#Game of Thrones fandom

[aesthetic--mood]

Daemon Targaryen Aesthetic

[eccentricallygothic]

Crosshairs

Description: Trying to get Robb's attention is one thing, but when you have successfully landed yourself in his crosshairs is another.

Pairing: Brat Tamer Prodigal Son!Robb Stark | Spoilt Brat!You.

Warning(s): Brat taming, jealousy, spanking, punishment, unprotected p-in-v, doggy style (it's me), claiming, manhandling (it's Robb), power imbalance, degradation, light misogyny, Robb's BDE because I live for that shit, corporal punishment ig, boob play. MDNI.

Type: Request, here. 

. . .

“You do realize you will land us both in trouble if you keep this up, yes?” Jon does not look up at his older brother's betrothed half out of respect and half out of the playful annoyance he feels for the spoiled girl batting her eyelashes down at him with faux coyness.

“What trouble?” The male rolls his eyes as he works away at his sword. “I haven't the slightest inkling of whatever you mean, Jon” he resists the urge to scoff at your obvious innocence. 

The uncharacteristic nature of your actions makes you stick out like a sore thumb. The forced lady-like smile that holds your features in an uncomfortable shift due to lack of experience, the way you hover above his head in a flirtatious side hang even though you never behave in this manner around the opposite sex save one, the overdone grace with which you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and the little tilt of your head that is accompanied by a confused and senseless giggle fitting to women, the pains with which you put this effort forward is painfully obvious. 

“Right” the object of his discomfort -something you have in common with said object, at times- appears on the horizon of his vision and Jon sighs. 

Well, there goes his hope of not becoming the collateral today.

“No, tell me what you meant” though you aren't used to or too comfortable with leaning into men, you do so because you have also caught the quiet figure in your own peripherals and unlike Jon, you welcome the circumstance like the fool you are. “I want to know, Jon~” the dark haired male uncomfortably shifts away from you who puts an extra swing in your sway towards him. He lets out a suppressed scoff and glares at you. The two of you have been friends long enough for him to know exactly what it is that you are doing. 

“Stop” you know each other too well to be affected by any proximity with each other but Jon's older brother who is an advocate of propriety has taught his younger brother that this distance with a lady one is not related to seldom fares well and thus his teachings show in his behavior. “You—” though he decides not to beat around the bush for any longer, it is too little too late.

Alas.

“Father calls for you, Snow�� the male in question releases a breath he was not aware he was holding and jumps to his feet abruptly with a gladness he is still cautious of since his brother likes to get unfair at times despite being well acquainted with your personality. 

Jon departs, or rather flees the scene without another word.

A smirk makes its way onto your face so you turn your ‘unsuspecting’ back to the hairy giant, bending to pick up your upper coat that you had shrugged off in a bout of confidence. Though you aren't the sharpest and certainly don't possess the perception of your betrothed, you hear him approach you in his manly and wise silence as you clear the haystacks of your coat in one swift movement and resume an upright position.

“Oh!” You exclaim with a surprise so artificial that the impurity nearly cuts Robb because of how he always dons the gold of honesty and valor. “My heart!” You use your endearment for him for Robb neither likes to hear you refer to him by name in public nor does he prefer you call him by his titles. “When did you get here? You were not a moment ago!” 

The coolest, most small smile spreads over his rosy lips and Robb tips his head back an inch to grant himself a better look at your audacity. The milky skin under his eye slightly twitches in response to him narrowing his eyes at you. Though he says nothing, you can still hear his rhetorical inquiry in that sarcastic way of his that you are well familiar with due to how long you have known him. 

“Whatever’s the matter, my love?” Robb has to resist the urge to scoff at the extra pitch in your voice because of the pretentiousness you are putting into your performance. 

He just stares at you for a good while, studying you, perhaps giving you a chance. So much so that there comes a point where you feel yourself gulping down a bile from your rising nervousness. But unlike many other times, you refuse to give in today. Like husband, like wife. After all, you rebelled against your nature today to end up here, in this ‘predicament’. Giving up now would be to waste all your effort and turn your bold attempt futile.

“Come” he says after you know not how many minutes pass but before you can say anything, Robb’s hairy claw has already seized your smaller hand within it. It is unlike his nature too, for usually he is the effortless victor in a battle of wits between the two of you.

“Oh!” But you are used to being treated like the most delicate and valuable thing to ever exist. You have been raised in a manner which has accustomed you to everyone giving in to your demands and wishes. The firm manner in which Robb balances all things with a just foresight is most undesirable to you, fancy for him or not. Things should always go your way in the design of your desire, and not in a way that is mindful of safeguarding the welfare of other people too, unlike your dearest. If it does as a byproduct, jolly. If it does not, well, then that is simply not your pain to bear. And whilst you underwent this stunt to provoke Robb and his attention, the way your smaller body is being dragged somewhere through the dark hallways of the estate with a rigidity typical to your betrothed, it is hardly the conclusion you planned.

Not like this.

“Oh, my!” Your brutish man's ironhold is beast-like as you try to free yourself of it. But what good is a mere pip against a wolf out for blood? “Stop, stop!” You huff and puff half out of your liking to test him to the best of your ability and half because your scheme was not to be so quickly overthrown with such ease!

No, he was supposed to get jealous and sulk in the envy your behavior was aimed to stir in him due to your treatment of his brother. Then he was supposed to fight for your attention and give in to all demands bestowed upon him by you and fulfill any and every need you may have. Robb was to kneel down to you like everyone else in your life did and strike conversation to get you to shower the blessings of your company upon him. He was to say the first word and you were to act like he usually did; with a teasing indifference to make him haste harder for your notice. Except, your little mind failed to realize that you yourself had broken the very first rule of your own game not too long ago when you had spoken.

And now as you are pushed into a little room for the stored animal feed and other domestic necessities before your smaller body is pushed like a delinquent babe's to bend over hay forming a stack half your size, you whimper and pout as your pampered elbows itch from the dried grass. This outcome is far from what you had expected of your contrivance. This is not supposed to be it. 

“We are not wed yet, my Lord!” Your mouth runs its senseless attempts in vain. “Oh no!” You try to worm your body free from his elbow that he settles between your shoulder blades to nail you in place as the rest of his arm lays down along the length of your back, the tips of his fingers pressing against the twin dents in your tailbone. “This—”

“All that fuss to have my attention, dove” when he does speak, the guttural quality of his throat shushes you into silence. “Only to raise mayhem and put up such fight when it has been granted to you” you feel the fingers of his free hand dance along the plump, clothed cushions of your buttocks and your eyes widen as though the position he had put you in was not telling enough. 

No, no, no!

He is supposed to get on his knees and worship you! 

Not discipline you like a guardian does a misbehaving child! 

“Perhaps they are correct in what they say about a woman's eternal uncertainty in what she wants herself” not entirely true. You do know what you want. But if you confess it to him this will get even worse for you! He must not know! You shall conceal it like your life depends on it!

Or so you scheme in your naivete, for you have behaved in similar ways more times than one.

But trying to flirt with another man? That is new. 

And Robb is very determined to find out the source of that course of action.

“Ugh,” you shake your shoulders in a futile attempt once more. “Do not be a cruel brute!” You order the future King of the North like you are in any position to bark at a man of his stature. “I am not one of your savagely bannermen! I— ah!” A furious hiss shoots through your lips when his free hand comes down upon the midpoint of your cheeks that jiggle feverishly from the impact. You whine at the sting that goes all the way down to your pucker and though Robb is wordless, he curses under his breath when he realizes that you are not wearing adequate underclothing despite his constant advice and request that you do.

How typical of you.

The young man brings another strong hand down upon your rear at the thought and you let out such an exaggerated sound -in his opinion, as he is scarcely aware of the extent of his own strength- that it mimics a cackle. Only, it is one of woe. Your hips desperately try to find solace in swerving the endangered half of your body out of his line of devastation but your wolf-man is far too strong. 

“Aaaa!” You furiously wail like a delinquent puppy being set straight, digging your elbows into the hay and your head in your arms to withstand the thunderous rain of your betrothed's hand on your buttocks. “I demand you stop this immediately, Robb!” Your whines are muffled and pathetic in their contrast to your words. 

“It will not be until you tell me whose plot your little performance was” you gulp and bark out a wheeze to respond and it is like he senses the lie that goes to bud on your tongue and he swats it away with a foreseeable slap to the underside of your rear. “And you best think twice before giving me a false answer,” you shake your whole body and your head in protest and pain when he spanks you again. “Or so help me gods.” 

But you remain faithful to your nature and preserve your brain's unutilized state by choosing to, after all, lie. “I- I have not the slightest idea what you mean!” Robb releases a cool, mirthless scoff and shakes his head at you, his palm now taking turns on each of your cheeks as it comes out in strong, powerful hits that he lands with well paced delays so you can fully feel the ache of one strike before the next lands. “O- Ow! T- There was no- ah— p- plot! Nevermind a- any performance!” He sighs as if to lament what is about to happen to you next. 

“Fine” your eyes widen and you squawk in shock like you aren't accustomed to this or you were not hoping to arouse a more ideal variant of this outcome anyway. “Have it your way then, my dove” oh… that never fares well for you. 

And Robb proves your suspicion true when he lifts your skirts out of the way and tucks them under the hand that sits on your lower back like a menacing serpent with unkind intentions. “Tsk,’’ a strong strike is given to your barely secure intimates before he tugs your poor excuse for undergarments down. 

What?

They are uncomfortable!

It is not your problem if the man of your future household is too pedant and fastidious!

He always laughs at it and just ruffles your hair but you are unyielding in your belief that he is the way he is because your betrothed is adamant on reaching bachanalness three times faster than other people his age. 

“Ouch, my heart, please!” You cannot help but whine out an endearment though you absolutely do not want to because you are just as cross with him as he is with you! Ugh! He never falls in your traps! Why is he so clever?! Is this what your mother meant when she told you that you were finally going to have someone who would handle you like you ought to be the day Robb asked your father for your hand in marriage? “It hurts!” 

You gasp in realization.

The pieces fall into place.

It does make sense.

Gods, the world conspires against you!

This is not fair at all!

Robb's cruel palm is unrelenting even when it begins to tingle upon coming into contact with your bare and blushing skin over and over. “Tell me the name, my angel, and I will cease this immediately” he spreads your legs with one strong jerk of his hand and your whole body undergoes a turbulence. “You know I hate this just as much as you do” before you can feel any warmth for your cruel lover for he always tells you that he does not like to punish you, his lowered hand comes upwards in a vertical hit and collides against your drenched petals. The impact reverberates through your whole being and your mouth falls open at the way your folds shake. “Make haste, sweet one.”

Your eyebrows come together in a tight, angry knot and your cheeks puff at his condescending tone. “N- No name!” You bark out of spite and clutch at the hay angrily. “There was no one!” The compressed dried grass comes loose in your hold and you add. “You have gone completely mad, you hoary troll!” The way Robb audibly chuckles at that causes the arm that he has on your back to buzz into your spine.

