#Velaryon Reader

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[controld3vil]

𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nyra!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you, Alicent is fine!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congratulations!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you pouting?” 

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

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

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

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

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

She looks at you, astonished. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[filmsmakkari]

the tale of a princess and her fair lady

rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader

Summary: The daughter of House Velaryon makes a promise to her princess

CW: None!

A/N- I have not written and published a fanfiction since I was 14... bare with and pray for me.

The chamber was silent as a young girl with silver hair knelt before hundreds of candles beneath the stained-glass windows of the starry sept. Though she had never been a believer in gods and myths before, her love and worry filled her so deeply at present that she was brought to her knees in prayer.

Lady (Y/N) of House Velaryon had been in love with Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen for the better half of a year. They’d known each other since childhood and had always been quite close. Being the only two daughters of the great Valyrian houses in the Red Keep, they’d always felt that no one could understand them as well as each other. Their relationship, which had always toed the line between platonic and romantic, had turned into an unadulterated love affair the day Rhaenyra realized that her disdain for marriage to a man had never truly been about marriage, but more so the man.

Ever since, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had been living in pure bliss, catching each other’s eye, walking with linked arms in public, and worshiping each other’s bodies during those private moments brought on by the cover of night. In recent days, however, the girls have been slightly at odds with each other, as (Y/N)’s parents have posed a potential marriage between Lady (Y/N) and King Viserys to strengthen the realm. Rhaenyra had hardly been able to look at her lover as she could soon become her stepmother, and she didn’t want it to be more painful by prolonging their relationship until the moment (Y/N) stood at the altar.

On this day, the 13th of the eighth moon, the princess had taken a most dangerous risk in flying to her family’s seat of power, Dragonstone, to subdue her wretched uncle Daemon, who had been squatting there for a year and who had just stolen a dragon egg for his unborn bastard child. (Y/N) had gotten wind of these plans and miraculously arrived at the dragonpit just before Rhaenyra took flight. (Y/N) had implored her princess to be safe, telling her that she would not know what to do if anything happened to her. Rhaenyra, overcome by the love and emotion she had been repressing, could not think of anything else to do but cup (Y/N)'s cheeks and pull her into a kiss. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in shock for a moment, but she quickly got over it, placing her hand on Rhaenyra’s cheek and wrapping her free arm around her waist.

How lovely that kiss was, (Y/N) sighed, remembering it. Rhaenyra had left after their lips broke, and (Y/N) had been in the sept worrying ever since. Eyes closed, she murmured promises to the seven that she would never sin again if Rhaenyra was protected.

Upon hearing a familiar voice softly calling her name, (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open. She quickly turned her head to see none other than Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her princess. The purest love in her life. Her everything.

(Y/N) ran to her lover, immediately cupping her face and kissing her fiercely. Rhaenyra met (Y/N) with the same passion, grabbing her tightly by her waist and pulling her closer. 

Two dragons burning together under the midnight sky. 

The kiss communicated everything they had been too afraid to say. “I’m sorry.” “I miss you.” “I need you.” “I love you.”

The two girls finally broke apart for air, giggling shyly in the throes of their young love. 

Suddenly serious, Rhaenyra looked deeply into (Y/N)’s eyes. A pure shade of violet only found in those with the true blood of Old Valyria, with little flecks of blue- a trait passed down from her seafaring ancestors. She then scanned (Y/N)’s entire body, her shimmering silver hair, braided at the top, loosening into long coils past her backside—the curves of her breasts and hips, the softness of her hands, and the way her brown skin shone in the moonlight.

“A true Valyrian goddess, you are,” she said.

(Y/N) looked down shyly at the compliment. Rhaenyra lifted (Y/N)’s chin with her finger and stepped closer, leaning her forehead against hers. A moment of sweetness and intimacy. 

“Kivio naejot sagon rūsīr issa va moriot,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Dōrī jorrāelagon mirre tolie hae ao jorrāelagon issa.”

Swear to be with me always. Never love any other as you love me.

(Y/N) exhaled. “Oh, issa dārilaros. Nyke kivio, jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī."

Oh, my princess. I swear, by the old gods and the new.

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt Season Two

Aemond: I wonder if YN has received my letter.

Aemond’s letter: “Babe… I’m so sorry I killed your brother. But I’m also not. Don’t be sad you’re so hot. We should marry to make you happy again.”

YN: I fucking hate this guy… and myself… gods I wish I was dead…

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Aemond X Velaryon!Reader: An olive branch

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, talks of marriage, fluff, no use of y/n, female reader, incest ( because its hotd so of course), Velaryon reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2K

You watch Aemond move, his sword singing gracefully as he practices his fight moves. You hear Helaena  hum to the twins causing you to turn to face her. A small smile appears on your lips as you watch the children play. Heleana looks up at you suddenly, her eyes moving over your face before smiling at you.

“What is it?”

“I’m excited.”

“Whatever about?”

“The wedding of course.”

You didn’t know about any wedding that was to take place soon. You eyed Helaena ’s handmaidens curiously seeing the way they looked around with odd expressions. You’d been raised alongside Heleana's all your life and unlike your brothers you had developed a friendship with your aunt. People often judged her words, believing she was mad, but you always tried your best to understand her. Even so there were moments where you simply couldn’t make out what she was talking about.

