#LAENOR. an honorable man with a kind heart

[heireign]

TAG DROP. p1.

[vanilleandclove]

the meadow in which you lay | 0

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | prologue: the queen of love and beauty

Ser Erryk Cargyll and his twin brother, Arryk, were both renowned and prideful- in their own right- knights, members of the Kingsguard at just eight and ten, their reputation precedes them.

word count: 1.2k | warnings: mentions of sexual encounters, brief description of violence, viserys is in fact canon in this universe

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As King Viserys held a tourney to honor Queen Aemma being with child to which strengthened his ascension to the throne as King Jaehaerys I named him heir rather than his cousin, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen who never was. Your father and mother, along with your brothers and the company of you attended the great council. As one of Rhaenrya's ladies in waiting, you were delighted to attend such an honor. To uphold centuries of traditions and of course, sneak a glance at the newly knighted Cargyll twins. Many can not depict the twins from each other, but you could. As Erryk always made your bones burn and heart leap from your chest, Arryk would smile at your presence platonically, a simple nod.

"You are aware of the oaths they both swore to my father are you not?" Rhaenrya smiled as she elbowed your forearm that was resting on the chair arm, Alicent to her left, as you sat on her right. Your mother always told you to never be too close to a Hightower, specifically that of Otto's line. Alicent was kind, akin to her mother.

"I know of it" you slyly commented, catching yourself fantasizing of the man who's held your heart since he was inducted into the Kingsguard, House Cargyll wasn't a great house as your was, the Arryn's always being interwind with the Targaryen's as Aemma was your father's sister. Though, House Cargyll was still noble, your father would have married you off to Erryk without question had he not swore oaths bounded to the King. "It is just a simple crush" you continued, biting your lip as the knight gathered his armor to dress into.

"An infatuation is what it is," Alicent chuckled, "Though I must say, out of all the knights, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk must be the easiest on the eyes- no offense to that of Daemon 'Nyra".

An infatuation that will lead you to an unwanted vow of celibacy, you might as well become a Septa, perhaps the Wall needs a woman to help. As you twiddled your rings and anxiously picked the skin off of your fingers, you took a swig of wine as the tourney was to start at any moment. Wondering if the heavier the emotions you feel, the better chance of the knight of your dreams feeling them as well, wondering as well if your feelings were a curse. Honor is the death of love; love is the death of honor.

Truth be told, Ser Erryk, before his knighthood, was to be your husband. As the several stolen kisses when just six and ten, led to the restraint of lust and bedding. You could not explain your feelings in words, knowing you'd falter to perfectly describe them. The knight knew how to make you heated, heated in the terms of being overwhelmed with lust to the point of pain. The knight knew what made you laugh, gregariously, what made you cry to the point of wailing. The knight knew your curves even with the layers of dressing. An honor only the two of you know of, knowing if you told Alicent, she'd tell her father. If you told Rhaenyra, you'd fear not being able to contain the feelings you hold so deeply between you and him.

"Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" King Viserys proudly shouted, "Let the tourney begin!". You heard Princess Rhaenys and her Lord-husband, Corlys, spite the games, asking if this is how we should celebrate something as beautiful as a birth, with mindless violence. Behind you sat her children, Laenor and Laena, two beautiful and driven children around the age of Rhaenyra, you, and Alicent.

Staring off into the distance, you gripped your own hand, breath quickening to the point of your breasts being awkwardly exposed to the knight in front of you; Alicent took note to the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, had she be in the same position as you, she'd be sweltering.

"Lady Y/N Arryn, may I kindly ask for your favor?" Ser Erryk smiled at you brightly, his eyes, kissed by the ocean, they shined brightly in the sun.

You kindly sat up, grabbing your favor, before kissing it and latching it on his lance. "Shall your stead and you win gloriously, I beg you to not forget the Lady whom granted your favor". Erryk smirked slightly at your comment, taking in your now more matured body, it's been several moons since he's last seen you, granted the last, the lights were rather dim and your complete upper torso was bare. Nipples perked with lust, his mouth leaving bits on your chest as his hands fondled your bottom half, being careful as to not penetrating you and potentially taking your maidenhead. Your cunt was desirably soaked, your moans sinfully bouncing off the halls of stone, praying the moment were to last forever. If only Viserys swore him off to the City Watch, you'd be swollen with his child.