You gulp because he is a man of a few words and even lesser noise. So this cannot mean anything good. Although you are quite determined in your resolve, you still have to bite your lip to suppress the whimper that you let out when his offending hand now begins to softly caress the blemished skin of your buttocks and sit spots. For you know his touch and it is not this when he means to be genuinely affectionate.

Just what kind of a predicament have you landed yourself into?

“I see.” You hear the zip of harnesses coming undone and the thump of coats hitting the floor. “Then nevermind the actions of a mad man precisely how we will the name of your fellow conspirator, my dear” you are confused by his words but the feeling of his tip aligning against you when he gets behind you and takes your sore thighs -for Robb never punishes your buttocks alone but all the spots in their vicinity- in his strong fingers that are decorated in scars which bear testament to his experience in conquest, causes a tumult in your determination-taut brain from the burst of sensation and the upper half of your body relaxes as result of all tension shifting to your nether regions. 

You mewl as you feel the delicious burn of your entrance that your beloved had deflowered some time ago stretch around the thick tip of his cock that makes love making feel like the first time whenever your balmy cavern is made to accommodate his manhood. “Oh! I can't take it!” You throw your head back and moan, forgetting everything else and getting lost in the flutters of pleasure you have been taught to find in the strain his cock causes on your flesh band. “You're too big, love!” Robb curses under his breath when the leaking apex of his cock is met with resistance against your folds that he feels quivering against him. “P- Please help me take it!” He just has to give a sharp strike to the underside of one of your buttocks to accompany with his scoff.

You are such a fox.

Saying all the agreeable things in that obedient tone of yours that he knows better than to trust. 

He shakes his head at the surprised squeal you whimper out as though the events of the last quarter did not happen. 

“Whoever said anything about you taking it, my sweet dove?” Horror creeps down your spine in the form of an ice cold shiver. 

No. 

“B- But— aaaah!” You are stinging, aroused, open but not filled and inching closer and closer to mindless, undignified desperation. “But!”

“Hm?” Robb seems to be enjoying himself, ever the master of restraint and self control, as he penetrates you only to the wide hilt of his tip before he sloshes it right out of your entrance only to repeat the tortuous action where your walls clench and bathe with slick in anticipation of his cock only for their buzzing excitement to be denied satisfaction. 

“W- What…” You rarely ever misbehave once he has you like this. But your wanton frustration makes you kick one foot as you huff. “Why would you— oh!” You bite your lip because of the shoddy pleasure that sparks but fails to ignite, leaving your body on a trembling edge that brings you to heaven's door each time he fishes his way past your swollen folds and plops into you never to let you sheathe him thus denying you the paradise beyond. “W- Why are you doing that?!” You finally break from your pretentious rhetoric as you try to push yourself down on his shaft but strength has never been grounds for competition between the two of you. 

Robb's nearly inhuman hold keeps you detained exactly where he wants you. “Doing what?” It's his time to display faux behavior and you huff although you know deep down in your mind that it would not do much to move him and would rather only land you in more trouble. 

“That!” You cry when you feel his cock release more precum right at the threshold of your cavern because of how he fucks your entrance with a warm, torturous gentleness that scorches both of your insides alike. “Why w- won't you put it in, cruel ogre!” 

A satisfied smirk suppresses Robb's breaths that grow heavier with the passing moments. “Why, I am a mad and cruel ogre-troll, my dove” he enters you again and this time both his hands come down on your cheeks in the form of slaps at once and you howl. “And creatures of my like have queer ways beyond the comprehensive abilities of pretty little things like yourself” you whine and your toes curl at how the frustration morphs into a dull ache in the mound between your legs. 

The painful twitching of your sex makes you croak and you try to move your hips once more. “No! No!” You gurgle on your own spit as you vehemently shake your head.

“No?” Robb's inquiry is nice, somewhat kind even… unlike his heartless actions. 

“No!” You affirm as you feel your knees ache and sore thighs quiver. You are a sensitive little thing. Rough handling is not a domain you are much acquainted with beside the brief encounters you have with it sometimes during spells of passion with your dearest betrothed. “No, the light of my life, you're not! You—” your back arches and you cry and pout like an entitled juvenile not getting their way, your frivolous unrest and feverish jittering making his great form that looms behind you like the silhouette of doom itself to shake in silent mirth. “You're perfect! Please, you're the most perfect Stark heir! You are the best Lord Winterfell can ever hope to have!” Your praises make him curse under his breath and he gropes your thigh harder to withstand his impulsive urge to thrust all the way in.

No.

He is the man and the responsible one.

No can do until you learn and acknowledge his authority.

That is the way.

Of men, and Lords.

“The name, my love” though he masks his words with nonchalance quite well, there is a disguised urgency in them. You light him up just as unbearably as he does you. “Tell me the name and I will give you all you need and desire.” He gives you one rough jerk just past the band of your entrance and the momentary friction you feel in the drenched velvet just above your entrance snaps the thread of your determination. “Just like that, it is that easy. But you choose the fruitless path of torment and frustration.” There is a hypnotic lull in his words and that is enough for you to gush out a part of your impending confession. 

“It was—!” You finally confess the name of your lady friend and Robb decides that it will do for now, rest you will tell him yourself with your own free will in your sensitive and emotional post orgasm state when you will be securely tucked in his arms and against his chest. 

“There” your eyes and mouth widen at the same time and a guttural grunt crawls out of your throat when he doesn't pull his tip out this time around and instead slots himself inside you until he is hilt deep. “There is my bonnie lass” the upper half of your body goes lax and appears as though your bones have dissolved into your blood. You go to collapse face first into the hay to lay down and get fucked into oblivion but Robb's territorial paw finds a hold on the underside of your jaw and he rams you onto his cock and continues to curve your form until the crown of your head is touching his shoulder. “Tsk, such havoc just because I could not attend to you right away and requested you show some patience.” His fingers find one of your nipples and you shiver.

“S- Sorry, hubby!” You finally use for him the odd yet heartwarming endearment he loves most and that is how he knows he has you netted in.  

“Who loves you?” You shiver as you feel his girth stretch out your insides even though you were more than prepared for him. 

“Y- You—” he pulls at your nipple before giving both your breasts punishing swats. Your waist further curls outwards at the feeling. 

“Say it properly” you clench around him because of the way his baritone voice grinds against your eardrums and Robb cannot help but twitch right under your cervix. 

You do not need to be told twice. “Robb Stark!” 

He hums in satisfaction. “Who knows better?” 

Your bubbling loins tighten. “Robb Stark!” 

“Who takes care of you?” His hands roughly fumble to throw your skirts out of his way. 

“Robb Stark—!” Your answer turns into a shivering moan when his fingers find the trembling gem under the hood of your sex. 

“Who do you trust with everything?” The minute crevices on the tips of his fingers rub against the sensitive nub and your vision falters. 

“R- Robb Stark!” His hold on your jaw is the only thing that keeps it in usable shape. 

“Who will you obey when he tells you that you will no longer be friends with—” you whine when he takes the name of your dear friend but it is not a complete surprise. 

Robb greatly dislikes and condemns for you any influence he deems indecent or bad.

“R- Robb Stark!” You whimper as you move your hips along to his cock that now fucks you so fast and rough that you lose your footing with each thrust, the fingers he has on the nub of your womanhood only adding to the flutters of pleasure that narrow the knot around your hips with each snap of his hips. 

“Who do you belong to?” This time, his mouth comes to press against your ear and his coarse beard irritates your sensitive skin. His words carry a wolfish ferocity and you hear him gnash his teeth in as much clarity as your thumping ears will allow. 

“R- Robb—” your teeth begin to chatter from the intensity of your orgasm and your body flexes against his much bigger one to withstand the explosion in your abdomen. “S- S- Stark…” Your words melt into hissing whispers and you shudder and hiss when he continues to rub, fuck and fondle you even when the ecstatic feeling has subsided and your mound demands solitude. 

“That is correct” he pounces onto the stacks that you face with your smaller body underneath him like a depraved wolf having trapped in its hold a helpless little lamb. The action causes for his tip to collide against your cervix and your body thrashes defensively but it is in vain. “Do not forget that.” Robb whispers in your ear before he regains his footing and his hairy claws tuck under your thighs from the front. Your betrothed easily lifts your legs off the floor and begins his annihilation of any remaining misconduct perchance still shrouded in some unwise crevice of your little mind.

MASTERLIST 

. . .

I… can swear I thought this was like 1K at best… 

[countrymusiclover]

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Robert Baratheon believes he has wiped out the last Targaryen children, but what if that isn't the case. What if Jaime Lannister who everyone refers to as "Kingslayer" had a hand in it. Would the middle daughter of the Mad King and Rhaella Targaryen wish to claim the Iron Throne. Read the story of Vaella Targaryen.

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

2 - One Day It'll Be Just You and Me

3 - The Reputation Of A Princess

4 - We Have A Thing For Knights Don’t We?

5 - Tavern to Red Keep

6 - Here's to Aerys Targaryen

7 - Smells like Fire

8 - We're Family Now and Always

9 - Secretly Vaella Lannister

10 - Still A Golden Lion

11 - He’s Finally Mine

12 - Guilty of being a Dwarf

13 - Facing Cersei Lannister

14 - Targaryen’s and Lannister’s

15 - This is Home

16 - The Loyalty of Dragons

17 - Myrcella Lannister

18 - The Rock Shall Never Fall

19 - Targaryen Sisters Finally Clash

20 - Back to being a Prisoner

21 - The Lannister Trials

22 - More than One Plan

23 - The Legacy of Rhaegar

24 - When Dragons Flew to War

25 - The Dragon Island

26 - Playing the Game Now

27 - War Between Kin

28 - Loyalists of Queen Vaella

29 - Two Dragon Queens

30 - The King in the North

31 - Who Really Deserves The Throne

32 - Message of a Dragon

33 - Dragon vs Dragon

34 - From the South to the North

35 - Acting Like Our Father

36 - Heirs of the Rock or Throne

37 - The Night King part 1

38 - The Night King part 2

39 - Winterfell Celebration

40 - Rhaegar and Lyanna’s Child

41 - No Longer A Bastard

42 - All the Dragons Roar

43 - The People of King's Landing

44 - Securing the City

45 - The Rightful Queen

46 - Creating the new Westeros

47 - The Rightful Heir

48 - History Sometimes Repeats Itself

????

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

@melvia-ito

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Title: Hearts of Fire

Daenerys Targeryen x reader X khal drogo(slightly)

---

The air was thick with the scent of blood and incense as the Dothraki gathered in the sacred tent, their voices rising in a cacophony of anticipation. At the center of it all stood Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her violet eyes set with steely determination. Beside her, you stood just as resolute, your fingers intertwined with hers as you both faced the daunting task ahead. This was a ritual meant to prove strength, resilience, and the power of life growing within Daenerys. But the Khaleesi was not alone, for you had bound your fate to hers long before the Dothraki had ever known either of your names.

