#The Court of Five Thrones

[kezcope]

First post on tumblr!! I thought it would be fitting if the first thing I posted would be some fanart of one of my favorite characters from @not-poignant fae tales verse. Augus Each Uisge is such an enjoyable character to read and I’ll definitely be drawing him again.

[not-poignant]

Birthday Spotlight - Fenwrel the Mouse Maiden

[May 14 - Taurus]

The short, round graceful mouse maiden who is terrifyingly powerful, and a compassionate and fierce mother, Fenwrel joins the Fae Tales cast asking first for asylum, but then making it very clear that she should be part of Gwyn's Court. She becomes so invaluable she eventually becomes Inner Court, and then the consort to the Queen-in-Waiting, Gulvi Dubna Vajat.

Formidable as a foe, and ambitious even as a friend, sometimes even playful and mischievous, Fenwrel is proud of being Unseelie and powerful, and is a stern, wise, compassionate friend. She offers wise counsel to those around her, but secretly just wants to live a comfortable life where she wields the power to make it comfortable for the people she loves as well.

‘Yes! That’s what I am! And there’s a lot of us! We could take you down. So don’t you mouse me. You need allies, Each Uisge. Don’t lose the ones you have.’

The Court of Five Thrones

The Court of Five Thrones - First appearing as about the only truly wise and grounded member of Gwyn's Court (at least at first), Fenwrel comes in with true ambitious and ruthlessness, desiring an increase in status, a place in the Court and making no pretense as to her motives, which including ensuring the protection of her family. A strong mother, Master Mage, and powerful ally, Augus expects Fenwrel to hate him, and is surprised to find that she's a true confidante.

The Court of Five Thrones - Without Fenwrel's steady and uncompromising vision, compassion and communication throughout The Court of Five Thrones, the other characters would have been lost without her. She also falls in love with Gulvi, and together, they become the second power couple of the Unseelie Court, readying themselves to step into power during The Ice Plague.

The Ice Plague I: The Forest of Fire - Fenwrel and Gulvi step up as consort and Queen-in-Waiting, as Gwyn and Augus leave on an expedition with Mosk and Eran. Fenwrel also makes it clear to Eran that she'll not put up with any of his nonsense, casting a geas on him that makes it impossible for him to use his fire until it becomes clear he won't use it to harm Mosk again.

The Ice Plague III: The Ice Plague - Unseen throughout book 2 due to the lack of teleportation and staying busy with the Unseelie Court, Fenwrel becomes a steady presence at the end offering her wealth of her magic and resources to everyone, including Mosk Manytrees, crucial in the final battle against Olphix.

Unwound - Gwyn finds himself frustrated and annoyed by Fenwrel's habit of both treating him as an unruly child, and also demanding that he be open with Augus instead of avoiding him. Fenwrel is right, of course, but that doesn't mean Gwyn has to like it!

Tumblr Prompts: Fae Tales - The only Fenwrel perspective story, chapter 3 of the prompts shows Fenwrel mixing herbs and musing on her connection to Gulvi, ending in her kissing Gulvi thoroughly, and making it clear she's in charge.

All That We Were, All That We Will Ever Be - Fenwrel is briefly in the final epilogue of the canon Gwyn and Augus epilogue, there offering her compassion and understanding to Augus throughout Gwyn's recovery, even though Augus doesn't want it at all.

The Best of Broken Resolutions - In a short AU, Gulvi is scandalised when Augus mentions that he already knows Fenwrel - the head of Interiors - is fucking her.

The Spoils of the Spoiled - Fenwrel comes into the story as a high-powered lawyer who is competent enough and willing enough to face Crielle and Lludd on Gwyn's behalf in an emancipation case. Powerful and ruthless, Gwyn finds himself feeling intensely pressured by her to do more than he wants to, and needs to be encouraged by the people around him to remember that he doesn't have to take things to trial just because Fenwrel wants to.

Underline the Black - (unmentioned / future mention). As the manager and CEO of the sister site to Hillview, Fenwrel is an alpha and partner to omega Gulvi.

Fenwrel is a short, extremely powerful Master Mage and mouse maiden in the canon Fae Tales series. Unable to properly appear in human form, she always has mouse ears and a mouse tail, as well as some other features even in 'human form.' She carries a Mage staff with her.

Fenwrel has black hair, black eyes, and brown skin, and is fat and beautiful, with a strong sense of fashion.

From the fae side of Kerala, she is disconnected from her heritage due to choices made by her family, though she will still wear Indian clothing. As a result, her children are more connected to it by personal choice and she has been finding more connection through them.

She is a fierce and proud mother, and will do anything for her children, but also lets them be free spirits.

Fenwrel is strong-willed and rarely insecure, it's clear that she's worked hard for what she's achieved in life, and she shows a level of confidence that is earned and not arrogance. She tends to be grounded and thoughtful, and not at all self-effacing.

Despite not being a healer, she is adept at aspects of healing, and has a lot of natural compassion.

Fenwrel established herself as a loyal and caring friend when she became Augus' confidante, though he would have preferred not to have one at all. She saw him in some of his most vulnerable and raw moments, and offered counsel, compassion and care, even when he was collapsed on the ground post severe flashback. She's crucial in helping him to heal his meridians.

When Augus comes upon something fatal in The Court of Five Thrones, she stands up to Gwyn with the coldness of someone who needs to prioritise. We see Gwyn get ordered about like a child, in spite of his distress. It's revealed later that she gave up years of her life to secure Augus'.

In The Ice Plague I, Fenwrel suppresses Eran's fire powers, finding him cruel and heartless in his treatment of Mosk. Later though, realising how severe the spell was, she apologises openly.

In every story, Fenwrel always occupies a position of high power, being a lawyer, head of a section of a company, CEO, Master Mage etc.

Fenwrel is always quite ambitious and determined, sometimes even seeming cold, but it's clear that she's often operating from a strong ethical position.

Fenwrel is always short, always fat, and always Indian.

Fenwrel is always something of a compass for other characters, even when she's not directly in the story, or not in it much, except when she's there as Gulvi's lover.

She's always Gulvi's lover, with the exception of The Spoils of the Spoiled.

I wanted to add more women characters to The Court of Five Thrones, and Fae Tales in general, and Fenwrel came in quite naturally. I wanted to write her as fat, ambitious, compassionate, ruthless. Qualities that we don't often see together in a woman character. I wanted her motherhood to not be the most important thing in her life even though it is important, that she never lost any of her selfhood to 'being a mother' and I also wanted her to be ambitious without losing her maternal compassion. I worried about how to write her, but Fenwrel appeared and just seemed to naturally flow from there. I never really struggled with any scene she was in.

Fenwrel's always scared me a little in the sense that we're all very lucky she wants to be a good guy, because if she chose to be a villain, we'd all be fucked lol

I loved subverting the idea of a mouse shifter being 'mousy' (like Terho is lol), and making her instead very strong and bold. In her very first scene, Augus talks down to her for being a 'mouse' and it's clear in a moment that she's proud of it, and will tolerate no nonsense from him.

Fenwrel is a top / dominant. Short Queens for life. I especially indulged in the chemistry that Fenwrel and Augus had together, and it was one of my favourite things to write in The Court of Five Thrones.

‘I have always been powerful, and I have never lacked for nourishment, because where there is imperfection, there is food for me. Perhaps you’ll just have to trust that I’m not trying to tip the world further into disharmony.’

The Court of Five Thrones

[haennsche]

" 'Do not think me a fool', the raven prince said. 'Your mind is like what mine might be, were my mind broken.' " -from "a broken feather, straightened" by @not-poignant on ao3

THESE TWO I CANNOT KDTDOOGFGFKSLGFKS their stories tear my heart apart, good lord (also there are so many quotes like this one that just get me every time)

I had this idea for an illustration of Augus and the raven prince and here it is.

[agameofbooksblog]

Some of my 5 star reads this year!

[optimisticmosquito]

heavenly demon SY au, with a teaspoon of familial cumplane and a pinch of shenliushen.

Some decade before the tianxi era TLJ has a one night stand with a male demon who gets pregnant. Surprise! it's airplane who wanted a taste of that doomed heavenly pillar. He's older than MBJ in this au and hasn't had the chance to meet young MBJ yet. MBJ has enough on his plate without some random older demon howering around him. SQH is many things a creep he is not, thank you very much.

So instead he gets pregnant by TLJ, has a cry session, wonders if he's going to birth the protagonist, cries some more over all the death flags he has raised for himself, and then just accepts his fate. TLJ doesn't care much about this little surprise, it was just a one night stand after all. However, his advisors have been nagging him about getting hitched and producing heirs, so he sees his chance to finally getting rid of one problem by throwing the other one at it. Very clever indeed!

SQH becomes TLJs first concubine. SQH does not become empress, but until TLJ marries further, he's as good as one. So SQH (with babybump proudly on display) starts fixing up TLJs court, all administrative tasks, and generally making it run smoother than it has for generations. TLJ is happy as can be, finally he can leave his empire for months on end to follow his true calling, reading and watching every human romance story that has ever been produced!

SQH gives birth to a healthy baby boy. But before he can think of naming him LBH, the System interrupts and has him name it SY instead (weird cause neither him nor TLJ is named Shen). SQH figures this is either another transmigrator or the system has plans involving this child. Which, dude, hands off his spawn! Not cool.

SY grows up as the apparent heir to the entire demon realm. Which is awesome! He can pretty much do anything he wants whenever he wants. But also, what about LBH? He isn't meant to be the demon emperor, that's his future didis job! Fuck, he is going to have to fight LBH for the throne isn't he? He's so dead.

It doesn't help that his mother (second father? He's not going to think too long on the logistics behind his birth) is strange even for demonic standards. For a demon he is increadibly skittish, always avoiding conflict like the plague. And he constantly walks around muttering to himself, stoping the moment anyone comes within hearing distance. Although, SY has to admit he's a pretty good parent all things considered. He always makes sure SY has everything he needs and puts away at least one day a week just for the two of them.

SY does find out who SQH is when he one day hears him mumble about the plot and LBH. SY interrogates him and finds out he's another transmigrator. That explains a lot! SQH is happy to learn his child is another transmigrator and not a puppet for the system to push its agenda. So happy in fact he spills he's actually the author of this world, which sends SY through the five stages of grief before circling back to anger. What do you mean that lousy hack author is his mother!?!? Someone end his misery, this should count as child abuse!

He has half of the mind to run away and never be seen again but SQH begs him to stay. He's only in this position bc SY exists and if SY runs away he might get kicked out or pressured into having another child. SY despite it all still on some level sees SQH as his parent and reluctantly agrees to stay and continue on his path as heir. He hasn't met TLJ that often and he knows TLJ wouldn't do anything to stop the rest of his court if they decided to kick SQH out.

So life continues until news arrive about TLJ being burried under a mountain. SQH tells SY that SXY is LBHs mother and probably imprisoned in HHP at that moment. They decide the best course of action would be to kidnap SXY and bring her to the demon realm. SQH should have enough control over the empire even with TLJ gone. Especially with SYs help as the de facto heir and a heavenly demon in his own right.

SY for his part is also fully on board with this plan. He can help raise the protagonist and give him the childhood he deserves? Count him in! It would also help to be on good terms with LBH if he ever decides to take over the demon realm. SY would gladly help him take the throne!

