind his father, “what a pleasure.” benjicot laces his fingers with yours and squeezed them tightly as he tried not to speak. “congratulations are in order princess what a wonderful occasion.” you grind your jaw as you smile and nod, “thank you lord braken.” He does allow his eyes to look at benjicot for a moment before he looks back at you. This was not going to be good.

“though it is quite a shame you are marrying a man of, his nature.” benjicots knees hits the table and everyones eyes turn to look at him but he remains silent. You grip his hand tightly but keep your eyes on the lord braken. you can see aeron tug on the his fathers back trying to get him to step back and walk away but lord braken does not falter. so you lean across the table and grin at him, “if you do not get the fuck out of my sight in the next five seconds you and your family will be nothing but food for my fucking dragon so i suggest you walk away. Now.”

He laughs awkwardly and takes a couple steps back as you settle back into your seat, “good day.” he quickly runs away and you begin to laugh. You turn to benjicot pleased and see him admiring you, “what?” he just shakes his head, “i really like you.” you blow raspberries as you try to ignore pounding of your heart and the heat in your stomach, “i would hope so.”

He suddenly stands and you look at him confused until he holds his hand out to you, “would my lady like to dance with me?” You grab his hand and let him pull you up, “you sure you want to i am an awful dancer?” he leads you to the floor anyway, “im sure you’re better than you say.” you laugh, “if you say so, if your feet begin to bruise its not my fault.”

You are a fine dancer, maybe a little sloppy and out of practice but he is more than happy to dance with you. You felt so happy like it could never get better than this, just you and benjicot. The rest of the night went just as well, no more annoying lord as you spent the rest of night on the dance floor until the two of you called it a night.

you would head back to dragonstone for some final prep while benjicot head to raventree hall for the wedding. You did not want to leave him once again but he assured you these last couple days would fly by and your wedding would be here before you knew it. “once this is all over we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives together.” You would be flying back alone and the rest of your family would be traveling together in carriage to raventree hall and you would meet them there as after the wedding they would come back to king's landing.

It was odd packing up all your stuff, your room now barren and empty. all the things you’ve ever known packed up in boxes. It did not bother you much to leave kings landing it never felt like home despite never knowing anywhere else but here? in dragonstone where you grew up with your siblings? where you learned how to use a sword? you find yourself staring at the castle before forcing yourself into the carriage and letting it take you and all your stuff to raventree hall. You did not think you would cry but you do and you’re thankful nobody else is there to see it.

Its snowing. all the land that the eye could see was covered in snow. Raventree hall is packed by the time you arrive and people rush to you the second you jump out of the carriage, “please theres enough of me to go around.” oscar rolls his eyes and grabs you, “come on you need to see this.” he drags you off with kermit not too far behind and you have no clue what he could be showing you until you are standing in front of it. “wow.” “i know right, its amazing.”

The boarder between the lands stood tall, the dark oak wood towers over you, its much taller than you had thought it would be. oscar smacks you on the shoulder, “this wouldn’t be possible without you my benevolent princess.” he dips into a low bow and you cant help but laugh, “yes i am rather charitable dont you think? it is my duty to help the needy.” You hope it makes him happy, the stones gone and you can no longer even see the braken castle. “does he like it?” kermit laughs at your question, “like it? i swear he’s never looked happier.”

The three of you are soon dragged back to the castle walls and you are forced into the main hall. Benjicot is not there much to your disappointment but two very unfamiliar faces are. You quickly find out they are lord cregan stark and his wife alysanne stark aka benjicots aunt. “it is so nice to finally meet you princess. Benji writes so much about you.” ”no need to be so formal alysanne we are to be family.”

with your que alysanne, who begged you call her aly, asks you many questions about your relationship with benjicot and you ask her about the north where cregan buts in and the three of you engage in a very long conversation. The two of them are very nice people and they make you promise to come to the north sometime to spend some time there and you assure them you will.

as the night grows later you find it odd benjicot has not come out to greet you until you find out the two of you are not to see each other until you walk down the aisle. Its just one more night, one more night until you spend the rest of your lives together. You toss and turn that night despite the fact everyone told you to get as much rest as possible. you stare up at the ceiling and wonder if benjicot is in the same state, if he cant sleep because he’s thinking about you.

You certainly have no time to be exhausted when you are immediately woken up and tossed into a whirlwind of events. a piece of bread is shoved into your mouth as maids urge you into the bath, scrubbing you down head to toe. You barely have any idea whats going on until your mother walks into the room and she gasps at you. “you look beautiful.” they had been working on your hair for only the gods know how long but you had been tied tightly into your dress. your mother stands before you with tears in her eyes, “oh look at you.”

“oh don’t cry mother ill ruin my makeup.” you cannot handle seeing her cry, already overwhelmed with emotions. she wipes the tears off her face but they dont seem to stop leading your eyes to well up so badly one of the maids had to walk over and put a cloth near your eyes to catch the tears. “i am so happy for you.” “thank you mother.”

she nods and composes herself, sitting on the bed and you narrow your eyes at her serious look. “what?” she sighs and runs her hands along her skirt. “there are things that happen on your wedding night,” “oh my gods.” you turn around and the maids rush around you to continue working on your hair. “i have to tell you this, unless you already know.” you look at her through the mirror and you can tell what she means immediately by her words. “do you all think so low of me everyone assumes i have been defiled? i am as a girl my age is.” she lets out a sigh of relief but she ends up tilting your head at your wording. “what does that mean?” “it means i have touched myself.” the maids freeze at your words and so does your mother but you shrug. “what? i am a growing women.” “how do you even know about that?” “father gave me a book.” “daemon?”

The man in question walks into the room and every pair of eyes turns to look at him. “what?” “father remember that book you gave me?” daemon looks up and he looks thoroughly confused until a flash comes across his face and he brightens up with a laugh. “yes yes i remember.” rhaenyra glares at him but he just shrugs, “she was complaining to me about feeling, pains, and i simply provided her the resources to make it go away.” she glares at him and mumbles something about them talking about it later.

Your father eyes you, “face me.” you turn around again as the maids finally finish and they all stepped away from you. rhaenyra stands next to daemon the two look at you. you see the tears in rhaenyras eyes again and she wipes them away. “oh my beautiful girl.” daemon says nothing but he has an unreadable face as he stares at you. you punch him lightly in the stomach, “not even going to tell me i look pretty?” he lightly chuckles, “you already know that.” you pout at him, “it would be nice to hear.” he grabs yours shoulders and you are shocked by the sudden contact, “you are the prettiest princess in the whole realm.” you would normally think hes kidding, his word choice as comedic as always but you can tell he’s being serious. “thank you father.”

Before you know it you are being looked over once more before being taken outside for the ceremony. You had not taken into account when designing your dress that it would be snowing but luckily alys had brought her wedding cloak for you to wear. She had worn it when she got married in the cold snowy winter in winterfell and assured you it would keep you as warm as a freshly baked bread. You almost tear up again at the gesture but you try your best to compose yourself. your father stands at your side and you loop your arm through his.

“can you believe that when you crushed my toe with your heel we would end up like this?” you laugh and shove him with your elbow and he laughs with you. “see are you now thankful i insisted we leave that night.” he hums but says nothing and you look at him. He looks, sad? you turn to him and grab his hands. “i shall visit you father i promise, you will not grow older and bitter without me.” he rolls his eyes but he looks more than pleased at your words, “then i shall bother you for the rest of my life.” you groan as the two of you stand back into proper place. “oh please i take it all back i did not mean it.”

with one final laugh he ques for the doors to be open and the first thing you notice is the cold rush that hits your face. you close your eyes at the rush but make sure to maintain your pace, the covering you have on your face doing nothing to protect you. yet when you finally open your eyes you see the face of everyone you love yet your eyes cant seem to tear away from him. Standing tall infront of the weirwood tree you almost burst into tears. dawned with furs and his hair slicked back once again, his hair is covered in white snow flakes with a bright smile on his face. he wipes his eyes quickly as you begin to get closer. you turn to your father who lifts up your veil and presses a small kiss on your forehead before walking off and you stand in front of benjicot.

His eyes swell up as he looks at you and you cant help but do the same. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers to you as the maester begins to speak. the ceremony is everything you could have dreamed of and more. Your hands tied together and words spoken in sync, sealing you together forever with a perfect kiss. it was the most magical moment of your life. the crowd cheers as you look up at the ravens who stare you down and you can hear morningstar roar in the background this day could not get any better.

the feast afterwards was much better than the one in the red keep. nobody bothering, no need to pretend for a single second you were overjoyed and ben could not keep his hands off you, calling you his wife any chance he could get. though you could barely eat, too excited for the events that will occur after you call it a night and it seemed ben could not wait either as his hands massaged any skin he could get and he pressed his head into your neck to smell you.

after way too long you two finally call it a night, ignoring the whistles of your friends you sprinted down the halls with bens hand in yours as the two of you laugh. You finally reach his room and the two of you simply stare at one another with stupid smiles. “have i told you that you are gorgeous?” you take a step towards him and he does the same, “only a couple hundred times.” his lips dance over yours and his next words come out as a hushed whisper, “i feel as though i have not done it enough.”

he kisses you slowly as his hands find its way to your back and begin to untie the dress much slower than you would like. his lips trail down your neck and you throw your head back. as he continues to unlace every tie, “ben.” you hear him rumble in annoyance, “why does this thing have so many ties?” you laugh and reach behind you to help him and your dress suddenly drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. He steps back and his eyes dart all over your body.

You smirk and spin around for him, “you pleased?” he jumps you like a dog you fall back onto the bed with a squeal as he grips your tits in his hands, “i am more than fucking pleased.” you moan as his hands continue to knead at your skin and his lips dance around your collarbone. “you are wearing too much.” you manage to get out as you would much rather feel his skin against yours. he laughs and pulls away from you, “as my lady commands.” you sit up on your elbows as you watch him strip down into nothing licking your lips at him. he crawls back onto of you and you run your hands down his chest, “you were hiding all this under your stupid tunics.” he pinches your slide as his hands find your core and rub the folds of your slit, “does my lady wish for me to wear no shirt?” “your lady wishes for you to stick your fingers inside her.”

he does exactly as you say and grip his shoulder, his fingers were longer than yours, thicker and more coarse, which just two fingers he can reach places you had only ever dreamed about. “please ben.” “please what?” “another one.” he adds another finger and his lips wrap around one of your nipples as his free hand places with your other one. His fingers suddenly press just right against your walls and you cry out, “right there oh fuck.” he continues to hit that point over and over as his thumb circled around your clit. the stimulation of his fingers and his mouth are too much for you to bare and your legs shake as you release all over his fingers.

when he pulls his fingers out he wraps them around his cock. you whine at his actions and wiggle your hips towards him, “please fuck me ben.” he laughs and moans as his hand quickens, “i thought you had so many wonderful ideas of what were were going to do?” “lets save it for another night, ben please.”

“anything my lady says.” with a couple more tugs of his hand he lines himself up before he pushes into you slowly. it aches. stretches you out you begin to hiss, he presses his lips against yours as he slides in fully. the two of you stay like that for awhile. he doesn’t dare move an inch without your okay. he pulls away from your lips and grips your face with his hands, “are you good?” you nod and test the waters by moving your hips a little. It did not ache as much and the sound he lets out is more than enough to please you. “fuck me.” he looks at you for assurance and you nod right before he begins to move his hips. your legs wrap around his hips and you shove your head into his neck as he pounds into you.

your hands scratch down his back and he hisses, “fuck you feel so good.” you can do nothing but mumble nonsense as you such into the skin of his neck. the room full of the sounds of skin slapping and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. You bite into his neck once his hand slips between you too and plays with your clit once again. “ben,��� you could not stop the bubble feeling in your stomach, the hot rushes all over your body. your skins burned against one another you could start a fire. “im gonna,” you words have him somehow moving fast and you feel him nod against you, “please do please.” you realize he has been waiting for you to release, most likely already way beyond his peak. once he feels you spur around him he also release, painting the inside of your walls.

the two of you lay still. he does not dare slip out of you. the two of you are sweaty and sticky but you have never been happier when he pulls back to look at you. “we should have been doing thats sooner.” you laugh and slap his chest, “i was trying you fool but you would not give in.” you feel him grow harder inside of you but he slips out suddenly, before you can whine about feeling empty he flips you back over and quickly slips back into you. “lets make up for lost time then.”

[bks-writing-adventures]

Little Dancer (Aemond Targaryen X Lannister! Reader)

Summary: A wholesome little journey between the first time Aemond met his wife to the birth of their children.

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, brief mentions of sex.

Aemond never thought he would be a father. He never even thought he would get married, until you came around at a ball. He forgot what it was, a name day of his nephews? Some celebration for his parents marriage? None of it mattered, because he sat still at his family table, watching the room dance and watching lords get drunk and stupid. And all of a sudden you had blocked his view, your hands on either side of his plate. 

“Do all Princes sit pouting at balls?” You asked. The question flustered him, his one eye meeting yours. It was like you were challenging him, and the thought made his heart spin in his chest. 

“Only when he has no one to dance with.” He answered. The words magically came to him, and he held his breath as he had waited for you to respond. 

“It is a good thing I am here then, is it not? Or would you rather sit here, eating scraps and wishing to be elsewhere?” You were so teasing- so confident, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around yours, and you were walking backward as you dragged him to the dancefloor. He did not have the time to be self conscious, and he could no longer let his eye wander as his hands landed on yours, spinning you, watching how your skirts swished and your hair got fluffy and frizzed. 

“So who are you, my little dancer?” He asked softly, holding you closer to him. You were warm, and he couldn’t tell what was making his heart pound. Your presence or the wine, or maybe an intoxicating blend of both.

 “(Y/N) Lannister,” You answered, licking your lips as the song ended. “If you wish to get to know me, we should move somewhere quieter,” You said gently, and he smiled as his eye wandered. 

“I know a place,” He said softly, his arm linked with yours as he carefully lead you out and into the gardens. It was quite the scandalous thing, he was well aware- but he didn’t care enough to stop. His brother was far from proper, he was a criminal and a disappointment. Speaking to a pretty girl in the garden would not be the worst crime. The garden hiccuped with the sounds of grasshoppers and frogs, and you smiled at the sound. 

“Do you know what that sound is?” You asked softly, and he gave you a curious look as you walked further into the great land of flowers. 

“Frogs,” He said simply, to which you nodded. 

“Mating frogs. Do you know how many eggs a frog can lay at once?” You asked.

 “Do you tell everyone your favorite amphibians facts, or am I special?” He smiled a little, trying not to let his interest show on his face. 

“There are facts much more interesting than that,” You answered, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply walked in the quiet. 

“How many eggs can a dragon lay?” You asked. 

“You take an interest in dragons, My Lady?” He asked in return, to which you nodded. He quietly sat on a bench, pulling you down to sit beside him. The moonlight did not do much to guide either of you, but he could make out the bridge of your nose and the slight shine of your eyes in the darkness. “Well, they can lay five, at most.” He responded, wondering if that would be enough for you.

 “Why is that? And what are they like?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand. You had always liked to learn about science, and this was your way in. Into the world of infinite books and knowledge. And he just had such a pretty face, which definitely helped the case. 

“The eggs? They’re hard and large and scaly,” He responded, reaching over to touch your hand. It was a daring move, but he wanted to feel you. In the darkness, touch the soft skin of your hand and wrist, and you didn’t move away.

 “Why is that? Are they not reptiles?” You asked quietly, and he had to lean closer to hear you.

 “Dragons cannot be put into a box, My Lady. They are everything and nothing. No mortal could ever learn to understand them,” He murmured, gently guiding your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that attracted him so. You were just so unconventional, untrained. It was fascinating. 

“Not even Targaryens?” You asked softly as his breath tickled your fingers.

 “Certainly not. We only shout commands and hope they listen,” He chuckled softly. He was about to speak again when a loud shout suddenly broke the walls of intimacy around them. For the love of Gods, this did not look good. He wasn’t sure if he pushed your hand away, or if you pulled it back, but all contact was quickly broken as the two of you rushed to stand up. 

“Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” His mother sounded rather angry. She always was, whenever something like this happened. This was the worst possible time for her to wander over. 

“Mother, I was simply conversing with the Lady Lannister, and-” She cut him off, making his lips purse. 

“Without a chaperone, in the darkness, away from the sights of others? Do you understand how scandalous this is?” As you both shrunk under her lecture, neither of you argued back. And soon enough you and Aemond were sat before his mother and your own as they discussed. 

“We did nothing unholy. We were only speaking of the anatomy of dragons,” You frowned, to which your mother quickly shook her head.

 “Is that what they call it nowadays? This is out of control, and now your honor is ruined,” She huffed, and you stared down boredly at your hands. This is not how you thought your night would go, and the next sentence only made things more bizarre. 

“Her honor is not ruined, and I will ensure it. I intend to make (Y/N) my wife.” Aemond spoke, making your head quickly turn. All arguments died out like a flame without air, his eye soft and apologetic as he looked at you. But neither of you could claim to be mad about it. It was only the Gods’ odd way of making a match, and the next days were full of shy conversation and blushing cheeks, loomed over by your parents as they dissected every interaction.  

“I have a gift for you,” he said softly, pulling out a large book from his bag. It was bigger than your head, and the spine as so thick it could easily be mistaken for a brick. 

“Wow,” You mumbled, trying to read the front cover, but it is not in Common. Your eyes looked to his face, a curious look taking over your own.

 “It is in High Valyrian, its one of the oldest books in our library- well, not that one, that is a copy. The original would crumble like sand in your palms. But the language will be important for you to learn, I thought we could practice together,” He spoke, getting a little shy. It was a sweet sight, and you nodded as he explained. 

“Then you should allow me to teach you some Nyvia.” You responded. His brows scrunched a little. He had never heard of the language in his life.

 “And what is that?” He asked gently, intrigued. He didn’t realize you were bilingual, too.Your children would be an interesting batch. 

“My mothers first language. It is dying out, not many speak it anymore. Are you familiar with the island of Nyav?” You asked, and he nodded slowly. He had read about it in history books. It had been a brilliant place of beautiful plants and even more beautiful people. The stories said that it was lost to the sea, or to conquering, no one was sure. You were like a God of the old world, sitting right before him. 

“She lived there as a young girl, escaped before it disappeared, when she was betrothed to my father. I will admit that my own speaking is messy, but at least it is alive,” You spoke, slowly opening the book he had given you. You squinted a little. The letters were familiar, but the order was unlike anything you had ever seen. The longer he looked at you, the more questions formed in his head. 

“Do you think you have any Valyrian in you?” He asked. Nyvia had belonged to no one at all, no one knew where the people came from, only that they had not been there all along. Perhaps it had begun with Targaryen’s fleeing the Doom, or other Valyrians that escaped to the sea and washed upon its shores. 

“I do not think so. I do not look the part,” You reminded him, watching as his hand inched closer to yours, your fingertips brushing. It was perhaps the most touch you would be allowed until after you were married.