When Khal Drogo had chosen Daenerys as his Khaleesi, you had been a part of the bargain, an unconventional condition that neither he nor his people had expected. The blood of the dragon burned hot in both of your veins, and your love for each other was as fierce as the flames that had birthed you. Drogo had seen the fire in your eyes, the unwavering loyalty you held for Daenerys, and had accepted the challenge of marrying not just a dragon, but two.

Now, the Dosh Khaleen—the ancient crones who led the ceremony—looked on with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. No other Khaleesi had ever brought her heart-bound to this ritual. But this was not just any Khaleesi, and you were not just any woman.

As the crones brought forth the raw, bleeding heart of the stallion, the murmurs of the Dothraki quieted. The heart was massive, still warm, and the scent of fresh blood filled your nostrils. It was a symbol of the life growing within Daenerys, the life of the stallion who would mount the world. But for you, it was also a symbol of the bond you shared with her, the unbreakable connection that had brought you both to this moment.

Daenerys took a deep breath, her grip on your hand tightening as she stepped forward. You could feel her fear, her determination, and you gave her a reassuring squeeze in return.

"We do this together," you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Together," she repeated, her voice a vow as strong as any oath.

The Dosh Khaleen began their chant, an ancient and haunting melody that echoed through the tent. Daenerys raised the heart to her lips, taking the first bite with a grimace that she quickly hid. The taste was foul, the texture tough and chewy, but she forced herself to chew and swallow, her eyes flicking to you for strength. You stepped closer, your free hand brushing a strand of her hair away from her face as she continued to eat, each bite a struggle.

When the time came for you to join her, you did so without hesitation. The Dothraki watched with bated breath as you bit into the heart, the taste just as revolting as you had imagined. But you didn't falter. The blood of the dragon did not yield. You would not falter.

The ritual was gruesome, the task daunting, but together, you and Daenerys persevered. Bite after bite, the heart began to disappear, the blood staining both your lips and hers, a symbol of the shared strength and love that had brought you to this point.

As the heart was finally consumed, a hush fell over the tent. Daenerys swayed on her feet, but you were there to steady her, your arms wrapping around her waist as she leaned into you, exhausted but victorious. The Dothraki began to chant her name, their voices rising in a roar of approval. The stallion who mounts the world had been proven, and the Khaleesi had shown her strength. But as you held her close, you knew that the real victory was not just hers, but yours as well.

Khal Drogo stepped forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours and Daenerys's. There was a fierce pride in his gaze, a recognition of the bond you both shared. He placed a hand on Daenerys's shoulder, then on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you both possessed.

"You are both my Khaleesi," he declared in his deep, resonant voice, the words carrying a weight that the Dothraki understood. It was unprecedented, a union of three, bound not just by tradition but by love, respect, and fire.

As the ceremony came to an end, the Dothraki began to disperse, their excitement turning to celebration. You and Daenerys remained in the tent, the tension of the ritual finally giving way to relief. She turned to you, her violet eyes softening as she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing away a smear of blood on your cheek.

"You were incredible," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "I couldn't have done this without you."

You smiled, leaning into her touch, your heart swelling with love. "Neither could I, my love."

The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that instant, it didn't matter that you were in a foreign land, surrounded by people who still didn't fully understand your bond. All that mattered was that you had each other, that you were stronger together than apart.

As the sounds of celebration grew louder outside, you and Daenerys shared a kiss, the taste of blood still lingering on your lips, a reminder of the ritual you had just endured. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the fire of dragons, and with the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

Together, you would conquer, you would rule, and you would love, bound by fire and blood, forever.

Request anytime 😊

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Birth of Dragons Pt.2

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targcest, rivalry, jealousy, targaryen kid ocs

Words: 7167

Summary: Aegon the Conqueror’s family has grown to a substantial size. But with so many young and cocky dragons, someone is bound to be burned. 

Part 1

*Also it’s raining like a motherfucker in CA rn

The birth of your twins had been a joyous occasion for the Targaryen king. You’d given him two heirs who were strong and robust babes. 

The seed of the dragon would prove to be resilient. Two years later, you gave birth to another son. A beautiful boy named Rhaelor. He reminded you of your Renoxa for he possessed the pale lashes and resplendent crimson irises. When Visemarys and Baelyx first met their baby brother, they were terrified of Rhaelor’s eyes and burst into tears.

Another year passed before Rhaenys would be round with Aegon’s third child. Everyone expected her to be the next one to bear the dragon king another heir. The third son of Aegon was named Aenys. He, unfortunately, had not been blessed like his older brothers in health. Aenys was a sickly baby. Small and his limbs unbelievably stick thin. It was a wonder how he survived through infancy. You and Rhaenys would stay up so many nights watching vigil over the babe. She was beside herself and for the first time you were her pillar of strength. Fiercely supporting her, you treated Aenys as your own and did your best to care for him when you forced Rhaenys to rest. By the grace of the gods, he thrived.

Visenya however took longer to produce a child. Not until the year your twins turned seven did she finally conceive. Even then, she absolutely hated the entirety of being pregnant. Loathed the restrictions it put on her body. While Rhaenys hadn’t been too thrilled about the rounding of her body, you had absolutely adored your pregnant belly for it housed your boys who were the greatest joys of your life. At the same time she was pregnant with her first child, you were already showing symptoms of your fourth pregnancy. Visenya gave birth to a large boy she named Maegor. His screams into the world shook the glass in the windowpanes and had Aegon flinging his hands up to his ears in a vain attempt to block out the ear piercing wail.

A few months later your only daughter Aella was born. The first contractions hit you when you were flying in the air alongside Visemarys’ small dragon, teaching him how to direct Rahu to where he desired to go. Neither Renoxa or Rahu were too far off the ground in case an emergency landing was needed. A good thing considering you would have to land quickly to alert your family who had been watching from the ground. Aegon was quick to get to you with Rhaenys and Visenya (little Maegor was back at the High Hill with plenty of nannies since he was to young to be out and about) running after him. Baelyx watched with wide eyes but also kept vigil over his smaller brother Rhaelor and half-brother Aenys. You were hauled back to Aegonfort.

To your surprise, Aegon was absolutely thrilled to FINALLY have a daughter. Sons were revered above all in both Valyrian culture and Westeros. For him to be so joyous over having a daughter to call his own was heartwarming. 

“I have enough sons to hold up the Targaryen legacy.” He earnestly told you. “Five to be exact. I want to gift Westeros with another you though. A Targaryen princess will be much loved indeed.”

You and your family learned early on though that beneath her sweet and innocent countenance, there lay a headstrong and spirited personality that was as delightful as it was unpredictable. Aella was a remarkable blend of her family's qualities: tenacious like Aegon, valiant like Visenya, playful like Rhaenys and. . .

Aegon had put his hand to your chest. “She has your heart.”

A mighty heart.

As much as you were scolding the boys, you had to discipline Aella just as much. She happily got the skirts of her dress dirty when playing outside with her brothers. Little spitfire would even lick at any scrapes she got and carried on her merry way as if nothing happened. Falls did not phase, not even as a baby when she was first learning how to walk on stumbling feet. Visemarys and the younger twin Baelyx thought it was the funniest thing to teach their sister how to be an absolute gremlin. And she adored her older brothers for it. They were the ones to teach her words that were not something a lady should say (although you and your sisters said plenty of the same words). Aella got herself into many brawls with the young sons of different lords who dare say a harmful thing toward Rhaelor’s odd eyes or Aenys’ weak constitution. She would always be there to rouse them up and offer her support in any way possible. 

Then there was Aella and Maegor. . . Gods help anyone who fell upon their mischief. They were especially close having been born but months apart. If you were being honest, you did not particularly like Maegor’s influence over Aella. You loved your sister, but her son was another story. He was made of grittier material than the other children of Aegon. You knew if the throne ever fell into the hands of Maegor, well, that would be a dark day for the seven realms. Maegor would not be a kind or virtuous ruler. Thankfully, Maegor’s way to the iron throne would be a long way. Something terrible would have to happen to Visemarys first and as he grew, it was becoming unlikely that anyone besides his own father could defeat him in a sword fight. He was tall with broad shoulders and lithe limbs. You’d seen your son unarm many men who were twice his age and more seasoned a warrior. Motherly pride made you glow every time you watch him train with the others. For being the youngest son though, Maegor grew like a weed. Resilient like one too. When sparring against Rhaelor or Aenys, Maegor was the usual victor. Rhaelor despite his adventurous heart was not much of a fighter. Instead of honing his skill at the blade, Rhaelor would take off on his dragon Imorth. The dragon’s serpentine body, sinewy and elegant, stretches to an impressive length across the sky. Imorth shimmered with a myriad of greens, from deep emerald to a vibrant jade green. Many times, there would be sightings of your son and his dragon all over Westeros when he became an independent young man. He was your diplomat in spite of his odd appearance. His fair complexion and red eyes tend to spook people on the first meeting but he had quite the charming personality and managed to win over even the biggest skeptic. And Aenys, poor Aenys would never be the swordsmen the twins were or even young Maegor. Not even like Aella who had been loudly vocal on her desire to learn whatever her brothers were learning. But he was a kind boy and a scholar and had the sweetest voice when he sang. Even not being a warrior like his brothers, he still managed to receive his own female admirers.

Perhaps it was for the best she learned. Both you and your sisters were trained with a blade and fought alongside Aegon when he called upon you for assistance. Aella would be able to protect herself if the occasion called for it. She wouldn’t have to rely on any man and could fight atop of her mount, Yldri. Yldri boasted a mesmerizing appearance, scales shimmered with the softest lilac hue, like the petals of the most exquisite flowers in the kingdom. If anything, at least Aella would have a traditional Valyrian dragon rider death like her aunt Rhaenys. Rhaenys died in the war with Dorne when Aenys was just three years old. Both her and her silver dragon Meraxes. You kept yourself together for her son. You were the closest thing he’d have to his mother even though you ached for the loss of your beloved sister. 

There were moments in your grieving when you would momentarily forget her death and turn to say something to her, only to be painfully reminded that she was no longer there. Neither Visenya nor Aegon knew how to console you when you’d grow quiet in realization at your own blunder. The tears that would prick at your eyes fell without Rhaenys there to wipe them away as she always did. It was considered an honor though for one to die atop of their dragon. A fate that you and the remainder of your siblings desired. 

Your grief for Rhaenys lasts for years as you’re slow to come to terms to her no longer being by your side. Late at night you longed for her arms and her kisses. The way she completely molded to your body. She was the one you always turned to as both your sister and lover. Constantly your bedmate whether it be in a sexual way or just to sleep and protect one another. Aegon’s presence was a comfort but by no means a substitute or replacement. No one could take Rhaenys’ spot in your heart. 