However, before they can set any plan in motion the system assigns them a mission to keep the demon realm from falling into chaos. Moments later the court splinters as factions start fighting each other over power, and the empire dives into unrest and civil war. At the end SY comes out on top and is crowned as the new emperor.

They are too late to do anything as the coldest day of the year has already passed. When they try and send people out to find the newborn LBH they are met by HHP cultivators searching for SXY and end up in multiple skirmishes. In the end SY pulls the demons back over the border when the sects, thinking SY is out to revenge his father, starts threatening with another war.

SY is beyond himself, now how will he escape the protagonists wrath!? SQH deals with the setback the only way he knows, by burying himself in the administrative work. The following years SY spends stabilizing the realm with SQHs help (it's mostly SQH), and starts travelling around to see what the world has to offer. He soon gets a reputation of taking after his father.

SQH all the while continues to run the realm by himself again (nothing new there) and meets the future king of the Northern desert, Mobei-jun. Mobei-jun of course immediately takes interest in the MILF of the demon realm. Half the time he acts like a frightened rodent, the other half he rules the demons with an iron fist, what demon wouldn't be besotted! (SY is well aware most of the realm seems to have the hots for his mother. He tries not to think about it.)

MBJ starts trying to court SQH in typical demonic fashion. H e tries to fight SQH, sends gifts in the form of treasures and kills, and gives over power of the northern desert to SQH. SQH is used to this type of treatment. Most demons seems to want to hit him for some reason? He just writes off the gifts as taxes. And isn't it only natural for demons to push all the work on those that are weaker. MBJ has his work cut out for him.

Meanwhile SY starts travelling the human realm in search of his lost little brother. He's hoping to at least find him before LBH joins CQM. He should be able to at least stop that much of the abuse LBH is meant to experience. And he does find him! At the steps of CQM 10 years after his disappearance. Shit.

SY doesn't dare get too close yet. His disguise isn't good enough to test the scrutiny of cultivators, so going up to LBH right now would be suicide. He decides to come back later, after getting an artifact that would let him hide every trace of his demonic presence. He has no plan on ending up like TLJ. Poor Binghe will just have to survive the tea scene and the first weeek on QJP. SY will make it up to you later! Promise!

SY only shortly returns to the palace to see MBJ is still trying his best to woo mother airplane (without success!). He goes back to the sect and walks directly up to QJP to find LBH, and is instead directed to the bamboo hut. There he's questioned about his intentions, and decides to speak the truth (well most of it). His little brother went missing years ago and now SY believes him to be on this very peak! He has returned to bring LBH back home.

SJ of course hates LBH for the similarities he has to himself, but who would have guessed he also was abandoned by his older brother? Fate is truly laughing him in the face! This won't make SJ hate LBH less, but he has no plan on just giving him over to this stranger who took too long to return for his didi (just like qi-ge). So SJ claims he isn't willing to give up a disciple just like that. Hoping SY will show his true colors and abandon the little beast once and for all. When SY instead doubles down on wanting to take LBH with him, SJ decide to test how far this determination will take him (prove you are not like qi-ge).

Which leaves SY to stay on QJP as a guest while being continuously tested by SJ. And with time they slowly befriend each other and spend time just to share a cup of tea and talk literature (if SJ slowly starts trusting SY with things he's never told anyone else then that's his business).

At some point SY successfully catches a moment with LBH where he introduces himself as LBHs elder brother from their father's side. He offers to take LBH with him and leave that moment, but after LBH has digesting these new revelations (he has a brother!), declines. His adoptive mother wanted him to be a righteous cultivator, so a cultivator he'll become!

SY, already unable to deny this little bun anything, just has to accept he'll have to spend some time on QJP. Maybe he'll be able to persuade LBH to join him once SJ decides he has passed all tests. It's not too bad, SY has complete access to the library and oh boy is there a lot of things he never learned about the human realm before.

At the same time he meets the rarely seen bai zhan peak lord. LQG immediately thinks something is fishy with this QJP guest, but he's not sure what exactly (his war god senses are tingling). So to SJs great annoyance he starts showing up more often, trying to figure SY out. He even invites SY on a few monster hunts to see if he slips up, but to no avail (there are a few close calls). The more time they spend together the more he finds he enjoys talking about beasts with SY (he'll take it to the grave how his stomach flutters when SY teases him). SY even succeeds in getting LQG to teach LBH some swordforms once in a while.

When SYs identity as the demon emperor is finally revealed, it's a surprise to all three of them.

(Once SY is finally able to return to the demon realm for a visit it's to MBJ introducing himself as SYs new stepdad)

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. I

When Rhaenyra followed Jacaerys' suggestion of sending her three eldest children as messengers to call upon bannermen for their queen, Daenys did not expect to be sent to the North.

Perhaps the Eyrie, to treat with Lady Jeyne Arryn, as the widow might have seen a princess coming personally to see her as a sign of great respect. Instead, Jacaerys was being sent to the Vale, and Daenys to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark.

Daenys, although a Targaryen-Velayron princess, had never been gifted in politicking. Never sitting on council meetings as a cup-bearer, never paying much attention to her septas lessons, nor promenading with the court ladies during her time at the red keep. Her only company was her family, her five little brothers and parents. And, of course, her beloved dragon. Rhaenyra liked to jest of how Daenys was perhaps more dragon than girl, spending more time in Dragonstone's nesting caves than her own chambers.

When she was in the company of unfamilar people, she found her throat tightening and her eyes avoiding those of others. Most at court found this behavior to be rude, and indifferent, often ignoring her in favour of more approachable ladies.

Her time in the red keep, though now more of a distant memory, was spent in her chambers or with her dear aunt Helena, who was quite similar to her in most ways, besides the bug collection kept on her desk. Daenys shuttered at the sight every time but tolerated it in favor of spending time with Helena.

It was not always like this. Daenys was born a bright and charismatic young girl, charming the Keep's lords and ladies with her chatty demeanor. Rhaenyra lovingly named her after her ancestor, Daenys the Dreamer, in hopes of her to be blessed and beautiful as she was. Daenys had only one dream to be accounted for, the Doom of Valyria. After saving the Targaryen dynasty, it seemed to be a one-time event.

Daenys, unlike her ancestor, deemed herself cursed instead of blessed. Her dreams started to occur after her fifth nameday, waking up the Keep every night with blood-curdling screams of terror. Every night, guards would come in searching for a threat, only to find the little girl locked in a dead-sleep, thrashing and screeching.

Eventually the intensity of the dreams stopped, to the relief of Rhaenyra and Daenys both. Her dreams still haunted her day and night, but she was no longer waking the keep as she experienced them.

The Queen, Alicent Hightower, looked down upon Daenys as if she was a curse embodied. She called the girl mad, deeming it a fitting punishment for Rhaenyra for her adulterous behavior. Though the scorn was meant to spite Rhaenyra, the only one affected was Daenys.

Shunned by the other young ladies of court, whispered about by the young lords, Daenys found herself friendless and alone in the Red Keep, of all but Helena and her family.

After Joffrey's birth, Rhaenyra had decided she had enough of Alicent's ire and moved her family to Dragonstone. Daenys found it much more agreeable, no court to deal with, and the entire island all to her family alone.

Daenys never recovered from years of ostracizing, still quiet and seemingly rude to any guests of Dragonstone.

"Mother, surely Jacaerys would be a better fit for Lord Stark. I do not think he would be pleased to be sent a girl deemed mad by the queen over the heir to the Iron Throne," Daenys pleaded with Rhaenyra, while they waited for Jacaerys and Lucerys to come.

Rhaenyra, ever so regal in her father's former crown and fine deep-red dress, smiled down at her eldest daughter. Her eyes were still brimmed red with the recent loss of Visenya, though that never stopped her from performing her duty as Queen. "Lord Stark would be delighted to have a princess of the realm visit the north. Never mind what Alicent has said against you. You are gifted in ways only Targaryens will understand. You are my blessing, not my curse."

Daenys picked at the skin of her nails harshly, looking at the cobble she stood on and finding more interest in the damp stone. "I am not like you, mother."

"In what way, sweet girl?" Rhaenyra frowned, reaching to lift her daughter's chin gently, a nonverbal reminder.

Taking a breath in, "I am not so..perfect. You have a million things on your shoulders and never falter once. I..cannot even greet our guests appropriately. I can't do this. Please, let me stay here instead" Glossy-eyed, Daenys squeezed her mother's head with a plea.

Observing her daughter for a minute, Rhaenyra was silent a moment. "You were never meant to be like me. I was a reckless and perhaps foolish girl in my youth, always getting myself into trouble one way or another. You, my girl, are meant to be better. You always have been. It takes time, to learn and heal, there is only one way to do that."

"How can I learn to be like you?" Even the mere thought of it seemed like a dream, distant and unreachable.

"Practicing, tis all. It may seem like I am throwing you to the wolves now, but you can not get better without first trying. Locking yourself on this island has done you no favors, and for that I am sorry. You will see, that it is not so bad out in the world." Rhaenyra squeezed her daughter's hand back, kissing her forehead before stepping away as Jace and Luke finally came.

Holding a hand to the book of The Seven, the three princes and princess swore to only go as messengers for their queen, abhorring all violence.

Daenys said a swift goodbye to her younger brothers before she mounted Morningstar, who had been led to the perch alongside Vermax and Arrax. Fittingly, the dragons sizes corresponded with their ages, largest to smallest.

Morningstar had grown quite fast since her birth alongside Daenys' cradle, almost as big as Meleys now. Vermax and Arrax were smaller in comparison but no less loyal or fierce. The white scales and purple eyes of the dragoness perfectly matched Daenys. Purring at her rider's mount, Morningstar stretched her wings and waited for command.

With a last tight smile to her brothers, Daenys was off with Morninstar across the sea. The three dragons traveled together for almost an hour before splitting to their respective directions. Daenys silently prayed for the safe return of her dear brothers, knowing that they would be home even before she was done treating with the Starks.

◽️

The journey to the North was longer than she had anticipated, boredom and anticipation being her worst enemies. Or, perhaps that title belonged to the biting winds that nipped at her exposed face. Daenys cursed her lack of preparation, only bringing her house cloak for the flight. It was late summer, for the Seven's sake, why was it already so freezing?

To Daenys' surpirse, and also jealousy, Morningstar seemed to enjoy the cold. It was a harsh contract from Dragonstone's humid beaches, but the dragon seemed to have no problem adapting during their ride.

Finally, Winterfell's grey stone Keep was in view, larger than Daenys had anticipated and covered in blankets of pearly snow. Morningstar landing just outside of the gates, shaking off snow from her wings and grumbling at the guards who shakily approached the dismounted princees. It seemed even Northernmen were not brave enough to face a dragon.

Smiling at the sight of such a large man being so timid under the watchful violet eye of Morningstar, Daenys didn't move forward to give the man any peace of mind. Perhaps a little fear was good for rallying bannermen.

The man spoke now, northern accent different than any she had heard before. "State your name and buisness."

Eyeing the dragon at her side, Daenys almost sighed. How many female dragonriders of her age were there in Westeros? Perhaps there were some that she was made unaware of.

Sucking in a breath, and trying to keep her voice steady despite her shivers, Daenys answered. "I am Daenys Valeryon. Messenger to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra."

The guard paused a moment, glancing at his partner, who smartly chose to stay at the gate. There seemed to be a silent conversation happening before the other nodded to an unknown third party. The old gate creaked open, Daenys shifting awkwardly at the silence between the three of them. Why weren't they saying anything.