“I think you're confused, your grace. I don’t think there are any weddings to be celebrated soon.”

“Not yet but there will be.”

Before you could ask what she meant Aegon burst through the doors. You rose for your seat excusing yourself from the room. You exited the doors not realizing someone was in front of you until you collided with them. Your body stumbled backwards losing its balance but before you could fall a hand wrapped around your waist, holding you upright. Your eyes found Aemonds, mouth opening slightly as his gaze penetrated you.

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You could feel the heat of Aemond’s palm on your waist, causing your cheeks to heat up. You’d always had a soft spot for Aemond who, unlike his brother, had always shown you kindness. Well, as much kindness as he could give to the bastard daughter of his sister. Your family was complicated but you always tried your hardest to get along with everyone. You did it for your mothers sake, knowing  she had had to deal with a lot during her life. There was one small issue however. A secret you’ve kept hidden for years. Over the years you’d developed a somewhat overbearing desire for Aemond. You had thought it was merely because you'd become older and your body longed for pleasure but you realize you only ever felt flushed around the older Targaryen.

Your gaze would linger on Aemonds frame whenever he was in the room, your eyes falling on his long hair and strong features. You knew you would have to marry one day, your brothers had already been promised to their future wives but your mother had yet to suggest a husband for you. As the tensions rose in the household you couldn’t help but think that perhaps an alliance was overdue. And what better way to secure an alliance than through marriage? But you never brought it up, keeping your thoughts concealed form everyone. 

Well, almost everyone.

Helena knew of your thoughts. She was the only one you had confided in. You’d done so because you felt like you could trust her and because you needed to get the idea off your mind before it consumed you entirely. You never expected her to tell anyone and even if she did you assumed they wouldn’t believe you. 

You’d been wrong.

Aemond stared at you, his touch lingering on your body even after it was clear you had regained your balance. He often caught you glancing in his direction but he never thought much off it. He’d been teased his entire life and he knew his eye made people curious so he always assumed you were looking at him in judgment. It was only when Heleana told him of what you’d said to her that he realized he’d been completely wrong. You weren’t looking at him in disgust but rather in a longing manner. He couldn't seem to get the thought out of his head. You’d grown to be a beautiful woman and you were strong like him. In a lot of ways you two would make a wonderful match.  But he knew if he wanted this to work the way you’d thought he’d have to move fast. 

“Aemond.”

Your voice called him back to reality, lips pursing as he finally released your body. He gave you a small smile, his lips becoming a thin line as he did. He was always so shy looking when he was around you. It was a lot different from how he looked when he was training. You moved your hands over your dress, trying to straighten out the fabric. 

“Is that new?”

“Oh. Yes it is. I thought it’d be nice to wear something different for dinner. Does it please you?”

Aemonds brows furrowed at your questions. Why did you care about what he thought of your clothes? But then he caught sight of the way you looked at him. Like a small girl waiting for approval. He couldn’t help but smile at your delicate nature.

“It's beautiful. Just as you are.”

Aegon's voice rang through the halls as he called out for his brother. Aemond bowed his head to you slightly before making his way towards the door you stepped out of a couple of moments prior. Before entering he turned to look at you once more.

“See you at dinner.”

You nodded at him, watching as he entered the room before you began rushing down the hall. You walked fast through the castle, desperately trying to get to your chambers. You suddenly felt the need for a bath. 

Hours later you make your way down to the dining room, your dress trailing behind you. You walked into the room being greeted by the sight of your family. Your mother smiled at you as you made your way towards your seat. She placed a kiss on your head, her hand moving to grasp yours beneath the table. You leaned into your mothers caresses, closing your eyes.

Aemond observed the exchange from the other side of the table, a bitterness filling him. Rhaenyra was always gentle with her children, showering them with love at every opportunity. Aemond couldn’t help but feel jealous. The feeling faded a bit when he remembered what he had planned for tonight. If everything went well soon it would be him who held onto your hand. 

The dinner went on as it usually did, an eerie feeling surrounding the table you feasted on. That was how it always was with your family, one never knew when a fight might break out. Music filled the room causing your brother to rise from his seat. You watched Jace make his way to your mother, offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to guide her into a dance. Heleana eyed Aegon, awaiting him to invite her to dance as well but he was far too focused on the ale in his cup to notice. You gave Heleana a sympathetic look.

“May I have this dance?”

You’d been so focused in observing the others that you hadn’t noticed Aemond make his way over to you. He stood beside you, his hand outstretched in invitation. You looked up at him in surprise for a moment before getting up from your seat and taking his hand. He led you to where your mother and brother were. You caught the way your mother gazed at Aemond curiously. But soon enough the only thing you could see was Aemond. He took the lead, guiding you through the dance effortlessly. His movements were perfect and precise while yours were fluid and natural. A perfect contrast to each other. Once you were finished Aemond turned to face the table, his hand grasping yours. 

“I have an announcement to make.”

The older members of the family eyed Aemond, trying to figure out what he was about to do. You prayed he was not about to do something stupid. You couldn’t handle a fight tonight. To your surprise, and to everyone else's, Aemond turned to look at your mother. 