 “White hair does not make a Valyrian. It was only a thought,” He said, gently shrugging. His mind wandered to your children, the ones he would have with you. How many there would be. If they would have hair like yours, or hair like his own. How they would look on dragonback, and if you could all fly together as a family. Vhagar was more than big enough for two. You could hold his waist, and he would fly ahead of the children, and they would follow him like ducklings. Maybe you would have 12 children, one for every moon of the year. He cleared his throat as his mother called for him. Your meeting was done for the day. And when two more moons passed, it was finally your wedding day. Your dress clung to every part of your body, and your hair was covered with a heavy veil, beaded with pearls and gems big enough to pay off an entire house. 

The maids had tried to get you to agree to having pinned hair, or a more tradition style, but you declined. You never liked having too much on you, weighing you down. The air was stuffy with the breath of hundreds, and you tried not to look at the crowd as Aemond stood before you. “Kessa sagon sȳz.  Laesi va nyke.” He murmured softly, and you nodded as your eyes studied his face. He was wearing his fanciest eyepatch. You wondered how many were in his collection, and if you would ever see him without it. If he slept with it on. As you both repeated the words of the Septon, and it came time for the kiss- you stared at each other for a long, awkward few seconds, trying to figure out which one of you would lean in first. You may have been brave enough to approach him that first night, when he was just a sulking stranger. But now things were so much bigger. You had an audience. 

Finally, once he accepted you would not be the one to do it, he leaned down to press a brief, awkward kiss on your mouth, and you both parted with small, sheepish smiles. Once you were at your table, you both let out deep breaths from your lungs, and finally,you could curl up together, your arms looped around his as you giggled into his sleeve. “That was unbearable,” Your words were light, but the hit was strong, and he chuckled awkwardly. He had hoped the kiss was not that bad. But he felt a wave of uncertainty rushing into him. The first kiss was supposed to be magical, like you were bathing in fire and pureness and all that was good. But it felt like a child smushing two dolls together. 

He only hoped that with time, things would get better. And oh, how they certainly did. The bedchamber was full of soft sounds, and for every moan came ten laughs and raised brows. “Mm.. you sound like you are being murdered,” He murmured into your shoulder, and you smiled as you squeeze his hand. 

“And you sound like you’ve run 30 miles,” You responded as he panted onto your skin. 

“Oh, hush,” He smiled, gently biting your neck. 

“Little vampire,” You mumbled before he gently guided your face down to a pillow. He did not expect anything to come of your night of teasing and touch, but when six weeks had passed, he woke in the morning to you squirming from his arms. 

“It is too early for you to wake.” He grumbled. He had been an early bird before your marriage, before he was up into the early hours of dawn inside you, kissing you, teaching you High Valyrian as you tried to teach him Nyvia. 

“Yoane,” He spoke, and you shook your head. 

“Yo-awn-ee.” You repeated, and he tried once more.

 “Yoane,” He nodded, and you groaned into your hands.You were trying to teach him the words for love, your face pink with laughter. But as you rushed to the bathroom, your face took on an almost gray hue, and he found himself holding your hair in a big bundle as you spittled into the chamberpot, your belly soft and your nose sensitive. You were with child, or perhaps three or four, for when you reached your second trimester, you were a giant.

 “Mmm… you are like a dragon,” He mumbled as he kissed upon your stretched skin. 

“How so?” You asked softly, caressing his hair as his cheek pressed onto your belly. 

“You are going to lay a whole clutch. You must have three or four in here,” He marveled at the size of you, and you rolled your eyes.

 “I am telling your mother that you said that,” You responded, making his brows scrunch together.

 “You would not dare.” In the months of your marriage, Queen Alicent had grown quite attached to you. While she loved her son, she had always found him to be rather an intense man. She wasn’t afraid of him, no, but she never thought he would find marriage. Find joy. She thought he would grow old and become a knight or a philosopher, and she was quite pleased with you for bringing out these new parts of him. And so, if she learned of his comments of your size, she would beat him messy with a sock. When you were finally about to burst at the seams, you learned that there were things far more stressful than a wedding day. It was like everyone wanted to see your baby plop out, Alicent walking the room as they propped your legs off. 

“Would you mind leaving the room? This is a rather private matter,” Aemond spoke to his mother in a hushed voice, to which she gently shook her head.

 “And I am to be the grandmother of this child. I am close family, am I not? This is a huge deal for you, my youngest son having his first child!!” She gushed, and you shifted uncomfortably.

 “It may be hours before the baby arrives,” You groaned quietly, pushing the small wooden tools away from your legs. “I do not wish for too many to see my blood and my mess,” Your eyes held a certain fire, and your jaw clenched, and slowly her face filled with an understanding, nodding slowly. You were no Rhaenyra, and you were no enemy. You were her daughter in law, the wife of her youngest son. And so quietly, she left the room, leaving you to the midwives, the maesters, and your husband.

 “Perhaps you would like to leave, My Prince. It is not necessary for the husband to stay,” One of the Maesters spoke, to which you quickly shouted. 

“If you leave me I will ensure that you never get to hold the baby.” You said quickly. 

“I would not dream of it, my dearest,” He responded, coming closer so you could hold his hand. Several hours passed of loud noises and angry shouts, little crescent moons cut into his hand from your grasp. Child after child escaped your womb, until a whole batch of seven was swaddled. The midwives had to call for backup to tend to all the children, each of them around five pounds. It was a concerning miracle, and Aemond’s eye widened as he stared at all the squirming infants.

 “By the seven..” He murmured, quite literally. A child for every god. What a miracle it was. His heart fluttered with fear as he reached out to one of the infants, the only girl, her hand slowly curling around his finger. It was beautiful and scary all at once, like a comet scratching the sky. It was all so very real all of a sudden, his breath catching in his throat as his eye watered.

 “Are they all healthy?” You asked softly, sitting up slowly, your hands curling up. “Yes,” One of your handmaids quickly told you. 

“Small but mighty, they are all warm and crying,” She spoke, wiping sweat from your face. You smiled, taking a deep breath, your eyes slightly puffy as two of the babies were placed on your chest. Two of the boys, one with hair like your own, and the other with a head of snow, little curls still damp from birth. “Look at his little swirly wirlies.” You mumbled, and Aemond chuckled as he leaned over, two of the babies in his own arms. One with gingery Hightower hair, the other with hair like his own. What the litter you had. “How many girls?” You asked softly, reaching to gently take the blankets off, but Aemond answered you before you had to use your energy. 

“Just the one,” He said softly, placing her on your belly. The two of you laid in the bed for hours, covered in babies on every limb and surface. It was a mess, a loud swarm of little coos and crying. But neither of you had ever been happier. Aemond never thought he’d be a good father, but he sure could do his best.

Thank you to everyone who reads!! Feel free to send in requests :)

-BK ♡

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (II)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 3,384

CW: MDI, 18+, SMUT, loss of viriginity, p in v, oral (f reciving), fluff, slight angst, depression, dependancy. not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

(smut between the dividers by @zaldritzosrose)

“I have to go to kings landing” you started as you walked into Cregan’s’ solar. It had been a week since the letter announcing your younger brother Viserys return, and you had not stopped asking to go.

“And you shall” Cregan spoke, looking up from his papers, “but after we are wed”

You were set to marry in a matter of days. You understood the need to be wed before leaving and yet waiting to see your brother after believing he was dead was pure torture.

You were desperate to see him, all you wanted was to hug him once more and tell him how sorry you were.

But duty came first.

The lords of the north were growing angsty with how long it was taking for you and Cregan to marry.

The alliance between your houses was sure to benefit the north, and until you were married, said agreements and benefits had yet to happen. And with the winter approaching the lords were growing antsy.

“of course,” you looked down, nervously playing with your fingers. “I am just eager to see my brothers and with the journey set to take a month-“

“I understand, I do, but my hands are tied” he interrupted, looking at you with understanding, “I promise, the day after our wedding we will leave”

“perhaps we could take Silverwing?” you asked hopeful, the journey would take around a day, if they rode fast, at the most three days.

“i- im not-“

“I promise its safe, and you have ridden Silverwing before.” He had, on your first visit to Winterfell. He had been hesitant then too, but you had somehow manged to drag him onto Silverwing and flown around the north for hours.

“aye, but this would be different” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “your brother has sent a letter…requesting me to become hand of the king”

you smiled “so we would be staying?”

“yes…this also means I will be having to take a large number of my household, and… though Sara shall act as the lady of Winterfell in my stead, once you are with child you will…have to return…without me, and take over the ruling of Winterfell until I am released as hand”

you were at a loss for words, this past moon you had felt lighter, the days of rotting in your bed, finding no reason to get up, having no energy to eat.

The empty hollowness you had felt for months on end has been filled, all with the help of Cregan. And now to find out that the second you got pregnant you would be shipped of and most likely never be able to return to your brothers.

You knew that there should always be a stark in Winterfell, and that their children would rule it one day, but you did not want to live in Winterfell without him.

You relied on him, in a near unhealthy way. You were often with him, in the library, or in his solar. You had already taken on the duties as Lady of Winterfell. You had liked having responsibilities, found you were good at it. But the main part of it that you liked, was that it was all with him. The friendship you once had had returned, though with trepidation as you had a first still felt empty.

You still felt the loss of your twin. Your other half. Without him you feared you would always feel incomplete, and yet Cregan had somehow manged to fill the void the death of your twin, of Luke and Joffrey.

You felt like you could so easily love him, but now.  Now a part of you resented putting this off for so long, only to know discover that you time with Cregan may be a few months or stolen moments every year.

Your mind went back to last week.

You had spent the day in each other’s company, sat in his solar as he answered letters, and you had read.

The comfort you had found with him was like no other, sitting in each other’s company. Not talking for hours and yet you felt content.

And now to learn that you may not feel the presence of him for moons on end, perhaps even years.

“I would like to stay with you, stay in kings landing” you spoke in determination, “I will not become the wife of an absent husband”

“I would not be-“

“you would sent me a thousand leagues away! So yes that makes you an absent husband!” you shook your head “I-I understand how important being hand is, how much Egg looks up to you, and I will not ask you to refuse the offer but…but I need you.” you said tearily, “without you I will…I will only find that hollowness I felt for moons, the sadness will return without you to…to comfort me, to hold me and cherish me. I cannot be alone, I may rely on you a little too much, but I cannot bear to…” you were crying now, you knew in some sense it was manipulating, but everything you had said was true. The sadness would return, he offered you the perfect reasons for you to find a purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning.

A part of you hated that you relied on another for a purpose, but all the things that once filled you with joy, with purpose, now filled you with sadness and hate.

And now, Cregan had been the thing you found some sense of joy in, and you were excited to marry him, but now part of you dreaded it, not wanting to part from him.

He stood up from his desk moving around to you and pulling you into a hug.

Cregan was a very affection person, always holding your hand or pulling you into a hug away from prying eyes.

“Cregan” you mumbled into his chest, as he stroked your hair.

“i will not send you away if you truly do not want to, but…I know the pain kings landing gives you and I do not want to ask you to spend years in the place of your torment” he said, pulling back from you slight to hold your face, “but… the babe must be born and raised here”

“I know, and I love that you do not wish for me to live in the place of such pain for me, but before… before the-the war…I loved the red keep and…I love my brothers enough to stay there” you mumbled, “If you promise not to stay the hand forever then I shall go to Winterfell if I fall pregnant during your time as hand, but i- I do not wish to be apart form you for too long”

He smiled as you said that, “how about we talk about this when the times comes, hmm?” you smiled, reaching up to place a small kiss on his cheek.

You nodded your head, stepping back from him. “i-I hope you know that I do…that I” you were stumbling over your words unsure of what to say to him. You had somehow over the course of the past moon, returned to your shy nervous self, blushing in his presence, and stumbling over your words.

“yes?” he asked smiling curiously.

“I… I feel a lot better lately, and it is thanks to you…I truly care for you and I think that I might…” you looked down nervously, unsure of if you should tell him your feelings.

“I can tell” he said before you could finish your sentence “you seem to much happier, the light in your eyes has returned and i…I want you to know that I feel the same” he blushed, “I look forward to marry you, and I hope you do also”

You nodded smiling, as you stepped back and you both continued going about your own duties, enjoying the solace of each others company.

The day of the wedding had finally come. The lords of the north had all gathered at Winterfell. The halls now full of bustling bodies, the maids running about nonstop to fulfil all their duties.

You and Cregan had been forced to spend the last day and night apart, with the north believing it to be bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other the day before the wedding.

You had instead spent the day with Sara.

“I had hoped my sisters would make it” you said sadly as she laced up your dress.

“we still have time, they may yet arrive” she said, trying to build your spirits.

Your grandsire Corlys had arrived the day before, fulfilling his long-term promise to walk you down the aisle.

You had always been close to your grandsire, with him always saying how similar to his wife you had looked.

“granddaughter” you heard him say as he had entered the room, smiling as he saw the sea horses embroidered on your dress.

“grandsire” you smiled in greeting, moving over to kiss his cheek. “do you have any news on Balea or Rhaena?” you asked hopeful.

He smiled slyly, before moving aside and allowing Balea and Rhaena to walk into the room.

“you’re here!” you had said in disbelief..

“of course, we wouldn’t miss your wedding” Baele spoke pulling you into a hug.

They had both been married themselves recently, Baela to Alyn, Corlys newly appointed heir, and Rhaena to Corwyn Corbray.

“are your husbands here?”

“yes, there both with Cregan I believe,” Rhaena said, moving to take over from Sara as she finished lacing up your dress.

“you look beautiful, sister” Balea said, smiling kindly. “Are you nervous?”

“should I be?” you asked nervously.

“do you care for him?”

You looked over at sara, as she gave you a teasing smile. She knew of your feelings for Cregan, and it seemed from that look alone your sisters to know knew.

“yes”

“then you have nothing to worry about”

“what of the…”you looked over at Corlys to see his looking slightly uncomfortable, “the night” you whispered.

“you have been betrothed for years and you have never…?”

“no!” the question shocked you, your mother had always been insistent on you waiting for marriage, saying she didn’t want you to make the same choice she had.

“never even kissed?” Sara asked shocked.

You shook you head.

“no! I’ve only ever kissed….” You wouldn’t say his name, it hurt to much. The betrayal you had felt, how you had almost given him everything. Though you were glad you never had with Aemond, for you loved Cregan. At least you think you do. “ahh” Balea almost flinched.

“it hurts the first time, but after…it can be very nice” Sara spoke, whispering.

“and Cregan is a good man, he likes you…perhaps even loves you. He will be gentle” she said, though grimacing slightly at talking about her brother in such a way.

Corlys coughed awkwardly, moving to interrupt their whispered conversation.  “it is almost time” he said, softly moving towards you.

“we better hurry up then” you said, motioning for Sara to start your hair.

Balea, Rhaena and sara had all left once you were fully ready. Leaving you and Corlsys alone.

“you are a vision” he said, as you took his arm. You started to walk through the halls of Winterfell.

you wore a dress as white as snow. With a full skirt and long flowy sleeves covered in a lace pattern.

You wore you hair down, bar tow braids at the top your head that joined at the back. Though your hair was hidden behind a lace veil, lace that matched your sleeves. Your face was covered, though it wouldn’t be for long, as you soon approached the gods woods.

“who comes before the old gods this day?” asked the northern lord officiating the wedding, as you entered the gods woods.

“y/n, of house Veleryon, She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Creagan, of house stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the north. Who gives her?”

“Corlsy, of house Veleryon, lord of the tides and of Driftmark, her grandsire.”

“princess Y/n, do you take this man?”

“I take this man”

“lord Cregan, do you take this woman”

“I take this woman”

“Then I pronounce you man and wife, before the old gods and the new”

You smiled at him, before reaching up and taking his lips in yours. The kiss was short and short, but caused you both to blush as cheers resounded throughout the wedding guests.

“I believe it is time for a feast!” Cregan announced as the lords and ladies cheered in response.

The feast was grand, though much different from the ones you had grown up with. It was loud and bawdy, with the lords all drunk and even singing northern tunes.

You and Cregan had kept to yourself, eating your food and talking between one another.

You had been enjoying yourself, enjoying the first few hours of marital bliss.

And then the bedding was called.

You had forgotten about the tradition.

The bride and groom escorted to their chamber. The groom by the woman, there clothes pulled of them, the bride escorted by the men, often groped and fully naked by the time they reached their chambers.

Feared courses through you as lord Bolton declared it time for a bedding.

“there will be no bedding!” Cregan boomed, as the men started to approach you.

The room seemed to flinch as the anger in his tone, “my wife will be touched by no one bar me! Anyone who lays a hand on her against her will, will have it cut off!”

You looked at him with shock, it was, grateful he was doing the right thing and saving you from a night of groping.

He reached his hand out to you as he guided you to your now shared chambers alone.

She had never been in Cregan’s chambers before, they were large. Though not as big as her chambers had been on Dragonstone. The room was mostly bare, having been mostly packed up for their journey tomorrow. It was warm, much warmer than her room in the tower had been. With a blazing fire, and dozens of blankets. The walls were filled with tapestries and the floor with rugs. Not a single wall or part of the floor was bare, allowing the room to be encased in more warmth.

“wife” Cregan spoke, capturing your attention. He moved towards you, his eyes heated as he gazed at you.

“Husband” you breathed back as he now stood before you.

He reached up to caress your face, his lips nearing yours. You shared a breath, before you both pounced.

Your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss. He pushed you on the bed, your body bouncing from impact, he quickly moved over you, connecting your lips once more as he started to take of his and your clothes, never once breaking the kiss.

“gods” he moaned at the sight of your bare tits. He kissed your lips quickly before moving down to your breasts and roughly taking them into his mouth.

You moaned as he licked and sucked at your tits. He alternated between the two, savouring in your moans and whimpers.

Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“you lick that?” he asked teasingly, as he let go of your nipple with a pop.

You nodded your head, whimpering slightly at him stopping.

He chuckled, “good” he said before, moving off the bed and resting on his knees “then you’ll love this” he said, as he slid the rest of your dress of you, and buried himself between your thighs.

He teasingly licked your folds, causing you to whimper.

Your gripped his hair, grinding your thighs into his face, trying to get him to lick you more.

He chuckled at your actions, before moving to grip your thighs and pull them towards his face. He buried his tongue inside of you, savouring your taste as he moved to lick your clit.

“Cregan!” you moaned as you pulled on his hair. 

The pleasure was nothing like you had experienced before. It was overwhelming, filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly bring his fingers to your entrance.

He groaned as his fingers entered your, relishing in the tightness of your cunt. Gods” he moaned against your clit.

He continued to lap at your slit, tasting you as if you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“Cregan!” you screamed as your peak finally hit you.

He continued his actions, riding out your peak before finally moving himself from between your thighs.

He wiped his mouth on the bed before diving back in to kiss you.

He slowly moved you to the centre of the bed, his cock positioning itself between your thigs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You moaned as he entered you.

You felt a wave of discomfort as he stretched you out, a slight burn at the sheer size of his cock.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust, before you reached up and pulled him into another kiss, motioning him to speed up.

He started thrusting into you at a faster pace. Your legs wrapping around his hips and his pace became faster and faster.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your second peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock, your second peak taking.

Your hands scratched his back as you peaked, before collapsing backwards, as he started building up to his own peak.