Finally, "Lord Stark will be with you shortly. You are welcome to warm your hands by the fire inside the keep." The guard said, bowing his head respectively towards the princess.

She nodded, for lack of words to say, thanking him quietly. She followed him into the walls of Winterfell, the stares of the commonfolk following her every step. The whispers started after, Daenys ducking her head and walking faster to attempt to avoid hearing them, but that made no difference when the guard stayed at his steady pace.

"Princess Daenys, 'e said?" A heavy womanly accent leaned into her friend.

"Aye. The mad one, I 'ear."

Daenys shuffled into the keep's dining hall, relieved to find it empty. The guard left fast, assuming his post once more. She took a seat by the hearth, allowing herself to warm up in peace. Curling up, in an unladylike fashion, Haze hoped Lord Stark would take his time. She needed to think about her words carefully and hopefully not stutter them out foolishly because she is still shivering like a dog.

The Gods must truly have it out for her, Daenys cursed, as the Lord himself strided into the room only minutes after she sat. Quickly, she stood to her feet, stumbling slightly at the vertigo hitting her head. "My Lord Cre-Stark." Daenys greeted, bowing her head shortly.

Lord Stark fixed his steel grey gaze on her, pinning her to her spot without so much as a touch. "My princess," he bowed his head, looking into her eyes all the while. His voice was husky with the Northern accent, which Daenys decided sounded best coming from his mouth. He folded his hands in front of himself as if trying to appear less imposing. Failing miserably, of course, with all those heavy furs, leathers, and the longsword strapped to his back. Did he carry that thing everywhere? Normally, lords carried swords at their belts, but longswords were too heavy for that. Daenys shuttered at the thought of such a burden.

"What do I owe the pleasure? Surely, the Queen's daughter does not simply wish to visit the forgotten houses of the North." Though his tone was straight and respectful, the words themselves were slightly bitter, knowing that royalty only visits houses when they need something.

Daenys looked down at her feet a moment, glancing between the floor and his eyes, which were intent on not leaving her own. Shifting, she found herelf lost for words and panicking at what response she should give him, knowing time was ticking by.

He was already upset by the burden of housing her, and knowing that her request was not a light one made her heart drop to her stomach. How does one simply ask for thousands of men to go to war?

Lord Stark hummed at her silence, politely looking to the fire instead of keeping that intense stare on her. "I apologize for my lack of hospitality, princess. I should've shown you to your chambers and allowed you to rest. Your journey was not easy, I'm sure."

Daenys looked up at him, surprised. Both glad to be rid of that intensity and sadden to not see the pretty color anymore, she felt her throat open again. "Of course, my lord. Thank you." The words came slowly, and much quieter than she intended.

As Cregan led her through the keep's halls, Daenya thought of how disappointing it might be to receive a fumbling girl instead of a regal princess. For the first time in over a hundred years, Targaryens visited the North. A shame it had to be her instead of Jace, who never lost his confidence even when being named a bastard.

Cregan stopped at a door, opening to reveal a comely guest chambers, a fire already running at the hearth for her. "I had the servents set up our best, for you. There are some furs in the wardrobe, I hope you'll find them appeasing. I'll see you at supper, princess?" He asked, looking down at her patiently.

From their close proximity in the doorway, Daenys could feel the warmth from him in waves. "I will be there." She told him, nodding shortly. With a charming smile finally adorning his stoic face, Cregan stark left the chambers with a polite bow of his head.

How could he be so kind to her, and patient? After watching that humiliating display she gave him, Daenys was confident he would sneer and send her away, as no lords ever had patience for her fumbling. It certainly didn't help her nerves that he was handsome, a quality not used to describe northmen.

Daenys had always heard of northmen as being fierce, savage warrior men, always loyal and dutiful, but never handsome and mannerly.

Handsome was a term to describe peacocking young southern knights, who have never experienced hardship besides an occasional tourney. It was not a term for scarred and weathered northerners.

Daenys wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad change from her expectations, but she decided not to dwell too much on it. Reaching her frosted window, she made out Morningstar's massivw white shape flying above the keep, most likely looking for a resting spot. She silently hoped that the dragon wouldn't take too much livestock and piss off local farmers.

Hours passed by fast, much to Daenys' misfortune. For hours she spun words around her mind, speaking in whispers to herself to practice what she might say to Cregan's questions. Startled by a maid entering her temporary chambers, Daenys stood from her seat. The woman, older than her mother, gave her a suspicious look. Daenys flushed, feeling her face grow hot in embarrassment at being caught mumbling. It was a nasty habit that didn't help the rumors surrounding her.

"Princess, supper is ready." The maid told her curtly, leaving the room even swifter than she came.

Daenys sighed, throwing a coat of white fur over her shoulders. The weight was heavy but comforting as she walked down the echoing halls of the Keep.

She entered the dining hall to see it dimly lit, the evenings in Winterfell becoming dark much faster than they did back home. "My lord," she greeted, earning a warm greeting back.

Cregan sat alone at the head of a table, reminding Daenys of his status. The Lord was made an orphan at three and ten, becoming lord of his house at six and ten. His brother had also passed years ago, leaving the lord family-less. She wondered how many times he had dined alone, not even being able to imagine such a fate for herself.

Daenys sat opposite him, only a few feet away from each other. For a few minutes, the only sounds were servants suffling about, pouring wine, ale, and serving plates.

"I picked out a sweet wine for you, princess. I know ale is not a preferred drink amonst royalty." Cregan started up, a light look in his eye as he glanced to her over his own cup of strong ale.

"Thank you, my lord. You needn't go out of your way for me, though. I am not picky." She said, voice quiet but loud enough for him to make out in the silent hall.

Cregan laughed, a graveling and husky one that made her stomach tingle with butterflies. "I wouldn't have expected a princess to be so humble. When I saw your dragon fly down, I was expecting a feast to be demanded, our finest accommodations presented for the princess' pleasure." He lifted his cup slightly to her. "You are quite different than what I pictured."

Her face felt hot again, a feeling she would apparently need to get used to during her stay here. She hid behind her chalice of wine, "I hope I do not disappoint my lord."

Shaking his head pointedly, he put his mug down. "That is precisely what I meant," his tone was amused, the bitterness from their first conversation long gone. "I suppose I was wrong about the Targaryens. I admit, I thought you would threaten me with your dragon and demand that I bend the knee, just as our ancestors did."

Daenys met his eye, placing her own cup down. "Do not mistake me for my family. You'll find our methods are quite different in terms of treating. My mother is the queen of the seven kingdoms. This includes your own. I do expect bent knees, and loyalty to our Queen." She stated. "I am merely a messenger this day, I am sworn to peace."

Despite the undertones of a threat in her words, Cregan was not offended or taken aback like she had expected from her sudden mood switch. Insulting her was one thing, but Daenys didn't tolerate disrespect to her family.

He only smiled, corners of his mouth pulling up in a way Daenys couldn't describe. Almost a proud look in his eye gleamed, staring her down once more as she met his line of sight perfectly. Even sitting down their height difference was apparent, him looking slightly down his nose at her.

"And if you weren't a messenger for Her Grace? Would you threaten me with your dragon?" Cregan pondered.

Daenys, fighting the urge to look away, shook her head slightly. "Not unless you gave me a reason to. Would you have sent me away if I came on horseback rather than dragonback?"

"Its an honor to host a princess, dragonrider or not." He said firmly, dark brown tresses falling slightly into his face from the half-up style he decided on. Distracted, Daenys glanced at the way the veins on his hand twitched as he tucked the strand behind his ear.

"I am glad to hear it. I am pleased to be able to visit the North, despite the somber circumstances that we face. It is quite beautiful here, I've never seen snow." Daenys changed the subject, earnestly complimenting his home.

"You've seen enough of it to last a lifetime now, I venture." Cregan dug into his stew, whilst Daenys simply stirred her own.

"I do not fare well in the cold, unlike Morningstar." She mused, smiling to herself.

The two fell into a silence once more, this time more comfortable and less tense. Daenys took small spoonfulls of her meal, not wanting to appear rude or wasteful, simply having little taste for eating in front of strangers. Eventually, Cregan finished his bowl, and she decided that was a good time to let herself set the utensils down.

"Is now a good time to ask your purpose here again, my princess?" He asked her tentatively, as if she would break with a louder tone of voice. Perhaps Cregan thought from their first meeting that she was in some way incapable of her duties, much to her chargin. She swallowed thickly, shifting in her seat.

Daenys pulled out a small scroll from her belt, handing it to him. "The official message from Her Grace.'

He scanned it quickly, a solemn look on his face as he did. Cregan breathed out through his nose, a less dramatic version of a sigh, rolling it up again and pocketing it. "I had heard of Aegon Targaryen usurping the Queen's throne after King Viserys' death–my condolences–but I had only expected a raven to come from the Queen. You've traveled quite a ways just to ask for men."

Daenys nodded, "We thought it more earnest to see our allied houses personally. Ravens are slower than dragons, and do not leave room for negotiations."

"How many is the Queen expecting from me?" He asked, straight to the point. In every way, Cregan Stark proved to be different from court lords.

Picking at her nails again, Daenys winced when she pulled on the skin too harsh, drawing specs of blood. Under the table, they were hidden from his view. If Rhaenyra saw her now, Daenys was she she would frown and shake her head. But she wasn't, Daenys was alone with the lord of Winterfell. "How many do you have available?" She avoided.

He breathed heavily again, and she bit her cheek guiltily. How could she come into someones home and demand that they fight a war they will see no benefit from? Daenys was suddenly very glad that she was not heir. Even being simply the princess wasn't fit for her.

"I will take some time to think of our numbers, and what I can offer Her Grace." He stood from his seat, making his way around the table to her, holding out a gloved hand.

Daenys took it hesitantly, her uncovered hand a stark contrast to the pure black of his glove. She saw him glance at her hand, the red not yet rubbed away. After standing, she folded them carefully in front of herself, hoping he didn't notice too much. "Thank you, my lord. The crown appreciates your consideration."

He nodded, brow furrowed but not questioning her directly. Cregan guided her to her guest chambers, leaving her at the door. "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall." He gestured towards a door near the end.

Daenys settled into her bed after changing into a shift provided by a maid, fur coat drapped over a chair near the hearth. The bed was cozy, a small thing but covered in more furs, soft and warm.

Daenys fell asleep quickly, mind on the man sleeping a few rooms over.

[aelenavelaryon]

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Reader

Summary: Daemon finally finds love

Aella Targaryen was nothing like the rest of her family. She couldn't be. Many would often said she was a sweet girl whose only mistake was to have Valyrian blood cursing through her veins. House Targaryen had been on the Iron Throne for over a hundred years, she could remember the throne, it was rather beautiful she would admit. But, House Targaryen was a cursed lineage. Aella thought it was because they were all related. Brothers married sisters, uncles married nieces, cousins married cousins.

When Aella was brought to court she was nothing but a babe. Only one perhaps two moons old. Daughter of Saera Targaryen and her brother Rhaegar Targaryen. Rhaegar and Saera had both been wild and untamable. The two ran away after Saera escaped Old Town and they were never seen again until now. Aella Targaryen was born in the year 105. Rhaegar brought his daughter to court, to present among the realm. Saera had died in her birthing chamber. Viserys, who had lost his wife a nearly two years prior welcomed them both. Aella grew up beside Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra's children.