“I would like your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Alicent lifted off her chair slightly, looking at her son with wide eyes. That was the moment that it became clear to you that Aemond had decided this by himself, he had not been guided to take action. He was doing this because he wanted to. Your mother hesitated for a moment before her eyes moved to look at your face. You knew what marrying Aemond would mean. You knew the consequences and you knew the duties you would have to perform but all you could think about at the moment was the feeling of his hand in yours. You gave your mother a small nod. 

“She accepts your offer.”

Heleana let out a delighted squeal, rising from her seat to make her way over to you. She pulled you into an embrace which you happily returned. 

“I told you it would happen.”

She had in fact warned you but you would have never guessed this was what she meant. Alicent rose from her chair raising her glass to you and Aemond.

“To the happy couple. May your union symbolize the bond of our houses.”

“Now and forevermore.”

Aliecent turned to look at your mother and you could swear you saw them share a small smile.

Later that night you were getting ready for bed when there was a knock on your door. You expected it to be your guard so you simply yelled out.

“You may enter.”

But instead of being greeted with the face of your guard you found yourself gazing up at Aemond. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. I just wished to see my wife.”

It felt odd to hear him call you that.

“I’m still not your wife. We have not been married yet.”

“But we will be. Might as well begin referring to you as such.”

“Well then husband, what makes you come to my room at such an hour. You should be sleeping.”

Aemond walked around your room, taking it in. You watched him move around until he was closer to you. 

“I tried but sleep seems to be avoiding me. I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head.”

“What thoughts?”

He gazed at you, his hand moving to rest on your cheek. 

“I wish to taste you.”

You let out a soft gasp at Aemonds words, his piercing gaze making you flush.

“We cannot.”

“Why not?”

“We aren’t married yet. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t care. The gods will understand.”

His hands moved over your nightgown, fingers grazing the skin beneath it. You leaned onto the bed, taking a seat. Your head spun at the feeling of Aemond’s skin on yours and even though you knew this was wrong you couldn’t get yourself to stop him. Aemond moved to sit on his knees before you, his hand moving to inch up your dress. He placed a kiss to your shin making you sigh. His hands moved over you gently revealing more and more of your skin to him. 

“Aemond i-oh gods- i need you to-”

“Shh, I know.”

He looked at your bare pussy, observing the way it glistened. He leaned his head forward, his tongue darting out to taste you. A moan ripped out of your lips at the feeling of his tongue on your folds. You gripped onto the sheets, breathing heavily as Aemonds tongue continued to move against you.  He groaned into you, lapping at your cunt in desperation. He hadn’t expected for you to feel this good. Your hand found his head, unconsciously pushing him closer to you. 

“Ah Aemond i’m close.”

Aemond sucked on your clit, his fingers moving to help him make you reach your orgasm. It didn’t take long before your body was launching forwards, a cry of Aemonds name on your lips as you came.  Aemond rested his head on your thigh, his eyes moving over the outline of your nipples through your nightgown as you breathed. 

“Satisfied husband?”

“For now.”

Aemond rose from the ground, moving to place a gentle kiss to your temple. You closed your eyes allowing him to caress you. And just as he had entered your chambers he exited them, leaving you to think of what was to come on your wedding night. Maybe this marriage would be more fruitful than you’d initially anticipated.

[ashblooddragons]

My Tears Ricochet

This was requested by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored I know it isn't exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it none the less

Summary: You and Daemon are in a failing marriage, whispers follow you everywhere you go. Whispers that speak of his infidelity. And when you confront him of these rumors will it end everything or will it bring you back together.

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: inner turmoil, rumors of Daemon cheating (though he never did), argument, marital problems, angst, tell me if I missed anything

My nails dig into my palms as whispers and glances are thrown my way. 

It started when my husband and I, the Prince Daemon, got into our first quarrel that led us down this road. 

It was over something so small, well at least in his eyes. He had spilled wine on my dress with no idea how expensive it was. 

The silks had been made by the finest fabric maker in Myr, and that alone made the dress absurdly expensive, and then on top of that, it was a gorgeous light purple with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls sewn into the bodice and the embroidery was pure gold thread. 

I could have forgiven him, it was a mistake and everyone makes those. But when my dear, dear husband laughed at the irreversible stain, I saw red. And on top of all this, the dress had been a gift from my Father for my nameday. So to hear my husband laugh at such a mistake, and then roll his eyes when I explained my frustration, I was less than pleased. 

But I should have known that was only the beginning. That the dress was only the beginning of the end. 

I should have known that instead of trying to work on our marriage, he would instead decide to warm the bed of his niece. Nor should I be surprised she would let him, for if she can birth two bastards and claim them to be my brothers, then why wouldn't she let another man other than her Strong join her? 

I can handle the glances, the whispers, but when I see people start laughing under their breath is when I've had enough. I pick up the skirt of my dress and rush up the stairs towards my shared chambers with Daemon. Not fast enough for the court to have their laughs and know they hurt me, but also not slow enough not to make a point. 