His thrusts became hard and fast as he finally reached his own peak, his seed filling you as he rode out his orgasm.

“gods” he moaned, collapsing on the bed, pulling you in and holding you to him.

he kissed your shoulder, stroking your hair as you both slipped off into sleep, though you both got little sleep that night.

The next day you were awoken to maids barging in and readying the remained of Cregan’s belongings. It was dawn, and you were both tired from the nights events.

 The maids had dressed you both quickly, pushing your breakfast on the table and urging you both to eat.

Cregan laughed at your bewildered face as they all rushed you both.

“we were meant to leave a dawn” he chuckled, as your maid tugged your hair, attempting to braid it, as you ate.

“then why weren’t we woken earlier?”

He sent you a look, showing exactly why they hadn’t.

“oh…must we leave so soon?” you said as you food was taken of the table before you had even finished.

“you insisted we did.”

“I-“ you looked at his smug face as your tea was taken out of your hand mid sip. “I take it back, I miss the bed!”

“you can rest in carriage” he said, as he reached for your hand.

You made your way to the courtyard, the household lined up to say their farewells, though most were accompanying you.

Balea, Rhaena, stood by the carriage, both looking as tired as you felt.

“it is far too early for this” Rhaena groaned as you approached the carriage.

Balea laughed “I cant imagine how you feel” she said, talking at you, “how much sleep did you get last night?” she teased.

You laughed “shut up!”

Sara approached you, her eyes teary, “I’ll miss you” she said pulling you into a hug.

“and I, you” you kissed her check, pulling back.

“we are leaving Winterfell in capable hands” she heard Cregan say, announcing Sara as his regent.

“don’t be gone for too long” she whispered “I was not made to rule the north” she joked, pulling away from you as you were all motioned to enter the carriage.  

Cregan walked up to the carriage window, pulling you into a kiss.

“I shall join you soon” he promised, before mounting his horse and leading the procession to kings landing.

next part

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[two-white-butterflies]

three great men and death | daemon targaryen

Description: You were the object of his ire - the foreigner who stole his position as hand. Hate and love are parallel lines. Daemon finds himself running to you after his failed marriages and exiles.

Pairing: the hand! reader/daemon targaryen

Word Count: 3k+ did not bother to check after it passed 3k

A/N: Enemies to lovers. Reader is crazier than Daemon.

There have been stories about his brother's new hand. A great beauty that came from Lys and managed to earn the King's trust. You tell everyone that your purpose as Hand is for the betterment of Westeros, but Daemon does not believe that - how could a foreigner want good for a land she did not come from?

"Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?" you inquired, walking past the roses and peonies. "Why? Am I about to hear one?" he asked. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He has slithered his way into your company, seeking to understand you better. He needed to know your purpose; and the best way to undermine the enemy was to pretend to be their ally.

"Three great men sit in a room, a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who dies?" you inquired, carefully watching him from your periphery.

You did not succeed by being stupid and trusting. You knew what kind of game he was playing at and it would be best to quench this little rebellion of his before it began. "Depends on the sellsword." he surmises, staring at your face and awaiting a reaction.

"Does it? He's not the crown, no gold, no favor with the gods." you continued toying with him. "He has a sword, the power of life and death." Daemon argued, hidden meaning in his tone.

He's telling you that he wields the sword.

"But if it is the swordsman who rules, why do we pretend that kings hold all the power?" the sides of your lips turned upwards. His eyes twinkle slightly, but it loses its glow the moment he opens his mouth.

"I have decided that I do not enjoy your riddles, lady hand." Daemon turned to look at you, escorting you deeper into the garden.

"What I next say is not a riddle." you breathed, cleverly waiting until his eyebrows merge together. "What is it?" he humored.

The facade breaks, your smile dissapears as quickly as it came.

"There have been rumors of you and the Princess. I understand that you aim to slander the Crown's good name - mayhaps even take Rhaenyra to wife as you've already taken her maidenhead." you say.

"- but I want you to understand that the plan is stupid, and that King Viserys plans to throw you back into Lady Royce's arms." you informed, pretending that you were truly concerned about his wellbeing. Daemon's breath stills.

There was no one around you in the gardens. Not a single soul that was able to hear about the ordeal. "Lady hand." he began, his hands circling around your neck, threatening to choke the life out of you.

"I know the truth, that you did take Rhaenyra's maidenhead. But I will not tell your brother if you agree to my proposal." you held his hand, attempting to pry it away from your neck, but his grip tightens.

"Speak." he commanded, his fiery purple eyes glaring daggers upon your own.

"What I offer is a transactional relationship. I keep my silence, and defend you against any accusation, but you must be on my side." you insisted, that twinkle returns in his eyes. Gods, he was unpredictable.

"Against who?" he interrogated.

"Ser Otto. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. He wishes to rid me of this post. He wishes to make his grandson heir. I am the only one standing between the family that you love, and a war." you breathed.

He frees you from his grasp. A strange smile on his face.

"You prove yourself useful, lady hand." he complimented, before abandoning you in front of the Weirwood Tree.

He lays cooly on his bed, watching as you entered his chambers with a hood hiding your face. "I have brought the evidence that you begged for." you informed, throwing a compilation of letters on his bed. "I did not beg for anything, lady hand." he rolled his eyes.

But he still reads the letters that you've presented him.

"These are compilations of Ser Otto's letters to his brother. Clear proof of his plans to supplant your niece." you explained in simpler terms, maintaining the distance between you, in case he think of something else.

You've been allies for half a year now. You've grown to understand that Daemon was the type of man who allowed his emotions to rule over rational thought. His lack of control gave you the upper hand.

"He wants Aegon as King, and by extension, he wants to be King." you continued, seeing his eyebrows merge together in intrigue. "What should we do? Should we tell Viserys?" he asked.

Daemon already had a plan of action in mind - to kill Ser Otto. But that wasn't the smartest course of action. Your plan was inevitably going to end up better than his.

"Ser Otto is the Queen's father. Viserys has always allowed mercy to persevere throughout his rule. Ser Otto will not be punished. He'll be exiled and in a few years, he will be back for revenge. I say that we keep the evidence and wait for the perfect time to use it against him." you strongly advised.

Daemon smiles at you - a real smile, this time.

He pats the empty side on his bed.

You sigh, but you sit beside him anyways.

"I wish to marry Princess Rhaenyra. I need you to think of a plan that will use this to get what I want." he tells you, pointing at the letters.

A loud chuckle escapes your mouth.

"We have a transactional relationship, my prince. I have given you something and you've not given me anything in return." you scoff.

He tilts his head. "If I kill my lady wife, Viserys might give you the Runestone. It would be killing two birds with one stone." he pondered, smiling to himself as his words rhymed.

"Lady Rhea Royce has cousins." you reminded him.

"Her cousin is sworn to the Kingsguard. The rest of the cousins, you tell me have collectively committed a grave crime that could send them in servitude at the Wall." he schemes.

He casts you a look.

"I will threaten them with a letter, and I know them best - they will flee like a feather on top of a bouncing mattress. This is your path to legitimacy, lady hand - a chance to have a title." he continues.

"Viserys will never allow me to have lands and titles of my own." you looked away from him. A woman from Lys, inheriting a great castle. "The King has always granted your petitions. He treats you like his own daughter. He will give you the Runestone. It is between you and me." he says with certainty.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for his robes on the chair.

He stands up.

"Where are you going?" you inquired.

"To do exactly what I've told you." he rolled his eyes, lifting his grey hood until it was over his head.

Prince Daemon Targaryen was going to be the death of you.

There was a stinging feeling in your heart. Were you cruel for not telling him about the engagement between Laenor and Rhaenyra? It wasn't like you wanted him to remain in the dark about it - but the idea of him marrying his niece brought shivers down your spine.

It felt wrong.

"It behooves me how half of House Royce flees the very second Lady Rhea is murdered. Do you have any idea why that is?" King Viserys asks you while pouring himself a cup of tea.

"They must've murdered her, my king. Why else?" your eyebrows merge together, a line that you've rehearsed a million times in front of the mirror. It was wrong to lie. There was a time in your life where you were pure, unable to lie, but those days were gone now.

You've given this world pieces of your beliefs until none remained the same. This was the law of life - you reminded yourself. There were only two types of people, the preys and the predator. The ones taking and the ones getting took. It wasn't fair, but life was never fair.

"There has been a vacancy in the Runestone. You've been loyal to the crown and to the people of this kingdom, and thus, I wish to endorse you in claiming the Runestone." he says with kindness in his tone.

Your eyes lit up.

You didn't even have to ask him for it.

"I've always admired your dedication. All the sleepless nights that you offered to ensure that my nights would be filled of sleep. There is not that many years in front of me, and before I pass - I wish to repay your dedication and loyalty." he finished.

You force a smile on your face.

"Thank you, your grace. I promise to protect Rhaenyra and if she ever offers me a seat in her council in the future, I wish to offer her the same dedication and loyalty." you thanked.

A genuine chuckle escapes your mouth as you continued dancing with Ser Harwin Strong. There was a certain tranquility in his features. He brought you peace, made you remember a kinder version of yourself.

"You are beautiful, my lady." he complimented you.

There have been hundreds of men that have called you exactly that. There was always lust behind their eyes, but Harwin was different - his eyes had the same twinkle as Daemon's. He looked like he was telling you the truth - that he admired you too.

"I assume that those sentiments have been provided to numerous other maidens in this court, but I still am thankful that you find me thus." you danced to the music, staring deep into his eyes.

You were aware of Daemon's gaze upon your figures. You couldn't understand why he was looking at you - and not Rhaenyra. The wedding has not been conducted yet - he should steal her, marry her.

"I've not told anyone that before. Only you." he insisted.

You could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

"Of course, my lord." you smiled cheekily.

"You fancy my lady hand?" Viserys leaned over so that his brother was able to hear his voice. Daemon rolls his eyes. "Her?" he scoffs. "She is a clever and sly little thing. Sometimes, I find myself agreeing with whatever proposal she brings forth - I do not know the purpose but I know that it is for the betterment of the realm." Viserys admits.

Daemon glances at his brother.

You were dancing circles around them.

"If I had a son around her age, I would've wed him to her. She is a lowborn girl, but she knows our highborn games." Viserys says.

There were times where Daemon thought about the feel of your skin. How your voice would sound in the early morning. He wonders if your palms were warm enough to soothe his freezing ones. But alas, those are thoughts that he keeps to himself, because he cannot make the mistake of falling in love with you.

He knows that he is incapable of loving a woman like you. Because you are too good for him, too much like him. He craves his brother's attention and he fears that once he has you - he'll abandon his purpose. He fears that when he realizes that you are all he wants, he'll be content and happy.

He's not ready for a time like that yet.

He is still standing on the threshold, unable to cross the line.

"There are leeches on your throne. The lady hand is loyal to Rhaenyra. It would be wise to keep her." Daemon advised, before standing up and making his way into the dance.

He's not failed to observe you dancing with Ser Harwin. He intends to have a little fun of his own.

He smiles at Lady Laena.

"You are almost as beautiful as your brother." he teased.

Daemon, always so busy in catching up with the dance - too late to realize that it was an illusion, and that there's no where to cling on to.

He found peace shortly after that.

He married Lady Laena and you married Ser Harwin Strong. Thousands of miles away, yet your lives still mirrored each other. He could not speak on your behalf, but he knew that Laena was good for him - she was kind and sweet.

She did not care about the highborn games in Kingslanding. All she wanted was a warm home with little children running along the halls. "How is the babe?" he inquired, placing a hand on top of her swollen stomach. It was their third child.

"They are well, but they miss home." she replied, sitting beside him on the bench. "When will we return to Westeros? I miss Driftmark." she admitted, resting her head on Daemon's shoulders.

Daemon couldn't find it in himself to return home. He loved Laena, but he knows that it would ruin him to see you. With Rhaenyra it was different - their love made itself known, but with you? You both drifted away from each other before that love could release itself.

He fears that seeing you would make him admit that something has been indeed missing.

"Rhaenyra has given birth to another baby boy named Joffrey. And your brother tells me that your old friend, the lady hand, has given birth to her second child with Ser Harwin. A little babe named Duncan." Laena continued, hoping that it would sway her husband into returning.

"We should offer our condolences too." Laena paused.

"- is the babe dead?" Daemon inquired, his wife shakes her head.

"There was a fire in Harrenhal. Ser Harwin died with Ser Lyonel." Laena informed. "What?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

Before Laena could answer his question, there was a stinging sensation in her stomach, telling her that the babe was to come. "The babe is coming, Daemon." she breathed sharply.

Daemon stares coldly as his wife's body is lowered into the ocean. Consumed by the fire of her own dragon. "I offer my condolences, your daughters look exactly like Laena. My children look like Harwin too and it has been a great pain." you admit, sitting beside him.

He continues looking at the horizon. Unwilling to look at you in fear that his resolve would fade. "How is life, Daemon?" you asked.

"It could be better." he admits. "- and how is your life, lady hand?" he asked in an amused tone. Though, he still refused to meet your eyes.

"My oldest daughter is betroth to Prince Jacaerys. Believe that whatever transaction we did or did not have is ancient history." you cleverly reminded him, while also hinting that your loyalties shift like the tides.

"You wish your daughter be Queen?" he asks plainly.

Your shared language of being blunt with each other not forgotten by time. "I wish our kingdom be safe." you corrected.

"Of course." he exhales.

"Goodbye, Daemon." you place a hand on his shoulder.

He find himself involuntarily looking at you.

The sight of you takes him off guard.

Nothing has indeed changed.

It was a year later when he saw you again. He visited Kingslanding with both of his daughter, for his ill brother.

"My king, you have visitors. Prince Daemon and his daughters, Baela and Rhaena." you announced, allowing the small family to enter Viserys' chambers.

"Brother," Viserys says weakly.

"It has been far too long." Daemon smiles, sitting on Viserys' bedside.

Daemon sits beside you on the bench. Time did not leave an indent on your features, still as beautiful as the day he left. "I never told you but I enjoyed your riddles." he admitted.

You respond with a chuckle.

"Time hath given me the answers to some, but there is one riddle that remains in my mind. Three Great Men." he says, still remembering the story from long ago. "Who dies?" he inquired.

Your past comes back to you. Memories in all of its color.

"I don't know the answer but I know that all men must die." you repeated the answer that you observed from decades back.

"- once the dust settles, and the sellsword swings his sword, someone will want revenge. The sellsword will certainly have his head on a spike soon after, for killing the king, the priest, or the rich man. I've always reminded you and Viserys that I am lowborn - and despite having land and marrying a highborn man, I am still. The highborn schemes are costly, and only benefit a single person. I do not know who lives, but I know who dies. The sellsword. The people." you answered.

"I wanted to leave my post the moment King Viserys gave me Lady Rhea's land, but I remained because I feared that Ser Otto would scheme to have Aegon on the throne. Scheme of war." you reminded.

There were many things that you did for your own benefit, but this wasn't one of them.

"- and the smallfolk are the ones who pay heavily. I thought about a little girl in the slums of Flea Bottom, with ambitions and intelligence greater than any highborn lord. The only difference was, she was born there and you were born here." you continued.

Daemon takes a casual sip of his ale.

"How long has it been since you've last step foot inside of a tavern?" he teased with a small chuckle. "I've only ever gone with you." you smiled, leaning on the chair and soaking in the warm ambiance of the place. Gods, you were the only woman here. How sad.

"Do you ever think about an alternative future? If we'd been the ones married?" you suddenly inquired, allowing the alcohol to speak in your behalf. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, eyebrows merging together and suddenly transported to a past before the fall.

"We were amazing, gods. We had the entire kingdom wrapped around our fingers. Viserys offered an engagement between us, and I declined him because I knew how much you loved Rhaenyra. But seeing that you're not married to her, still, makes me believe that what you felt for her was nothing but limerence." you surmised.

Able to read him like an open book.

"I loved Laena, and I love our daughters." he says, knowing that he wouldn't have it any other way. "I loved Harwin too, he was one of the few men that made me abandon rational thought." you reply, agreeing with him that you wouldn't have it any other way too.

"- but gods, I did burn for you." you added with a chuckle. You take another sip of your ale. "I thought that if we were together, then there was nothing in this world that could be out of reach." you hummed.

Daemon Targaryen was standing at the threshold and he finally has the courage to cross the line. "I did love you. I still love you." he corrected himself. Your head turns in his direction, shocked at his sudden confession.

"There were nights where I'd think about your beauty, the feel of your skin, your voice. But I kept those thoughts to myself, because you would never indulge yourself in me. I knew how dangerous I was. How much I craved my brother's approval. I didn't want it to ruin you. I didn't want you to turn against me." he admits in a low tone, careful not to be heard by anyone.

"I figured that I could only love you from afar, because if you truly knew me then I would drive you away. Time has made me realized that I am not as awful as I believe myself to be." he smiles, but before he could get another word in - your lips were on his.

Finally ready to be together.

It only took more than a decade.

[ahqkas]

# SWEET LITTLE LIES ; mattheo riddle

❛ tell me sweet little lies ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! mattheo riddle expects to be met with familiar scents of parchment and rain. instead, he's stunned to recognize the fragrance of (name)

WORD COUNT! 2.2k

WARNINGS! none, maybe ooc mattheo since it’s my first time writing for him

NOTES! best read in the true blue mode

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

THE DIMLY LIT CLASSROOM OF POTIONS BUZZED WITH THE SUBDUED MURMURS OF STUDENTS AS THEY TOOK THEIR SEATS, THE SOUND ECHOING OFF THE COLD, STONE WALLS. The weather outside stormed wildly, the winter snow freezing the windows of the castle and covering the land with a white blanket. It was a clear sign that Christmas was coming soon. Maybe even sooner than expected. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows, adding to the room's eerie ambiance. The long, wooden tables were neatly arranged in rows, each one equipped with cauldrons and an assortment of ingredients that glistened in the low light.

The scent of musty parchment and various potions' ingredients lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp stone. Professor Slughorn, with his rotund figure and genial demeanor, bustled about the room, his jovial laughter cutting through the tension as he waited for the students to take their seats. His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles as he greeted each student personally with a huge amount of enthusiasm.

As you settled into your seat, you could feel the cool air from the dungeon's depths and outside's snow, a stark contrast to the warm, humid air that rose from the simmering cauldrons. The anticipation was palpable, each student eager yet apprehensive about the complex potion they were about to brew. No potion was easy, after all, and the one before Christmas break was the actual opposite of easy.

Mattheo Riddle slipped into a seat near the back, his expression as inscrutable as ever. You caught his eye for a fleeting moment before looking away, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The atmosphere was thick with concentration and a hint of tension, as everyone prepared to prove their skills in the demanding environment of the Potions dungeon.

Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together, a gleam of excitement in his eyes, as he addressed the class once everyone was ready to begin with the lesson. "Good afternoon, my dear students! Today, we have a particularly enchanting potion in our hands. We'll be brewing Amortentia! Anybody knows what Amortentia is?"

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room as students exchanged curious glances. Hermione Granger's hand shot up eagerly, and Professor Slughorn nodded in her direction. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

The girl straightened in her seat, her voice confident as she replied, "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence, sir. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker. However, it's not truly love, but rather an intense and temporary obsession."