Aella although growing up with her cousins she preferred to be alone, sitting in the gardens or her room and reading a history book. Her father wondered where she had gotten all of that, she was not like her mother or him. But, there were things he did like singing, poems and song writing much like his daughter. Aella had the basic training, in case she had to protect herself but the young girl no matter the circumstances could never and would never bring herself to hurt anyone. It wasn't in her blood no matter how much her father tried. But Rhaegar would protect his daughter no matter the cost. She rode Meraxes, queen Rhaenys dragon, the princess died that day but her dragon lived.

As the years passed, Aella Targaryen grew into a beautiful maiden. "The Realm's Angel" or "The Realm's Desire" surpassing her cousin Rhaenyra in beauty and everything else. Aella had reached her ten and five name day and was yet to be unmarried. Her father was the reason for that, although he was no king he saw that no one was fit to marry his only child. No one would ever be good enough. Alicent thought it would be a good idea to marry her to Aegon or Aemond if she wished. Rhaenyra thought she would be a great match for Jacaerys or Lucerys. Rhaegar Targaryen refused, once again. But, a few moons later he passed from a swollen belly, leaving his only child at the mercy of her family.

Aella didn't know who to choose as her family had given her the choice to marry who she wanted between the four boys. She was dutiful, whoever her uncle had chosen she would have married but she did not want to disappoint anyone by choosing wrong. The council knew that Aella marrying either of her nephews was a tragedy waiting to happen, so the young girl offered a marriage between another house but Rhaenyra, Alicent and the king denied her. Daemon who had recently lost his wife asked her to marry him, to unite themselves and protect each other. Aella was young, only fifteen summers old what did she know about love. She knew more about duty than love.

So, to stop any family issues or more drama she agreed and secretly married Daemon, consummating their marriage, now it could not be broken. The news reached King's Landing the morning after, creating chaos in the court. The king was fragile in health so he did nothing, besides they were married and they had consummated there was no breaking anything. Rhaenyra stayed in King's Landing, while Daemon, his wife and two daughters remained in Dragonstone. Nearly a year after their wedding Baelon Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen were born. Strong boys. On their second named day, their sisters Rhaella and Visenya had been born. When the boys were five, their sisters three Aemma and Viserys were born.

Baela and Rhaena quickly accepted Aella as she had this motherly warmth the girls loved and she had glady taken the role as their mother, not that she would try to replace the girls mother but she did her best to love and care for them as she did for her own children. Aella with Daemon's approval let the girls ride their dragons to Driftmark to visit their grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were grateful that the young girl allowed them to visit their mother's family as much and as often as they could. The six children had been kept a secret through out the years. Aella was near her one and twenty name day. As a result, the king had invited her and her family to celebrate as a family.

Her arrival had been expected, Aegon was now married to Helaena and had two children, twins. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond was unmarried but as far as she knew he was bethroted to a Baratheon girl. Jacaerys was to marry soon but his mother and father were looking for a suitable match. When she arrived, Daemon and the girls were waiting as her and the children had sailed there due to the young kids. Rhaenys and Corlys who were there watched their granddaughters run to their new mother. They saw the love the two girls had for her. King Viserys recovered and went back to being the peaceful king he was. He waited with his family as he watched Daemon help his wife.

She had turned into a beautiful woman, everyone could agree. She seemed happy with Daemon. And she was, he treated her good and with respect. "My king, my queen" she  greeted with a nod. "Princess Rhaenyra, Laenor" she said with a smile. She greeted everyone. "Now, may we present our children?" she asked and everyone turned to her. They were surprised. The king nodded and Daemon signaled the maids to bring them. "Baelon and Rhaegar, our oldest. Visenya and Rhaella out second oldest. Viserys and Aemma our youngest" Daemon introduced as the four oldest made their bows to the king and queen. The youngest were only one.

"May I?" the king asked as he took Aemma, she had her eyes. Rhaenys took Viserys. "Baelon looks like our father, and Rhaegar looks like Aemon" Rhaenys nodded in agreement. Everyone cooed over the Aella'a children and all she did was smile. During the feast for her nameday, Daemon and his wife could see the tension between Alicent and Rhaenyra. "I would like to propose an alliance between our families" Aella began. She had spoken with Corlys and Rhaenys, and of course her husband. "A bethrotal between Jacaerys and Baela. And Rhaena with prince Lucerys" she said with a smile. Rhaenyra smiled. "I think that is a great idea" Daemon held her hand and nodded. "In addition, if Aegon and Helaena agree Jaehaera could marry Baelon and Vinseya Jaehaerys" the table was quiet but Alicent smiled. "I think that is magnificent idea" the king nodded in agreement. "Our house will be united" she smiled happy with the outcome.

Aella Targaryen was a woman many remembered, she had given her family peace but that peace nearly broke when Otto Hightower deemed her dangerous, sending for someone to kill the princess. The princess perished on top of her dragon as a scorpion hit the beast right in the neck, killing it instantly. She received the same fate as queen Rhaenys. The lady didn't survive the fall. Daemon Targaryen never remarried but once he found out who killed her, the Hightowers, more importantly Otto, he was killed soon after. Alicent was pardoned as she didn't know anything. Rhaenyra was crown queen and the princess match's were honored as Baela married Jacaerys, Rhaena Lucerys, and once older Baelon and Visenya married Aegon's children.

The Sweet Summer Child died but her memory remained throughout the years. Aella Targaryen iii married her brother Rhaegar, giving him the heirs he needed. House Targaryen didn't end with Daenerys Targaryen, it went on. It prospered. From Aella Targaryen the first, came the prince that was promised and the realm lived in peace.

[thestuffedalligator]

The reign of Queen Inmi lasted for three-hundred-and-forty-seven years across six lifespans.

There was a secret song that was only known to Queen Inmi and a private inner circle, and this was chosen as the signal of the queen’s reincarnation. When a woman who was born on the day of the death of the queen’s last incarnation began singing a particular melody she had no right to know, that was the sign that she was the queen returned.

This had been a viciously kept secret for generations. To sing, hum, or even whistle the secret song carelessly was grounds for execution.

Then one year, the song began to spread.

It was sung in every field by the tenant farmer and in every court by the royal musician, passing from mouth to ear faster than summer fire. A bloody attempt to quarantine the song ran long and vicious until blades went dull. On a grim, grey day, it was accepted the secret sign — and the queen — had been lost.

Why the song spread has been the subject of serious debate. Some say King Ohrwurm, the son of the last of Queen Inmi’s incarnations, had deliberately spread it to remove his mother’s influence from the kingdom.

Others say the whole thing was a sham. That there had never been a secret song, and the ruse was meant to keep the throne in an iron grip of some inner circle, who would be prepared to claim any poor, confused girl as the rightwise queen.

It has been five-hundred-and-seventy-six years since the reign of Queen Inmi.

Today, a young woman is singing a song she has no right to know.

It’s probably just a coincidence.

[targaryen-dynasty]

INNATE DESIRES. (1/5)

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, profanity, semi public sex, size kink, power imbalance, breeding, choking, female reader (no mentions of looks besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: The events of this start somewhere between 41 AC to 44 AC, while the rest takes place around 45 AC. Visenya has not died (yet), but Cersye, Alys and Tyanna have. Aegon and Rhaena are captured at Crakehall, and Viserys is still his squire and hostage.

After the passing of your father, you, your younger siblings and mother had fled from Dragonstone to Driftmark almost immediately. It was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it meant you could keep your life after the arrival and coronation of your uncle Maegor, while you would have loved nothing more than to witness the sight of the Black Dread’s shadow devouring the castle on the eponymous island. 

When the Dowager Queen and Vhagar arrived, it was her that urged your mother to come back to join the busy life at court – meaning you and your siblings were to abandon her childhood home Driftmark. 

Your mother’s stay in the capital was brief, and you assumed it was because she could not stand to be separated from her children any longer, as Visenya had ordered you four to Dragonstone instead. 

Two years after your arrival, it was evident that you had become a prisoner in all but name to Visenya on Dragonstone, barely allowed to leave the castle. When she was not around, her spies and vipers were. 

And so it was even more surprising that, when you were summoned to the Throne Room in the midst of your lessons, you came face to face with none other than your uncle. He sat on the throne, his mother lingering not too far away. With him in the room, his big frame concealing most of the impressive seat, it was even more apparent how frail she had become over the years. If you would have to guess, she would not do much longer. 

As your purple eyes met his, it was as if a wildfire ignited in your body, coursing through your veins, vividly remembering the night you had caught him speaking to your father about a possible betrothal. But it also angered you, knowing that he had left for Pentos with his second wife not long after, without even saying goodbye. 

On the other side of the throne stood none other than your mother, and while both Visenya and Maegor seemed rather smug and pleased, Alyssa had a grim expression on her face. 

Like an invisible string luring your body towards his, you came to a stop shortly before the first step to where he sat. “Your Grace.“ You smiled sweetly at him and slightly bowed your head, more out of courtesy than true belief, because your brother Aegon was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne after all. 

At least five knights guarded the door to the Throne Room behind you, and when Maegor rose from his seat with the pommel of Blackfyre fidgeting between his thick fingers, you were certain that was the moment your life came to an end. 

His steps were heavy as he walked down the steps, coming to a stop just shy of you. His domineering frame was looming over yours, and you had long forgotten the last time you had to crane your neck to look up at someone as tall and big as he was. 

“Leave us,“ Maegor’s gruff voice rang out, and when both Dowager Queens opened their mouths to protest, he was quick to shush them with a simple raise of his hand. Even when they walked past you, you did not dare break eye contact with your uncle, and while he usually was a hard and brutal man, there was a hint of softness in his eyes solely reserved for you. 

When you two were the only people left in the room, he directed his voice towards you. “You have grown,“ he stated, his eyes traveling up and down your body. With the defiance of a young woman, you jutted out your chin just slightly, nonchalantly looking up at him. “How would you know?“ you asked. “Five years and you have not once come to visit me.“

Your uncle chuckled dryly, one hand coming up to pinch your chin. “You know ‘tis not as easy as you make it seem.“ 

From how much your father had told you after Maegor’s departure, you knew he probably was right, though you had yet to find out the true reason behind it. With his longing stare making you somewhat uneasy, the pregnant pause between you two grew thicker with tension.

Until your voice cut through it. 

“Why are you here, uncle? Do you not have a wife to care for and a realm to rule?“

“I do,“ he said, his tone growing a bit harsher as the memory of the stranger taking his three wives not too many moons ago flashed before his eyes. “I am here for you.“

A small crease formed between your brows at his words. “I am afraid I do not understand.“

“Maybe you will understand this.“ Where his paw had rested on your chin before, it traveled down to your waist, almost taking up its entirety with his fingers splayed out. 

He dipped his head towards yours, but you were quick to bring your hand up between your faces, taking a careful step back. “We can not,“ you stated, trying to sound stern, yet you were betrayed by your fluttering nerves, your heart beating in your throat.

With his hand still on your waist, he pulled you back against his firm chest as if you weighed nothing, the sheer display of his strength bringing heat to your cheeks. “The matter is settled already. I shall take you as my wife in a sennight,“ he said. “I have waited long enough for this, and with my brother dead there is no one left to deny me.“

“My mother–“ 

“Has no other choice than to give me what I want.“ The threat was unspoken but clear. 