**

After the Dornish War, there was a long time of peace where the children grew and prospered under its influence. The skies were filled with dragons as was the High Hill. 

**

Two dragons fly side by side with ease. The beautiful, sleek body of Imorth is larger than that of the younger Yldri. Even so, both dragons boast the most magnificent scales among the Targaryen’s seven dragons. 

Atop of the lilac mount Yldri rode the only Targaryen princess, Aella. Her silver hair grew tangled among the beating of the wind but her smile was ever prominent and cheeks bright pink. Yldri felt her joy and released a happy crowing noise as her wings beat against the open air. In response, Imorth shrieks out his own noise of enjoyment. He dives underneath the she-dragon, giving Aella a perfect glance of the top of Rhaelor’s snow white head. His emerald robes billow behind him, almost fusing with Imorth’s color. The two dragons spiraled around one another, a beautiful dance of dragonkind, their wings brushing against each other in a show of camaraderie. All the while, their riders laugh in a carefree spirit. Their responsibilities were not like those of their elder twin brothers: Visemarys and Baelyx. They were freer to goof off and spend their days in the skies with their dragons. They were not bound by the constraints of the world below. Roars reverberated across the open horizon, not in aggression but in exuberance.

An ear piercing dragon’s cry has their laughter dying down and turning in their saddles to see the larger form of Zypheros, Baelyx’s smoke gray dragon, advancing on them. Stilling their dragons into a steady gliding in place, Zypheros easily catches up with them.

Baelyx’s bangs whip around his face, his long ponytail like a ribbon behind him. When he smiles at his younger siblings, the indentation of dimples grace his face. “Both of you are requested by mother.” He calls over to them. Speaking so high up in the air tend to be difficult, especially on blustery days. “Aunt Visenya and Maegor will be arriving soon.”

Really, all Baelyx had to do was mention Maegor to get Aella’s attention. She can’t help but perk up at the prospect of seeing her other half-brother. Maegor lived on Dragonstone with his mother Visenya. Unlike herself and her other brothers, Maegor had no dragon. For as long as she could remember, Maegor always said the only dragon worthy of him was Balerion. Maybe it was true, maybe not for Balerion was a fine mount; the largest in the continent. 

Rhaelor knew his sister better than he knew anyone else. He rolls his scarlet eyes at her obvious excitement to see him though he was not as keen to see his aunt and half-brother. 

Her face plastered with a wide grin, Aella urges Yldri to land just outside of the newly constructed capital of Westeros: King’s Landing. The populace still jumped at the cry of dragons above but were slowly getting used to being around them. Aella tries to squint her eye in an attempt to see across Blackwater Bay to Dragonstone in hopes of catching sight Maegor atop of Vhagar with his mother. 

Getting closer to the Red Keep, the other dragons of her family rouse their heads as Yldri screeches her greetings. She glides by the training yard where she spots Visemarys, Aenys and Aegon the Conqueror. Their father was the picture of masculinity and authority. Already Visemarys stood at the same height as his father and only required a few more years before his muscles matched Aegon’s. Compared to them, Aenys could be a waif. Not as skinny as he used to be, he still lacks the bulk of his brothers and father. That was okay. Aenys made it up with his kind nature, smarts, and singing voice. Aella appreciated each brother for who he was. She didn’t think any less of Aenys for the fact that he was never going to be a great fighter. 

Aegon lifts his head up first to catch his daughter’s lilac dragon pierce through the sky like an arrow. He smiles to himself. She shined brightly, just like Rhaenys and (y/n). Catching even Visemarys gazing up with an expression of pure softness and affection. He’d been seeing it for some time now since Aella came of age. Visemarys AND Baelyx. 

(y/n) had noticed it as well and concern flashed on her face when she took note of her twins squaring the other up when Aella was between them. She didn’t want there to be strife among her children. Especially fighting over another sibling. Something like this would certainly prove to be a problem when Aella decides when she is ready to marry for even her mother was loathe to have her marry. After all, the mother and daughter duo was always close. As a babe (y/n) would strap Aella to her chest and take her on flights with Renoxa. Aella would be full of giggles the entire time, loving the open air and wind brushing against her fat cheeks. Her family’s pride and joy despite how often she’d be naughty. 

Taking into consideration both of his son’s interest in Aella, Aegon had thought about the perfect match for her. A union between her and Visemarys would be beneficial. She’d be queen once Visemarys was crowned king. She wouldn’t have to face any major life changes. The Red Keep would still be her home and she’d still be near (y/n) and Aegon. But he took into consideration Baelyx’s feelings as well. He was second son, youngest of the twins and the closest in line to the iron throne. An excellent marksmen with a bow and a well phrased in politics. The perfect weapon in the Targaryen belt. Baelyx even wield an assassin’s marked blade. Visemarys was brawny in strength but Baelyx was sleek like a predatory cat. Each movement he made was calculated.

Neither parent had an idea if Aella was aware of the twins’ affections for her. They’d try to support their daughter any way they could though. Whoever she chooses. Similar to his wife, one thing Aegon would never be able to get behind was Aella with Maegor. Thinking of it didn’t sit well with him. Maegor would never hurt Aella, that was not what concerned the conqueror. She’d sooner have his head on a spear if he tried to force himself onto her. His youngest son’s ambitions worried him. He saw the hunger in those eyes, the hunger of another conqueror. Westeros didn’t need one anymore. They needed a king who could continue to keep the peace and balance of the land. He’d be an amazing general were he able to be satisfied with just that. No, Maegor longed for the pinnacle of authority. Aegon didn’t want to scare Visemarys with the potential of an assassination by his own blood. That was the reality. He hoped he would be wrong in the end and perhaps Visemarys and Maegor could work things out civilly. 

A few miles away, Yldri finally lands her feet firmly upon the earth. Easily sliding off her back, Aella dusts off her skirts and pats her she-dragon on the neck. They walk the rest of the way to the mouth of what would become the Dragon Pit, a place where her family’s dragons could call home after long hours of being with their rider. Workers were still buzzing around, building the walls higher and higher to especially accommodate Belarion’s great size. 

She inhales deeply, happily. Her home was a beautiful one. Her kingdom even grander all thanks to the efforts of her father and his sisters. Aella felt immense pride in being a Targaryen, even more for being the daughter of the conqueror himself. 

Yldri playfully shakes her neck, bumping the girl in the back with her large snout. Her giggles are light as she watches her she-dragon make her leisurely way to the entrance of the Dragon Pit, already knowing that as her home. Workers scramble immediately at the sight of her and make way.

Aella scampers down the hill where the pits were situated to the outer walls of the Red Keep itself. The iron portcullis groans and lifts up from it’s stationary position in the ground. She waits patiently, waving to the guards on duty who greet her cheerfully. Above she hears the screech of Imorth and Zephyros gradually catching up to the trail she’d blazed with Yldri. 

“Welcome back, princess.” A knight smiles at her. His own eyes glance up to the smoke gray and jade green dragons twirling in the sky.

“Did you hear Maegor’s coming?” She excitedly replies. The reminder makes the knight grimace in response. There was little love for Maegor in the Keep. 

She doesn’t pay attention to the disgruntled grunt he gives her. Aella moves right past him but not to the front door of the castle. Walking around the outer bailey leads her to the training grounds where knights and soldiers alike practiced the dance of swords. The shrieking sound of steel against steel rings in her eardrums like the beginning of a song. That’s how she felt whenever she held a sword and trained with her brothers. It was all so much like dancing except more fun. There was a thrilling element to it. The dance of swords was also the fine line between life and death. One balanced on the razor’s edge when performing the intricate steps that were required to assure your life was safe. 

Men from either side of her stop what they do to give her the briefest of bows or acknowledgment. Not many men in Westeros approved of a woman taking up a weapon. But she wasn’t any woman. She would be like her mother and aunts, who didn’t need a man to protect them from danger. They could very well take danger by the horns and force them into submission. Although Aella had only seen her mother use a sword once in front of her it made a lasting impression. She became a different person when there was a sword in her hand. In that moment, (y/n) had resembled her eldest sister Visenya. 

Aenys’ hair, with pieces of hay sticking out of it, looked like a porcupine when he noticed Aella happily wandering on the training grounds. His watery hyacinth gaze crinkles as he smiles. “What has you all smiles, jorrāelagon mandia (dear sister)?”

Chipper as a bird, Aella grabs his hands and twirls him around now drawing the attention of her father and Visemarys. “Maegor and Aunt Visenya are coming!  Mother sent word out to me and Rhaelor. Isn’t it exciting!”

He shared the sentiment of everyone else as his own smile dimmed. Forcing his mouth to keep the shape of a smile, Aenys attempts to sound as lighthearted as his sister. “Is that so?”

At that moment, (y/n) Targaryen appears. Normally when she went to watch her husband and sons train, she’d shed her lovely gowns and dawn her leather trousers and tunic. Not that day. She was dressed in a gown of the softest green, perhaps thinking to match her son Baelyx. This was something endearing (y/n) did. Often she wore colors that matched those of her children’s dragons. Yesterday had been burgundy, taking after Rahu’s dark red hue.

Immediately Aegon catches the emergence of his youngest sister-wife. If possible, there were hearts in his eyes when he gazed upon her like it was the first time. Every edge of his face softens and he pats Visemarys’ back before sprinting to the stone steps that led up to the door. (y/n)’s grin is wide as she lets him sweep her up in his arms. The affection they showed to one another publicly tend to make the boys uncomfortable but Aella loves seeing her parents still enamored with one another after so many years. That was the kind of love she wanted. One to last a lifetime. Visemarys turned his face away when Aegon captures (y/n)’s lips in a passionate kiss. When he spots Aella giggling, he pretends to gag. Aenys chuckled at his family. While his mother was no longer alive, (y/n) became his surrogate mother. She cared for him the same as with her four other children. In Aenys was the last piece of her beloved sister Rhaenys left to the world. 

(y/n) whispers something to her husband that has him drawing away partially. “So Visenya is finally returning.”

His sister nods enthusiastically but her smile was stiff and Aella, from the shapes her lips moved in, knew her mother was talking about Maegor being with her as well. Aegon’s long silver-blonde hair had been tied into a braid for sword training, courtesy of (y/n)’s skilled fingers. It trailed down his back, almost to his rear. Swaying as he steps back and holds (y/n)’s hand as they both descend the stairs. 

Periwinkle eyes take in her daughter who bounds up to her. She chuckles and smooths the hair on Aella’s head even though the girl was almost the same height as her. “I see the news has reached everyone.”

“Baelyx is an efficient messenger.” Aella happily nods and holds her mom’s hands in her warm grasp. “I’m happy that Aunt Visenya and Maegor are coming after being away for so long, but is there a specific reason?”