Professor Slughorn beamed at her response, pleased with her as always. "Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor for your impeccable knowledge. Indeed, Amortentia is a potion that has been the subject of many cautionary tales throughout history. But fear not, today we shall handle it with the utmost care and respect for its potency."

As Professor Slughorn's cheerful voice echoed through the dungeon, assigning partners for the upcoming project, you listened with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Names were called, pairs formed, until finally, he reached the one that made your heart skip a beat.

"And for Miss [Last name]," Professor Slughorn announced, scanning the room with a thoughtful expression, "I think it's only fitting to pair you with Mr. Riddle."

A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned towards you and Mattheo. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Of course they'd stare, he was the Dark Lord's son. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with Mattheo, his expression unreadable as always.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with his trademark joviality. "There we have it, ladies and gentlemen! Partners assigned, let the festivities begin!"

When the class dissolved into activity, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that clouded your mind. Being partnered with Mattheo Riddle for a project meant spending more time in his presence, meaning being surrounded by the rumors that circled around him like bees circled flowers. Once people talked, no one could stop it.

And Mattheo Riddle had a reputation of his own to own.

Said Riddle approached your desk with a measured stride, his expression guarded yet polite, never actually showing what was on his mind. He took the seat beside you, and a light scent of cinnamon greeted your senses as you acknowledged each other with a nod.

Clearing his throat, the Slytherin turned towards you, his voice carefully neutral. "[Last name]," he began, his eyes never once breaking the eye contact he held from the start, "do you happen to know what ingredients we need for the Amortentia potion?"

You glanced up from the parchment which contained the names of the ingredients you'd need for the potion, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," you replied softly, your tone gentle yet confident. "We'll need powdered moonstone, a sprig of peppermint, Ashwinder egg, rose thorns and petals, and some of the pearl dust."

Mattheo's eyebrows lifted, clearly being impressed when you named the ingredients without even having to look at the parchment. "Let's gather the ingredients and get started then, shall we?"

And with that, you began to brew the potion, your movements synchronized as you both worked side by side, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared task of the potion brewing before you two.

The ambient noise of the dungeon—a blend of bubbling cauldrons and hushed conversations—created a cocoon of privacy around your shared workspace.

You reached for the powdered moonstone, your fingers brushing Mattheo's briefly as he handed you the jar. A quick glance passed between you, and you'd been surprised at how this even happened. You know Mattheo is careful enough to not touch anyone, unless absolutely necessary (doesn't apply to his friends and people he's got a problem with). Carefully, you measured the moonstone and added it to the cauldron, watching as the shimmering powder dissolved into the bubbling liquid.

Next came the peppermint. Mattheo's hands were steady as he delicately placed the sprig into the cauldron, the potion emitting a soft, iridescent glow. His focus was intense, his usual guarded expression softened by the concentration and when his brows furrowed, creating frown lines between them, you couldn't help but admit to yourself he's rather breathtaking when he's not throwing daggers with his glare.

"Just a bit of rose petals left," you said in concentration, eyes following the Slytherin's movements. Mattheo nodded, holding the small vial with care. As he added the final ingredient, the potion swirled, releasing a heady aroma that made your heart race. You expected to smell the familiar scents of home - fresh pine, baked goods, and the flowery smell of fields. Yet, you inhaled a completely different mix of scents, confusing you to the roots. Cigarettes, jasmine, and the strong cologne Mattheo was wearing, along with cinnamon.

You turned to him with a frown etched on your face while your eyes searched his. "Did you try to drown yourself in your cologne today?"

The boy next to you blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden accusation. "What? No," he replied while leaning closer to you. "I barely used any."

"They why do you reek of it?"

Mattheo's brown irises flickered to the potion, then back to you. "I could ask you the same thing. Your perfume can be smelled in the whole classroom."

The cogs in his head started to whirl as the thought about it and for better reassurance, Mattheo leaned above the bubbling cauldron and inhaled deeply, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized a scent that clearly resonated with what he just said. He glanced at you, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering in his eyes. For a brief moment, the walls he had carefully built around himself seemed to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that caught you off guard to see.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence he created without any intention. "Looks like we brewed it right," he exclaimed, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something unspoken. You nodded, feeling a similar mix of emotions as you looked into the softly glowing pink potion.

Professor Slughorn, who had been making his rounds through the classroom, examining potions and asking students to describe the scents they perceived, finally approached your table. His joyful demeanor brightened further as he peered into your cauldron, a look of pleased surprise spreading across his face as he clapped his hands at the sight.

"Ah, splendid work, you two! This is the best brew I've seen yet," he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with approval. "Such a perfect example of Amortentia! Now, tell me, Mr. Riddle, what scents do you detect?"

Mattheo hesitated, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he focused on the potion again. He took a deep breath, the familiar and intoxicating aroma washing over him. "I smell parchment," he began, his voice steady, "and fresh rain... and—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "And a hint of wildflowers, like the ones near the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Slughorn's eyebrows lifted in delight. "Marvelous! Wildflowers, you say? Such an evocative scent, isn't it?" He turned his attention to you, clearly curious. "And you, my dear? What do you smell?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks under the intensity of both Slughorn's and Mattheo's gazes. "I... I smell the smoke of cigarettes," you said, concentrating on the whirl of scents, "and something soft, like... jasmine, and a hint of something spicy. Cinnamon, perhaps.”

Slughorn clapped his hands together, beaming. "Excellent, both of you! You've captured the essence of Amortentia beautifully. Your potion reflects a deep, personal connection to the scents you hold." He nodded approvingly and moved on to the next table, leaving you and Mattheo in a charged silence.

As the professor's attention shifted elsewhere, you found yourself staring into the cauldron, the shimmering potion a reminder of the truths it had revealed rather than a simple love potion. Mattheo's description lingered in your mind - wildflowers, fresh rain -scents unmistakably tied to you.

Mattheo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, wildflowers, huh?" he said, attempting a half-smirk but unable to mask the underlying tension.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "Jasmine and spices... it's not exactly subtle, is it?"

He shook his head, the faint smirk fading as he looked at you, his expression earnest. "No, it's not."

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. The potion had done more than just showcase your brewing skills; it had unveiled the undeniable bond between you neither of you were aware of.

As the class drew to a close, the potion's shimmering surface still held your gaze. Professor Slughorn's praise echoed in your mind, but it was Mattheo's words that truly resonated. The students began to pack up their things, the room filled with the sounds of clattering glassware and murmured conversations.

Finally, as the last of the students filed out, leaving the dungeon quieter and more intimate, Mattheo turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "[Last name]," he began, a smirk playing on his lips, "It's all confusing to me but you can't deny it. The Amortentia—it's not just a potion, you know what it does and what it did."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the flutter of emotions with a playful smile. "Is that so, Riddle? Took a love potion for you to figure out what you feel for me? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one."

Mattheo chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Well, Granger can't be the only one showing off in class. Besides, it's hard to be clever when someone's making it difficult to think straight."

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. "So, what do we do now? Have a dramatic confession in front of everyone or keep exchanging sarcastic remarks and piss everyone off?"

"I vote for sarcastic remarks," Mattheo replied with a grin. "They're more fun. Plus, I wouldn't want you to think I'm going soft."

"Perish the thought," you said with a mock gasp. "Imagine the scandal."

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine for the first time you've heard him laugh. It was a new, yet heartwarming sound. "But seriously, [Last name], let's take it one step at a time. No need to rush."

You nodded, content with the idea. "Agreed. Just promise me one thing, Riddle."

"Anything," he said, his tone suddenly sincere.

"Don't drown yourself in cologne again. It's really distracting."

The smirk he spotted before returned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Only if you promise not to spend all your time in the Forbidden Forest looking for wildflowers. It'd be a shame if you got lost."

"Deal," you said, unable to suppress a laugh.

Together, you left the dungeon, the lingering scent of Amortentia left behind you. As you walked side by side, trading jabs and teasing comments, Mattheo's fingers brushed against yours in a silent invitation before he enveloped your palm with his.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so be warned if he's not someone you like to read about. Contains swearing, slightly suggestive material but nothing explicit. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,630

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here and have we maybe got things being a little more amicable? Hope you all enjoy this chapter. The next one should be when things really kick off but we've got the beginnings of possessive Doffy. Enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven(here) | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(coming soon)

——————

“So we have the guest rooms ready and waiting for the young master’s guests arriving today and-” The young servant stopped her report to her superior with a startled yelp when one of the windows slammed open above. Together the two servants froze at the sight of Doflamingo holding you by the throat, your body relaxed as ever, at least until you glanced down at the steep drop.

“Don’t drop me!” You snapped sharply at Doflamingo, reaching out to slap his arm. It was still so jarring for the residents and servants of the palace to hear you talk to the King the way you did. In this moment you held no panic or fear in your voice, instead you sounded annoyed. “I’ll hit the rose bush, it’ll break my fall.” The servants paled, that’s what you were concerned about? Still in a way this made sense for you and King Doflamingo. They’d lost count how many times a day certain attacks or killing attempts he made against you.

Through it all you met each instance calmly. In a way these occurrences now seemed to be a strange sort of game for you and Lord Doflamingo. Something to pass the time and meet some sort of morbid curiosity. Even though everyone knew by now that the power of soulmates couldn’t be bested with stubborn determination, you both still tried. 

Doflamingo tilted his head and glanced out the window to see the large rose bush in bloom and back to your unimpressed expression. Of course, it would be pointless to reduce the possible damage to you. He grinned and pulled you in to reel back, putting as much force as he could he threw you. He watched as your body hurtled through the air and collided awkwardly against the fountain with a loud splash. Leaning against the window frame, Doflamingo chuckled as you slowly stood and began to climb out of the fountain completely drenched but unharmed as he and you both expected would be the case. With a huff you sat on the edge of the fountain and began to wring out as much water out of your clothes as you could to limit the amount of water you were going to unintentionally track into the palace. 

Doflamingo watched as you finally began to walk inside and out of view. He closed the window firmly and pulled out his handheld den-den mushi when it rang. He'd been expecting the call, his guests had already landed on the island and were nearing the Palace. “All okay?”

“Yes Joker. All’s going smoothly. They’re just ahead with Bellamy and the others and should be at the Palace soon.” His officer reported. “They know nothing about this island, didn’t question why they were coming to a palace. Doflamingo sir, they don’t even know you’re the one in charge here. They seem to think Joker is just someone very rich.”

“Is that right?” Doflamingo grinned. This just got better and better. He had thought that they would believe that ‘Joker’ worked for him and would have begun to panic once they learned they’d set foot on Dressrosa. To be this ignorant and naive about the real danger they were in was more than he hoped for. “Well let’s see how long we can keep that secret between us. Shall we?”

———-

The pirates strutted through Dressrosa’s palace entrance hall with eye bright with greed and appreciation. This was the dream, to be so rich that you could own a palace and have countless servants at your beck and call, every wish and whim met immediately. Now they were even more sure that Joker wouldn’t cry over a missed share of a measly profit his weapons would get once they sold them on. The head servant bowed to them and spoke calmly, repeating word for word Doflamingo had told them too. “Joker has been kind enough to assign rooms for you all to stay in while you’re here. There’ll be a celebratory dinner to welcome you all later this evening but for now you’re all welcome to make yourselves comfortable. If you need anything, there’ll be someone nearby to assist.”

At the permission to make themselves comfortable, the pirates grinned wide and chuckled, many immediately breaking apart into smaller groups to start exploring. Some went with the goal of finding the kitchen to start stuffing their faces, celebratory meal or not. Others started wandering to find anything expensive looking that would be easily snatched and hidden, the more ambitious hoped to come across the palace’s vault and begin to make a plan on how best to rob from it when night had fallen. One group in particular however had just been wandering about to see what took their interest first, only to pause when one of the servants tensed as they neared one of the doors. “Oh, sirs. Not this room!”

“Ohhh? Why? Is there something precious in there?” One grinned, his interest immediately taken. Why have this room be off limits? They were just asking for them to investigate by saying not to go in. “A quick peek.”

“N-no…I must insist!“ The servant stammered out. While Doflamingo hadn’t exactly said this room was off limits to the pirates, she believed it would be wrong of her to allow them inside. 

“Joker said we were his guests.” The other pirate insisted, taking a firm hold of the servant’s arm knowing she would be too weak to use force. With a laugh he pulled the girl out of the way with no effort and added. “He said we were to make ourselves comfortable. I think we’ll be comfortable in here.” 

The pirates threw open the doors with a loud bang and strode into the large and luxuriously furnished living quarters, low appreciatively whistles breaking from their lips. If their rooms were even half as nice as this, they were tempted to just stay here permanently. From the side room they heard movement and the panicked squeak from the servant who scurried inside in the hopes of convincing them to leave. Now she knew for sure they wouldn’t. Quickly the pirates wasted no time in bursting into the room and pausing to see you in the bathtub. With the oils and additions to the water it’d turned it a dark swirl of colours but even then when you’d heard their approach and only had time to quickly grab a towel and use it to act as extra cover for yourself. Steadily you met their stares and forced yourself to remain calm. 

“Oh what have we here?” One pirate all but sang as he stepped closer to the bathtub, eyes taking in your face and what he could see of your body which sadly for him wasn’t much. “I doubt you’re our gracious host Joker and not a servant…”

“Maybe a different kind of ‘servant’ huh?” The second pirate grinned lecherously and licked his lips. “Is that what you are dearest? Some entertainment Joker’s got planned for later?”

“I’m in the mood for entertainment now though…” The third quipped and your eyes narrowed at that remark. “How’s about you stand up and let us see if you’re worth the coin or not love?”

“Aren’t you a little too eager?” You asked, expression still composed and voice even. Slowly you watched the first pirate crouch down by the tub, his knuckles slowly grazing against your arm and drifting upwards to your jaw before suddenly latching into your hair. You suppressed the wince at the sudden action and clamped your hand around his wrist. “I prefer taking my time and really enjoying things.”

“Darling if you’ve been bought, it’s about what we want. Not you.” The pirate gripping your hair sneered with a sickening smile. “But I like your spirit. Doubt you’d break easy.”

“Doubt the three of you could afford me.” You grit out while the others began to laugh. 

“I dunno. Joker’s been mighty generous up until now.” The third pirate mused. “Bet he’d be nice and let the whole crew have you for a discount.”

“That’s a good idea.” The second pirate barked out with a cruel laugh, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “We should let the Captain know. He’d kill us if we did anything before he meets Joker.”

“Y-yeah good point…” The first admitted, fear flickering into his eyes at the thought of his Captain and you resisted the urge to smirk. If only they knew who they should truly fear in this palace. Reluctantly the pirate released your hair and stood but offered you a disgusting wink before he turned and they left. “See you soon sweetheart.”

“I-I’m so so sorry!” The servant sobbed, falling to her knees while you rose and rushed to pull on your bathrobe. “I tr-tried to stop them!”

“Don’t worry about it.” You reassured her with a sharp tug of your robe’s ties to secure them in place. Your building fury steeling your focus as you stormed out of your room and towards Doflamingo’s office. You were surprised that in your walk there that you didn’t run into any more pirates but it was a good thing because you wouldn’t have held back then. 

You shoved the double doors open and let them hit the walls with an echoing bang. Sharply Doflamingo looked up from his desk while Pica, Diamante, and Trebol turned. The three elite officers tensed at the sight of your dressed in only a bathrobe, your hair and skin still slightly damp and the cold fury burning in your eyes as you stalked towards the desk. The three men stepped to the side while you absently heard the office doors close and lock behind you, most likely the result of Doflamingo’s power. Bracing your hands on the polished surface of the desk you leant in and snarled down at him. “I’m going to kill those fuckers.”

“Well that's a surprise to hear.” Doflamingo chuckled, surprised at your change of heart and unusual decision to come to him severely lacking clothes, not that he truly objected to that. Originally you’d told him that you’d let him have his fun and deal with the pirates. However he was more curious at your unrestrained anger. Out of everything he’d thrown at you, you’d never shown this emotion around him. Just what had they done in such a short amount of time to make you want to kill them. “I’m going to need to know a reason why though. Your involvement will alter the plan.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your plan, Doflamingo.” You snapped. “I’m killing the ones I want to kill and that’s the end of it.”

“So you’ve got specific targets?” He chuckled. “See someone you recognised that made you jump out of the bath to rush and tell me?”

“No.”

“Then why want to kill them?”

“Because you were such a dumbass that gave them the run of the place.” You accused, desperately wishing you could throw something at his head and cause him pain. When you saw his eye twitch beneath his glasses you saw no point in hiding what had happened. As much as you both clashed, he did tell you everything when you asked. “They came into my room and walked in while I was bathing.” You began, tensing with the speed Doflamingo was on his feet and  mirroring your stance on his side of the desk. Hands digging into the edge of the table while he leant towards you. 

“They saw you?” He asked, his tone darkening to a point it made your stomach flip but you quickly ignored it. “Did they touch you?”

“They didn’t hurt me, don’t worry no one’s taken that privilege from you yet.” You said with a roll of your eyes. “The real insult was them implying that I was a whore they could afford, but apparently Joker’s such a swell and generous guy you might be convinced to share me around.”

At that Doflamingo’s lips curled back into a fierce snarl. This group of scum just couldn’t resist digging the graves deeper could they? While he had allowed them to do as they pleased to get more ammunition on them to exact appropriate punishments for them, he honestly hadn’t expected this development or this rush of barely contained fury it brought. Diamante, Trebol and Pica stared at you both nervously, their young master mostly and became fearful. It’d been a long time since they’d seen him this way. “Who were they?”

“Didn’t get their names.” You quipped, unbending and refusing to give him the answer he wanted. “Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Doflamingo ground out, his fingers beginning to press deeper into the thick wood, faint cracks sounding. 

“So you could kill them before I got a chance to?” You demanded with a sharp shake of your head as you glared at him. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to tell you a damn thing about them. They’re mine to kill.” You insisted with cold finality in your tone. For a while you and Doflamingo stayed locked in an intense staring contest where there didn’t seem to be an obvious winner. 

“Fine.” Doflamingo finally growled, teeth clenched together. “You get your wish. You can kill the ones you want. Just at least make it entertaining.”

You immediately straightened, satisfied that the King of Dressrosa gave in and smirked. It honestly hadn’t mattered what he said. You were going to kill those three regardless of his permission or not but you quickly squashed the feeling of relief it brought when he said you could. Part of the reason you hadn’t outright killed the three in your bathroom then and there was because you didn’t want to ruin the plan he’d formulated while waiting for their arrival. Quickly you stepped from the desk and turned to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

When you unlocked the door and left Doflamingo slammed his hands into the desk, the single bow shattering it to pieces instantly. It wasn’t enough he needed to kill them all now, to watch their bodies writhe in agony as they were sliced to pieces and forced to kill each other but yet he managed to restrain himself. Aggravatingly he’d promised you, you’d get to kill your targets and he didn’t want to go back on it. Mostly because he was finally seeing a part of you you’d kept hidden begin to come out and he wanted to see what you’d do without that restraint but also because he didn’t want to go back on his word to you. As much as the bile and rage burned in his chest and throat he forced himself to hold it back. How dare those maggots and filth personified believe they could touch you. Then it came to him. He’d asked had they touched you. Not had they harmed you. His concern in that moment hadn’t been had someone done what he couldn't in marking you or causing you pain. “Pica, from now on you stay with them when they’re on their own.” Doflamingo finally commanded, his voice shallow yet still heavy with authority. “No one touches them without their say-so. Understood?”