Every attempt to speak against him was silenced by his lips on yours. The kiss was far from being gentle, and it was evident he claimed your lips with a carnal need. With his hands traveling over the curves of your waist down to your rear, roughly fisting the skirts of your gown, it was obvious that he intended to do the same with your body. 

Your heart was racing, pounding against the confines of your ribcage when your lips parted, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I have never–,” you whimpered, trailing off as you looked at him with wide eyes. Every ounce of affection and gentleness Maegor mayhaps held before had vanished with a snap, leaving only a man hungry for your virtue. 

But no matter how badly your body ached for his touch, having craved it for so, so long, you pulled away to walk past him, climbing the few steps towards the throne with shaky legs as a heat settled at the apex of them. You had to bring some space between the two of you, mayhaps that allowed your thoughts to clear again. 

”My brother Aegon–,“ you started, but were interrupted when you tripped over one of the last steps, causing you to topple forwards. Taking in a sharp breath while bracing yourself on your hands and knees, Maegor was quick to not allow you to get back on your feet. Kneeling down next to you with one hand resting in the place between your shoulders, he applied just enough pressure to keep you down. 

“Where is your craven brother now, sweetling?“ he emphasized the nickname with a condescending tone, and it should have you feeling sick to the stomach, not aroused. “Not here. He had the chance to claim the Iron Throne, but he did not take it.“

His hand brushed over the bodice of your dress, trailing deep enough so he could cup your arse. But it merely lingered there for a few seconds, never settling. That touch alone still was enough to reignite the flame within you, and only when your fluttered nerves calmed just a bit, you noticed the proximity between you – and how he looked at you with darkened eyes. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tried to gather some courage before speaking, “You are just as much of a coward as he is. Coming to claim what is rightfully his when he is besieged at Crakehall.” Another chuckle came from Maegor, but this time it sounded somewhat amused. 

“Oh, I know you do not think so highly of your own kin,” he said, a smug smirk pulling on the corners of his chiseled lips. His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, the pad of his thumb brushing your lips. 

“Enough with the mummer's farce, Y/N. Are you not at least a little happy to see me, mh?” It was evident in his mocking tone that he did not really care much about your feelings. You were meant to marry him regardless of what you wanted. 

With pleading eyes, you looked at him, slowly nodding your head and allowing your guard to fall – even if only for a few seconds. “Y-Yes.”

“And do you not want to be a good, obedient wife to me?”

If his question did not already choke the air from your lungs, his hand fisting the skirts of your dress to lift it just enough for his hand to snake underneath certainly did. It was him harshly groping the flesh of your arse that caused you to speak again, forcing you without voicing a command. 

“I do.”

As his fingers started to drag over the dampened spot in the center of your smallclothes, he got all the confirmation he needed to proceed with his actions. The ministrations of his fingers grew in determination, dragging around your little bud in circular motions and eliciting soft whimpers to fall past your lips. As the pleasure rippled through your body, your hands grabbed the edge of the step beneath you, knuckles blanching from the force. 

Shame filled your veins, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, instead focusing on the throne in front of you. “I–,” you wanted to repeat your previous words, but your uncle was quick to cut you off. “Then let me be the first and only. You belong to me.” 

Any protest was once again silenced by your own gasp as two of his thick digits pushed the linen of your smallclothes aside, scarcely dragging through your soaked mound. Only when they were generously coated in your arousal, he eventually pushed them inside without a warning. 

“Gods,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as your maiden hole tried to adjust to the girth of his fingers. “P-Please…” You did not know what you were begging for. For him to leave you be or for him to give you more?

Maegor seemed to be at least a bit mindful when it came to your maidenhead, keeping his fingers still until they were buried to the hilt. You clenched around him tightly, which caused him to hiss through gritted teeth as if it was his cock plunging deep inside you and not his fingers, hardly preparing you for what was to come. 

“Please,” Maegor mocked you with a chuckle, pushing his lips forwards into a pout that feigned his pity. “You are so pretty when you beg, niece.” The ministrations of his fingers were slow, pulling out almost completely only to push right in again. The sounds of pleasure they forced from your throat were enough to drive the man next to you close to insanity. 

His head dipped forward, looking you down with a sharp expression that savored the sight of your face contorting in pleasure all because of him. Your body was torn between feeling hungry for him and being humiliated because of him, the interplay leaving you utterly confused, and longing to be filled by something else of his. 

When he withdrew his fingers from your cunt, they were glistening with your arousal. The warmth that slowly spread throughout your stomach had vanished just like that, and the whine that slipped past your lips at the loss of friction was the epitome of being pathetic. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, engulfing them with his lips and humming as if he enjoyed the finest Arbor red the castle had to offer. You squeezed your thighs to soothe the aching that burned between them at the sight, feeling empty and not at all satisfied. “So, so sweet,” he purred, the tone a stark contrast from the harsh one he had used before. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he released in the following, the purple of his eyes almost eclipsed by black. 

Magor leaned in to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent he had missed so dearly for the past five years. 

The softness of his voice and the close contact had you losing yourself in his dominating presence, completely at his mercy. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before his bulky frame disappeared behind you, one leg bent at the knee while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. Because he was so close, you felt him undoing the laces of his breeches, his hands bumping against your arse each time he pulled the strings loose. 

Your impatience got the worst of you, masked as a shiver traveling up your spine. You were not sure if you had to accommodate a girth wider or lesser than his fingers, but at this point you did not care. Your body longed for something you hadn’t felt before, and it needed it. Now. 

One of his hands darted to your hip, squeezing it harshly while the other wrapped around his hard member. Feeling the impatience take over your body, you pushed your hips back enough for the tip of him to prod at your hole, causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. 

As you turned your head to look at him from over your shoulder, your hooded eyes met his, a lazy smirk draped over his features. “That is all it takes to change your mind?” he mocked, stifling a grunt as he forced himself into your tightness, your maiden walls squeezing him. “Pathetic.” All of the sudden, his raspy voice was strained, having to restrain himself from pounding into you before he even filled you to the brim. You could see it in the way he set his jaw, forcing you to avert your eyes in fear.

You released a mixture of a whine and a shaky breath, the burning of the stretch prominent enough to cloud your mind and set your body on full alert. With both his paws on your hips, you could not even intervene or squirm away. Every ridge and vein of his cock dragged along your clenching walls as you accommodated the sheer size of his member, not making the stretch any more pleasurable. 

“S-Stop,” you whimpered. 

And Maegor actually listened, but only because he had bottomed out completely and needed a few moments to regain his composure, adapting to you squeezing him like a vice. “It will become more pleasant soon,” he grunted, trailing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting manner you did not know he possessed. “Trust me.”

The first snaps of his hips were neither hard nor fast, but deep and determined enough to brush that sweet spot inside of you your own fingers had not reached before. Having his breeches pulled down enough to free his cock and the sac of his stones, they slapped against your sensitive bud each time his hips met yours. 

With that pace, the burning slowly but surely turned into the pleasure your body had been asking for. 

Looking back at him once again, you were blessed with something you hadn’t seen before. A few strands of his usually neat, silver hair hung in front of his face, every now and then clinging to the few beads of sweat on his forehead before the tremors of his thrusts freed them again.

He felt you adjusting to his size, which prompted him to increase the pace to the point he was pounding you. Each impact forced your head to tip forwards and your knees to scrape across the stone floor, barely diminished by the skirt of your dress. 

Something you hadn’t anticipated was him bringing his hand in front of you to clasp around your throat. With the strength he possessed, his grip was tight, choking you regardless of him intending to do so or not.  

“I want you to look at the throne,” he commanded through gritted teeth, the choking and gasping sounds you made merely a dull noise in the background. “‘Tis the seat our son will sit in one day.”

His other arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his firm chest, securing you and keeping you steady despite the reckless snaps of his hips. Mayhaps it was the possibility and danger of the Dowager Queens barging into the Throne Room or because you finally got what you had craved for more than five years, but your peak built in the pit of your stomach far too quickly for your own liking. 

“I am going to fuck you so full of my seed, making sure it will bear fruit.”

Maegor shifted his hips, angling them so he was thrusting upwards into you, which had his cock reaching even deeper than before, causing you to mewl and whine. Even if you wanted to, you could not reply, but with a renewed wave of your arousal dripping down his throbbing member and stones, you did not even have to.

“I-I–,” you stammered, his grip not loosening. It was a surprise you managed to inhale enough air to fill your lungs – mayhaps he was better at assessing his strength than you thought. 

“Go on,” he rasped, squeezing your throat in a rhythm that matched his hips, sensing your impending peak. 

It was embarrassing how quickly your peak took over at his words, rippling through you with soaring pleasure. Each time his stones hit your little bud, your overstimulated body tried to jerk away from him – but to no avail with his strong arm around your waist. 

Maegor watched in awe as your body trembled within his grasp, the tremors growing more apparent with each second he did not pull out. His mouth pressed to the side of your face, tongue licking a flat stripe from your jaw up to your temple. 

“You want my seed, niece?” he grunted into your ear, “want me to fuck a child into you? See your body swell with my seed?”

Finally loosening the grip he had on your throat to allow you to speak, you croaked a ‘seven hells, yes!’ into the chilly air of the Throne Room. “Put a babe in me… please,” you all but begged, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him – enough to capture his lips with your own. 

The response of your body his and your own words elicited was pitiful, but it was just the truth. You wanted his child, the thought lingering in your mind for the past five years. Your walls trembled around him, choking him so tightly the bull of a man behind you had to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort was fruitless when his pulsing cock spent itself inside of your quivering walls. 

Each of his grunts and groans was devoured by your lips on his, drinking them down as if they were the only things keeping you alive. Out of instinct, you started to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milked him for every drop of his seed. 

Maegor was out of breath by the time his movements came to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he meant to make sure his efforts bore fruit. And you relished in it, despite the vulnerable position it brought you in.

Tipping his forehead against your temple, he closed his purple eyes, breathing shakily before speaking, “merely pack the bare essentials for the travel. We shall depart for King’s Landing in the morrow… on dragon back."

Bowing your head once, you fixed your undergarments and dress once he had pulled out, sitting back on your haunches. With your back facing him, he did not notice the wide grin on your lips. 

Mayhaps then you finally were to witness the sight of Balerion’s shadow devouring Westeros' capital.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

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[not-poignant]

Birthday Spotlight - Gulvi Dubna Vajat

[24th March - Aries]

Gulvi Dubna Vajat, the chaos-loving, determined, vicious killer and loving sister is the Unseelie swan maiden from the canon Fae Tales series. She's the lover of Fenwrel the Mouse Maiden, younger sister of Julvia Dubna Vajat, and bucks all the standards when she chose to become the first swan maiden to turn her back against the pacifistic ways of her kind so she could train with the Council of Lammergeiers and become a highly reputable and successful assassin who ended up working for the Raven Prince, in line to be the next Queen of the Unseelie Court.

Despite Gulvi's sometimes abrasive ways, she's always been well-liked among many readers. She's a staunch supporter of Gwyn's, a best friend to Ash, and for a time, Augus' declared enemy. She spent a few chapters just stabbing him to get revenge, because, well, he did kill almost her entire family.

Gulvi is a fantastic advice-giver, lives her own life, and is well-equipped to be Queen-in-waiting and Unseelie Queen. One day she'll take the throne for herself, and Gwyn is more than aware of it and more than happy for it to happen. Even if she did get him drunk all those separate times...