When I enter our chambers I find it the way it's been for at least a moon. The bed is only slightly used on the left side, and the blue velvet settee with a thin quilt and two plush pillows. I know that even though he sleeps here at night he still has plenty of time to visit a whore or his darling niece. 

“My Lady.” I hear my son's Nursemaid say as she gives a clumsy bow as she holds my little boy. 

“Hello Dahlia.” I say to the mousy girl. Her hair is a dull red almost seeming brown in certain lights. Her face is pudgy with freckles spotting all over her face and arms. But what makes her stand out is her eyes, the most beautiful sage green. You could almost smell the scent of bark and foliage when you look at them. 

“The little Prince has just finished his feed if you wish to hold him?” She asks when Daelor starts to whimper and squirm in her arms. 

Always a Mama's boy. I think, taking my son into my arms. 

He is such a sweet little thing, only six moons old and yet already knows who his favorite is. Though I have heard that Targaryen boys tend to prefer their Mothers. 

I take in his sweet cherubic cheeks that have a slight rosy tint to them. His soft silver curls that are untameable though I would never want to. But most of all his eyes, a soft periwinkle that matches my own. Everything about his coloring from skin, hair, and eyes shows that he is mine. But his features are of his Father's. From the strong straight nose, to his brow that always seems like he's ready to scold you. It is clear he is mine and my husband's son. Not even Rhaenyra can try and deny that. And she has only to try and protect her sons. 

I hear the faint creak of the door open followed by the soft steps of Dahlia leaving me so I may spend time with my little boy. 

“Nine moons you were in me, and yet you are practically a clone of your Father.” I jest as he moves to touch my hair.

I figured out quickly why most mothers have their hair pulled up tight and out of their babes reach, for though they are small they have grips that rival the greatest and strongest knights.

He starts babbling, looking around the room and pointing at things. It almost seems like he's telling me about his day.

“Oh, well that all sounds wonderful.” I say to which he nods, resting his head against my chest. 

“What sounds wonderful?” I hear from behind me. There is no denying who the voice belongs to. The deepness missed with amusement only matches one man. 

My husband. 

“Our son was just telling me about his day, that is all.” I respond, turning around watching as he undoes his jerkin sliding it off so only the rich red undershirt is left. 

He gives me a strange look before looking at our son and a joyful smile plasters itself on his lips. 

“I do not think that is true, my wife, the boy can't even say Mama or Papa.” He jests but his words sting. 

He never called me ‘Wife' until two moons ago when everything started falling apart. There wasn't a night where we didn't have a screaming match only for it to end in cold silence as the other slept across the room. 

I wish I could say that's when the whispers of him visiting brothels or his niece started, it would make more sense. But sadly it isn't, two moons, it was two moons after our son was born when they started. And that's when the whispers started who knows when he truly started warming others beds. I always knew my husband had a high appetite, I myself was his meal of choice, but I never thought he would be so cruel as to find others so soon after our son's birth. That he couldn't wait a couple moons for me to heal. 

Though I suppose I should've known. Everyone warned me, even ladies I had never spoken to had said he would only pump a babe into me and then find another. I didn't believe them, and when his desire for me only grew as my belly swelled I knew they were wrong. But that joy soon came crashing down like a freezing bucket of ice water.

I'm brought back to the present when I feel a tug on my arm. I turn to see my Husband reaching for our son taking him from my arms. I know he is only being a father but I can't help the rage that fills my belly. He's embarrassed me after Daelor's birth, and yet he has the audacity to take him from me? I was the one who screamed and bled for a day and a half, I was the one who was ripped apart to bring the son he so desired only for him to rip my heart from my chest and stomp on it. 

All the pretty words, all the words of adoration, all the ‘I love you's’. I should have known, why didn't I know? 

“Where were you? I went to the training yard but you weren't there, was that not where you told me you would be at this hour?” I ask with such venom I see him almost flinch. 

“I was, though I had to cut my training short, I was needed in the city.” He responds with a nonchalant shrug before setting our son down on the floor by his toys. 

Now he won't even try to deny his visits to the brothel? Is this truly what has become of our marriage? I think as a silent tear rolls down my cheek. Though he would never know of it for his attention is on our son and not me, never me. 

“Of course.” I whisper before moving towards our, no, my bed and picking up my book from the side table. 

I can feel him staring at me, feel the way he assesses me. But I don't react, I refuse to. But his words are what makes me finally look at him in shock. 

“I don't know when things changed, or why, but I want to work on us. Why won't you let me?” 

I look down at my heralds for a moment, I need to decide if now is the time to confront him on his affairs. When I look up at him again, seeing the confusion and hurt across his face I know I must. 

“You act as if you didn't do this, as if you didn't run off to your niece or some whore. How long did it take you? A week mayhaps the very day our son was born.” I demand as tears threaten to fall but I refuse to let him know how much he's hurt me, how many tears I have shed because of him. 

He doesn't say anything, only picks up our son and opens the door whispering to the guard and then waits. I know what he's doing, he's calling for Dahlia, Daelor doesn't need to hear our screaming matches. 

It feels like only seconds but at the same time millennia until Dahlia has Daelor and walks away towards the gardens. 

Tis the farthest place from our chambers, he shouldn't hear us from there. 