"Is there something we do not know about?" Rhaenyra noted with lightheartedness as you sat down.

"A woman- a Lady- does not share her bedroom details 'Nyra" you answered only leading her curiosity to run wild, she simply leaned in closer to your shoulder to whisper.

"Did he take your maidenhead?" Rhaenyra questioned, curious as to what her cousin was sinfully capable of since the last time she saw her for her name day of six and ten.

"Gods no," You laughed in reply, hearing the joust continue as Ser Erryk reigned victoriously, winking at you as you locked eyes. "Though I must admit, the knight does has hands of a god" you teased to your cousin.

Rhaenyra sat silent the rest of the tourney, as Ser Criston Cole eventually reigned victor, you quietly made your way to the knight's tents, as the brutality that took place, you'd rather find solace in talking to the one knight whom could bring joy under any circumstance.

"Thank you for asking for my favor Ser Erryk," you spoke up, nearly stunning the knight who was accustomed to the former silence, "Though you were unhorsed, your efforts and vigor will be remembered".

"You speak as if I am dying soon Lady Arryn" Erryk chuckled at the comment, "Any word of the Queen's condition?".

"Surprisingly no, granted I cannot find my dear uncle or that of Rhaenyra" you answered, lightly twiddling your thumbs.

"You're nervous" Erryk pointed out, only leading you to correct your posture, "Not that m'Lady, your thumbs- you only rip skin and play with them when you're nervous".

You were shocked the dear knight remember your quirks, had it been so long and his training leading to a foggy eclipse on his memory, the scars that litter his body like a ballad lead you to wonder how much he has changed, better yet how much has he stood the same.

"It's a bad habit Ser" you lightly speak up, humbled by his acknowledgement of your habits, "I was worried".

There was a pregnant pause before Erryk stood up from his makeshift sitting arrangement, a tree stump, his armor long discard, he reached for your hands before speaking up.

"Why did you seek the pleasure of my company love? Your ladies must be wondering where you must be" the knight questioned, staring intently in the eyes of the woman whom holds his soul.

"Let them wonder" you whispered to him, cupping his cheek, feeling the harsh stubble grow, the stubble that once scraped the inner portion of your thighs as you climaxed on the owner's chin.

The calm before the storm, held in your hands as the knight stared into your eyes, the love that mended your soul yet broke your bones.

[illyrianbrat]

Normal Life (Lucerys Velaryon imagine)

Normal Life (Lucerys Velaryon imagine)

Pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x female!reader

Requested: yes

Warning: its short sorry, also calm down, there's nothing bad in this, just the angst that comes with being “a bastard” in westeros

House Targaryen was amazing and powerful, it was an honor to live around them. They were very kind as well. Hearing their tales about dragons and Valyria was mesmerizing.

Y/N Martell was sent to Dragonstone years after the battle in the Stepstones, as a symbol of peace. Princess Rhaenyra took her in as a ward, promising that no harm would come to her or her family. She arrived shortly after Lady Laena’s and Ser Laenor’s deaths.

Thankfully for her, the family was genuinely nice, including Daemon. Y/N was fearful of him in the beginning, often going another way when he approached her. He knew she was scared of him but also knew it would take time for Y/N to realize she was safe there.

One of the children warmed up to her instantly, and that was Lucerys, even though the rest treated her as one of their own. He was sweet and shy to others, but his real personality broke through once they met. He would often take her to the dragonpit for training, insisting Arrax and her should also form a bond. Jace would often laugh at this, he knew his brother felt affection towards the girl but he let them be.

Six years after Y/N arrived in Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra received a letter about what Vaemond Velaryon was planning to do.

“Luke?” Y/N called out, outside of his chambers. “Lucerys?” She called again after a few minutes, only to receive no answer. Walking in, she found the boy sitting on his bed, just staring at the ground. “Luke?”

He finally lifted his gaze to look at her, he had been crying. Y/N expression softened and sat next to him, pulling Luke into a comforting hug.

“Are you alright?” She asked him, he shook his head, pulling away from her. “Is it because of your uncle?”

“This will ruin everything,” he whispered.

“It won't,” Y/N reassured him. “Your mother will not let anything bad happen, you know that.”

“I just want to live a normal life,” Luke confessed, looking at her. “To live in a place where kings and lords, and bastards and legitimacy do not matter.”