‘Make no mistake, you are lucky that I am friends with both Gwyn and Ash, for nothing would please me better than to come at you through your loved ones. Think about that, for a minute. I like that this hurts you. And if I didn’t think I’d be hurting this Court, and myself in the process, I would let Gwyn be executed by the Seelie Court in an instant just to watch you make more of these delicious, frightened expressions of yours. I can smell your fear, you horrid, mess of a fae, and I revel in it. You have not Ash’s sympathy, nor his support in this. And you do not have mine.'

~ Game Theory

From the Darkness We Rise - (fanfiction) Gulvi first appeared as an OC in this fanfiction in her swan maiden form, as an informant to Gwyn ap Nudd, even then an effective assassin who used French affectations in her speech and rubbed Jack Frost the wrong way every time she opened her mouth.

The Court of Five Thrones - Gulvi came through for Gwyn ap Nudd when Augus died (temporarily), offering him sage advice and getting him drunk. She's sent to assassinate many of Gwyn's enemies in order to manipulate people into giving Gwyn what he wants as King, she falls in love with Fenwrel, and pulls the heavy duty of serving as Queen-in-Waiting, all while nursing her fragile, near-death's-door older sister, who is stuck in swan form due to Augus' actions when he was once a villain.

Into Shadows We Fall - (fanfiction) Notable for appearing as Ash's best friend and Gwyn's ally, but she makes Jack too furious and he attempts to murder her, and in return, she stabs him with one of the best verbal repartees. It is her actions which serve as the turning point for Jack and Pitch, as she inadvertently severs a very important scarf in the process...

Game Theory - Drugging Ash, giving Gwyn advice even though they're on opposite sides, and stabbing Augus repeatedly while calling him a donkey are just all in a day's work for this graceful, ruthless, and surprisingly mature swan maiden.

Unwound - An interstitial between The Court of Five Thrones and The Ice Plague, this series explores Gwyn's occasional melancholy due to well...all the burdens he carries. Once more, Gulvi proves herself to be a staunch and true friend.

The Ice Plague I: The Forest of Fire - When Gwyn and Augus leave the Unseelie Court, Gulvi steps into her role as Queen-in-Waiting, but not before trying to forbid her sister Julvia from going on a grand quest (she fails, much to her anger).

The Ice Plague III: The Ice Plague - Gulvi has been working in the background throughout as Queen-in-Waiting with Fenwrel by her side, but we finally get to see her again, which comes as a profound relief for our ensemble team.

All That We Were, All That We Will Ever Be - In the final epilogue of Augus and Gwyn, in the Fae Tales canon, Gulvi is there watching vigil over a certain someone, even as she works a truly overwhelming job.

The Spoils of the Spoiled - High school student, girlfriend of Kayla (Gulvi is so incredibly lesbian), bitchy frenemy of Augus Each Uisge, best friend of Ash, and eventual friend of Gwyn ap Nudd. Gulvi is the one who suggests the detached apartment at the back of her house to Augus and Ash, giving them a place to live when they become homeless. She comforts Augus after he's molested by Efnisien, and she offers charming, funny, and sometimes caustic commentary throughout.

The Day the Ferris Wheel Came Down - High school student and best friend of Ash, Gulvi is up to her chaos-loving antics in this short oneshot!

The Best of Broken Resolutions - In one of my favourite AUs, Gulvi is a high-powered architect working with Gwyn ap Nudd who bitches out their work colleagues, judges all their outfits, and is immaculately fashionable. She's in a workplace relationship with Fenwrel, which isn't nearly the well-kept secret it should be.

Tumblr Prompts - Fae Tales - Anyone who asks me about whether I'll ever write any F/F should go here for a little kissing between Fenwrel and Gulvi in Basorexia.

With chaos as her heartsong in the Fae Tales canon, Gulvi embraces the chance to introduce a little unpredictability into the lives around her.

Despite this, Gulvi still has her swan-maiden roots, she is a loving, family-oriented, loyal friend and lover who just wants to have a good time in life.

A swan maiden who was raised a pacifist and then proved that her turning away from peace-loving ways wasn't 'just a phase' when she became one of the most notorious Unseelie assassins in the fae realm.

Any excuse to drink - which makes her a good friend for Ash

Protective of those around her. Once you are taken under her wing, she will fight tooth and nail for you, and sometimes against you, if you're your own worst enemy.

White wings, white hair, black eyes, and uses two kris daggers. She almost always is seen solely in hybrid form, never human or true form.

Helping Gwyn to get through the hard times with hard liquor and sisterly advice

Any time she insulted Augus, while Augus was powerless to retaliate

Saying 'La!' as a form of punctuation

Swearing

Despite her sometimes casual-seeming, party-loving nature, she possessed a courtier's tongue, holding her own against Albion at the end of Game Theory, and bringing both Augus and Gwyn to their senses multiple times.

Always loves an element of chaos in her life, though it's more muted when she's in human AUs, especially once she's in love.

Lesbian for life

Graceful and beautiful, and does not suffer fools

Gulvi is all about family whether she wants to be or not - chosen family and blood family

Will always find Julvia incredibly annoying and condescending while loving her fiercely

Tends to think of Augus as a bit of an idiot, all the way from 'too stupid to live' in Game Theory to 'I still love you though' in The Spoils of the Spoiled

I've always really loved swan maidens, after meeting them in The Bitterbynde Trilogy by Cecilia Dart-Thornton. I came up with a whole scaffolding of background for these beings, and still feel very fondly towards swan maidens so I'm not entirely surprised that when Gulvi was no longer a significant character in The Ice Plague because she was holding up the fort, Julvia became a significant character instead.

People always used to ask me if I shipped her and Ash, but Gulvi's love for Ash was never quite 'that' kind of love, even though she gave her heart to him. I always loved the idea of two best friends so bound together that the friendship would last an eternity.

Gulvi has tattoos of symbols on her arms from the Council of Lammergeiers as part of her initiation but I always forget she has them, so this is one of her biggest continuity errors in that I just don't mention them enough so we ALL forget.

I always like to imagine that Gulvi and the Raven Prince are actually extremely close, and we never see it because it's private - a friendship between two bird shifters.

Gulvi is from the fae side of Latvia - she's not French! She just picked up an affectation from the human realm because she liked it.

The reasons I gave my heart to him weren’t as clear as they should have been. They couldn’t be. They never are! Swans think they have such pure hearts, but… Ash is worthy, make no mistake, but I never wanted to be with him. Even as I gave him my heart, without his consent I might add, because he would have refused it – I knew I didn’t want to be with him. I didn’t want him to fuck me, I didn’t want to lie on a bed with him beyond collapsing together on a bed with marshmallows and fried foods while watching silly human movies about very profound things. He has always been a gentleman about it, even as I took something from the both of us the moment I staked him with the permanency of my love. But, Gwyn, I’ve never wanted to be with anyone. Ash gives me all of himself in our friendship. His love is a whole thing. He has such an abundance of it. It spills everywhere. It makes him do and say stupid things. It makes him wiser than he should be. He loves love. Whether it makes him a fool or seer. And me, with my cynical heart, I needed his idealism, his romanticism, all of it. He gives me something I have never been able to give myself. And he has enough of it – so much – that he can give it freely and I never have to worry about depleting him of anything. You see? Everyone thinks it’s unrequited. But that implies that it is one-sided, and it is not. They say unrequited love is not returned in kind, but he returns it. And they act as though I accidentally tripped over his feet, looked up, and fell in love with the stupid idiot he can be. But I did not. I made a conscious declaration to myself, to the world.

~ The Court of Five Thrones

[haennsche]

more sketches of @not-poignant 's Augus Each Uisge!! These ones turned out quite well i think, but i feel like he looks a lot younger in the side profile one (kind of like i imagine him to look in "spoils of the spoiled" but then his hair would be different ofc)

Btw sorry to everyone who wished to see my painting of him finished as that will never happen.. i've just grown too frustrated with and couldn't look at it anymore :') (i will paint him again tho, there's no giving up on that!!)

[daemour]

Pairing: crown prince! San x maid! f! yn

Word Count: 2,971

Warnings: cursing, slight arguing, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, royalty au, M for mature audiences

Summary: You're called to attend to crown prince San for an unexpected bath. Before that happens, the two of you talk about some unexpected happenings.

Smut Warnings: Bath sex, oral (f receiving), breast play, biting/marking, unprotected sex (dont do this unless discussed guys), some praise, riding, creampie, ignore the logistics please <3

-

This was supposed to be a surprise for @sanjoongie but my husband spoiled it 🥹🤣 so now you all get to enjoy it for San's birthday (cus i actually remembered this time)

Ik this is pretty short for a smut writing i post on main but i promise this will not be a normal occurrence 🤣 please still expect most smuts to be on the 18+ blog

“YN, you’ve been requested by the high prince to assist him in his bath.” One of the maids, Ryujin, informs you before you’re about to tend to the gardens. “I can take garden duty for you.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s only just noon, and he’s taking a bath? Is something happening later on tonight?”

Ryujin shrugs, bumping you with her shoulder. “I’d hurry though, he seemed pretty upset. And we all know Prince San could never be mad with you around.”

Your face heats up and you hurriedly shush her, although you can’t wipe the knowing smile off her face. It’s not a well-kept secret among the servants that Crown Prince San has a softer spot for you, and if he wasn’t next in line for the throne he would’ve married you by now. He’s courting you without the flowers, and anyone can see it except for the nobles themselves.

It’s not like you haven’t tried to keep him at an arms’ length, but as sweet and loving as San is, he’s the Crown Prince. What he wants, he gets.

With an internal sigh and a moment to steel yourself, you knock gently at the ornate doors leading to San’s chambers. “My prince? You have requested my assistance.”

“You may enter.”

You push open the doors slightly to let yourself in, shutting them behind you and locking them, as is a habit that you’ve ingrained into your routine by now. “My prince, why are you taking a bath so early in the day? Is there something happening?”

The prince turns from where he is leaning against his large windowsill to face YN, his face stormy. “My parents have secured a ‘proper’ marriage for me,” he scoffs, his voice harsh, but it softens once he sees you flinch. “I am sorry, YN. I did not mean to startle you. I have just been struggling to remain calm after hearing of the news.”

And now that you have heard the news, your mind is also muddled. In your head, you knew this day would come. The King and Queen had been generous enough to let San wait until he was twenty-five to even think about marriage, but you knew the time would come soon enough. So then, why does your heart hurt?

You struggle to keep your face impassive as your hands grip your heavy skirt. “I see. That’s great news, I understand your parents have been trying to increase the size of their kingdom and now’s a great chance for them to.” You quickly turn away and open the door leading to his bathroom. “Now let’s see about this bath.”

“YN.”

“Would you like lavender or rose petals? Your future wife would probably like a sweeter smell. Maybe I can send for some orange essence,” you ramble on as you turn the tap and let the warm water fill the tub. “I heard orange essence is what’s popular these days.”

“YN.”

“Do you know who she is? I wonder if she’s prettier–”

“YN!” San’s voice snaps you out of your daze, as does his hands on your shoulders. “I do not want to marry her.”

You hesitate for the slightest moment before pulling out of his grasp. “It doesn’t matter whether you want to or not,” you finally say, avoiding his eyes. “You’ll marry her.”

“Like hell I will!” San cries, reaching out for you again, but you dodge his hands this time. “I only want you, YN.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Sa– your highness,” you sigh, turning away again and reaching for the bath herbs, turning off the faucet while you were at it. The tub isn’t nearly full but you don’t want it to flow over in the middle of this conversation. “You’re the Crown Prince.”