Pica nodded sharply and his body disappeared into the stone, immediately going to his new post in keeping a protective eye on you. Slowly Doflamingo flexed his fingers repeatedly as his mind tried to focus on the plan and reminded himself by the end of the night every single one of the scum currently scurrying through his home would be dealt with after they all learnt the very painful lessons to never try and best him or touch what was his.  

———————————————-

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[baelarys]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

Warning : Incest,I think that's all I can warn you.

word count : 1463(A little short but I plan to do part 2)

It felt as if something had stopped, as if something were happening, or we were waiting for it. King's Landing was not known for being peaceful; even if you were tucked away in the confines of a castle, you always perceived that environment of restless people looking for something to fill their stomachs with food.

I look expectantly out my window overlooking the city; how small it seemed from here. You could hear the roars of some dragons at the Dragonpit in the distance. Maybe I'll go flying with Cannibal later.

—It looks like it will be a quiet day, don’t you think? —I ask in a friendly manner. The maids pause for a moment, exchanging looks to see who will respond. It is not common for nobles to address them unless giving orders, and it seems they do not like to chat with us either. —I think so, princess —replied the one braiding my hair.

I leave my room heading to the library. —Good morning, sir —I greet Ser Cedric of Blackwood in a friendly manner. Ser Cedric has accompanied me since I arrived at King's Landing for my marriage to Prince Aemond, a tedious but apparently necessary union to prevent a family feud. —Good morning, princess —

––

I close the book I'm reading as I look around. The library is one of the few places in the Red Keep where there are no servants everywhere or lords and ladies of the court. My senses fill with the smell of books and humidity emanating from the thousands of books with the history of Westeros and ancient Valyria.

I get up and dust off my dress from the books, heading to the entrance to the training yard. I have not seen Aemond since last night and what is left of this morning.

I step into the training yard, where the sound of swords clashing and men training resonates in the air. In the distance, I spot Aemond, the prince I married for political reasons. He looks focused, handling his sword with grace and strength. I approach with a steady step, trying not to interrupt his practice.

Aemond is no longer the shy, withdrawn boy he once was. He remains quiet, but will speak if necessary. We are not the most affectionate with each other, but we have been friends since childhood; we got along well, played together, and shared lessons, spending much time together until that night in White Harbor, where he lost his eye and claimed Vhagar. He became more confident and his interest in swords and political matters grew, unlike Aegon, whose interest in women and alcohol distracts him from his duties.

—wife —Aemond Greeting after finishing a training session and approaching me along with Ser Criston Cole, a Kingsguard, with his usual hateful look. —Princess —he said with a slight bow.

—To what do I owe your lovely presence here? —Aemond asked ironically, with that haughty look, something common in him.

—I haven't seen you since this morning, I wondered where you were —I replied calmly as we walked back inside the castle. —Do you want to have breakfast with me? It seems today will be a quiet day —I ask cheerfully. It is not common for us to do things together besides our marital duties, but sometimes his company is comforting.

The morning sun casts a golden light over the castle gardens as we enjoy our breakfast in a quiet corner. Aemond and I talk about memories from our childhood, carefully avoiding any mention of the incident at White Harbor that could sour our conversation.

At that moment, a nursemaid approaches with Maegor in her arms. His platinum, curly hair is a constant reminder of his Valyrian heritage. Aemond and I exchange smiles upon seeing our son, whose gray eyes shine with curiosity as he looks around.

—Come here, love! —I exclaim affectionately, extending my arms to receive him. The little one wriggles with excitement and stretches his arms toward me, eager to be in my embrace.

Aemond watches with pride and affection as Maegor settles in my arms. —He looks more and more like you —he comments with a smile, gently stroking our son's head. —And he has your eyes —I respond with a smile, admiring Maegor's curls as he plays with my necklace.

I walk towards Helaena's room with Maegor in my arms. The guards open the doors to the room, revealing the pattern of greens and golds characteristic of the Hightower family adorning the marble walls, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the windows. And there she is, as calm and kind as always.

Helaena was beautiful, with the silver hair so distinctive of them and the beautiful sky-blue eyes.

I place Maegor on the floor next to the twins, gently caressing their heads. I slowly approach, with soft steps, watching Helaena as her hands moved gracefully over the embroidery. The sunlight made her silver hair shine even more, and her blue eyes reflected an inner peace that had always fascinated me.

—Aunt Helaena —I said in a low tone, almost whispering, not to startle her. She looked up from her work, blinking slowly before giving a warm, gentle smile.

—Y/N, what a pleasant surprise —she responded softly, her words flowing like a calm melody. Her fingers never stopped moving over the embroidery, creating the image of a spider with almost magical precision.

I sat next to her, admiring the skill of her hands and the calm she radiated. Helaena always seemed to be in a world of her own, a place where time passed at a different pace. —You are embroidering a spider today. Does it have any special meaning? —I asked, knowing that each of her creations carried a hidden message. Helaena nodded slowly, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were seeing beyond the walls of the room.

—Spiders weave their webs, Y/N. They catch what approaches carelessly. Sometimes, what seems insignificant can have a great impact —she said in a dreamy tone. Her response left me thoughtful. Helaena had a unique way of seeing the world, always finding connections and hidden meanings in the everyday.

—Is something troubling you, Lena? —I asked, trying to decipher the message behind her words. She looked at me intently, her blue eyes reflecting something deep and mysterious. —The future is always in motion. There are pieces moving on the board that we cannot see yet —she said, her voice like a whisper. I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Helaena always had a gift for seeing beyond the obvious, and her predictions were both a warning and a comfort.

She directed her gaze to the children playing quietly on the floor, surrounded by nursemaids. —It is nice to have children in the castle, don't you think? It's fun —she said cheerfully.

Helaena placed her embroidery on her lap for a moment, her gaze calm but loaded with meaning. Her blue eyes met mine with complicity before she spoke. —I heard that your mother will be coming to King's Landing soon —Helaena said softly, as if sharing an exciting secret.

My eyes lit up with joy at the news. Rhaenyra, my mother, always unpredictable and full of energy, would undoubtedly bring her own dose of excitement to the castle.

—Really? How wonderful to hear! What brings her back? —I asked, excited at the prospect of reuniting with her again in the capital.

Helaena gently took my hand, transmitting a mix of calm and anticipation. —There have been rumors about the heir to the Driftmark throne. Ser Vaemond Velaryon is the one who started the whole matter —she explained, with a serene smile. I felt confused; Lucerys is supposed to be the heir to Driftmark, my grandfather, Ser Corlys Velaryon said so. Although it was naive to think such a problem wouldn't arise, Lucerys does not possess any characteristic features of the Velaryons; thick, dark, curly hair replaces the platinum hair of ancient Valyria.

—I understand, Lena. We will be ready to welcome her with open arms —I responded enthusiastically.

Helaena nodded, her gaze returning to the embroidery that lay on her lap, as the afternoon sun painted golden highlights in her silver hair. The atmosphere in the room became serene and welcoming again.

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part two

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part: receiving the Princes at Highgarden and a little flashforward.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread < < < previous part, part one: read here > > > next part, part three: read here

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, more set up, depiction of anxiety, i think that's it and that's suspicious

You winced when the seamstress pinched your waist again while hemming the gown you modeled in front of a trio of mirrors atop a pedestal. "Apologies, my Lady," the woman with a heavy Braavosi accent excused with a quirked thick brow, "I appear off my clock, think I am seeing double."

"Expected after such long travels," you nodded in agreement. "Perhaps we should pause to let you rest, we can resume later - "

"No, no, nope, we have no time," the jittery ginger Maester Keiff Foral insisted, hands rushing in a flurry from where he was pacing behind you, "we have to get your dresses done now before the Princes arrive!"

"This is so superficial - "

"Stand straighter."

You huffed, "Tell me in earnest, why are we even entertaining these proposals?"

"Because war - "

"Not our war."

"Ours now that you've claimed a dragon!"

You sighed, just watching Madam Oraena Ostiris work in the reflection. "So we come to it," you whisper.

"To what, child?"

"You are angry I have claimed Balerion!"

Maester Foral pursed his lips, moving around to sit at the available table. "Angry? At you? I am weary," he admitted. "Bringing The Black Dread here, it has put a target on us, my Lady. The Greens and Blacks both were content to look the other way, we had declared ourselves neutral; they need Harrenhal more than they need Highgarden - and Oldtown's on their own, but now? Now, your dragon has beckoned them to our door."

"I can always refuse them," you mused.

"I do not know how the Princes would handle rejection from you in that dress," Foral chuckled. "Your father would choke if he saw you, my Lady."

"I suppose it is good he will not see again," you sighed, petting the material of your new gown. It was modern, chic, new; albeit revealing and daring, it was different. "I suppose I should ask, is there news?"

"No, my Lady. Your father makes no change."

In the tallest tower of the Highgarden Keep, your father, Lord Paramount Tyrell, laid in a bed; unmoving, unwaking, still breathing, as he has for the past 4 years following a swift and sudden infection. Your Targaryen Princess mother passed just a year prior to King Viserys, leaving you to inherit the lands, riches, titles, and all that comes with Lordship Ladyship of The Reach. This was until your brother, Ryden, now ten, came of age in another four years. Technically, he could assume Lordship at ten-and-three, but it was so stipulated he would remain under education until ten-and-four, pending your father's health.

"What do you think I should do, Maester?" You asked stiffly. "Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys both fly for us this day, what should I do?"

"Well, what feels appropriate?"

"As if that matters," you scoffed. He waited as you and Madam Ostiris chittered over your dress; making necessary changes in posture to let the seamstress hem and sew.

"Humor me, pretend it does," Maester Foral spoke to you through the mirror.

You frowned, rolling your eyes, "Well, ideally, I'd have time to get to know them both before being forced to choose who I want to bind myself to for life."

"Reasonable."

"For the love of the Gods, be helpful, Keiff, or get out," you huffed. "Do not just agree with me, please."

He chuckled, "All right, all right. You are the acting Lady of the House, you hold more power than you realize, and you now ride the largest dragon in the known world. So, receive them both and offer accommodations for the week their mothers have bartered for, and in that time, make clear you wish to spend equal time with them both before you declare for either side."

"I'm able... To do that?"

"Why not? If Rhaenyra can be Queen, why can you not take a week to get to know suitors you might possibly wish to spend your life with? Times are changing, my Lady, just look at the dragon you now ride, the position you hold." Keiff paused to take a long, deep breath, "You know, all-in-all, perhaps this will not be too bad."

"How so?"

"I hear both princes are rather becoming."

Your eyes rolled as Madam Ostiris snickered and softly mused, "Sounds as if, at least, whoever you choose will be someone pleasing to look at. There are worse fates, worse prospects of husbands, my Lady."

You hummed in acknowledgement, admiring your figure cut in the dress, directing to Keiff, "Do me a favor, old friend?"

"Of course, my Lady, anything."

"Keep me logical. If I fall prey to emotions, keep my head straight - I want to make the best, most logical, strategic pact for our people as possible."

"Do not be so pessimistic. Love can be so - "

"This isn't about love, it's about strategy, and at the very least, compatibility. A single week to decide who I will spend this life with, a week to consider which scales I tip in this war. This is about survival and stability, Maester, not love."

He sighed, watching Madam Ostiris tighten the laces of your exposed corset in a finishing touch to your attire. Since you were a babe, Maester Keiff Foral served your family; a surrogate father, nanny, tutor, friend, brother, the fun uncle you run away to when pissed at your parents. He hated how repugnant you sounded at love - wanting that magic for you, never wanting your marriage to be akin to a sales transaction.

Maester Foral, however, knew you to be a noble and honorable woman and if duty compels, someone who would agree to a marriage pact for other's benefit. So, he wasn't surprised by your determination to do your duty, but the way you spoke, the hostile acid used when speaking about marriage, about love - it saddened him. He knew you had so much love to give with nowhere to put it, nor were you equipped to accept authentic love - let alone give it a chance to let a flame catch and ashen.

One of the servants entered the chamber, hesitating only a moment before informing, "There's been a dragon sighted, my Lady. The watchmen predict no farther than 10 minutes from our location."

"Thank you," you breathed, Madam Ostiris finishing her work, allowing you time to finish prepping to your pleasure. "Maester Foral, please, uh, gather members of our court to the Throne Room. We'll receive the Princes. Oh, we'll need their rooms finalized, please, send some maids to double check the guest chambers are ready, as well. Ensure they're in separate wings."

"My Lady," he agreed, bowing out of the room to go do as you asked while you heaved a grand huff of breath.

There came a long pause as you looked at your dress, nodding in approval. "It becomes you," Madam Ostiris noted casually, packing up her sewing kit.

"Hmm?" You hummed.

"Power," she smirked.

"She's right," a voice chimed, Grandmother Celia came into the room; lips spread in a smirk, hands clasped before her. "Power becomes you, sweet petal," she chuckled. "That dress is exquisite."

"Madam Ostiris is a genius," you complimented, stepping off the pedestal. "I'm glad you're here. Tell me," your arms spread in bravado, "is this appropriate to meet our royal convoy in?"

"I would say," she approved, petting the skirt you wore. "Thank you, Madam Ostrich."

"Ostiris," you swiftly corrected with a smirk. "Madam, you've been shown your quarters, yes?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you."

"Thank you," you dismissed softly, watching her scoop her personal sewing kit into her arms and scurry out of the room. "Grandmother," you directed, pouring a goblet of sweet wine, "would you attend today's affair with me? I do not wish to stand alone."

"Maester Foral will be there."

"I would feel stronger with another Tyrell at my side."

She chuckled and took your arm, patting it in assurance. "I will always stand with you, my girl," she assured. "Are you prepared for their arrival?"

"As best I can be. I feel as if I am standing trial."

Celia chuckled, watching you take a nervous gulp. "To what crime?"

"Claiming to be a Targaryen is a heinous declaration, bordering on a punishable offense. None believed me, said I did not look akin to my claims; now I ride Balerion and am fielding marriage proposals from Dragon Princes. It's as if I am defending myself from tension that brewed in my mother's generation, and none of it feels real."

Celia nodded, "And yet, you carry this responsibility beautifully."

"Begrudgingly," you corrected with a smirk. "Shall we?" You finished your wine, setting the goblet down and offering your arm to her withered hand.

"To the Throne Room?"

"Courtyard," you corrected. "I intend to meet the royal envoy."

"Then we shall meet inside," she decided, "there's no chance I'm traipsing through the mud. Nor nearing your beast."

You agreed, watching her part as you were swept up by a swarm of maids and guards all escorting you towards the front of the Keep.

"My Lady," your usual lady's maid rushed up to you, "there's a dragon - "

"Yes, Eyme, I'm aware," you smirked, waving her to follow. "Did you have the guest chambers made up?"

"Yes, my Lady, in the East and West wings."

You nodded, "And the kitchens?"

"Stocked and preparing tonight's welcome feast," Eyme confirmed. The winds swept your dress skirt back when the doors opened, surging down the stairs as more of your Household Guard joined the procession.

"Open the gates," you commanded, leading the way out of the Keep. Things seemed relatively calm as the dragon in the distance was a growing speck, but then, the peace shattered when Balerion lifted his head and released a loud, reverberating growl. "Shit," you muttered, "stay here, stand at the ready!"

You rushed to your dragon laying in the valley beneath the Highgarden Keep, trying to use broken High Valyrian but making absolutely no sense - turning into a blubbering mess out of panic. There was no true calming your beast, especially when he lifted onto his feet and bared his teeth in threat. You cursed again.

Balerion stretched out, making you keep pace at his shoulder as the distant dragon drew closer. "You know them?" You asked The Black Dread casually, sighing and patting the scaly hide of his ankle - the only place you could honestly reach. "Is it a familiar smell?"

He grumbled and in truth, you had no honest idea if he understood the Common Tongue or not - but after so many years, perhaps he did to an extent.

"They're guests," you warned your dragon, who breathed heavily; shoulders hulking, leering in threat as the other dragon became more defined. "They're kin," you sighed. "One is your old rider's son, and the other, his grandson. Did you ever meet her? The Black Queen, Rhaenyra? Daughter of Viserys?"

Balerion huffed and you smirked, successfully distracting him. "I haven't either," you told him. "We'll judge them fairly, yes? You sniff out their dragons, see if they smell deceitful." When he grumbled, you patted his hide again, "Good lad." The dragon began it's decent, you musing, "Here we go..."

The first dragon that touched down was tiny in comparison, your curiosity peaking when another dot was spotted in the distance. "Easy," you told Balerion, "Vermax is young, he's not a threat." Your dragon grumbled as the dark haired Prince dismounted. "Vhagar approaches, she's who makes me nervous. Remain vigilant, that's a good lad."

You did not move far from your dragon, standing a few paces beside him as his head leered in an arch to watch the exchange as you faced the Prince. His dragon leered at your own; hissing and spitting, backing up a few paces as you smirked. When he was close enough, you greeted, "Welcome to Highgarden, my Prince."

"Lady Tyrell," he halted himself, eyeing Balerion with mistrust. "What a pleasure it is to make your formal acquaintance. I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

You relaid your full name, using your manners to ask, "I trust your travels were safe?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you," he nodded, clearing his throat. "Though I regret to ask - "

"Vermax will be provided ample feeding," you smirked, clocking his breath of relief. "We've prepared for your arrival... And mine own, I suppose."

"I've often wondered, how much does The Black Dread consume?"

"Enough to feed several villages," you chuckled, glancing at the large head that dropped beside you. You laid an arm on him in a show of affection, "He's very good at self sustaining; though, I buy his love by feeding him livestock. I hope it makes up for my inability to speak High Valyrian."

"Perhaps we could arrange some lessons," he smiled prettily.

"That would be appreciated," you nodded. "In fact, I was hoping for your opinion on a tutor, while you're here. I'd like to learn of my heritage, but being able to communicate with Balerion is paramount."

"Of course, my Lady."

You watched as Prince Jacaerys was welcomed into your court as Vhagar eventually made her descent. You required a moment or two to collect yourself, swallowing nervously in the presence of the Velaryon Prince; a young lad you found almost dreadfully attractive. Despite his thick head of dark, luscious curls, he was every bit Targaryen you were - perfectly one half, on your mother's side.

For some reason, to the Realm, the mother's lineage is erased and forgotten - but blood doesn't lie. Neither do genetics, but that was a conversation for a different day.

You thought the Prince was well groomed; his thin face angular, high structured, and sharp, framed by his corkscrew curls. Though lean, he appeared to have the makings of muscle; standing taller than you, freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks, lips plump and perfectly pouting.

Balerion bellowed when faced with Vhagar - even at a distance. You were unsure what word to use, but smoothly, you heard Jace provide the High Valyrian word for clam, "Lykiri."