Y/N sighed, feeling sad for him. “Lucerys, it will all go well. I am sure Lord Corlys will recover and return to Driftmark. He named you heir years ago and never backed away from it. He will teach you how to command a fleet.”

“I don't want it,” Luke told her, feeling slightly aggravated now. “I don't want the Driftmark throne."

“It is your birthright-”

“It's not!” Luke exclaimed. “I am a bastard.”

“Lucerys!” Y/N gasped in terror, quickly looking at the door, afraid someone would walk in after what he said.

“They act as if I am not, but everyone knows. Nobody would be questioning us if we looked like Laenor.”

“Isn't Princess Rhaenys part Baratheon?” Y/N wondered.

Luke scoffed. “Nobody cares about that.”

“That could explain your dark hair,” she pointed out.

Luke stood up and started pacing around. “The man I looked up to was not my real father. At least that is what others say.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

“I don't know,” he said in defeat. “Part of me says I am a true Velaryon but the other part says I am a Strong.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, it has been a long time since she had heard that name. She did not get to meet Ser Harwin or Lord Lyonel, since her arrival on the island was after they passed. She heard whispers about it, how Princess Rhaenyra was unfaithful to Ser Laenor with him, and how all three children were bastards. Thanks to the other maids, Y/N found out about a lot of the rumors. How Ser Harwin would sneak into the Princess’ chambers and how he was there for Lucerys’ birth. However, she knew it was forbidden to speak about.

“I’m not supposed to know about that,” Luke chuckled softly. “And I should not be speaking about it.”

“Then stop speaking about it,” Y/N suggested.

“If it is real and others find out, my family will die.” Even if he did not say it out loud, Luke was terrified, he always has been.

“The king will not allow any harm to come your way,” Y/N reminded him, standing up to grab his hands. “Viserys loves you all, he will take your side.”

Luke was still unsure but decided to drop the subject. He was grateful Y/N was there. He knew he could not go to his mother or Jace with these worries, they would most likely dismiss it.

“Luke?” Princess Rhaenyra called, entering his chambers. “Oh, here you both are,” she smiled at them.

“Yes, mother?” Luke replied.

“We are leaving soon. Are you ready?”

He glanced at Y/N, who smiled at him. “Yes, I am."

[captainswanapproved]

An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 1

A03, Prologue

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

“Alicent continues to spread her poison, Laenor. I do not know how to protect my claim.”

“I wish that the gods had not made me the way I am. I have failed you, Princess,” Laenor said, hopelessly.

“Do not wish that, Laenor. You have done your duty. You have stayed by my side. You are a kind and honorable man.”

Laenor gave her a half smile. “I wish it was enough, Rhaenyra. What we need,” Laenor said, “is someone you can trust. Someone who loves you and is loyal to you. A man who can get you with child without arousing suspicion of parentage.”

Rhaenyra stared at her husband. “And who might this paragon be?”

Laenor raised a brow. “Can you think of no one?”

Rhaenyra’s heart tightened in her chest. “No,” she said. “I cannot ask this of him.”

“Prince Daemon is the only suitable option. Unless you wish for me to ask my father or uncle.”

Rhaenyra swatted Laenor. “Your mother would try to feed me to Meleys. As for Vaemond, he most certainly will not do.”

“Then you agree,” Laenor said smugly. “You must summon Daemon back to court.”

It had been a year since their parting, and Rhaenyra had spent most of those days trying to exorcise Daemon from her heart. Her efforts had been for naught. She still yearned for him, especially when she was alone in bed taking her own satisfaction, imagining that her slender fingers were Daemon’s.

She and Laenor had not shared a bed in a moon, and they never would again. She gave her blessing for Laenor to begin an affair with Ser Qarl, an honorable young man who had fought in the Stepstones. Laenor did not disgrace her with his activities. He was discreet and mindful of her reputation. She loved him for his consideration.

“Rhaenyra, if you and Daemon conceive a son, our troubles will be solved. If you can have more than one son, your claim to the throne will be further solidified.”

“I do not think it is that simple, Laenor,” Rhaenyra said. It would be all too easy for her to love him again. And he would only be with her to see his child on the Iron Throne.

“I saw you at the wedding, looking as though you wished to devour each other. I know he hurt you, Rhaenyra. We both lost a loved one that evening. The difference is that yours is still living.”