I watch as Daemon shuts the door with a soft click. He doesn't turn to look at me, only looking at his hands with utter defeat. 

This is it, the moment our marriage will finally break completely. No more sweet words or soft touches, no more vows of devotion or I love you. The bridge will finally crash and burn into nothing but soot. I think as he finally turns to look at me. 

“And who had put such rumors in your head? Why would I go to a brothel? Why would I visit my niece? You know how I hate what she has done to the Targaryen name and yet you think I will follow her into bed? Do you truly think I have no restraint?” He asks, pain filling each word, as more tears begin to rim his eyes. 

I stand from my spot on the bed moving towards him. “Do not play me for a fool, Daemon! Everyone knows, they whisper it with each step I take. I can't leave these chambers without lords and ladies laughing and whispering behind my back. So do not play the victim, you have even admitted to going to a brothel! And your Niece has made sly comments here and there of how--how you will not desire me anymore.” I scream tears rolling down my cheeks. There is no hiding my pain anymore. I have bottled this up for too long, six moons is too long to hold this burden. 

He only stares at me before a curse leaves his lips. “I don't know what Rhaenyra has said to you, or the court but it is a lie. And when did I ever admit to going to a brothel?” He demands stepping closer. One more step from either of us and our chests would meet. 

“You said you went into the city, why not tell me? The only clear answer is you are hiding something.” I all but sob out, I know I must look like a hysterical mess right now but I can't find any reason to care. 

He freezes seeing all my hurt, every stab to the heart now open for him to pick apart and destroy me more. 

He sighs and looks down at his jerkin and I already know what is going to happen. He will slip it back on and leave to clear his head only to come back smelling of soot and wine. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you, I was trying to do something nice.” He says picking up his jerkin but instead of putting it on he reaches into one of the pockets pulling out a small box and something with a chain. 

“I thought– I thought maybe I could show I cared if my words didn't. You hardly let me touch you now, I can't speak without you becoming quiet and withdrawn. So I thought A gift might help mend things. But I see now it only fueled your mistrust.” He says as he clutches the gifts so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

I think about his words over in my mind, trying to find when it all changed for us. We used to be so perfect, we used to be inseparable. There were many at court who were jealous of the devotion my husband showed me. So when did we fall apart? 

I step forward taking his hand in mine before gently opening his hand. Inside is a gorgeous necklace, diamonds encrust each and every part but what holds my attention are the two dragons. One made of ruby and the other made of sapphire. 

Our mounts, Caraxes and Nightfyre. I think with a smile as I touch the intricately carved stones. 

“It's lovely Daemon, I love it.” I say looking up at him. I can see a faint smile Grace his lips before he opens the little box. 

Inside are matching earrings, a diamond on top and then our mounts made of stone warped around each other. Just like the necklace. 

“They are both lovely gifts.” I say tears slowly rolling down my face instead of the fast sobs. 

“I want to work on us, I want us to be together again. Not just in a room, but in our hearts. And if that means leaving the Red Keep, leaving my brother and family behind. I will, because I would rather have you and our little family than any of this.” He says, wiping my tears. 

I see now that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that maybe, just maybe we can be us again. That we can be in love once more. 

So all I can do is nod, as I hug him for what feels like the first time in ages. And he hugs me back. 

I know it's going to be a long road ahead, but now I feel like I'm not alone anymore.

“You still have a lot of explaining to do. And so do I, I suppose.” I say into his chest. 

I feel his chest rumble with laughter as he strokes my hair. “Then it's a good thing we have all the time in the world.” He responds and for some reason, at this moment, I've never felt more loved.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @baybaybear1 @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

[povofjustme]

The Queen of Death

Part (1/?)

Fandom- House of the Dragons

Being Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys first born, your farther heir

Your were the most sweet and kindest child and that stayed with your until you were a maiden

But you never forget that you are Princess Rhaenys (the queen who was never) is your mother, your leaned many things over the years from her

You were a year younger that Rhaenyra and your grow up together

You both even claimed your dragon (Vermithor) at the same time as each other

Your were best friends and told each other everything

Even your little crush on one of the king’s guards Harwin Strong

You thought nothing would never changed your friendship

Even when she married your younger brother Leanor Velaryon’s and your marrying your first love Harwin

but your were mistaken when your was hold little baby Jacaerys

Your were heart broken when you was holding the babe in your arms

-Over the years your knew that Rhaenyra and Leanor marriage wasn’t perfect but she told you they have arrangement

But she never told you it was with your fucking husband

“I guess the little babe has more Arryn then targaryen”

That was the last thing you said before going mute

Your never felt so betrayed

Your husband, your best friend and your brother

Your cried in your mothers are for days and still hasn’t said a word, Rhaenys was heartbroken

She couldn’t done nothing but hold you

If Rhaenys was the ask the king for annulment the king would say no, just to keep Rhaenyra safe from the rumors

“Cousin you can not be that stupid” r

“Rhaenys watch yourself, we are family but am still king” v

“REALLY want to talk about family, Rhaenyra should learn the meaning of family!”

So her daughter had to stay in the marriage, but she would do everything to keep her first safe

Corlys was furious, there are no word to explain

He wants to pack up his daughter things and move her back to Driftmarks

But Harwin wouldn’t let it happen, after the birth of Jacaerys your wouldn’t speak a word to him

“She is my wife and she will not be going anywhere!”