The males of her family pay even more attention. This was something they had all been wondering. Four years ago, Aegon cut off contact with Visenya and subsequently Maegor. A big fight tore the elder Targaryen siblings apart. To begin with, Aegon held almost no romantic feelings towards Visenya. That was well known. Evidence being that (y/n) gave birth to four of Aegon’s children while Visenya only conceived one son. (y/n) however still kept in contact with her last sister. 

“It has been too long since I’ve seen my dear sister.” (y/n) confesses. By then Baelyx and Rhaelor were now entering the grounds and caught the last words of what their mother had said.  

“How long until they get here?” Rhaelor asks after giving his mother a kiss on the cheek which always delighted her. 

In return she pats Rhaelor on the cheek. “I can’t imagine it will take them long. Possibly within the hour. All of you are to wash and dress in your best. And boys, please, try your best to get along with Maegor.”

All of the Targaryen boys, even Aegon, look down at their feet. All having been guilty (except for Aenys) of antagonistic tendencies toward Visenya’s only child. 

Their maids were already waiting for them each to assist in anything they needed as all five of them were already young adults. Aella would require actual help for putting on her dress as it was many layered with ties that needed to be secured. 

They obey their mother’s instructions, but for Visemarys and Baelyx, they in particular were unhappy with Maegor’s arrival. 

**

Aegon was always handsome, whether streaked with dirt and blood or cleaned up like he was now he was exquisite. 

Reclined on the chaise lounge in his dressing room, you watch the strong muscles of his shoulders as he puts his arms through the sleeves of his clean tunic. Your eyes helplessly rove to the tapering of his waist and down to the perfect lift of his rear. 

Later. You tell yourself as you’re already imagining wrapping your legs around that delicious waist as he pounds into you, perhaps pump another child into.

For now, you had to remind your husband. “Do try to be gentler with Maegor. He already knows that he is not the favorite son. You don’t have to rub it in.”

He pauses before shoving his other arm into the corresponding sleeve. “He’s different than our boys (y/n).”

Pursing your lips, you acknowledge what he says as the truth. Maegor was definitely not like your four boys. Something unhinged about Maegor that made even you wary of him. “Regardless, you are his father.”

Turning around, his mauve eyes turn soft in regard to you. You’d voiced this before, the anticipation of discourse between the sons of the dragon dangled above your head the more Maegor was isolated. Aegon kneels in front of you, pressing your knuckles against his silky lips. “I’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”

A laugh bursts out of your chest. “Yes, gentle as a lamb coming from the dragon king himself.”

His grin curls to show off his sharp canine. “I can be gentle.” 

Yes, he was capable of being sweet and gentle to you and the rest of the kids but that was the extent. Visenya and Maegor were not granted the same kindness. He still wouldn’t tell you what exactly he and Visenya had argued about before she relocated to Dragonstone, but it must have been big. The two of them never got along, not as much as he got along with you and Rhaenys. Childhood had been no different. The eldest of the Targaryen children bickered nonstop and would even be reduced to brawling out in the courtyard. 

Lightly, you drag your lips down the bridge of his straight nose that seemed to have been sculpted by the most talented artist before placing a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. He’s practically purring at all the affection you lavish on him. Sometimes it goes to your head how he immediately becomes pudding in your hands. No one else would ever see Aegon like this. Only you. An incredible power that you alone possessed. 

The shrieking of dragons that pierce from outside alert your family that Vhagar was here.

Before allowing any of your children out into the yard to greet her, you double check their attire and move a few stray strands of silver hair that was hanging in Baelyx’s face and to tamper down Rhaelor’s naturally wild hair. A brooch on Aenys’ cloak was askew and you promptly fixed that too. He smiles down at you and you can’t help but lovingly pinch his cheek. He’d been born the weakest, but nearly towered over Aegon now. 

Prim and proper, you nod to yourself. Your wildlings, Aella and Rhaelor, could clean up nicely when they actually put their minds to it and weren’t on their dragons. Aella especially was radiant in her cream gown. Maybe too radiant. The twins were gazing adoringly at her, you could practically read the lovesick thoughts going through their head in that moment. If everyone got through today without any bloodshed, you would count it as a success. You just had to get through it then hopefully it would be smooth sailing from there once Visenya and Maegor settled in.

In the distance you could make out Vhagar’s mighty size descending to the entrance of the Dragon Pit. They’d be here shortly.

Aegon laces his fingers with your’s. “Breathe my love. You’re making the children nervous.”

So many things could go wrong. Tragedies of all sorts pierce you so that you listlessly pace in the courtyard. You miss Visenya, but you were ultimately scared of what her arrival would bring.

You give Aegon’s hand a vice-like squeeze. “Good. Maybe they’ll be on their best behavior then.” Particularly Baelyx. He had the shortest temper of all your children. His surliness could match Maegor’s which led the two to constantly butting heads when they were smaller. It didn’t take much to set off either boy. 

Shouts from guards atop of the guard tower shout the arrival of your sister and nephew. You press yourself closer to Aegon in both excitement and nerves. 

The gate rises and there stood the firm figure of your sister Visenya and the young man beside her. His hair and eyes scream Targaryen. Maegor. Unlike his brothers and father, Maegor wore his silver-blonde locks short. Suits the harsh features of his face much better in all honesty. 

They stride past the threshold, movements in perfect synchronicity that you wonder if they intended for that or if mother and son were just that much alike. 

Regardless of the bruised feelings among your elder siblings, you smile and open your arms wide to embrace Visenya. Usually she detested physical contact. She didn’t even like holding or carrying Maegor around when he was an infant. For you though. . . 

A rare and beautiful smile makes her regular stoney face crumble as she enters your arms, her own arms encircling around you. She presses you close to her body and you could practically hear her sigh in relief. “Ñuha prūmia (my heart).” She nuzzles her face against your hair. “Skorkydoso eman bōsa naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion (How I have longed to see your face).”

Tears burn behind your eyes but you’re still smiling, even more now after her words. “Ao kesīr leghagon nyke (You here completes me).”

Before she could completely break in front of everyone, Visenya tears herself away first and rapidly blinks her eyes clear. Her stoic expression returns when she glances at the rest of the family behind you. Specifically at the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself. 

“Aegon.” Her voice is frosty.

Your husband returns the sentiment in kind. “Visenya. You and Maegor appear to be doing well.” For Aegon, that was as friendly as he could be with her right now. Looks like he hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven whatever transpired between them. 

To break the iciness, you beckon your children forward. Happily, Aella is the first to greet Visenya and Maegor. Her aunt pleasantly hums and pats her on the head. “How grown you are.”

“Welcome home.” Aella tells her earnestly. Then she turns to Maegor who already has a cocky smirk plastered on his mouth. You chew on the inside of your cheek at the look he gives her. “Hello, Maegor.” She tilts her chin up to dazzle him with a smile. 

His voice is a deep rumble. “Aella.”

The other boys politely greet them in turn. You bid everyone to retire inside so that your sister and nephew could relax from their dragon ride although Visenya didn’t know the first thing about relaxing, always alert and ready for battle. War time was over but the way Visenya was, you’d think  conflict was still array in the land. Rhaelor worked well as a diplomat and was constantly going to visit all of Westeros’ wardens. Not even a whisper of friction. A few bandits here and there but nothing dire. 

In the private sitting room of the Red Keep is where your get together was reconvened. Refreshments and sweets were offered as mainly you and Aella kept up conversation. Aenys helps as much as he could as does Rhaelor so that tensions may be eased but it’s difficult when the twins and Maegor are having a staring contest. Visenya and Aegon were no better. You felt the chill coming off of them. 

“Your children are of proper marrying age.” Visenya brings up randomly as the conversation lulls to just you and your older sister. “When will you be arranging prospective partners?”

You’re caught off guard back her sudden question. You glance at the five of them. Visemarys and Baelyx will be four and twenty come the next season while Aella had just turned seven and ten two months ago. 

“We’re in no rush.” You tell her tentatively. Visenya had certain ideals that you didn’t share with her. She always thought you and Aegon coddled your children and that they grew up spoiled. 

Her eyes narrow. “What about Visemarys? He should get a start on producing future heirs.”

He stiffens next to you in his seat, uncomfortable with his aunt’s scrutiny landing fully on him. Vis was not one to be easily intimidated though, especially not by an aunt he hadn’t seen in years. She held no sway or authority here. Not like you did as the official Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“I have already decided on my bride.” 

That stuns everyone and Visenya’s eyes visibly round at him. He keeps his face cool and collected with a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. You and Aegon wordlessly gape at each other before addressing Visemarys. 

“You have?”

“Who is it?”

“Have we met her?”

Dozens of questions flew from you and your husband. You should have known though. There was only one girl he’d ever wanted to take for himself as a wife. 

“Aella.”

Baelyx jumps to his feet and growls at his twin. “You can’t just claim her as your’s.” He gestures to their sister who sat completely perplexed that Visemarys had named her his bride. Without even discussing it in her. Her face grew red with both embarrassment and discontent. 

You put a soothing hand on Baelyx’s arm but it’s too late. He’s furious and you fear that Maegor will feed off of this negative energy as well. But he’s still sitting, perfectly restrained and smirking at his half-brothers in an arrogant way that had you wondering what he was thinking. Or plotting. 

Aegon leans to breathe something into Visemarys’ ear. Father and son stand. “Excuse us.” Without another word, they leave with Baelyx right behind them still fuming and yelling at his brother who seemingly became deaf to his irate brother. 

Heaviness still hung in the air though as the rest of you flounder for something to say. Aella angrily trembled as Aenys consoles her. He knows when a battle has been lost though as Aella, just as quickly as her father and brothers, storms out of the room.

**

The vile audacity to claim her in front of everyone. He’d never even mentioned any sort of feelings that would hint that Visemarys felt something more for her other than brotherly love. Aella would be a fool not to notice how Baelyx and Visemarys looked her way. She knew but she wanted to hear them say it to her directly, not be sneaky but abruptly bringing it up with the rest of the family. Baelyx wasn’t really mad on her behalf. He was mad because he hadn’t been the one to publicly claim her first. 

Rage boiled her from the inside and heats up her checks with the fires of all the Seven Hells. When she got ahold of them, Aella would throttle both brothers into the ground. Didn’t matter that they were stronger and older than her. She would find a way to bring them down to their knees and BEG for her mercy. If only they weren’t so consumed with their alpha male bullshit to even asked her who she favored more. Were she to be faster to leave the sitting room, maybe Aella could have followed them to wherever they went off to. This involved her after all. Who she chose as her husband was her decision. Her parents promised her that she could choose whoever she wants to take as a partner. They said they would support her. This was a discussion that required her presence as well. She’d smother the flames of her fury in order to put up her petition to remind Aegon that she was in charge of choosing.

First she went to the chambers of the king and queen. Empty.

Stalking through the halls of the Keep, Aella realized that they weren’t in the main dwellings of the family. Aegon must have took them where he carries out all important duties. The throne room that housed the infamous iron throne, built by her father the conqueror. He was always wary when the young ones were too close to it. The swords were still sharp like they were freshly pulled from their owner’s hands. Swords of his fallen enemies. It wasn’t uncommon to receive small cuts from it. Aegon was never maimed when he sat on the throne since it was made for him. Not even his own chair would harm him. 