Rhaenyra flushed, remembering the sensation of Daemon’s strong hand gripping her face and neck. They had been careless that evening, flaunting their passion. Had Daemon stayed, her father would have banished him again.

Laenor took her hand. “You are a remarkable woman, Rhaenyra, but your fire has been dimmed since we wed. You allowed me to find happiness with my lover. I only want the same for you.”

“Daemon does not love me, at least not as a man loves a woman,” Rhaenyra said.

 “Perhaps not, but you cannot deny his love and devotion to his family. He will agree to the proposition, and you will have endless opportunities to make him love you. Summon him back to court, Rhaenyra.”

“Very well. I shall write to him,” Rhaenyra said.

Laenor kissed her cheek. “It truly will be for the best.” He left her in solitude.

Rhaenyra stood and made her way to the table in the corner of her chambers. It was piled with quills, ink, parchment, wax, and the Targaryen seal.

In spite of Laenor’s assurances, Rhaenyra was not entirely convinced that Daemon would answer the summons. He was not one to surrender his autonomy or to do as he was bid. He was proud of their heritage, almost too proud. Could he truly sire a son upon her without wanting to claim him?

Laenor spoke of Daemon’s love for her, but Rhaenyra was no longer the naïve young girl she had been when she last saw her uncle. The past year had hardened her heart. Alicent and Otto Hightower’s political games were beginning to wear her down. If she could not deliver a true Targaryen boy, Rhaenyra was certain that her half-brother Aegon would replace her.

Rhaenyra would have to swallow her wounded pride. She dipped the quill in the ink and began to write.

Uncle,

I hope this letter find you well.

You once told me that marriage is only a political arrangement. I must admit your words have proven to be true. Laenor is a fine man, honorable, and kind, but he cannot be a husband to me. We have tried to do our duty, and in our failure, I have given Laenor leave to find his pleasures elsewhere.

As the future queen, I do not have that luxury. I must have an heir to consolidate my claim and line of succession. If my children do not have the Targaryen looks, they will be condemned as bastards.

The Hightowers are using my failure to produce an heir against me. There are rumors that I am infertile, propagated by the queen herself. The viper’s venom is spreading in court.

I need you, Uncle. I need a true Targaryen heir. Come to King’s Landing and put a child in me.

This need only be a political arrangement, one that will end with your son taking the Iron Throne.

I know you do not love me as a man loves a woman. I have made my peace with that, but I hope that you still love me as your niece. I cannot face this threat without you, Uncle.

Do not send me your answer. I will watch the skies for Caraxes.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, and heir to the Seven Kingdoms

Rhaenyra sanded the letter and folded it carefully. The scarlet wax pooled on the parchment and she pressed the three headed dragon into it.

When the letter was safely in the hands of a maester, Rhaenyra took to her bed. She prayed that Daemon would take pity on her and return. Their coupling would be a duty, but it was the only solution. She would simply have to think of it as a political arrangement.

***

“Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife.”

Daemon kissed his beloved princess, pouring all his devotion into the caress. He worshipped her with every stroke, clung to her as though she was the only real thing in the world. She cried his name in pleasure, pulling him ever closer to her.

Caraxes and Syrax roared their pleasure when the deed was done. Rhaenyra was his wife at last, and no one, not that cunt Otto Hightower, or his foolhardy brother would tear them asunder.

Daemon was dragged back into the harsh reality by a pounding on his chamber door. He was hard and alone in his bed. The carved dragon looked mockingly down at him, reminding him of all he had lost.

The pounding didn’t stop.

Daemon rose from the bed, naked as his name day and unashamed of his arousal.

Maester Gerardys averted his eyes when he presented a sealed letter to Daemon. “Forgive me for disturbing you at such an early hour, my prince. This has just arrived from King’s Landing.”

Daemon snatched the letter from the maester and slammed the door. His damned brother had ruined a perfectly good dream.  After a year of silence from King’s Landing, Daemon expected dark words.

The letter, however, was not from Viserys. Daemon recognized the elegant script of his niece and his heart clenched.

The letter contained a proposal of an unusual kind. It did not surprise him that Laenor had failed to sire any children. Nor did it surprise him that Rhaenyra wrote with the confidence of a future queen, demanding what she needed of him and expecting him to obey.