He would try to grab your had and you would pull away

Ask you to had dinner with him and only meet with no response

Try to get physical and say ..

“I think is time for a baby” h

“….” Y/n walk out the room

And when your move out of your shard quarters together, he know he had lost you

Rhaenyra would do anything to get you back

She would try to have you break her fast with her in the morning - your mother would shut it down in a heartbeat

Tried having you go on walks in the garden with her and Jace but would find you with Queen Alicent children instead

Tried flying with you but be Vermithor would have Rhaenyra lost in the clouds and lost site of you

Even tried summoning you to dinner and sit right next to her, she would talk and talk to try to get something out of you

Even tried telling that Harwin didn’t mean a thing but then get caught up in her words, everything comes out bad

But you never utter a word

And you used it against everyone, even the king hisself

“So y/n how have you been feeling” v said in front of the dinner table “I heard you been unwell” v

“….” You

“Y/n-“ v

“Cousin leave her be” r

The king would try to talk to you but Your mother had your back no matter what

Some people found it rude or disrespectful but you had no feeling left to give

Everyone saw the change in you, you were the girl who was smile at everything and one

And now they never seen a smile on your face, unless it was with the Queens children

It’s been months since the birth of Jacaerys, the king was having a tournament for the babe, all the lords and lady’s where coming to celebrate

The looks and the whispers alone was getting louder and you couldn’t take it

You stood next your husband at the feast, when you saw that everyone was distracted you took your chances

In your room, your grabbing your ridding gear, a few pouches of gold coins. Not needing any else but the clothes on your back

Found your way to the dragon pit, got on Vermithor and fly

You didn’t know where you was going but you knew it was away from kings landing

Flying for hours, you found yourself in a storm

-Vermithor having a hard time trying to navigate again it….

Thing everything went black……

When you wake up, you were on a island… The death Island

(Had this in my head for awhile, don’t know how many parts but let me know if you want this in story!!)

[roselibrary]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Trigger Warnings: murder, targcest, eventual dark!aemond, yandere!aemond, obsessive behaviour, typical targ madness

Summary: Aemond would have his sea-nymph one way or another.

Requests are open!

Summer blossomed like the pink buds on a cherry tree coming to life the day the young Prince Aemond realised his affection for his niece. She had ensnared his soul and enraptured his heart like the vines of ivy devouring the exterior of a Keep. Silver locks and lilac spun eyes that beheld all the secrets in the world, it seemed. Soft-tanned skin – a perfect blend of her mother and father though the same could not be said for those she called brothers – that beamed soft gold in the light of the sun and lips that looked as if only the sweetest of fruits had kissed them. Her hair shone pearlescent in a similar fashion to the decorations often found woven into her curly smooth locks. They fascinated him; the way the peals glimmered in the light and emerged from her curls like the foam atop a crashing wave.

More Velaryon than Targaryen in truth was she. She, too, had no dragon to call her own but instead proclaimed the sea as her abode and its treasures her horde. He wished to be considered a valuable item amongst those she already kept. Soft-spoken and gentle in nature she was her mother's pride and joy – the image of her grandmother they deemed the sea nymph. Sometimes, he wondered if she could grow a tail much like the mystical mermaid on the sigil of House Manderly and if she could, would she finally join her beloved sea and leave them all to wither on land? Those thoughts never brought him any comfort. Instead, he remained grateful that for as much as she wished to join the sea in all ways; she simply was unable to.

He often prayed to the gods in thanks for her inability to simply vanish on the waves.

It became lonely, living in such cold solitude, after a while and none could deny the younger prince led a cold, solitary life. His other kin shone so brightly, vivaciously and with such vitality that it was easy for him to fall into the shadows, the darkness, and the madness. He was a scarred second son of a King who did not even deem his firstborn son his heir. Aemond believed deeply in tradition and the stability such a thing brought to the realm; he could not fathom his elder half-sister bringing chaos with her untraditional succession claim. His sister would openly have a bastard follow her on the throne. Perhaps that’s where his true sentiments lay; he did not despise his sister for being a woman with a powerful agency, or even for being the heir to the throne, but for what would come after his sister's succession. What precedent would it set if bastards could inherit before trueborn children? What chaos would that sow within the realm? Aemond was a man of routine, tradition, and unrelenting stability all of which Rhaenyra was inherently posed to ruin.

Aemond didn’t wish to see his little sea nymph fall with her mother, as she undoubtedly would, due to her unending loyalty and devotion to her catastrophic family. His Gentle Dragon had no qualms openly expressing her love and devotion to the young men that would steal her birthright; it was bad enough the elder prince Jacaerys would steal her place upon the iron throne but downright insulting that, the younger than she, Lucerys would steal the birthright of her father from her person by claiming Driftmark. Aemond wished to see her claim her rightful place as the heiress of Driftmark as the only trueborn child of its heir, however, he would not want to see her seated atop the iron throne.