“Do not do this to me, YN. Do not shut me out like this. I would give it all up for you if you just give me the word. Say you love me back and I will drop everything for you,” San begs, and you can hear him drop to his knees. You turn around, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. “I will grovel for you if need be, YN. I cannot bear to live without you by my side.”

“Get up, San. You can’t be on your knees for me,” you hiss. “What if someone walks in?”

San looks up at you, his eyes desperate. “Let them! I will revoke my title, my crown, and my privilege to be with you. Jongho is born to be the leader, he is a better fit for me and he’s not much younger than me either. I want you, YN, and I would do anything for you to have me to. Please.”

He stumbles to his feet, and you move back until your back hits the wall. His head drops into the crook of your neck and you can feel his desperate breaths against your skin. “YN…” your name passes through his lips in a longing whisper.

“San…” You suck in a breath, carefully carding your free hand through his hair to smooth it down. He tilts his head to peek up at your face. “I…I just don’t want to make you give up your life for me.”

Your words are enough to console San and he straightens up, his hands finding yours again as he grips them tightly. “I want to, YN. I would give up that easily, and much more for you. Please,” he repeats one more time. “I will care for you. We can run away to the edges of this country, and live a humble life. As long as I may be with you.”

You bite your lip, turning your eyes away from San again, but he does not allow that to happen, reaching up to hold your jaw gently and direct your gaze back to him.

"San..." San's breath hitches as you breathe his name, your voice barely above a whisper. You can't resist the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours with a desperate longing.

"I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. "I know it's selfish, but I can't imagine my life without you."

Your heart aches. You want to believe him, to give in to the desire that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long. But the fear of the unknown, the potential consequences, holds you back.

"San, we can't..." you begin, but he just shakes his head, cutting your words off as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips. It's everything you've ever wanted, yet everything you know you can't have. When you finally break apart, your breath is ragged, your cheeks flushed. San's eyes are filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"Tell me you do not feel anything," he pleads once more, his voice barely audible.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words won't come. You can't deny the truth any longer. "I..." you begin, your voice trembling. “I care for you, San. But are you sure this is a life you’ll want to live?”

San presses his forehead against yours, his breath dancing over your parted lips. “It is, as long as you are there,” he agrees readily. With each word, he brings his face closer and closer until his soft lips are only just brushing yours. “I will gladly show you, if you will allow me.”

You laugh breathily, leaning back to try and create more room. “You still need your bath, San. The water will get cold,” you try and divert weakly, but all San does is raise an eyebrow.

“Then get in,” he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips to quiet your gasp. “Unless you want me to ravish you on my silk bedsheets. The choice is yours—if I had my way, I would do both.”

You squeak, pushing your face into his warm shoulder, feeling it rumble as he chuckles. “Fine. At least the bath will be easier to clean. Move aside, San.” With one last kiss, San steps back, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks you up and down, causing heat to bloom over your cheeks. “Turn around too,” you command.

“I am going to see you anyway,” San grumbles good-naturedly but does as you ask.

You quickly unlace your bodice, stepping out of your dress and undergarments and into the tub. The water is still warm, and you take a moment to breathe deeply. You can’t help but feel both excited and worried. After this, there’s no going back.

“Can I turn around now?” San’s warm and soothing voice brings you back from your mind.

“I– Yeah,” you agree carefully, letting yourself relax as the warm water sloshes just barely over your hips. You fully appreciate the luxury of having such a big and deep bathtub at this moment. You keep your eyes on San as he turns around, apparently having unclothed himself as you were, eyes sparkling like you’ve just gifted him all the most precious jewels in the world.

He takes slow steps towards the edge of the tub, his mouth parted ever so slightly as he takes in the view of you. “You are gorgeous,” he whispers reverently, and you swallow as you try to keep your eyes on his face and not the half-hard cock bobbing lightly against his stomach. He steps into the tub across from you, lowering himself slowly into the shallow water, his eyes still trained on your face.

You can’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks and you avert your eyes, although San’s had quite enough of that. He scooches forward until his legs are on either side of you and one of his hands rests on your waist and the other on your cheek as he leans in to press a passionate kiss to your lips. His tongue gently prods at your lips and you let your mouth drop open ever so slightly, inviting him in.

He immediately invades your mouth, deepening the kiss until he has you gasping and moaning quietly into his mouth. “You sound so perfect,” San hums into your mouth, his hand trailing up your waist to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your nipple. “God, I could sit here all day and love you the way you deserve.”

“San–” you breathe out when he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, and San chuckles at how breathy you’ve gotten just from him fondling and kissing you.

Without another word, he bends down to take your unattended breast in his mouth, sucking and nipping at your sensitive nipple as you whine and your hands fly to grip his hair. “God–” you gasp, head thrown back as he bites at your soft flesh. “San, please.”

San pulls off your nipple with a pop, looking up at you with a crooked smile on his face. “Please what?” he teases. “Please eat me out? Gladly.”

Before you can say anything, he pushes his hands under your hips, lifting you until you’re seated on the tub’s lip (once again grateful for how large his bath is), and attaching his mouth to your dripping cunt. You throw a hand over your mouth to muffle your squeal as his teeth scrape gently against your folds.

His tongue is flat as he laps at your entrance, making your thighs tense and your back arch. “You taste so fucking good,” San moans against your entrance. “You are like fucking nectar, and I cannot get enough.”

Without warning, his tongue plunges deep into your hole and one of his hands moves from your hip to press against your clit. Your eyes widen, then squeeze shut as your teeth sink into your hand, trying desperately not to moan too loud. “San, please, I’m so close–” you gasp through your hand and San’s ministrations only intensify.

Your fingers dig into his scalp and your body starts to tremble as your legs squeeze around San’s head. The heat in your core burns as you can feel pleasure course through your veins and you come into San’s mouth. He doesn’t stop, licking up your slick until you’re pushing at his head and whining.

When he comes up, his chin is glistening with your release and he leans in to press his lips against yours. You can taste how bitter you are on his lips, and it only serves to make you sigh into his mouth. “Please,” you repeat, “fuck me.”

San arches a perfect brow. “Are you sure? You have just–”

Instead of gracing him with an answer, you pull him in by his shoulders and press your lips insistently against his again. “Now,” you whine and San chuckles, reaching down to stroke his cock, the tip an angry red.

“All right, whatever you want. I live for you.” Without another word, he lines himself up to your dripping pussy and pushes in. “Fuck–” he hisses more to himself than to you before capturing your lips again.

He starts slow, pushing into you carefully, but as your moans rise in pitch into his mouth, his thrusts increase in speed. It’s thick, long, and stretches you so perfectly that you fear you’ll never get enough of it. Your teeth sink into San’s lower lip and you can taste blood before he thrusts into you so perfectly that you squeal into his mouth, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

“God, you’re so fucking big,” you whine, head dropping down as you sink your teeth into his shoulder as well.

San laughs low in his throat, lifting you back off the tub and holding you in the air as his hips meet your ass, the slick noises growing louder and louder. “Filling you up so well, yeah? God, I can feel you moulding so well around me. Built to take me, take my cock until all you can say is my name.”

You nod frantically in agreement. “All yours, San– please, please, please,” you groan into his neck.

“God, you beg so much,” San hums, pleased. “Come on, show me how much you want it. Show your prince how much you love him.” He sits back in the tub, lowering you carefully until you can keep yourself upright on his lap, his length spearing deep inside of you.

It takes you a moment to start moving, San’s teeth working into his lip as he keeps himself from thrusting up into your tight heat. You start by grinding on his lap, but you can’t bring yourself to tease him too much before you fall apart. After not even a minute, you lift yourself and let yourself drop, moaning so loudly you swear everyone in the castle could hear it.

San isn’t faring any better, his hands gripping your waist as his cock twitches inside of you. It doesn’t take long for him to bite into your shoulder and groan as he spills his seed deep inside of you, the warmth filling you up. “Fuck,” you sigh, your body finally relaxing as San’s arms around your waist keep you from collapsing.

It takes a moment for the two of you to finally find the energy to move. When you get up off San’s lap, his come drips out of your sore cunt, and you laugh, shaking your head. “Come on, let’s take a proper bath and get you cleaned up,” you murmur, reaching out and turning the faucet back on. “We still need to deal with…the arrangement from your parents.”

Your voice sours on the last bit and San sighs, leaning over to give you a warm hug. “Please do not worry too much, my love,” he begs. “I will talk with Jongho. He will help us, I promise. He prefers the royal lifestyle more than I do, after all. Will you trust me?”

You bite your lip as you turn to face the man you love. “I always do,” you confirm, smiling softly at the way San’s face lights up. “I’ll follow you anywhere, my prince. My San.”

-

As your two young daughters nap inside, you step onto the porch to wrap your arms around San’s broad shoulders. “Another letter from Jongho?” you hum, pressing your cheek into his soft woollen sweater you had knitted for an anniversary gift. “What did he say this time?”

San lets his head rest upon yours. “He says Mother and Father have gotten over it, and are now just happy I am safe. He still would not tell them where I am, however, and he finds their reactions amusing.” You can hear the smile leak into his voice. “Maybe when my father finally passes his crown on to Jongho, we can let them visit. I would love for them to meet the girls.”

You smile too, tilting your head to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure at that point they’ll just be happy you’ve given them grandchildren, Sanah.” You pause. “Thank you.”

San pouts, turning to properly face you. “Now, whatever are you thanking me for?”

Shrugging, you wrap your arms around his trim waist. “For giving all that up for me. I know you must miss them. And it can’t have been easy adjusting to the life I live.”

San quiets you with a gentle touch of his lips against yours. “I miss my parents, yes. I miss Jongho. But this is all I’ve ever wanted.” He pulls you in closer. “I do not wish for you to feel guilty over a choice that I made myself. To me, you’re worth more than a crown.”

[odinsblog]

Game of Thrones stars and other actors read South Africa's case file charging Israel with genocide at the International Court of Justice.

Transcript:

It was already known that repeated exposure to conflict and violence, including witnessing and experiencing housing demolition, combined with Israel'siege of Gaza since 2007, is associated with high levels of psychological distress amongst Palestinians.

Indeed, the United Nations Security Council Resolution 2712 expressed its deep concern that the disruption of access to education has a dramatic impact on children and that conflict has a lifelong effect on their physical and mental health.

This disruption and its dramatic impact on children must be considered in particular and in the context of the number of Palestinian students and educators who have been killed, 4,037 and 209 respectively, and wounded, estimated at 7,259 and the number of Palestinian schools having been damaged or destroyed 352 or 74% of the schools in the whole of Gaza.

Medical professionals assess that the health effects on all Palestinian children, women, men, older people, people with disabilities and people marginalized identities are immense.

An emergency coordinator for Médecins Sans Frontières interviewed on her return from five weeks in Gaza, describes: It's even worse in reality than it looks. The amount of suffering is just something incomparable. It's really unbearable. I'm speechless when I try and think of the future of these children. Generations of children who will be handicapped, who will be traumatized.

The very children in our mental health program are telling us that they would rather die than continue living in Gaza now.

The extreme levels of bombardment and lack of any safe areas are also causing severe mental trauma in the Palestinian population in Gaza.