This forces her to leave the Keep and cross through the outer yard to get to the throne room which also housed a granary and a kitchen. Each step she took, Aella let out another curse toward her brothers. She’d give them the tongue lashing of the century. It will be ringing in their ears even as they lay on their deathbed. The never ending presence of soldiers milling about didn’t garner a second glance at them though even they noticed her wrath filled strut. Their princess rarely grew as impassioned as she was in that moment. Whatever argument was had in the Keep was enough to stoke her fire. 

The soldiers standing at the front bow at her presence and let her easily pass through. Aegon had been in the middle of saying something until the clacking of her heels hit against the ground. Visemarys smiles as if nothing of interest was going on while Baelyx’s seething lightened up. She walks straight up to Visemarys and shoves him with a house. 

“What kind of power trip are you on?” Teeth grit down hard as she goes to push him again despite her father calling her name.

Her anger toward Vis and not Baelyx as his glare turning into a self-righteous sneer. “See! I was only speaking up in Aella’s interest.”

Wrong thing to say.

She whips around and smacks Baelyx across the face. “You’re no better! You caused a scene.”

“Aella.” That stern command has Aella balling her hands into fists but obeys to face her father. She knew when to pick her fights and she would not win a fight with her father no matter how much Aegon loved his daughter. When he used that tone with her there was little choice but for her to simmer down. But her rage was still heavy in her mouth. She couldn’t even look at either brother who are positioned on either side of her. Baelyx, though his cheek was turning red, he sadly glances at his sister before pressing his lips firmly together. 

Aegon sighed, lines running across his face in the light of the throne room. A blessing he thought his children were. They behaved with the common childish mischief that arose with many kids in proximity. Never really caused him any real problems. But this was very much a problem that Aegon dreaded addressing. 

“Is it true you didn’t even speak this over with Aella, Visemarys?” He knows the answer. 

Visemarys being the eldest tend to let that go to his head. Crown Prince of Westeros and Heir to the Iron Throne, he thought whatever he said would be law. At least he has the common sense to shift his eyes away from Aegon with shame. “Yes, your grace. I figure it was inevitable though. Who better for me to take as wife and queen?”

His sister scoffs in disgust but keeps quiet under Aegon’s intimidating glare. 

“You do not have immediate claim of Aella just because you are first born.” Aegon sternly informs his son. In response his heir flinches. He’d been hoping his father would be on his side. Really, who would Aegon rather Aella marry? Visemarys would make her a queen. “She was promised she could choose her own husband. You’d be wise to respect that.” 

Newfound admiration blossoms for her father. She hadn’t expected him to take her side in all of this. But she realized she would not be exempt from being scolded as well. 

“Baelyx may have deserved your words but he didn’t deserve your abuse.” Aegon gazes from one pair of lilac eyes to another. Their father cast quite the shadow. “All of you are to go to your rooms for the rest of the night. Your dinner will be brought to you. You’re to reflect on how your actions may have harmed the other. Put yourself into their body and empathize. We’re family first and foremost. The house of the dragon cannot survive if we’re squabbling amongst one another.” He appeared to catch his own words. Momentarily he hangs back to gather his thoughts. “Tomorrow morning report straight to the throne room. No breakfast.” 

They bow to their illustrious father. His final words were law and even his offspring must bend the knee to their sovereign. 

Guards were sent along with them to make sure the trio went to their respective rooms.

In her room, Aella seeks out a distraction in the form of embroidery, to darts, hells she even tried to practice the lute but even boredom couldn’t help her enjoy that monstrous instrument that her teachers insist her learn to play. By the second hour, Aella was near ready to smash her lute into a thousand pieces against her bedpost. Were it not for the playful knock at her door, she may have gone through with her destructive impulse. A quizzically arched brow, Aella stares at the door. 

“Who is it?” She called out.

“Jaesa (Goddess).” That fine serpent’s voice has her heart fluttering.

“Maegor. Unfortunately I have been banished to my room for the night.” She chuckled and tents her fingers on the door. “I don’t think father intended for me to have any visitors.”

His laugh is a low baritone that has Aella smiling fondly at the door. “Open the door, Jaesa.” 

She doesn’t bother to think about the consequences and pulls on the handle of her door. Maegor is by himself, and easily manages to squeeze his way through the slim opening she offered him. Four years didn’t change Maegor’s personality, but it certainly transformed his body into swelled muscles and a proud stance. 

Still furious with her brothers, Aella eyes him up and down with a coy grin that mirrored her half-brother’s. He read her mind easily, always had. He’s already lifting her up by her rear as she grabs for his face to kiss him. 

Only she could say who were husband would be. 

[nellarw95]

Happy Birthday Nikolaj 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

July 27,1970

Buon Compleanno 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

27 Luglio 1970

[carrion-corvus]

Queen in the North

[vorpalfae]

𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 🐺⚔️❄️

[nightingale2004]

The daughter of Khal Drogo and Daenaerys Targaryen

Khalakka Rhaella Targaryen

Faceclaim: Alycia Debnam-Carey

She was originally a twin to Rhaego, but after he passed shortly after he was born, Rhaella was born shortly after, alive and healthy

Rhaego was prophesied to be the stallion who mounted the world, but what they missed was his sister, the dragon who would've flew the skies by his side while they mounted the world together

Rhaella has her father's savage and wild spirit that no man or woman can tame. Dany would describe it as the soul of a true dragon

Rhaella also inherited her mother's confidence, strength, determination, honor, and compassion

Despite looking like her father, she is her mother's daughter

She has some silver white streaks in her hair and purple eyes in which she inherited from Dany.

Daenerys was the mother of Dragons, but Rhaella was their kin. Their sister and dragon master

When she was a child, she always wanted to wield a sword. Her mother didn't allow it until way later

Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal love Rhaella and are completely soft for her and Dany.

Rhaella rides Viserion

She is a master swordsman and a part of her mother's council

Loves Missandei and sees her as family

Despite not knowing her twin or her birth father, she feels like their spirits are within the dragons

Rhaella loves flying on Dragon's back

She practices her Valyrian a lot to communicate with the dragons

Loves playing with the Dragons

The Dothraki and the many soldiers and servants who are truly loyal to Daenerys love Rhaella and consider her a fearful wild spirit but also a true delight

Tolerates Tyrion

Despite being skilled in a fight, she is actually very strategic and intelligent to understand politics

Has never bedded anyone

Knows her history of both her Dothraki and Targaryen heritage

She made a promise to herself that she would help her mother sit on the iron throne, and dragons would soar the skies freely along with House Targaryen being restored to their might once again

Wants to be a strong leader like her mother and father someday, who can also carry a sword and restore peace to the realm. She also wishes to be fair and different from the Lannisters (especially Cersei)

[yippi-yipp]

World on Fire

author's note: hi! this is my first time EVER writing a fanfic! i thought long about it and decided to publish it. english isn't my first language so there might be some errors (sorry!). its not proof read :( hope you enjoy reading it!! :)

AU: Rhaenyra and Aegon are twins, they are both 16 years old. Aemma died while giving birth to Aemond, who is now 12 years old, while Helaena is 14. Viserys decided to not remarry. Alicent has the same age as the twins.

!!Warnings!!: incest (targcest), barely explict sex.

Chapter I

Rhaenyra was strolling in the godswood garden, the sun high up in the sky, a gentle breeze made her silver hair, which was in a soft braid, flow in the wind freely.

She spotted Aegon, sitting against the heart tree, reading some book that probably had 2000 pages, it was probably an erotica; like that one time that she found him reading 'A Caution for Young Girls' by Lady Coryanne Wylde, one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Alysanne.

When he saw her shadow on his book, he lifted his head up to look at her, a smirk appeared on his face, some of his silver hair was stuck to his forehead due to the hot weather that made him sweat like a pig.

She looked down at him and smiled softly, her arms were behind her back, she leaned down and took a look at the book that he was holding: "What are you reading? I assume that it's an history book, studying a little would do you quite well." she said in jest, she knew him well enough to know that he probably held an history book once or twice.

He looked down at his book and then back at her: "Well, it's definitely an history book!" he said jokingly, an heartly laugh coming out of his lips.

"I'm still reading the book that one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Alysanne wrote. I doubt that it's actually a biography like people say, but it's still a pretty good book. It's entertaining enough." he continued, before closing his book with a loud thud and now giving her his full attention.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with some septa, doing womanly things like knitting or something?" he asked, putting the book down beside him.

Rhaenyra sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around her legs, her pale yellow dress getting a little dirty from sitting down in a not-so-clean garden.

"I didn't feel like doing that. I preferred spending some time with my oh-so beloved brother!" She said with a smile, her head turned to the left to look into his amethyst eyes.

"Are you going to sneak out and go into the city tonight?" she said quietly, not wanting anyone to hear them.

"Aye, i always do that." he responded quietly as well. "Can you bring me with you? I've practically never went outside of the Red Keep." she asked quietly, reaching out to take his hand in hers, their fingers intertwining.

"What?! Are you crazy? Father would kill me if he found out that I took you with me out into the city!" he responded in a loud tone, he didn't want to take her out with the fear that, if, Viserys, their father, found out he would have his head.

"Please Aegon, I'll die if i spend one more boring night here!" she begged him. "Nonono, i like my head attached to my body, thank you." he answered, almost angrily, before letting his gaze soften, he leaned in to kiss her, hoping that she would forgive him for not taking her into the city.

She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight as she kissed him passionately. When their lips parted, a string of their mixed saliva still connected them to eachother, Aegon chuckled before kissing Rhaenyra again to get rid of the string.

They were still in eachother's arms, their breath mixing, both of them taking in the smell of them together. Rhaenyra leaned in to give him a soft peck on his rost lips.

She leaned back and frowned slightly "Then why don't you stay at home with me? Just for tonight? We could...hide in some corner of the Keep, enjoy eachother's company."

She suggested hoping he would accept. "Just for tonight." he agreed. She smiled widely, and he did as well. "Do you think that father will accept to marry us? I'm 16 now, he wants me to get married soon and I don't want to marry a fat Lord or something like that. I want you" she changed topics.

They had already talked about marrying eachother, they would have loved waking up next to eachother for the rest of their lives, spending their days teaching their children High Valyrian.

Her eyes were looking straight into his, a profound sadness was into them, Rhaenyra always looked sad and he had no idea why. She had everything, people would kill to be in her place but she still complained about having to wear pretty dresses and spend her days reading on a bed with gold sheets.

"I think he will. If he won't, we'll get married anyway. We could...flee to Dragonstone and get married in secret, like King Jaehaerys did with his sister Alysanne." he responded softly, Rhaenyra smiled gently, hoping that he's right. "I should get going. I have a lesson with the Maester now. I'm actually going to study History now, I'm on the chapter about Aegon the Conqueror." he continued.