You repeated the word with a stutter, Jace gently repeating himself to allow your tongue to form the foreign word. After another try or two, you were rolling your pronunciation; Balerion shifting his weight and growling, even under your patient hand. You muttered a few words in the Common Tongue, the beast glowering with literal smoke wafting from his nostrils as the One-Eyed Prince stalked across the short distance between dragons.

"Prince Aemond," You greeted kindly, "welcome to Highgarden."

As you went through the usual spiel, you got a good look at the Kinslayer Prince. He was handsome in a much more unique way; perhaps unconventional, but certainly alluring. His jaw (and nose) came to a point, his expression full with his single eye; stoic yet oddly expressive. His pin-straight platinum locks were down, pieces at his temple tied back simply to accommodate the strap of his eyepatch. His cheeks were chiseled. His scar was a dark pinkish-tan against porcelain flesh, indicating years of healing. Thin, bowed, quirked lips - even with a neutral and passive expression.

Handsome, indeed.

After hearing your court greet Aemond respectfully, attention had shifted towards you again. You told both Jacaerys and Aemond smoothly, "I hope to come to know the extent of our hospitality during your stay here. I apologize for greeting you outside the bounds of the Keep - I was unsure how Balerion would react to visitors. And I should apologize for our lack of Dragonpit, I understand the anxiety you might feel from leaving your dragons exposed; there's never been need to host dragons at Highgarden before."

"Mh," Prince Aemond hummed, "though appreciated, no apology is necessary, my Lady. Thank you for granting me your audience. The King was most pleased to learn you accepted our parlay invitation."

"No thanks necessary, my Prince," you shot back, saving Jace from rebuttal, "but I have yet to bend the knee, and therefore, encourage you do not mistake my hospitable curiosity to receive your envoy, my Prince, for alleged proclamation of support in the war ravaging the Realm. Yet while I do not declare for either of your sides yet, it's akin to alining with both." You paused, lips straightening in tight emotion, "I've learned those who refuse kings - or their kin - end in demise, so, at the very least, I'd be a fool to reject your entry under my roof."

"Nevertheless, the King appreciates your cooperation."

Balerion growled as if in disagreement with the term "King", but you just hushed like a parent would a child, "Aht! You behave."

Seeing them both offer kind amusement to your words, you noted how effortless Jace appeared and how Aemond's expression appeared to host veiled impatience. You remembered this wasn't some romantic meet-cute, but a very disingenuous way to marry; to find a partner; to start a new life - what very well could be the rest of your life.

Something in your gut stirred.

You were pretty as a petal, protected by dragon hide; knowing that when people saw you, they saw a meek, unmarried maiden and concocted their own narrative, snap judgements, harsh in their opinion. They thought you looked weak - a death sentence in this day and age; looking the part of vulnerable, all but offering for others to take advantage and manipulate you - only to dine on them. As dragons do.

Pretty girls were viewed as prey, appearing as easy targets. It was sickeningly frustrating to always be the bigger person; to remain ladylike, soft, kind, seen and never heard even in the face of adversity.

Like your grandmother said, it was time to be a dragon - who don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Dragons leave absolutely zero room for disrespect, and they never ask for respect - it's given, warranted, collected, nonverbally demanded all out of fear. Respect universally bestowed to the top apex predator who could end life in a single stream of fire, crush anyone or anything under their legs, decommission entire cities; talons that can easily eviscerate, teeth that could shred human flesh and bones like cheese on a grater.

Be a dragon.

So, you smirked, "Follow me, then, my Princes, Grandmother will be eager to meet you."

Two guards walked ahead of you, leading the procession into the Highgarden Keep. Maids and other guards placed themselves strategically between the Princes, but it seemed the Prince in green leather followed you closely at an even pace, lanky legs moving him with a distinct swagger; feeling almost magnetized to you while gliding through the Keep.

Upon entering the Throne Room (which wasn't a real "throne room" but instead, the room the Lord of the Reach would sit when receiving his peers, guests, counterparts, and citizens), you saw Maester Keiff Foral with your grandmother, Celia, standing at the front of the room with your brother, Ryden, around the seat you were to occupy.

Not feeling secure enough to sit in your new dress, you remained standing while introducing the two Princes - but it was still obvious, you were at the helm of Highgarden.

"Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys wish to discuss an alliance between our Houses - we are going to hear their marriage petitions," you announced officially, finally taking a seat - but in a perch, teetering at the very edge. "Now," you cleared your throat, "you both sent words of parlay that we have agreed to hear. Are you both designated to offer terms of negotiation?"

"Yes, my Lady," Jace nodded, your eyes shifting to Aemond, who nodded and repeated his words.

With a hum, you continued, "Then I encourage you both to listen closely. As Lady of this House, I will do whatever is right by my people - not this war. I am not currency for either of you to collect, this is about negotiating terms of peace. Nobody today is present under false pretenses, yes?"

There was a murmured wave of agreement.

"Then we are all aware that this alliance means the fighting rights to Balerion." There was another few nods. "I would see peace return to our land, to this Realm, but first, we have much to discuss. So, I will offer you both one week. In this proposed week, I will attempt to spend equal time with you both and learn of you; since marriage is served over a lifetime, I want to be sure about the man I willingly spend it with. Is this agreeable?"

"I accept your terms," Aemond nodded.

"Oh, you haven't heard my terms yet, love, sit tight," you mused; longer fingernails drumming on the armchairs. "Is this agreeable? A one-week term?"

"Yes, my Lady, most gracious of you," Jace agreed.

Aemond's head tilted to the side, slowly regarding those who ruled The Reach - all watching him like a wild dragon. "Tell me," Aemond leered, "when Lord Tyrell passes, who inherits Highgarden?"

You scoffed gently.

"Lady Tyrell, my Prince, until the new Lord Tyrell comes of age," Maester Keiff Foral answered strongly. "Your father, Gods rest his soul, was a peaceful King and the Realm is forever grateful that the Quiet Age lasted this long after King Jaehaerys ruled - but Viserys was not the first man to name a woman heir. Yes, first woman to the Iron Throne, but there are known keeps and kingdoms under the leadership of women - The Reach, for example. The Vale and Dorne, too."

"I am well aware. Does Lord Tyrell have any bastards?"

"Uh, n-no, my Prince. None that are known...?"

"Can anyone lay claim to her inheritance?" Aemond asked plainly, cutting off anyone ready to scold him for his brash questions.

"No, but she is expected to rule until her brother ages, and Gods forbid, if something happens to Ryden, she is to birth presumably the next Lord of Highgarden," Keiff answered slowly, as if piecing the idea together in real time.

"Then, forgive my hesitance, but why bother with Prince Jacaerys?" Aemond dared. "If he's to inherit the Throne," he mocked, "Lady Tyrell would have to forfeit her duties and the family's ancestral seat for a time, produce heirs for her husband's line, stand at the King's side when she's meant to rule here. Begs the question who Prince Jacaerys means to propose for this alliance? Surely, not himself as he's previously betrothed - to his cousin, uh, stepsister, Lady Baela?"

"And what of your engagement to Floris Baratheon?" Jace shot back.

Sure, his question was being answered (both engagements broken) and actually spurred conversation around the room, but Aemond couldn't hear anymore. Yes, he started this, but salty, warm, pressurized waters had flooded the chamber through sealed windows to trap Aemond in waves of anxiety. Suddenly, his nerves compressed, lungs emptied but couldn't refill; veins dilated to accommodate his worrisome racing heart, throat closing immediately after.

Jacaerys... Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who would be a legitimized, recognized, acknowledged Targaryen upon succession... Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jaecerys. Jace... Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace...

Memories flashed to silently - privately - remind Aemond of that day when Vhagar killed Lucerys - the little bastard brother of Jacaerys. That infamous day haunts Aemond, feeling unfamiliar guilt and shame with himself - which didn't say much considering Aemond's entire life was a steady-handed written tragedy. Now, the other object of his ire would face off with him as Luke had... Vying for a Lady's hand...

Aemond wondered if Jace - being older with dropped testicles - would scream, and if so, would it be like Luke's? Shrill? Or something "deeper"? Lucerys screamed in sheer terror before being swallowed whole; arguably the day that started the war, but definitely being first blood shed (unless you believed that to be Lord Beesbury). Blood was going to be spilled one way or another! This was war, after all!

Aemond hated being mere feet from Jacaerys, but for the sake of the Realm, he restrained himself.

Yet nobody in that room was stronger than Jace - who stood, patiently, pleasantly, mere feet from the man who murdered his beloved baby brother in brutal cold blood. There would never be a more opportune time to strike for vengeance, but Jace kept his cool - insisting to himself that if he remained patient, he'd get his chance. Or perhaps karma would get Aemond! But one thing was for sure: Jace refused to "lose" you to this Kinslayer. So, he kept calm.

Aemond was sent to Highgarden by his mother; by the Green Council; by anyone not himself. Jace, sure, had been sent by the Black Council - but he had wanted to do his duty to his mother, in this war; to history. Jace felt honored to be received by your Ladyship - and by Gods, it showed.

Eventually, you spoke clearly through both Prince's internal thoughts, turmoil, and monologues:

"In this week, you are both welcomed guests, and all of Highgarden's amenities, resources, and services are at your disposal, my Princes. What livestock can be spared, your dragons will be fed - though do not be startled if they venture off with Balerion, he enjoys hunting in the surrounding areas. You're both to be hosted in different wings of the Keep," you laid out plainly, "and under no circumstances shall violence nor taunting be permitted. I understand the animosity between you two, there's been plenty of rumors - so I will not see bloodshed in nor around my home," you directed at Aemond, "to one another, myself, family, or dragon; nor any staff members, occupants of the Keep, and / or citizens. Can you both agree to these terms?"

"I agree," Jacaerys almost instantly accepted.

"I agree," Aemond nodded stiffly.

"Good. Then, come next Sunday, I endeavor to have a decision for you. I ask you both to consider a single question that I will expect answered in the coming days: what role would you have me play in this war? What would you see me do? Have me do?" There came a pause. "If there are no questions, I think we have much to discuss - privately."

When neither Prince argued, you and Maester Foral lead the terms of negotiation. You worried mostly over how The Reach would either suffer or benefit; hardly caring about personal expectations, you wanted to know who would overhead the barley production that season - since ale was so precious to the Realm. You wanted to know who would be funding the new irrigation system. You wanted to know how quickly either side would retreat once their alliance was made - essentially asking how long this war was expected to last post alliance. You wanted to know how best to help your people, fearing they'd suffer if you chose the wrong side to aline with.

After several hours, you understood the terms set by the Blacks and Greens; insisting they disperse for supper and get a fresh start for tomorrow. When the chambers emptied, leaving you, Keiff, and Celia, it was eerily quiet for several long heartbeats.

"What is it?" Maester Foral asked, leaning his crossed arms on the tabletop. "What do you think, my Lady?"

"This feels... I don't know, futile?" You struggled to think rationally, sighing deeply. "Like, what's the point? Rhaenyra isn't gonna let her claim to the Iron Throne go. And Aegon is more likely to tap dance naked in the streets of King's Landing than stand off the Throne. His mother, I hear, would probably shove him out a bloody window if he dared give up the Throne she stole for him. No matter what, Keiff, both sides think they're right and it's too late now. So, what do we do? Do we affirm this usurper's claim? Or do we help the Queen get her birthright back?"

"It is not a simple thing I can answer."

"Nobody can - yet I am expected to," you huffed. "They won't back down... We all know they won't - neither side will consent. So, no matter what I do, who I choose, I'll be on the frontlines with Balerion. They'll expect us to commit some incredible yet treacherous acts, like The Conqueror fucking burning Harrenhal. No matter what we choose, this war isn't gonna end, will it?"

Celia just sighed as Maester Foral was quiet, then he, too, sighed deeply. He spoke softly, "In truth? I always worried this would happen. There's nothing wrong with a woman heir, I never understood the fuss. Yet this country is so - so - so...?"

"Traditional?" Celia guessed. "Stubborn?"

"Closed minded," Keiff found the words, you nodding along. "They think because we started with a King, we should end with a King, and nowhere between should there be a ruling Queen. I don't know if Rhaenyra stands a chance winning..."

"What do you mean?" Celia asked stiffly.

"Even if she defeats the Greens, takes back her Throne, she'll still have to face the entire Realm - who whisper about her predicted downfall. A Queen will never rule," he frowned, "and the people would become restless and unhappy, betrayal would always brew - someone would always plot against her. She wouldn't be winning the war - but affirming it."

You frowned, "Who would think they have better claim than Rhaenyra?"

"Aegon - "

"Besides him," you chuckled.

"Prince Aemond, probably. And by the same right, Prince Daeron would have a claim - being Viserys' seed," Celia considered. "Could even be a bastard or two lingering in the shadows. Consider if Baelon had bastards, huh?"

"Prince Baelon? Bastards?" You laughed. "The man was devoted to his wife!"

"Devoted men can still fuck around! A cunt is still a cunt!"

"Oh, Grandmother, don't say that - I don't think you're allowed to say that and I certainly don't wish to hear it!"

Keiff spoke over you both, "There could be any number of bastards - from any number of royals. But there's no real proof of lineage, less the sire steps forward, and in this case, all sires are dead. So, I wouldn't worry about any bastards trying to raise and lay claim."

The night was still young and the questions only just starting.

ONE WEEK LATER

Dawn would peak in less than an hour, and yet, instead of being safe and warm in bed, you were slipping in dew-dotted grass while carting a wagon full of sickly lambs. In a tremendously unladylike fashion, you cursed like a sailor, annoyed with nature; pacing further from the border of the Highgarden Keep.

After clearing the dewy hill, you descended into the valley Balerion had curled up in. His head lifted as you approached, his grumble causing the earth to quake and send birds squawking into the skies. "Yeah," you panted, "I'm hungry, too, love, just gimme a second. Good lad."

For the past nine weeks you've had your dragon, you had fallen into routine of bringing him little treats. Cattle, goats, chickens, sometimes dogs or horses; and today, after an entire litter fell fatally ill, lambs. Vhagar and Vermax were in the sky above the Keep.

"All right, love," you sighed, approaching your beastie. With a tentative tongue, you tried the commands in High Valyrian both Princes had taught you that past week, "Serve, Balerion."

No story could do this beast justice. He was magnificent, but also absolutely terrifying - horrifying - devastating to gaze at. It's said “his wingspan was so large that his shadow could engulf entire towns when he passed overhead. His teeth were as long as swords, and his jaws were large enough to swallow an aurochs whole, or even one of the hairy mammoths that are said to roam the cold wastes beyond the Port of Ibben.”

In person, he was the living embodiment of Death.

You repeated yourself, listening to your dragon huff before lowering his head. "Be calm, Balerion," you commanded with a stern voice, smirking when he grumbled, "be calm. Easy... Easy," you chanted, extending your hand. His lip twitched as his snout extended, allowing you to lay a gentle touch to his cracked ebony scales. "Good," you praised, "good, be calm."

He breathed deeply, eyes bright and blazing a menacing flame red. You were lost in thought as you stroked his face, mind whirling with all that happened the past week; mind nagging about the stark differences in Dragon Princes. Balerion did not find his feet, there was no need; lifting his head only slightly when you pulled away to overturn the wagon before him. At your feet, the lambs were too sick to run away, bleating helplessly; the great large beast locking eyes with you and waiting for permission.

After several steps back, you smirked and called, "Eat, Balerion."

Behind you, a voice called your name. Balerion didn't care, indulging in his breakfast treat, allowing you to peak back and locate your best mate, Alora Flowers, waving you down. "C'mon, love," she called.

"You! C'mere," you told her, lugging the now empty wagon behind you.

"Gods, no!" She squeaked. "You get up here! I'm not going around that beast, you know this!"

"Coward!"

"Absolutely! Proudly!"

You laughed, lugging the wagon to a certain height and then leaving it to meet Alora on the hill incline. "Still scared of him?" You teased.

"Of the big arse dragon?" She laughed, "Yeah! I'm still scared! Even at this distance, he could reach out and snack on us."

"Good thing he won't," you assured, nudging her to sit down. "What're you doin' out here? It's early."

"You were not in your chambers," she noted, "and today's the day you announce to the Princes... I wanted to check on you, see how you're feeling about everything."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as she revealed the miniature picnic basket she brought. As Alora unpacked an array of fruits, some cheeses and breads with jams, honey, and dried meats, you admitted, "I've no bloody idea what to think anymore."

"Oh, that's not good."

You hummed, biting into an apple as Balerion crunched three lambs between his jaws at once. "It's been a touch overwhelming," you muse. "But either Prince has made an impression, I am now tasked with choosing a side in this Godsforsaken war."

"You could truly turn the tide in it," Alora nodded, biting into a plum. "Take the Realm in a direction it's never been before... Or support it going in the same direction it's always gone. Which, you know, lead us here anyways."

Your eyes rolled, "Well, when you phrase it like that..."

"C'mon," she nudged your shoulder. "They're both very handsome, but for different reasons."

"Hmm?"

"Prince Jacaerys is handsome in a stereotypical way. You know, cut jawline, chiseled cheekbones, luscious curly hair. He's young, but in a charming way - seems green to the ways of the world. He'd be a match to learn with you," she chuckled, sighing to herself.

"You seem enraptured - surely, you'd hate me for choosing Prince Jacaerys since you sound so taken by him."

"Unless the Prince's penis suddenly reverts within his body, I don't envision myself with him," Alora teased, making you both laugh loudly. She flinched a little when Balerion grumbled and lifted his head to seemingly glare at the pair of you for interrupting him. After clearing her throat, she continued, "On the other hand, Prince Aemond's handsome in a rugged way. He's entirely chiseled, mysterious and confident. His entire presence drawls you in."

"All seems so simple when comparing men on parchment," you frowned, leaning back onto your elbow as the sun began its ascent above the horizon.

"Well, let's break it down."

"How?"

"If you aline with the Greens, what would that look like?"

You paused to consider her question, answering, "Chaotic."

"Think deeper."

Chewing a piece of bread with cheese, you considered, "Probably a logical choice, since the Realm has only ever known men to sit the Iron Throne. It wouldn't challenge norms, would relatively keep the peace since there's plenty to be expected when a man rules. Balerion would be put to use; that, I can all but guarantee. Things would... Become predictable, but perhaps that's preferred. After decades of peace, perhaps it's best to not change the status quo."

Alora nodded, "Alining with the Greens would keep Aegon on the Throne."

"Use Balerion would neutralize Rhaenyra, though?"

"Probably. And anyone who offers Aegon insult."

"And if I aline with the Blacks, then I would dethrone a usurper..."

"What an adventure that sounds like," she chuckled, you agreeing. "Keep going, we could expect what outta you alining with the Blacks?"

You huffed, "Chaos."

"Bitch."

Laughter felt a little misplaced, but still, you shared in the exchange of amusement. "Rhaenyra's the emotional choice - where it almost doesn't matter her qualifications because the Realm swore to her; she was declared and her claim upheld by her father, the King. We would be putting a Queen on her Throne, as intended. The Greens would be extinguished... We'd be heralding in a new age. Her son would sit the Throne after her..."