The monolithic, fearsome work of art did not suit the gentle and ever-changing disposition that she carried with her. Unmoving iron and sharp-edged swords should be nowhere near the supple curves and smooth skin lining her form, instead – if it were not for his no-good elder brother – he would sit upon the iron-casted seat of death in her place. He would be her King and she, his Queen. He had only to find a way to keep her with him permanently.  

Perhaps his father's addled mind and desperation for peace would smile fortuitously upon the one-eyed prince, for once.

It had been many a year since his eyes last wandered upon the form of his beloved sea nymph – a name he only acknowledged in his mind's depths. The realm’s Gentle Dragon had returned to Kings Landing alongside the rest of her kin when protests were raised on the legitimacy of her younger brother's claim to Driftmark. Something many deemed rightfully hers. She glowed effervescent in her Velaryon blue and soft violet threaded gown the silk gently forming the curves of her body and flowing down the lengths of her arms and back. It seemed the dress also recognised the girl's call of the sea for it moulded like waves and rippled in each minuscule movement of her own. The train of the gown followed behind her like the sea lapping at the sand of the beach never quite reaching as far in as it wished.

She stood beside her mother with her head held high in pride as her uncle all but disparaged what remained of her mother's good name - if anything was left of it to begin with. It had delighted him to see the Strong princelings debased in such a public manner and their mother alongside them. He enjoyed much less the disparagement of the Crown Princess’s only daughter and the belief that she would fall to the same whims her mother had and beget only bastards for her future husband. No, that did not please the prince at all. He had observed and planned and waited patiently for many a year to gain his nymph and she would give him no bastards – he knew she wouldn’t. His nymph was too intelligent, dutiful, and self-aware of the consequences of such a thing to attempt such a crime.

Still, his blood boiled, and his hands clenched behind his back. It took an effort to keep his stoicism about his person in the face of his ever-present wrath but within a second his wrath was replaced with bewildered wonderment. Gone was Ser Vaemond’s head; instead the figure of his uncle stood tall, proud, and nonchalant in the face of such grotesque violence. Aemond felt the stirrings of admiration and conflict within his chest at such a sight. This man, his uncle, was a threat, an obstacle, his biggest unrelenting guard towards what Aemond had deemed his. All the realms knew of how Daemon favoured his girls over his boys, and none could deny how he had claimed the Gentle Dragon as much his own as his other brown-skinned, silver-haired darlings. He clenched his jaw. It seemed he would need to confide with another of his aspirations if he wanted to succeed where others had failed.

As if the man could hear the thoughts echoing in the princeling's brain the Rogue turned and leered. Aemond could see the taunt within his gaze, the dare for him to be as foolish as the man who kept his tongue but lost his head.

He could hear the whisper Daemon Targaryen’s eyes conveyed.

“Claim her, if you're bold enough.”

Just as he proved to his father when he claimed Vhagar; Aemond would once more prove that he was, indeed, bold enough.

[black-dhalias]

Inheritance

Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon!Mixed!Reader

You were starved of both ocean and sky, born a Velaryon who could not reside at Driftmark and a Targaryen whose dragon egg did not hatch. By some miracle you had found sanity within Kings Landing—the whispers were loud, but your name eased off their lips once you came into yourself. The eyes and beauty of your mother, but the skin and curls of your father.

Similar to your cousins, Rhaena and Baela—you were clearly the only of your siblings to be true born.

“Aemond…” You note how when you say his name, his jaw tightens. “Do not make me say it…” He doesn’t speak, he simply looks further than you could see. You’re losing him to his own mind.

“Aemond! You are every bit as sweet as you are bitter, I do not—” The words get all caught up in your throat, “No. I will not let you believe otherwise.” Something in that moment left Aemond still, but his gaze seems closer. As if he could still see you.

“I may be of my mother, but even more than that, I am yours. What can they say of that desire? That need?”

“You are meant to marry Lord Stark…” Every word is forced, like it had been locked up in a box and your closeness had set them free.

“To the seven hells with marriage. I speak only of my heart, which has been taken with you for many moons.” You had gotten so close to him that he wasn’t sure he knew how to breathe properly. Your hands ran up to his neck, fingers resting upon his shoulders. “Let me hold you. On the eve of this wedding, let me feel you beneath my touch.”

If it were anyone else, Aemond would have taken them there—innocent or not, but this was you.

Y/N Velaryon. 

“If I am to have you, it will only be as my wife.”

.

.

.

You were young and naive then, to marry Aemond was one of the worst mistakes you could make. He was as much intoxicating as a glass of wine, a bitter taste upon your tongue. He was the one thing you should not have, and yet you did exactly as you should not.

Deep in your womb, you carried his child but the sorrow of your loss burns deeper. Lucerys was gone. You had no explanation as to how it happened, only that he fell in Shipbreaker Bay. The same place that Aemond just so happened to be—a coincidence you could not blindly ignore.

“Y/N.” You turn your eyes to his voice, knowing that your next words would be the last you’d share with him. “My love.”

You were a prisoner of war, with child and no dragon to carry you to dragonstone.

“Do not flatter me with kindness, I fear that I know what you have done…” You purse your lips, a tightness existing with your chest you could not fathom. “I wish I did not, but I do…” Meeting his eye did not seem possible—a marriage you hoped would mend the broken pieces between your family and his, it shattered. So quickly, slipping right through your hands.