He kissed her lips and hugged her before he got up and walked away from the heart tree, stepping inside into the Red Keep. Rhaenyra was now all alone, she followed his every step with her eyes until he was no longer visible.

She could feel herself getting hot under her gown, the way his long hair looked like melted silver, it fell gracefully on his shoulders. She saw that he left the book that he was reading onto the soft grass, she took it up and opened it into a random page, reading a few lines of that erotic tome that Aegon loved so much.

It was page 104, the first lines cited this: -It was like there was a waterfall between my legs. He pulled me into a stable, a white stallion was next to us while we copulated. He pushed me gently onto the hay, he opened my dress open, he almost ripped my undergarments, he couldn't wait anymore, he had to dominate me right there, that second precisely. He placed himself right before my entrance, he was the key to my lock, my lips were parted in anticipation.-

Rhaenyra's cheeks became red, she understood now why the High Septon had burned almost all the copies of this book, but she was grateful that Aegon managed to keep one copy perfectly intact, she was quite invested into the biography of Lady Coryanne Wylde now: people say that she actually lost her maidenhead into that stable with that farm boy.

She closed the book with a thud and stood up, she looked up at the sky, the red leaves of the heart tree were casting a shadow over her, protecting her eyes from the sun. She held the book in one hand and the hem of her yellow-ish dress in the other, so she wouldn't trip over it and fall.

She walked inside and quickly strolled into her chambers, greeting Ser Criston Cole outside of her door and locking it behind her. She put the tome on her bed and changed into her night wear: a soft silk nightie in a beatiful white color.

She undid her hair, the braid that it was put in left it in soft waves. She hopped inside her bed and under the sheets, she opened the book and started reading it from the first page, hoping that in a few hours Aegon would sneak into her room from the secret passage that was next to her wardrobe.

After reading a few chapters, she fell asleep, even if it was still early in the evening, the sun was still high up in the sky and cast a soft, orange light on her face, enhancing her heavenly features.

[alienoryva]

non-canon & my delulu ship🫣

[aesthetic--mood]

Rhaenyra Targaryen Aesthetic

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Night's Watch Lord Commander!Jon Snow and Arrogant Noble Woman!You…

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, dark!Jon Snow, kidnapping, kissing, groping, forced stripping, manipulation, breeding kink, bastard shaming, humiliation. MDNI. 

Note: Can/Does this qualify for Kinktober/Halloween?

. . . 

His bushy lips that are akin in their roughness to his fingers that ‘gently’ move your hair away from your back that he further exposes by pulling on the harness that had been holding your blouse together feel harsh against your soft skin. He pushes the mass of your soft strands over one of your shoulders from behind and a beastly arm is wrapped around your waist to pull your body closer to that of your captive so he can press his deranged and lewd kisses along the length of your spine, the sickening sensation causing for your body to curl in disgust.

Jon Snow is a bastard in every sense of the word. 

Having meticulously crafted the persona of the gentle warrior full of valiance, endurance and better sense, you now understand with a frightening realization that he tirelessly worked for the construction of his present circumstances for years so he could perform a flawless execution of his plan that you are living now.

Although for reasons not particularly aimed at the shallowness in his facade that you can see through now, it is now that you know that you had always been right in your unyielding contempt of him. That your intuition that there festered something dark and twisted behind those ‘innocent’ eyes of his that were black as night and thus your accordingly treatment of him was justified. 

Jon had taken your unrelenting shaming and insulting of his origin, your humiliating rejection of his proposal to you and your vehement refusals of any and all attempts at any kind of an alliance between the two of you with a smile for years so as to portray you an unruly beast-like daughter of an influential man only so he could do this. 

Your chapped lips curl in fury and disdain that you feel for the thought as well as yourself. You had always considered your skills in self defense and swordsmanship to be on par with any other lad your age. 

Only for your mind to not even process your abduction when it was underway let alone your combative learnings to come into play. 

Your body stiffens when one of his hairy paws reach for your bare breasts and you almost smack it away but your stomach lets out a painful growl and the lining of your stomach painfully retracts into your organs at that very moment almost as a signal to make you stop and reconsider your urges. Your body freezes and you let your eyes wander to the object of your humiliation and assured desecration. The sight causes for your dry mouth to salivate in a way you had been a stranger to before this.

A steaming bowl of stew with a jug of water. 

That is the deal. Jon says he will not force himself on you. No. Rather, you will willingly surrender yourself to his touch and mercy. You are to welcome his acquaintance with your intimates, thank him for it, moan for him, let yourself loose to his touch and enjoy everything he plans to do to you. 

Water for every pinch and grope.

Fire and warmth for every move and sway of your body like the whores you've shamed your whole life.

Food for every adulterous act. 

A treat for every ‘experimental’ position in the bed that is currently a heap of carelessly woven straws.

A possible improvement of living conditions for every bastard you bear him.

He can easily bring the appropriate means down in this dungeon that he has built specifically for you in the undergrounds of Castle Black to marry you and legalize as well as religiously sanction this depraved dynamic he has devised for the two of you. 

But just why would he do that when he can easily get what he wants from you whilst torturing you to live through exactly what you have shamed him for all your lives? 

. . .

MASTERLIST

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

Part 2

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tag list just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

16 years ago

“I’m going to catch you little rascal.” I called through the large hallways of the Red Keep attempting to catch my youngest brother Viserys who insisted we play chase this morning.

His silver white was getting tousled around while he ran around the corner with me trying to catch his heels. “You can't get me.”

“I think you doubt me far too much, little brother.” I smirked flying past the Targaryen banner near the wall rounding the corner he had gone around but he stopped running when I tackled him to the stone floor in my short dress. “Ha! I told you I'd get you.”

He whined underneath my hold. “That’s not fair.”

“Sister?” Yanking my head upward I saw my older brother Rhaegar standing a few steps away from us.

A few members of our fathers kingsguard were standing near the Iron Throne. I saw an older man with a bald head dressed in all red meaning it had to be the Hand of the King Tywin Lannister. “Um hi brother. What is going on here?”

“I was about to make this 16 year old a member of my Kingsguard until I was interrupted by you, daughter.” My father raised his tone towards me, sitting on the throne of swords.

I gulped knowing he didn’t have good control over his temper sometimes, especially around his children. “Forgive me, father. I didn't recall that it was today until this very moment.”

“It doesn't matter now. Get over there with your brothers and watch silently. Let's get this done. I don't wish to keep my wife waiting.” Father scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrests of the chair until a different kingsguard delivered him a sword and walked forward standing on the first two steps where the young boy was bent down on one knee before his king.

Tywin finally spoke up to the king. “State your name, boy.”

“Jaime of House Lannister. Son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister.” The boy of fifteen with the long blonde hair responded on command.

Father raised his sword tapping his shoulders with the tip individually declaring the oath that must be bestowed onto a knight. “In the name of the warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Jaime Lannister, a knight of Seven Kingdoms and a member of the Kingsguard.”

“Woo hoo! Um - my apology.” I began clapping, breaking the silence in the throne room causing everyone to turn their heads in my direction.

Father placed his sword inside his holder and two knights along with the Hand of the King retreated from the room without another word. That left me and my brothers alone with Jaime Lannister. “I've been meaning to talk to you, sister. I have news for you.” Rhaegar turned on his feet facing me.

“What news is that?” I asked him curiously.

He answered me with a half smile, mentioning the Dorne family we had gotten along with since one girl was a former lady and waiting for our mother Rhaella. “I'm going to marry Ella Martel.”

“That’s great news, brother.” Flinging my arms around his neck I giggled and he hugged me back now smiling too.

The typical tradition of our family was for brothers and sisters to Wed one another but it took our parents seven years before they had me. By that time our father had already been talking about wedding my brother off to some high born girl of his many kingdoms. “I'm rather happy with it myself. I must go tell our mother. Come Viserys.” Rhaegar took our young brother by the hand leaving me alone in the throne room.

Shifting my gaze around I felt a pair of eyes on me when I turned my back to the throne seeing that the newly named kingsguard Lannister hadn't left me alone like I believed he had. “Can I help you with something, ser Knight?”

“I should be asking you that question, my princess. For I am sworn to aid and protect you.” Jaime bowed his head at me.

I clasped my hands together in front of my dress, my hair swaying with the fabric as I moved over to stand in front of the new knight. “From my memory I was not ever required to have a personal knight following me around my childhood home.”

“Well those were the commands I have been given and I intend to follow them, princess.”

Holding up a hand I interrupted him before this conversation went on any further. “Please stop calling me princess. I have far too many people addressing me by that title. I’d rather have someone call me by my name.”

“I can arrange those terms. Who do I have the honor of meeting now before me?”

I crusty to the night holding up the fabric of my dress showing him how my silver hair was styled into a crown when I did so. “Vaella Targaryen.”

“Then I’ll just be Jaime to you, Vaella.” The Lannister lion sent me a cheeky smile, bright green eyes focusing on my purple ones.

Lightly twirling side to side in my dress I smirked towards him deciding I should get to have some fun with my personal knight while my father wasn’t around us because right now he didn’t appear to be so serious as he was now that it was just the two of us alone together. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaime. I do have a question for you though?”

“What is your question Vaella?” He asked resting his right hand on the handle of his sword attached to his hip.

Sticking my tongue out at the knight I bolted barely waiting to hear what his reaction would be. “Do you think you can catch me, Ser knight?”

“I don’t understand. Wait - seven hells Vaella!” Jaime shook his head, awe struck and confused till he noticed the silver hair and white dress disappearing further away from him.

He began chasing after me concerned that he would get in trouble if something bad happened to me. But he wouldn’t admit it until years later how much he wished they had the opportunity to go back to that life compared to all the chaos that would be thrown their direction.

Kings Landing - current day

Jaime was currently standing outside of the King's office in the hallway on guard duty. The current king who had sat on the throne once he had killed the Mad King and now the Baratheon signal flew high in the Red Keep. The current king called Jaime’s nickname wanting to speak with him. “Kingslayer, get in here! It must wound your pride. Standing out there, like a golden sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your king eats and drinks and shits and fucks. So, come on. We’re telling war stories. Who was your first kill, not counting the old men?”

“One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood.” He answered his king.

A fellow Kingsguard replied. “I was there that day. You were only a squire. Sixteen years old.”

“You killed Simon Toyne with a counter-riposte. Best move I ever saw.”

The other knight nodded. “Good fighter, Toyne. But he lacked stamina.

King Robert entered the conversation between the two Knights. “Your outlaw any last words?”

“I cut his head off. So, no.”

The king’s next question caused Jaime’s hand to drop down onto the handle of his sword. Recalling the night so vividly for more than one reason besides betraying the king he swore to protect. “What about Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?”

“He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. Burn them all.”