Alora blinked, "Am I just realizing that now?"

"What?"

"If you marry Aemond, you'll be the King's sister-by-law. If you marry Jace, you'd... You'd be Queen one day."

"What a fate after all I've been denied," you scoffed bitterly, "all my mother and aunt were denied."

"The Vanished Princess and the Queen Who Never Was. Quite a pair."

"I hear, in their youth, they were," you frowned with a sigh. "We'll never see their likes again."

"No... But perhaps, we'll see something new in you. Answer me this, who did you think was nice?"

"Oh, fuck off - nobody cares for that - "

"I do," she snapped. "Now, answer me. Who do you think is nice? Which Prince? Either? Neither? Both?"

You hummed in consideration, answering nervously, "Jace was nice - is. Is nice, Jace is nice."

"Who do you think you have more in common with?"

"Maybe Aemond."

"Are either of them funny?"

"Jace has a sense of humor, Aemond is so very... Rigid and stoic."

"I imagine it takes longer than a week to truly know someone, perhaps he is anxious?"

"Or perhaps he is simply doing his duty," you scoffed gently. "At the very least, Jace seems... Somewhat..." You shrugged, "Excited to be here, maybe even intrigued."

She nodded. "So, no matter who you choose, we're looking at war - but the end of the war, so... Where do you wish to stand? Since it's inevitable, I think this comes down to what kind of chaos you want to see - a chaos we've endured or one we've never seen before? I mean, never before has a woman come so close to the Throne..."

There was a long silence. Like, several minutes long. After deep-enough contemplation, you whispered, "If this past week if any indication..." You trailed off, sighing deeply for the hundredth time; staring at Balerion. "I think I know what I should do."

"Oh?"

"Talking it out helps."

"Then talk," she leaned back in the grass. "Tell me about this past week - tell me about the Princes."

And where to start?

< < < previous part, part one: read here

> > > next part, part three: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread series masterlist

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 5)

cregan x reader

word count: 1,606 words

series masterlist

A private carriage. You thank the gods for small victories. Being locked in a small box for a month with nobody but Cregan Stark for company would’ve been the thing that pushed you over the edge of insanity. Or, you likely would have killed him.

Perhaps it was more his safety they are concerned over rather than my comfort. You think to yourself.

The preparations for your departure have been immensely extravagant and your mother has already commissioned ten new dresses and five nightgowns just to tie you over until the royal family flies in for the wedding. You’ll spend another whole month courting Cregan (in Winterfell this time) before the ceremony and you don’t know if you want the spectacle to be drawn out more to prolong your unmarried freedom or if you just want it to be over with.

You ignore the thoughts as you make your way down to the courtyard with Baela and Rhaena on each arm and Ser Robert trailing after you.

“I’m going to miss you awfully.” Rhaena says sentimentally. 

“You’ll have to write to me with every bit of court gossip. Gods know that the boys won’t do a very good job at keeping me filled in.” You roll your eyes dramatically, trying to keep it all lighthearted.

“You’ll write to us plenty as well, tell us all about the joys of marriage.” Baela says with a little smirk.

“I hardly believe there’ll be many joys to rave about.” You say with a scoff.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From what i’ve heard, northern men are very good with… their tongues.” The elder twin says scandalously. You think you hear Ser Robert choke on water from behind you.

“Baela!” Rhaena scolds but she giggles too.

“I don’t want his tongue anywhere near me.” You say as you shoot her a glare.

“Then you are as dumb as you are pretty.” You roll your eyes at this.

“His assumed skills don’t matter if I do not like him.” You say primly.

“You don’t have to like him to appreciate the look of him.” Baela says as she lifts a hand to inspect her nails.

“I agree. You know what they say about men with large hands…” Rhaena trails off and you glare at her as well.

“Do not team up against me.” You say.

“We are only trying to help you to look on the bright side. You’ll be with him for the rest of your lives.” Rhaena says softly. It’s a thought that you don’t really want to think about.

“Perhaps after I give him a son, we will become estranged and he will allow me to retire to Dragonstone.” You reply wistfully. The twins exchange a look.

“And what of your son?” 

You sigh and say, “Any child I have will be his, not mine.”

“But they will also be Valyrians. They could be dragonriders. They will need a Valyrian to teach them.” Baela says. The idea of a child with a dragon, not knowing its history, not knowing how to care for it, is a sad thought.

“Motherhood is as noble a path as any.” Rhaena says, in an attempt to make you feel better.

“Not if it’s forced.”

There is an awkward silence after that and you feel bad, being the one who caused it. Your closest friends, your sisters, they only wanted to comfort you, to make you excited about the journey and you’ve made them feel bad for trying.

“I do quite like some of the dresses her Grace commissioned for me, though.” You say with a little grin and both of the girls light up.

“Oh yes, they’re all so beautiful. I don't know if I could even pick a favourite.” Rhaena gushes.

“I can.” Baela says. “The deep maroon velvet one. Ugh, the sleeves on it are to die for. It’s far too hot to be wearing such fashion in King’s Landing. We’d be sweltering.” Baela pouts a little at that but then grins. “You’ll be the icon of the North when it comes to gowns.”

“I intend to be the icon of the North when it comes to everything.” You say with a faux level of superiority as you come around to the stairs that go down to the courtyard.

There are many nobles waiting to see you off and Cregan Stark stands right at the front, waiting for you and looking as disgustingly handsome as ever. You ignore him and make your way to the ladies who won’t be accompanying you first, hugging them and trying not to tear up. You hope Cregan is offended by how you brush by him. Then, you reach your siblings. Your goodbyes to your family are short and proper, you’ll see them at the wedding anyhow. Your goodbye with your mother is… tense if nothing else. 

You turn to Cregan at this point, knowing that you need to have a public interaction before you get into your carriage. Even if you enjoy being the centre of attention, you don’t want to waste the creation of gossip if you’re not there to see how it all goes down.

Lord Stark bows deeply. “Princess, I am glad to be accompanying you to your new home.”

“I thank you for your protection on the long trip that lies ahead of us.” You say in response, your voice cordial and dripping with charisma. 