Even before the latest onslaught, Palestinians in Gaza suffered severe trauma from prior attacks. 80% of Palestinian children experienced higher levels of emotional distress, demonstrating bed wetting, 79% and reactive mutism, 59% and engaging in self harm, 59% and suicidal thoughts, 55%.

Eleven weeks of relentless bombardment, displacement and loss will necessarily have led to a further increase in those figures, particularly for the estimated tens of thousands of Palestinian children who have lost at least one parent and those who are the sole surviving members of their families.

For the families who remain intact or partially intact, quote, “It's about doing everything you can so your child doesn't realize that you've lost control.”

There are reports of Israeli forces using white phosphorus in densely populated areas in Gaza.

As the World Health Organization describes, even small amounts of white phosphorus can cause deep and severe burns, penetrating even through bone and capable of reigniting after initial treatment.

There are no functioning hospitals in the north of Gaza in particular, such that injured persons are reduced to waiting to die, unable to seek surgery or medical treatment beyond first aid, dying slow, agonizing deaths from their injuries or from resultant infections.

Large numbers of Palestinian civilians, including children, have reportedly been arrested, blindfolded, forced to undress and remain outside in cold weather before being forced onto trucks and taken to unknown locations.

Medics and first responders in particular have been repeatedly detained by Israeli forces, with many being detained in communicado at unknown locations.

Videos published by Israeli media on Christmas Day appeared to show hundreds of Palestinians rounded up inside al-Yarmouk football stadium in Gaza City, including children, older people and persons with disabilities, being forced to strip to their underwear in degrading conditions. United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian affairs, or UN OCHA, reports video footage showing bruises and burns on the bodies of detainees.

Images of mutilated and burned corpses, alongside videos of armed attacks by Israeli soldiers are reportedly circulated in Israel via a Telegram channel called, 72 Virgins Uncensored, billed as exclusive content from the Gaza Strip.

[rosemaryblossomworld]

Think I need someone older

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 18+, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗...), 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚜

𝙰/𝚗: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾! 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 (𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗), 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍!

Few people were unaware of Aemond Targaryen's obsession with his older half-sister. He identified her every breath and word as a blessing from the gods.

Alicent was not against uniting with the Blacks, she herself had proposed marriage! But she didn't want her son to marry a woman twice his age. She loved him and offered various daughters from different houses that matched his age. But Aemond gave the invited guest a bored look every time.

Y/n Targaryen was the king's eldest daughter, he loved and praised her. She was a woman of intelligence, she gave up the throne and married a lord, it was said that they loved each other, which was very rare in their time. But alas, the man died in the war, leaving a young wife and three children.

As she walked the halls of the castle, she greeted every servant. She knew every servant by name. She was not afraid of dirty work, once some people from the court saw how the first princess helped the laundress to collect the laundry, which fell in the mud, that day it rained heavily.

Aemond had followed her around like a duckling following his mother since he was young. She defended him from the attacks of the bastard Strongs, told them off and reported to the mother of the family.

"I will marry you, sister!" shouted the boy in a burst of ebullience.

"Oh, my prince, but I will be old by then," the eldest princess laughed, stroking the prince's ruffled hair.

"I will love you always. I don't care about age!" said Aemond just as reverently.

The princess laughed at him, not taking him seriously. After all, he was not the first boy to declare his love to her. She knew that soon he would forget about her and marry a girl his own age.

Sitting at the family table, Y/n felt his intense gaze devouring every inch of her body. Aemond had grown up. And grown into a fine young man. Returning to King's Landing, the eldest princess had hoped that Aemond had married a lady from another house. But the young prince remained lonely and was clearly waiting for something, or rather someone.

From her close servants, Y/n learned that all the women his mother had suggested, he had rejected. And kept asking to send the marriage proposal to her. But the Queen refused because of the age difference. And Y/n supported her.

The first princess was not much affected by age, sometimes thought to be only twenty and five. Because of that, there were rumors of a curse, a witch, etc. But Y/n was not a young lady. And she thought it was ridiculous for her to marry a second time. She had children who were the same age as Aemond!

The princess watched her family who were talking amongst themselves, laughing and having fun. Y/n smiled, realizing that this was the only peaceful moment after all these years.

She shifted her gaze again to Aemond, who continued to stare at her. The woman stiffened but smiled, then turned her back to her eldest son, who distracted her with a question.

"Oh, Your Grace, we meant to make a little announcement," the queen said quietly but loudly, the table fell silent.

"Right, wife, thank you for reminding me," Viserys exhaled heavily.

"What kind of announcement is this?" laughed Rhaenyra nervously.

"I realized that almost all of my children and grandchildren have found a mate, it is very important to me. Today I wanted to announce that my son Aemond is also getting married," muttered the king.

"Oh that is wonderful news," Y/n pressed her palm to her chest and turned to the prince, she smiled affectionately at him. Viserys was unable to continue his monologue.

"Let me do this, my love," Alicent spoke softly.

"Please," the man exhaled tiredly.

"We've found him the perfect match. We have been discussing this with the King for years," Alicent turned her attention to the first princess, "We have decided that, you, Y/n Targaryen will be perfect for my son," Alicent smiled affectionately again, excitement and fear frozen in her eyes. This decision was much harder for her to make than many thought.

The table fell silent. Rhaenyra looked at her sister with fear, the latter looked at the girl as well, then shifted her gaze to Daemon, who frowned.

"Your Majesty...do you understand the risk?" y/n's voice trembled.

"We understood, but lately many families have refused to accept a marriage proposal. So we decided to choose someone from a close circle," the Queen smiled nervously.

"I am not young. Aemond would be suited for a girl his age," for the first time in her life, the princess wanted to escape this room and run away to her chambers.

"We know..." Alicent pressed her lips together.

"I'm not sure I can give birth because of my age," the woman's brain was tossing ideas of retreat to her, but all those ideas ran into a high and solid wall.

"We've talked about this. If it doesn't work out, Aemond said it doesn't matter to him and he's willing to be the father of your children," Alicent exhaled convulsively.

"But..." the older princess wanted to continue.

"Y/n!" came the squeaky voice of the king.

"Father!" shrieked the girl similarly.

"This decision is not negotiable! I want happiness for you," Viserys coughed.

"I'm sorry," y/n got up from the table and hurried away so as not to cause a scene.

The next day the woman did not come out until the evening. Throughout the day she had been visited by her children and her younger sister, who was in shock and angry at her father's decision.

It was cool in the garden, the woman wrapped herself in her silk robe, she nodded to the knight who stood guard in the garden and went deep inside.

"It's dangerous for such a beautiful woman to walk at night without knights," a voice sounded somewhere to her left, Y/n turned around.

"Aemond..." the princess squirmed.

"Sister, I haven't seen you all day," the young man stepped closer.

"I wasn't feeling well today and decided to rest," y/n walked forward.

"Is it because of the news?" asked the obvious thing Aemond.

"Yes! How could they? They condemned you to live with an old woman who can't give you anything!" the princess exploded and turned to the young man again.

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" raised his voice to the prince, frowning.

"But it is true! You weren't looking hard enough, perhaps you would have found the one and only!" y/n wanted to scream, but she realized she would wake up the entire castle.

"I found my one and only long ago...and no one can compare to her," whispered Aemond and moved even closer to the woman who was standing with her back to him.

"Why then..." the princess turned to him, and saw that very look in his eyes.

"I told you sister, I will find any way that we can be together,"

"No...Aemond...you don't realize what you are condemning yourself to,"

"I don't want a baby, I just want you!"

"Aemond...do you hear me! I'm an old widow who could die at any moment!"

The prince doesn't hold back and reaches out his hand to the woman's neck, squeezing it but allowing her to breathe.

"Don't you dare! If you die, I will follow you," Aemond looked into the girl's eyes with fury.

"You fool!" she whispered.

"I'm a fool! I love you so much and you can't understand that," the young man moved closer to the princess's face and then slowly began to lead her towards the tree, keeping her throat down.

He hid them behind bushes and other trees. Aemond pressed his whole body against his lover. Then he nestled his lips to hers. His kiss was inept and rough, he pressed hard on the girl's lips, making it impossible to move them. Unable to hold back, Y/n bit Aemond's lip, the prince pulled back. He exhaled heavily. Even the bite of his beloved was a blessing to him.

He let go of her neck, sliding down and lifting her robe and night dress.

"Wait!" the princess startled.

Aemond piled his entire body on top of the woman again, preventing her from moving. He snuck further in, touching her womanhood. She sighed convulsively.

"No underwear?" grinned the prince, embarrassing the woman.

He ran his index finger along the Y/n's folds, again pulling a sigh from her lips. Then again and again until the her juices began to show. He teased the pearl, squeezing it between his fingers and pulling it away.

Y/N grasped the man's shoulders and nipped at the spot between his shoulder and neck, holding back a moan.

Aemond continued to slide and pull away from the woman's bead.

"Aemond," sobbed the princess, she felt herself surrendering under the onslaught of these beautiful sensations.

"What is it my queen?" the prince asked and smirked "Tell me. What do you want?"

"Inside...touch inside. I want to feel you inside," the girl breathed heavily, grasping at his black leather tunic.

AEmond slowly slipped two fingers into the woman's womb. This time the Princess didn't hold back a moan. She hadn't felt these feelings in a long time, she hadn't touched herself and she hadn't brought anyone into her bedroom since her husband's death. But now...Aemond made her remember these sensations.

The prince sped up his movements, wet and squelching sounds echoed through the garden, speeding up every second.

This sound excited Y/N even more, she began to squeeze the young man's fingers, no longer holding back her moans. If anyone saw them, they would think the prince was having fun with a Silk Street prostitute.

Y/N threw her right leg over Aemond's thigh, pressing her closer to him. She could feel the bump against her thigh. The princess reached her hands out to the guy's face, guiding him to her face, she connected with him in a kiss, schooling him.

The woman's legs began to tremble, Aemond noticed it, so he put his free arm around her waist, holding her.

"Aemond, I'm about to..." the princess gasped, she was short of breath.

"C'mon, I'm here, let it go," the young man whispered caressingly into her ear, and the girl let go.

A groan caught in her throat, her legs shook, and the walls enveloped Aemond's fingers, squeezing them convulsively. The prince waited for a while, then stuck his fingers out. Y/N thought he would say goodbye to her now, or escort her out, but he knelt down, spreading the legs wider. He nestled his lips against the woman's nub, sucking and drinking all of the girl's juices. The princess sighed sharply, not expecting this.

"Wait! Fool! There...There...It's all sensitive in there! No!" the woman tried to move away or push the prince's face away, but Aemond pressed down harder and harder.

The prince drove his tongue back and forth, circling the lovely pearl, and then went further, thrusting his tongue inside.

The prince drove his tongue back and forth, circling the lovely pearl, and then went further, thrusting his tongue inside.

Y/n was thrashing in an agony of pleasure, she was in pain and pleasure, she wanted to run away but at the same time press the prince's face closer. She could feel Aemond moving his tongue, it was a delightful feeling. The prince was touching all her sensitive spots. Involuntarily, the princess began to move her hips, enjoying herself. Aemond groaned as he felt his lover's involvement. Y/n felt the pleasure forming into a tight lump again, and then that lump unleashed. The girl let out a sound, it resembled both a cry and a scream.

Aemond drank all that poured out of his woman's womb, licking the inside of her thigh gently. He rose from his knees, holding the woman who was piling on top of him due to her orgasm, unable to keep herself on her feet.

"I love you, sister! You are everything to me. And you will be mine..."