Silence fell inside the chamber room with the king silently staring at him for a few minutes. “Then we should all be grateful that we took care of all the Targaryens. The Seven Kingdoms didn’t need anymore reign or vows to a house whose words are Fire and Blood wouldn’t you agree?”

“It would seem so, your grace. If that is all I’ll take my leave.” Jaime bowed his head walking back out into the hallway and he didn’t release the tension in his shoulders and show emotion until he was away from the king. For the king was wrong in his words because not all the Targaryens were dead. One remained in Kings Landing and Jaime was the reason for it

And if the king ever found out both their heads would be on spikes.

[annoyinglysparklygalaxy]

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Glow

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Meereen!Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2313

Summary: Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion.

Blinking your eyes awake, your vision clears to reveal the window outlooking the city of Meereen. You nuzzle your face into your pillow as a hand lays protectively over your swollen abdomen. Smiling to yourself you do your best to shift onto your back and lay on your other side so you could face Daenerys Targaryen, your queen and the Mother of Dragons. She still had her eyes closed, a content smile on her full pink lips. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so beautiful. The Targaryens of old Valyria all had the characteristics that made Daenerys beautiful though, as she had told you. You couldn’t imagine an entire family filled with gorgeous people like her. Yet her beauty could not compare to her incredibly soft and kind heart. Like so many others she had saved you from Slaver’s Bay. Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion. The roundness of your belly reminded you of how impure you were.

Daenerys scoots closer to you so that her flat stomach is pressed against your rounded one. “Good morning.”

You smile. You should’ve known she would be awake. “Good morning.” You feel her hand caress your stomach again. She was always touching it, perhaps remembering of the time she had been pregnant. She had told you everything of her past and of the witch who had killed her husband and unborn son. The very same who had cursed her womb so that she would never be able to bare children. Joke was on Mirri Maz Duur. Daenerys not only had one child, but three. They were stronger than any human child and much more special. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion continued to grow larger, especially Drogon. Daenerys had already run into trouble though, they proved to be incredibly willful and had killed many livestock which their mother had to reimburse.

“Shall I call for someone to get you breakfast?” You murmur, still a little drowsy. Being pregnant had you constantly tired no matter how much you slept.

Daenerys shakes her head and lifts up one of her hands. As always, she gently touches your face and brings her lips upon your’s sweetly. Your heart races and the child inside of you begins to kick. Dany’s eyes light up at the feeling. She pulls away with a grin. “It always kicks when I kiss you.”

You blush and internally scold your unborn child for revealing your feelings for your queen. Instead you tried to play it off with a nervous giggle. “My child already loves it’s queen.”

Laughing, she slips out of bed and you quickly avert your eyes. Your beautiful queen always preferred to sleep in the nude. She grabs a robe and helps you out of bed. You wouldn’t mind sleeping nude beside her but you feared that your figure was not as beautiful as Daenerys’.

Missandei and other serving girls came in to help their silver haired queen get ready for the day. By command of the queen, they helped you too. Truthfully it was difficult for you to get ready by yourself. You grew weary just walking a few steps.

Queen Daenerys grabs hold of your hand and escorts you over to a small table that Daenerys had set up in her room. It was specifically for you considering that you had a hard time making it down the stairs to the dining hall. Since you were nearing the end of your pregnancy, Daenerys had been joining you at your small table for every meal. Several plates of fruit, meat, bread, and cheeses were brought in as well as a small bowl of olives. Not only were you always tired but you were always hungry too. You knew it was polite to chow down in front of your regal queen, but you couldn’t help but tear into a chunk of bread and start stuffing cheese into your mouth.

Missandei joined you as well, eating more politely than you could ever manage. She went over with Daenerys the schedule for the day. They spoke of those who had requested audience with her grace and how many there were planned for the day. You wished you could attend them with her, but until you popped out your child, you would be sequestered to the queen’s quarters.

As you finished up, Daenerys’ guards showed up to escort her to the audience chambers.

Patting her mouth clean, Dany leans over to kiss you. You blush once again but return the gesture, noticing how Daario and Jorah had looks of jealousy (although Daario did look more aroused than jealous).

Finding yourself alone you sigh and waddle out to the balcony patio. The sun beat down on the yellow city and made you sweat a little bit. Over the tops of buildings you look out to the sea. Even though you didn’t accompany Dany in her queenly duties, you knew that there was chaos in Meereen. People who were against her and wanted her dead. Of course, that might always be the case. The city was dying slowly with no trade going in or out of the ports and with most of their harvest having been burned by the masters.

Overhead you hear a familiar shriek. The first time you saw them you were understandably awestruck. . . that was until they had got too close to you then did you begin to fear them. But over time you grew accustomed to Dany’s dragon children. And much to even Daenerys’ surprise, the dragons seemed to dote on you. If that was even possible for a enormous fire breathing creature. While Drogon chose to travel further and further away from his mother, Viserion and Rhaegal still preferred to stay close. At the sight of you on the patio, both dragons swoop low until you can feel the breeze that they beat up with their wings. They land in front of you and Rhaegal instantly hobbles over to you. It was still alarming when they charged at you. Viserion follows his sibling over to you as Rhaegal lowers his head for you to pet him. They were hot to the touch but considering you were already warm from the temperature outside it didn’t phase you. His scales are coarse and rough as you run your palm up his head before giving his dark, green, scales a scratch. Wanting attention too, Viserion pushes Rhaegal out of the way causing the other to hiss and start a small fight as they snapped at each other and flew into the sky once again. You chuckle and watch them for a bit until the sun started to bother your eyes. Hesitantly you rub your hands over your stomach. You really didn’t know how to feel about being a mom. Considering your child wasn’t conceived out of love rather than lust and obligation. The master who had enslaved and impregnated you was now dead thanks to Daenerys. You couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about your child.

You sigh. Could you love this child?

“Queen Daenerys wanted me to let you know that she will unfortunately be late for dinner this evening and to eat without her.” Daario informed you later that day.

You frown, hoping that Daenerys wasn’t overworking herself. “Please make sure she has a snack at least.”

He smirks. “Of course.” Your dinner is brought in but he doesn’t leave.

Before eating, you set your fork down. Unnerved by the way he was looking at you. “Is there something else I can do for you Daario?”

“I couldn’t help but notice how you and Daenerys interact with each other. She seems to love you very much.”

“As I do her.”

Daario shakes his head. “The two of you are in love, that much is obvious. I’m just wondering what will happen once she has to take a husband.”

You knew where this was going. “If you haven’t noticed there’s already something preventing anything between Queen Daenerys and I.” You gesture to your stomach. “I doubt she really wants someone as tainted as me.”

Daario loses his playful smirk and sits down across from you. “She’s never seen you as tainted, I hope you know that. And you’re not. You had no choice in the matter of things before Daenerys took this city.”

“I do believe you’re being sincere.” You smirk and take a bite out of your dinner. “It’s quite shocking, but nice.”

His smile returns and Daario raises a glass to you. “Then let me continue to be sincere by saying you do look awfully radiant with your round belly. Glowing even.”

You laugh and he keeps you company until Daenerys wanders up with a shocked expression at the two of you talking and laughing. She raises her eyebrows up in confusion.

“What are you still doing here Daario?”

Leisurely he stands up. “Forgive me your grace, I was just keeping (y/n) company considering that you would be late to supper. I will be going now.” He bows and winks at you before leaving.

Daenerys’ violet eyes turn to you. “Did he say anything inappropriate to you?”

You shake your head. “No. He was an utter gentleman.”

That made her even more suspicious. “Gentleman? Daario?” Daenerys takes up Daario’s old seat. “Next time I’ll be sure to send Jorah. . . That Daario cannot be trusted.” Was that a hint of jealousy you detected?

Changing the subject you told her how you had seen Viserion and Rhaegal earlier. She timidly asked if you had spotted Drogon, to which you tell her you didn’t. Of course she wilted a little bit. It had been a few days since she had last seen her biggest dragon.

“He’ll turn up soon. I’m sure he’s just busy exploring the neighboring lands and finding more food so that he doesn’t have to keep eating cattle that belongs to your people.”

“That’s one way of seeing it I suppose.” She murmurs against her cup as she takes a long sip.

“Have faith in your children as they have faith in you.” You offer her a small smile.

Her face that had been so somber brightens and makes you clam up immediately from shyness. Warmth spread in your chest and you could feel your baby kick inside of you. To know that you were able to put such a smile on her face made you undeniably happy. A lowly creature such as yourself didn’t deserve to feel so happy.

“Your Grace-” Pain pierces into your abdomen and you gasp sharply, fingers squeezing your cloth napkin.

Her eyes widen in panic and she quickly rises to her feet. “(y/n)?”

Breathing harshly you try and tell her that you’re fine, but another stab makes you cry. Daenerys immediately calls for help and somehow manages to get you onto her bed. Weakly you complain about how her sheets will be ruined by the end of it, but it falls on deaf ears. She’s 100% focused on delivering your baby. A flock of women and Missandei rush in with water and cloth. Daenerys refuses to leave your side, holding your hand the entire time.

Even with your little girl in her arms, Daenerys continues to cry. You yourself had wept when Missandei put her in your arms; a pink, screaming, little thing. In Daenerys’ arms though she had quieted down.

“She’s beautiful.” Dany whispers, truly in awe of the infant in her arms. You let her have her moment, knowing that she had been unable to have such a tender moment with her own child. Then you heard her whisper “Three heads. . .”

“What?”

“There’s three heads of the dragon. . .” She continues to murmur more so to herself.

“Of your sigil?” As a gift she had given you a piece of cloth that had the sigil of House Targaryen stitched into it. A red three-headed dragon amidst black.

“My ancestor Aegon the Conqueror flew to Westeros alongside his two sisters. That’s why our house has a three headed dragon to represent the three dragons that conquered Westeros. My own dragons adore you, (y/n).”

You still weren’t following. What did dragons have to do with your baby?

Eyes like that of amethyst turn back to you. Realizing what she had said out loud she blushes and hands you back your daughter. “Nevermind. I should leave mother and child to rest.” She gives you a weak smile and turns to leave.

“Dany wait.”

You shock even yourself when you use her nickname.

“W-Won’t you lay with us? You’ve already seen how much my daughter loves you already. . . Just like I do. . .”

Daenerys draws closer. Her violet eyes regarding you with complete love and adoration. She didn’t have to say it out loud, you could finally see it in her eyes. Her lips part then close, thinking better not to speak. Both of you knew there would be complications in your relationship. You’d work it out though when the time came. Right now though, you just wanted to be a happy family.

She cuddles against you, her head comfortably against your’s as she gazed at your daughter. “What will you name her?”

“I thought you could name her. It would be a great honor.”

Daenerys smiles, her fingers brushing against your daughter’s cheek tilting her head so that her lips grazed the shell of your ear. “Rhaella.”

You turn your head, lips mere inches away from her’s. “A lovely name.”

She smiles and closes the gap, kissing you.