“It is my honour.” He holds out a hand and you take it, allowing him to help you up the steps, into the carriage. Your two handmaidens follow after you. When the door shuts, you sigh, ready for the long trip to be over already.

~~~

As the trip properly starts, you begin to remember how much you hate carriage rides. Short ones are usually fine but you’ve been sitting in the wheeled contraption for hours now and it's making you awfully dizzy.

“Your Grace? Are you well?” Rose, your handmaiden, speaks up. She looks concerned for your state.

“I am fine. I perhaps just need to rest for a moment.” You say, a bit breathlessly, as you shift to lay down, resting your head in your other handmaiden’s lap.

“Are you sure, princess? You look a little green.” Safia speaks up as she begins to stroke your hair.

“It’s this stupid carriage. And the road for seven hells. How can it be so uneven?” You groan and Safia starts to rub your temples.

“It is awful, I know.” She soothes but her kind words don’t help. You just feel more and more nauseous.

“Oh gods.” You groan.

“Princess, are you going to be sick?” Rose asks, and to your dismay, you believe you are about to be sick.

You nod a little and she stands, banging on the roof. “Stop the carriage!” She calls out to the driver.

Before you’re even fully stopped, Rose pushes open the door and Safia helps you to your feet. You stumble out of the carriage and unceremoniously, onto the grass. You fall to your hands and knees, breathing heavily. You thank the gods when you don’t actually throw up and the churning of your stomach begins to slow with the help of a stationary position and fresh air.

“What is happening? Is the princess alright?” 

Oh gods why does he have to see this? You think to yourself as the young Lord Stark’s voice rings through the air.

“The movement of the carriage makes her unwell, my lord.” Safia says.

“Oh of course.” He murmurs and wanders off for a moment. You feel hopeful that he just decided to leave you but he’s back before you know it and kneeling by your side. “Here, eat this.” He says and gives you a gentle smile as he holds out ginger for you.

“Why would I eat tha-” He seems to know that you were going to kick up a fuss so as you are mid-sentence, he puts the piece of ginger in your mouth.

“Chew.” He says simply. Your eyes are wide and you want to refuse but you also don’t necessarily want to spit it out like a spoiled child. So, you apprehensively begin to chew the root, trying not to make a face at the peppery flavour. “Good.” He speaks again. “You’ll feel better now.” You think he looks far too pleased as he stands up in front of you and offers you his hand. You begrudgingly take it and he pulls you up with so much ease that you hardly even had to try and stand.

You brush your skirts off, feeling spiteful even if Cregan just helped you.

He just looked far too smug about it. You assure yourself as you make your way back into your carriage. 

Before the door is closed, your betrothed speaks up, “Perhaps I could join you, princess. Just to make sure you’re feeling better.” The smile he gives you is almost sneaky, as if there is some sort of hidden innuendo in there. You feel that he enjoys toying with you.

“That would be terribly improper.” You speak only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, of course.” He says but the cheeky grin never fades, even as he walks to his horse.

“Strange.” Rose says. “Most lords would enjoy the comforts of a carriage themselves.”

“Perhaps it would be an excuse to sneak into here.” Safia says scandalously. 

“Then he shall be perpetually disappointed.” You say as you settle into your seat.

The procession begins to move again and through all the bumps and uneven roads, and as more time passes, the nausea that plagued you never returns. 

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[undertheorangetree]

Lessons

Summary- After a incident on the streets of King's Landing, Aemond must ensure that his wife knows how to defend herself.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Shoddy self defence advice. Choking. Dry humping. Wrestling as foreplay. Cunnilingus. Biting. Mildly feral sex.

Author's Note- I don’t really have anything to say for myself with this one other than that’s my favourite gif of him. As always, full story is on AO3 link beloow :)

divider created by firefly-graphics

She had never been the object of Aemond Targaryen's ire. The closest she has ever gotten is a cold glare after too sharp a word, a slow, calming sigh followed by a very measured warning. She had seen it before, of course. When a match in the training yard goes a hair too far, when a lord had made some unseemly comment about his sister, even when a servant had accidentally knocked a plate from the table on a particularly bad day and let it shatter on the floor. She knew her husband had a bad temper but still, she has never fallen victim to it. He was careful with that around her and she had been quite sure she never would. That is, until today.

Aemond had stormed into the Grand Maester's surgery like a bear prepared to savage a hunter, eye wild and fists clenched. He had forced the door open so aggressively that she and the maester both flinched, the sound like a crash of thunder over the previously quiet room. He did nothing but stand here for a moment after he entered, taking very heavy breaths as he glared at them both, before finally managing to grind out a question, the words grating together like steel on steel.

"What happened?"

Though it is a question it does not sound like one. It is more demand than request, leaving no room for refusal.

Maester Orwyle has more composure than she does. As she stares at Aemond in poorly contained shock, Orwyle answers. "Little more than a few bumps and bruises, my prince. Nothing you need worry about."

Aemond's eye immediately flicks back to her, his impatience growing as he waits for her to fill in the blanks. She sighs wearily.

"I am fine. We ventured a little too close to Flea Bottom and a few men decided to get too familiar. Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened? Where was your guard?"

"I held them back at first. I thought I could defuse the situation myself. It seemed only a little bit of tension and I did not see the use in troubling them. I had it in hand."

"You are the trouble they are meant to attend to. And you did not have it in hand, look at your arm."

Begrudgingly, she looks down at her arm. The maester had been right in his assessment of bumps and bruises, the black and blue ring around her wrist an indication of it, but she thinks her ego is the thing that has been hurt most of it. She had made it a habit to venture into the city to aid the poor. Usually with Helaena, but she had made an exception today as her good sister was too far along in her pregnancy to manage walking about on stones all day. The smallfolk were usually kind to her but of course she usually did not go into Flea Bottom. She spent her time in the more lucrative parts of the city, buying alms and spending time with orphans and widowed mothers and the like. Those who would be more receptive to her company and well wishes- and the handfuls of coin she had a tendency to give away.

However, it seemed as though that rumour had made its way into the streets of Flea Bottom, as when they arrived at the border between it and the Street of the Sisters, a small group of men had been waiting. They had approached civilly enough, more akin to beggars than thieves, and she had encouraged Ser Arryk to sheathe his sword when she had heard the sound of metal scraping the scabbard. They only wish to talk, she had assured him, and who am I to deny them that? At first, it had only been that. A simple conversation between herself and the men. But then the largest of them had grown impatient and lunged forward to grab her and it had all fallen apart from there. She had come away from it mostly unscathed- which is more than she could say for the man who had grabbed her. A bruised wrist from his hand, a sore arm from Ser Arryk's when he had dragged her away, a small cut on her brow, and a bruise on her hip from when she had fallen. She had considered herself rather lucky at the end of it, but it is clear Aemond did not share her opinion on the matter.

"It was only a small altercation and I am fine."

"A small altercation that should not have happened at all."

She sighs tiredly before turning to face the maester. He takes the pause in conversation as his cue to flee, once again assuring them that her injuries are minor before taking his leave. The door closes heavily behind him and then they are alone. That fact seems to do little to calm him, his face still looking like a storm, feet planted stubbornly in place next to the door.

She suppresses the urge to sigh again. "A handful of bruises and a tiny cut are not worth upsetting yourself over."

He scoffs. "You forget just how you received them then."

She stands then, making her way toward him. He remains petulant, though she thinks she can see him beginning to soften a hair when she grabs hold of his arms. He looks at her for only a moment before his eye travels upward, all but glaring at the gash now adorning her hairline. His hand comes up to her forehead, running his thumb along the wound.

"I don't like the idea of you going into the city if this is how they intend on treating you."

She tuts. "The actions of a few do not represent the many."

That manages to pull something that almost looks like a smile from him. "A philosopher now, are you?"

"You are not the only one with access to the Red Keep's library." Her grip on him tightens, shaking him lightly, but the half smile disappears when he looks down at her bruised wrist again. This time she does nothing to hide her sigh. "Nothing happened, my love."

"Nor will it again."

He presses a kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid the wound but a bit too rough to be considered sweet, before pulling the door behind them open and guiding her outside.

Read the rest here

[lunajay33]

Am I Good Enough

🩸🖤♟️🍷

Summary: You were on a solo trip to Italy taking a tour of an old castle when everything changes, but will this random guy accept you for who’s and what you are?

Pairing: Alec Volturi x human f!reader

•Masterlist•

Taking a trip to Italy was a last minute decision, firstly needing a break from my boring life and for some reason Italy always just called to me, like there was something waiting there for me

After a long tire some flight I finally landed in Italy, stepping out into the hot heat, waving down a taxi before anyone else could cut infront of me, only traveling with my backpack for easy travel, I told the driver to take me to Volterra, only an hour drive from the airport, seeing pictures of it on a guide and thought it would be a beautiful start to my trip

Finally we arrived in volterra, I paid and now standing infront of this beautiful castle, the town was fully stone built, it was beautiful unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, as I was walking down the street I got stopped by a woman, her hair luscious, he skin was flawless, her eyes so beautiful even though they must be contacts since they were such a rich red, her smile enticing

“Hi there you seem like a girl who’d love a good tour and I just so happen to be showing the castle right now for free! Does that interest you at all?” Her voice was so melodic like she was a siren I was pulled in nodding immediately watching as her smile grew, I followed her to the castle like a puppy meeting up with a group of other tourists

She led us through the castle not stopping to tell us about anything interesting we passed, finally we got to a set of big wooden door that looked like they weighed a ton but she pushed them open with ease, there beyond the doors was a huge room, marble and tile covered every inch, three thrones sat on the pedestal further back in the room, where three men sat seemingly looming over us all, others stood around the room watching us like they were ready to pounce, the doors behind us slammed soon hearing the first scream of many, it was a blood bath as the people dressed in black went from person to person until I was the only one standing

“It seems we missed one brothers and sisters”

“I’ve got her” a tall man said as he started right for me before he was stopped by the older man that sat on the throne

“WAIT” his voice boomed through the chamber, everyone stopping to look at him

He got up off the throne seemingly weak as he glided over to me

“Dear child it seems someone here has been waiting for you for a long long time” he smiled as he turned to a guy who was the most ethereal beautiful person I’ve ever seen, everything about him lured me in, he eyed me the same way and in an instant he was infront of me

“My Lord are you sure about this, she is my mate?”

“Yes child she is your other half”

“But she is human, this can’t be”

“It was meant to be, don’t over think this, it’s the best gift the universe could give you”

“Come we must talk” he said as he led me back out through the doors, silently walking through the vast halls until we finally made it to a huge room decorated in black and ruby red, books covering the walls

“Sit” he demanded as he gestured to the bed

“You haven’t said a word this whole time you must be in shock” he said sitting opposite of me on the bed

“No……surprisingly I’m the calmest I’ve ever been, but I still don’t know what’s going on”

“I must admit you are cute, most beautiful human I’ve ever seen” his words made the blood rush to my cheeks making him smile

“I’d say the same for you but I don’t quite think you’re human….right?”

“You’d be right my rose, we are vampires some much older than others but we rule over the vampiric world, we enforce the laws so the humans don’t become suspicious about our kind”

“Then why are you telling me, why didn’t you just kill me like everyone else in the room”

“Some of us vampires have special powers, the one that talked to you was Marcus one of our lords, he can sense the bond of those who are mated to each other, he could sense that we are meant to be with one another” my heart was racing fast, I was sure he could hear it

“Mates? That’s…..are you sure I mean I’m just a human am I good enough for you?” His eyes softened for the first time

“We will figure this out this isn’t the first time a vampire has been mated to a human, I just got lucky enough to get such a diamond”

It’s been a month now and it’s been well……amazing I didn’t get a lot of alone time with Alec seeing he had a lot of guard duty but when he’d wake me at night so I could curl up to him as he held me, sometimes he’d leave cute notes in the books I’d be reading that always got my heart beating, sometimes leaving red roses on the table for me whenever he had to work late, he made me feel like a goddess, giving me a love I’ve never thought I’d feel before…….well until today

Walking into the library to grab another book hoping to find something more intriguing than the books Alec had collected over the years

Looking on the second balcony I stopped when I heard voices on the main level, Alec always warned me of some other vampires, newer to the Volturi that may not have a reign on their blood thirst as the older vamps, as their voices got louder I recognized them as Jane and Demetri

“You seem more cruel than usual Jane, something the matter?” Demetri asked, I stood completely still as I listened to the conversation

“Alec won’t stop going on and on about that….that rat, complete filth of a human, I mean what fates put them together, she’s just a lowly human, I could kill her in a second and her life would mean nothing”

“Jane don’t be so harsh have you even spoken to her, she’s quite the girl, she’s perfect for Alec”

“No human is good enough for Alec” she scoffed before she stormed out, the doors slamming behind her, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding

My heart felt like a ton of bricks, maybe I wasn’t enough for Alec I mean it’s been a month and we haven’t moved past just holding each other in bed, or a little pec on the check, maybe I’m over thinking everything but there still that nagging at the back of my mind that Jane might be right I mean she’s his twin she knows him best

I ditched my journey to get a new book and headed back to Alec’s and I’s room hoping to just clear my head and try and forget about this gut wrenching feeling

I threw myself down on the bed when a voice shocked me out of my fleeting moment of peace

“What seems to trouble you amore?” I shot up in the bed looking across the room to where the voice came from seeing Alec sat on the couch looking beautiful as ever

“Oh umm it’s nothing just tired” in a flash he was kneeled infront of me at the side of the bed, his hands holding mine

“Amore you know you can’t lie to me, I hear your lovely heart race everytime, now tell me”

“I just…..I don’t know, I feel sometimes that I’m not everything you need we haven’t even kissed yet and i know the others think this too”

“My love, you are everything I have waited for, you calm me down when I feel my anger rise, you thaw my cold dead heart, and for the other I haven’t kissed you yet because I wanted to take this slow for you, I’m quite into courting if you haven’t noticed, this is special so I’m enjoying my time with every little moment” he smiled running his thumb over my hand soothingly

“I….I love you Alec, and I know I can have my doubts sometimes but I really do, you’ve made me feel more loved than I ever have before” I said placing my hand on his cold cheek

“I love you to my angel, and I want you to never worry about my I devoted love for you, nothing with ever change than no matter if your human or a vampire, I’m yours till the end of time”

More alec oneshots are on their way

Story inspired by @kimi240302 Alec story go check it out!!

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 9)

Contains: fluff, possessiveness, mentions of arranged marriage, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece

Wordcount: ~4.08k

Masterlist of this story

After you had finished your breakfast you went with Rhaenyra to help decorate the garden. You put flowers on the tables and in the trees and pulled up the Targaryen banners. A little later you found yourselves in the keep again and then at around noon the King, Rhaenyra and you entered the garden and the feast began.

There was music playing, the children excitedly running around and the table seemed to almost crash under the weight of the delicious food. You sat between Rhaenyra and to your opposite was Daemon who had crossed his legs relaxed. He looked around bored and watched the feast while holding a cup of wine in his hand.

Then noon passed, the congratulations had been spoken and your father, who sat next to Rhaenyra suddenly leaned forwards to look at you.

"Daughter. There is something I wish to discuss with you." His voice wasn’t very loud which told you that it wasn’t something for everyone’s ears. Only your sister, Daemon, the hand of the King, Laena, and a few other lord of the small council watched and listened to him.

"What is it, father?" He cleared his throat and looked joyful but a little nervous at the same time.

"Well. I… have news to you. It is… You know how your sister told you earlier that Lord Cordin Stark of Winterfell will attend the feast." His eyes wandered to a tall, strong man who sat at the other end of the table, deeply invested in a conversation with your greatuncle Jaerion. You nodded and Viserys eyes looked at you again.

"Well, he… He came here to discuss something with me as well. We spoke yesterday and… we decided to wed you to his eldest son Jorlan Stark. Heir to Winterfell."

You were speechless and you could only stare at your father. Everyone except the King’s Hand, Laena and Lord Barler, master of laws seemed to be surprised by these news and your sister’s jaw even dropped.

"What?", she asked with an open mouth.

"Rhaenyra, please.", your father spoke and smiled but he looked rather insecure.

"W-What?", you stuttered as well and Viserys took your hand.

"He’s a good match, daughter. A noble man from a noble house. It will be a good thing to finally unite the north and the crown by marriage. You will be the Lady of Winterfell someday, my dear."

Your eyes instinctively fluttered to Daemon and you could see that he looked more serious now. Dangerous, even and you could see that his jaw was tense. You quickly put your attention on your father again.

"B-But it’s so far away. I-I don’t know, I – "

You didn’t know what to say. Of course you didn’t want to marry a strange boy you had never seen before and move to the north, where you didn’t know anyone. The climate was uncommon to you, as well as the nature and the people of the north.

You looked at Daemon again. Just for a second. You wanted him to do something, say something. Tell your father no, you couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be a good match and you should remain in King’s Landing. With him.

Your hands were shaking and you could still feel the gaze of almost every person around you on you.

"Vhaela.", your father spoke softly. "You’ll understand soon that this is a good thing. Jorlan Stark is a honourable and kind man. He will protect you and keep you safe. If I didn’t know him to be a good man I wouldn’t agree to this betrothal."

You just sat there. Staring at the food on your plate while you could feel Rhaenyra caress your back. Your father came a little closer.

"I know the thought of leaving the city is hard and I assure you it is hard for me too but I don’t think there could be someone more suitable, Vhaela. Just wait until you have met him to make a judgement."

You heard his words even though they sounded a little muffled and his face was blurred before your eyes. You didn’t want to meet him. You didn’t want to find out if he was suitable for you. You wanted… Daemon perhaps? You didn’t even know what you wanted, you just knew your head was burning and the different smells of all this food made you feel sick.

"This might be a little much right now, daughter. You should sleep on it and in the morrow everything will seem different. Better, hopefully." Your father looked around and chuckled forcedly. "Let’s continue to eat now, Deston? Bring the cake please!"

It took you some time to get your gaze off the ice cream that was by now only a puddle. Rhaenyra still comforted you by stroking your back and hair and you just tried not to let the tears fall down. In the corner of your eye you could see Daemon watch the cup in his hand and then you but you couldn’t look at him now. It took all your power to get through the rest of the feast and the your sister brought you back to the keep.

The king had soothingly caressed your shoulder and assured you everything would be fine but you couldn’t believe it would. Not only didn’t you want to move in the north to Winterfell and leave your sister, your father, your uncle and all your other relatives behind and then… well there was Daemon. And, you hadn’t even thought about that yet, but you were not a maiden anymore. What if your husband would notice and question your virtue. You exhaled loudly and tried to calm your fastened heartbeat.

"Shh, sister.", Rhaenyra whispered while taking you all the stairs up to your chambers.

"What if he’s horrible?", you whimpered and your sister shook her head. "Father said he knows he’s a good man."

"But one can cover up his true nature. Perhaps he acted like a saint in front of father but in reality he – "

"Don’t, Vhaela.", Rhaenyra whispered and caressed the back of your hand. "This won’t bring you any good. Wait until you get to know him. If he turns out to be a monster… I’ll kill him for you." Even though you didn’t feel like it you couldn’t help but laugh at her words. Rhaenyra smirked and then you stood in front of the door to your chambers.

"Relax now, little sister. That was a lot to take so you need some time." You nodded with a big lump in your throat. "Thank you, Rhae." She smiled and then closed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~

All afternoon you felt like you were rotting in your bed. At first you had laid on your back, trying to bring some order to your thoughts but that hadn’t worked. There was just too much scrambling your brain and so after some time you had given up and tried to get some sleep. But because it was still early in the evening you hadn’t been able to fall asleep so you watched the sun getting closer and closer to the earth.

At some point your eyes were hurting and so you had turned to your side to stare at your beside table. You had counted the annual rings in the woods and the seconds and minutes had passed slowly. You wanted, no needed Daemon in your presence. You needed to see him, talk to him, tell him that you didn’t want to marry Jorlan Stark and beg him to do something. You wanted to feel safe with him next to you and just for a moment think that everything would be fine and Daemon would find a solution to all of your problems. Where was he and why couldn’t he come and see you for a little while? You felt that you were a little unfair but you just craved seeing him even if it only was for a short time.

One time, it had knocked and you had jumped in your bed. The disappointment was immense when it had only been your handmaiden who had brought you a tea.

You now laid on your stomach with the side of your face pressed in the pillow. Maybe you should simply suffocate, you thought. You fingers pulled at some loose yarns of your big wool blanket that was way too warm for these temperatures but the blanket gave you some kind of comfort. Then there was a knock on your door and you mumbled.

"Come." Had they heard you? Yes, you heard the door open and someone approach you but you couldn’t see who it was because your face was turned away from the door and you were too lazy to lift your head. The steps stopped and you waited for a word.

"Byka atroksia." If you weren’t too powerless, you would’ve widened your eyes. Now you could only feel tears gathering in your eyes and you slowly turned so you laid on your back.

"Daemon.", you said weakly and the knowledge that he had come almost made all those tears roll down your face. But you didn’t allow them to because you didn’t want to cry now. Daemon looked fierce, cold almost but you didn’t know if his anger was actually your fault. Seeing him gave you new energy for some reason and suddenly you couldn’t lay in bed anymore.

You got off the bed, moved your hair behind your ears and stood in front of Daemon. For a moment you only looked at each other and then you started to speak.

"I don’t want to marry some Stark Prince and move to Winterfell, uncle." Your voice sounded a little thin but him being there made you feel like fire was flooding your veins. Daemon moved closer to you and his hands made contact with the sides of your face. He looked at you intensely and made sure your eyes were fixed on him.

"You.", he said quietly but very clearly. "Are mine, little owl. And I’m not going to let some weak Stark cunt take away from me what’s mine."

His fingers held you tigthly as if he wanted to support his words by it and you laid your hands on his wrists.

"And I don’t want to be taken away.", you whispered.

"I will not let him. I’d rather kill him and everyone that attempts to step in my way." You smiled softly but knew you had to keep a clear head now. As much as you liked to hear him say that he didn’t want this betrothal as well, it wasn’t a realistic or good solution to simply kill everyone who asked for your hand.

"But… What are we gonna do? If my father wants me to marry him, I can’t just refuse him and you know you can’t just kill him.", you chuckled desperately.

"Of course I can. Or do you think he’d defeat me in a fight?", Daemon whispered darkly and your hand reached out to touch his face.

"Daemon, please. I’ll have to marry some day. If Jorlan Stark turns out to magically drown somewhere or choke on something, my father would find me another match."

Your uncle didn’t answer you but just ran his thumb over your soft skin as if wanted to make sure you were actually there. You looked at him with sad eyes but then hopefully.

"But marriage is only a political arrangement. You told me this so often when I was young. Perhaps this doesn’t mean, that…. That I’ll never see you again."

You almost shrieked in surprise when Daemon suddenly forcefully grabbed your neck and pushed you against the wall. His hand wasn’t very tight around your throat and you could still breathe properly but he roughly pressed you against the wall and you felt fear creeping up on you. He towered over you and his face got close to yours. His eyes glowed with rage and he hissed his next words.

"I am NOT going to be your whore." You looked at him with big eyes and felt your hands shivering.

"I’m not gonna be your whore to warm your bed whenever your cunt of a husband is out hunting somewhere because he prefers to fuck wolves over you. Do you understand me?"

You quickly nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him.

"Yes. Yes, I understand." He suddenly let go of you and took a step back to walk around in your room thinking. You tried to collect yourself and inhaled deeply as you had just realized you had hold your breath the last seconds. You put your hand on your stomach feeling the air entering your body and then looked at Daemon again. He was still walking around and you just wanted him to hold you. Whisper comforting things against your hair. Your uncle didn’t look at you though but scratched his forehead, his eyes still spitting fire.

"Wed me, Daemon." He turned around suddenly and observed you with small eyes.

"What?" You walked towards him.

"Take me as your wife. It would solve all of our problems. I wouldn’t have to marry Jorlan Stark and be sent away to live at Winterfell. And no one could ever question my virtue and honor if I married you. And we wouldn’t have to keep a secret from Rhaenyra, my father and any other person here anymore."

"No.", Daemon plainly said and took a step back from you to aimlessly walk around the room again.

"Why not?", you asked chasing him in an attempt to make him look at you.

"Because I said so." You lifted your arms in despair. "Tell me, uncle. Give me a reason why this is not a good solution." Daemon shook his head.

"My brother wouldn’t accept it anyway." He chuckled. "He wouldn’t give his precious little girl to me."

"But we could try at least. Or do you have a better plan?" Daemon rolled his eyes angrily and then glared at you. "I’m NOT going to take you as my wife, Vhaela."

You felt anger rising in your chest and had changed your hands to fists. "Is it because the idea comes from me? Is it because you only view me as a child? Because you don’t take me seriously?", you said with a weak voice.

"Careful, little owl.", Daemon growled and came a little closer to you again.

"What? I’m speaking the truth.", you said with teary eyes. Daemon watched you disdainfully and he rested his right hand on your cheek.

"Shut it. I don’t see you as a little child and I take you seriously. I simply know that your 'plan' is not going to work.", he hissed.

"But we don’t have a better one." Daemon lifted your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"I’m going to talk to your father. Tell him that I don’t believe that this betrothal is a good idea. He might not always trust my judgement but perhaps I can at least give him something to think about."

You looked at him and just felt miserable. Your father wouldn’t listen to his brother and you knew that for a fact. He loved Daemon, yes, but he knew how repulsive he was. And yet you nodded and looked up to him with big eyes.

"Fine.", you whispered and suddenly felt very small in this world. Daemon moved a strand of hair out of your face and pressed a kiss on your hair.

"Iksan ivestragon ao bisa arlī, byka mēre. Ao sagon ñuhon. Daor se Stārke's. Ñuhon.  Kesan daor ivestragī zirȳ gūrogon ao qrīdrughagon." (I'm telling you this again, little one. You're mine. Not the Stark's. Mine. I will not let them take you away.)

You nodded and let him pull your head to his chest. His warmth felt good and you enjoyed his arms wrapped around you. He caressed the back of your head and then after a few moments ended the hug. You would’ve liked to stay like this a little longer but Daemon looked at you with a tilted head and a slight smirk.

"Sleep well, riña (girl)." He walked towards and you watched the back of his head. "Good night, Daemon."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hahaha.", Daemon heard, standing in front of the door. It was late, the hour of the owl but he didn’t care. He should probably wait until the morrow but if he had something important to do, he would do it immediately. Even if it meant interrupting the King at a late hour. Also, Daemon wasn’t tired yet. The adrenaline he had felt today had triggered his nerves and he felt as awake as if it was in the middle of the day.

The guard who was positioned in front of the door opened it and walked in. Daemon could only hear muted chatter and then the door was opened for him. He walked in, a serious look on his face and smirked slightly when he saw the King sitting on a chair in front of the fire place.

"Brother.", he spoke and Viserys turned to him, looking not as surprised as he had thought him to be.

"Daemon. Come and sit with me." He walked towards another chair and let himself sink on it. Then he crossed his legs and exhaled loudly.

"What brings you to me at such late hour, dear brother?"

Daemon chuckled and laid his arm on the armrest. "Do I really need an excuse to spend some time with my brother?" Viserys smiled but Daemon could see in his eyes that he looked at little tired and thought if it had been a good idea not to wait until the next day. Anyway, he would speak to him now.

"Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Aha.", Viserys made and lifted his eyebrows. "Speak then. I’m open to listen to the matters of the man who has won back the Stepstones for the crown." Daemon smirked, looking down but then lifted his head to look at his brother.

"It’s about Vhaela. And the betrothal with the Stark Prince." Daemon could sense how his expression faded a little and his eyes looked sad.

"What of it?"

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don’t think it is a good idea."

Viserys rested his elbows on his legs and frowned at his brother. "Why? It is a good match for her." He looked at Daemon with small eyes and then threw his hands in the air.

"Now you’re coming to me about that as well, Daemon. You’re making this even harder for me or do you think it is easy for me to send my youngest daughter away to the North? Do you think it will be easy for me to marry her to a lord twice her age and simply trust that her husband and the people in Winterfell will treat her well?"

Daemon shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows. "Then don’t. Don’t wed her to him."

Viserys chuckled. "With what reasoning? From a strategic point of view it is the best we can do. And she has to marry soon anyway."

"Well, I think you can do better than that."

Viserys frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think that you can make a better match for her than the Stark boy."

"Who are you talking about Daemon?"

He straightened up in his chair and exhaled. "The rebellion in Braavos, brother. I know that you don’t like to hear that but I agree with Lord Ellion. The whole situation has the potential to be a threat to the crown. And yes, Lord Hotorlan is negotiating with the crown at this moment and right now there are no signs that there will be a war, but the situation is tense. And we can’t risk letting it escalate. A war with the free cities would be a catastrophe. We should do our very best to avoid it at all costs."

Daemon looked at him insistent and Visery's frown intensed. "What are you suggesting, brother?"

"Don’t marry Vhaela to the Starks. Keep her in King’s Landing and wait. Lord Hotorlan has sons of his own, if the situation threatens to boil up you can send a marriage proposal and ask him to wed one of his sons to your daughter. It would be controversial, yes, but with this marriage we could avoid a war before it even starts."

There was silence in the room and Viserys stared at the rings on his hand. Daemon watched him for a reaction but it took several moments until Viserys started to speak again.

"Vhaela was a gift from the gods.", he said quietly with teary eyes. "After we had Rhaenyra, we were so happy, Aemma and I. And we thought it would be like this forever now. How could you think it will ever be any different when you have your child in your hands? But then, almost two years later, Aemma was haunted by demons. She wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t go outside even." Viserys looked at his brother and a single tears rolled down his cheek.

"She would just lay in bed all day without any motivation to get up. I don’t know if you remember it. She suffered. And so did I and Rhaenyra as well. A newborn who didn’t get any attention from her mother….But then she became pregnant again. At first I didn’t know what the condition would do to her. I thought the demons would take her child and consume it as they had done it with Aemma. But no. The child in her belly lit her up. Really, it was like a light shone through her. I remember being by her bed. She looked me in my eyes and told me that she hadn’t bled for two moons. That she had a babe inside her. A daughter. I waited. And then she smiled. I hadn’t seen her smile in months, Daemon. I had even forgotten what she looked like when she smiled. It was like someone returned to me that I hadn’t seen in months. She just smiled. Vhaela made her happy. I know carrying a child can be hard and painful, but still… My Aemma was happy again. And then she was in childbirth and afterwards she held her. Vhaela was so tiny and Aemma just couldn’t stop crying. Not because she was sad, no, because Vhaela had lit up her whole world. She had brought joy in Aemma’s life."

More tears had gathered in Viserys‘ eyes and one by one, they rolled down his face. He cried silently with his head lowered and Daemon just watched him with teary eyes as well.

"And then the demons took Aemma away from me, Daemon. And to this day, I don’t know why. I don’t know what the gods have punished me for." Viserys lifted his head again and intensely looked at his brother.

"I can’t lose my daughters, brother. I just can’t. I can’t let the gods take another person I love." He chuckled sadly. "And now you suggest to me to wed Vhaela to a Braavosi Prince who I don’t know and whose family are not loyal to us as the Starks. Sending her to Essos. I can’t do that."

"I’m not suggesting you wed her to him in the morrow, brother. It would only happen if the situation with Lord Hotorlan was to escalate. Which might not even happen. You simply need a reassurance. A plan. Refuse Lord Cordin’s offer, keep Vhaela in King’s Landing. She’s 16, she doesn’t necessarily need to be wed for another 2 years. If the crown will be able to hold Hotorlan under control for the next two or three years you can wed Vhaela to another highborn lord. Maybe even a Stark. But if not, she could be the key to uphold peace in the realm."

Viserys shook his head. "I don’t know, Daemon."

"What speaks against it?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows.

"Lord Cordin wouldn’t be delighted. And I don’t know if I could just send Vhaela to Braavos."

"Not giving her to the Starks wouldn’t automatically mean that you’ll send her to Braavos. It’s simply a second option, a insurance for our differences with Braavos.", Daemon said a little louder.

Viserys remained silent.

"You’ve changed, Daemon.", he then said and smiled softly. "It suits you."