And obey he would. Daemon had never denied Rhaenyra anything she asked for, with the exception of that one night. She had been a child then, and in stealing her away, they would have insulted the Velaryons. This would have been a political disaster on par with any of Viserys’s foolish choices. Yes, Daemon had wanted to wed her, had wanted to make her his wife, but it would have led to disaster.

Beyond that, it would have ruined him. Loathe as he was to admit it, Rhaenyra Targaryen had an inexplicable power over him. Taking her to the brothel had been a game, but the moment she returned his kiss, she had cast a spell on him. His love for her went beyond the love he felt for his family. He burned for her, wanted her as he had never wanted anyone else. A year away from her had not changed that.

But if she believed that theirs would be a political arrangement, he would treat it as such. He would serve her faithfully and give her as many children as she would allow.

He would not allow his love for her to cloud his judgement. It would destroy him to surrender his heart only to have it crushed beneath her pretty foot.

Daemon Targaryen summoned a servant. “Prepare a trunk. I ride for King’s Landing today.”

[heireign]

@loreforged : 🕯️ - harwin ( send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character. )

“ he is kind, and gentle. you would not think that a man so lauded for his strength could be so much of both, and yet — he is both, entirely both. he is kind to me. he was so kind to me, at a time that I needed it the upmost. what he has sacrificed for me, what he has risked for me…. i do not give him anything in turn, not nearly enough to amount for the placing of his family’s honor on the line, not nearly enough for what he risks in carrying on with me. I do not doubt my head would like be safe from the block, but his would not. he knows it, I know it. he cannot claim the children he has sired, he cannot know his children as such as what they are to him, and any other man would not cleave so to the indignities of that. he has never been so prideful in my presence, or in any matter concerning our children. I know it is difficult for him, and yet he has remained steadfast in the keeping of our secrets. I do not see what could possibly have been worth it for him, no matter the circumstances of my marriage, he was committing treason. freely. it could not have been merely myself that drove him to it. I can offer him nothing of value and he has given me everything. my heart cannot be the price of his head. he has solved all of what…. I did not know how I would have had a child, or if i would ever. after laenor and I ceased trying to that end. and I love laenor, I have always loved laenor. he is one my dearest and closest friends. yet I did not want to be his bride. I knew. I have known that the two of us siring children together would be difficult. I know myself, I know I could never force him into anything he would not willingly endure for duty’s sake, and yet — I needed them, even still. laena would have doubtless had children and even only having daughters, lord corlys had nephews. I only had my brothers. and if I named my brother my heir what purpose would my own rule have served ?

how endlessly difficult would it become to maintain my hold on my throne when my brother could supplant me all the easier ? they would’ve named me barren, and I would not have corrected them, even in the face of their mockery - I would not have corrected them. it would be better, that, a small variation in the litany of vitriol that blotted mine own name then whatever laenor would no doubt know with the truth. I was at a loss, on what might be done. if there was anything to do. I had not expected it…. I did not seek him out for that purpose. I just wanted to feel, something. anything other than that looming sense of dread. that cold steel that one feels when they’re bracing for an inevitable impact. I wanted to be wanted. I did not want to feel so trapped. I did not want to feel as if part of me deserved to be mocked for having desires. that the trajectory that my life has taken from the existence of …. all of it, is entirely my own doing. I did not want to feel as if I was mocking myself for wanting to take part in it of my own will, outside of the marriage bed. that perhaps it made any of it true.

he was kind to me, when I needed it the most. he was gentle with me. he was always going to leave. I had always known he would need leave — and I suppose that was the price I had known I would always need pay. he was always going to leave, even if I did not want him to leave, I could not ask him to make yet another sacrifice for my benefit. I would not ask him to sacrifice his birthright and any future he might build for himself that he could claim proudly, any children he might sire that he could claim, proudly - i have been selfish with him, in being with him. knowing that my own sacrifices were not near as severe as death. at the least when he leaves he will be alive, out there. he will be able to be happy, no matter how i might feel about his departure. it does not matter how i feel. it cannot matter how i feel, and yet. i do not want him to leave. whatever else, I trust him. he knows the most precious of my secrets, and even when he is no longer at my side, i need trust him to keep it for the safety and continued security of our boys — and i do. i do not doubt that he shall safeguard that truth. “