The swell of your belly was clearer as you stood, finally finding the courage to look at him which made you more certain. “I stood aside as Aegon took my mother’s birthright. I thought, perhaps peace is still possible.” You were not idle in your words, you spoke against usurping when you could. No one listened to the 2nd born daughter, but you did as you could.

“But to kill my brother, Aemond, that’s an unforgivable act.”

He does not defend himself, knowing it would only push you further from him. You already exist so far. “He is hardly your brother.”

You leave the shared room without as much as another word, making a slow trek through the halls.

.

.

.

Ser Erryk Cargyll came to your room in the quiet of the night obscured by a cloak of black. Shrouding your face and silvery hair beneath the shadow it casts, and until you are through the gates—you are unable to breath, it felt as though every step left you a second away from collapsing.

You were afraid.

“We’ll make it to dragonstone before daybreak.” The boat rocked with the waves, it seemed to rest and roll in the gentlest of ways—the trip was kind to you.

“Why did you come back?” You seem him adjust, the way he seems uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Her majesty was distraught knowing you were stuck in Kings Landing.”

“Thank you, Ser Erryk.” He kept quiet, knowing you recalled the last meeting you shared. The quiet silence after you confessed your fear to him, when Viserys death was certain. Those words rested upon his shoulders for many moons, you were kind to him and he felt guilt knowing he left you.

.

.

.

Dragonstone was quiet, it seemed no one was within its walls—the unrest ran deeper than you expected. Even here. “Your highness.” Set Erryk bows and leaves you to your rooms, tucked away from prying eyes. Where you inhale deeply, even as the tears begin to fall—like a weight both relieved itself and landed back upon your shoulders.

“Your highness, the council is meeting.” You nod, unable to recall how much time has passed since arrived.

“Has my mother returned?” The lady shakes her head, to which you nod and rise from your chair. Adorned in your house colors, you make your way to the council room.

. . .

“Lady Y/N of house Velaryon.” You did not wait for them to finish announcing to enter the room, your presence seeming to shock the men within the room.

“Your highness, we did not expect you to make the trip to dragonstone in your condition.” You did not crack a smile, but instead take your place at the table.

“My condition is of no concern to you, but I ask, what is the state of this council that you would meet without the presence of the Queen, or the Prince royal?”

“Our forces require direction, and even with their unplanned absence, direction must still be taken.”

“If you’re not careful, one might think you see yourself above your Queen.”

None said a word, as you overlooked them even this close to labor—you encouraged a deep respect from the Lords, you knew why. You were true born—a sea of fire and stone.

Labor came quick in the night, dragon stone echoes your cries as you bare down with hands tight on the bedframe. You sent away your ladies and the nurses, their hands left unease as you recall your aunts passing. Your grandmother. Your mother.

The women who passed too quick as they took up the battle of baring a babe.

No husband. You think back to when he would smile at you, the way it sent a shockwave from head to toe. He used to love you more than power.

No mother. She mourned Lucerys still, absent from court and no way to tell her.

You feel another wave of pain run through your body, pressure building in your core as grit your teeth.

“Nurse!” Your voice quakes, it seems shattered by the pain. “Please! I think it’s time!” They seemed to manifest, figures appearing at your side as one of the older ladies lays hands upon your shoulders. Her eyes meeting yours.

“Milady, this is going to hurt, you will bleed and cry, and scream. And that is fine.” You nod, another wave of pain running through your muscles as they contract. “But I won’t leave your side, I will carry you through, so for now—just breathe.” She wipes away the sweat, “Prepare to push.” You nod again, inhaling deeply and note the way your breath feels as it leaves your lips.

Finding comfort in a stranger. “Her highness is ready.” No husband. No mother. Just you, a bed, and nurses. The nurse guides your hands to the frame, and you trust her—feeling her hand rest just beneath your belly button. The other on your back, as another nurse rests a cold cloth against your face.

“Now, when I say push. I need you to give it everything.” You exhale, putting your weight into the bed—centering your feet. Saying a word a quick prayer. You feel it start in your abdomen and spread, that wave of pain. “Now.” You release a guttural scream, one that comes from the deepest parts of your soul.

“Very good.” You lean forward, head against the wooden pillar—“Prepare.” Your face contorts as you feel the relief fade into pain once more, “Now.”

Aemond takes your hand quietly as the party fades off in the distance, the affair had become very real as he spins you into his arms.

“Perhaps as your husband, I would dance with you until dawn?” It was playful as he begins to sway, the music seeming to be hushed by the walls.

“Perhaps as your wife, I would never leave your side?” He smiles down at you, as you were the only person who always saw him.

“Perhaps as your husband, I would shower you in all the love you deserve?” You return the smile.

“As your wife, I’ll kiss you like this.” You lean up to meet his lips, one that grows deeper as his shock wears off. Neither ended the gesture for a minute, and neither said a word as Aemond left quickly. Your eyes widening as you realized you were alone.

It wasn’t until that night, in the darkest time, when a knock came from the door. It echoed as the palace slept.

“Aemond?” You look at the man beside him, “What?”

“Marry me?” Your eyes widen, a priest and a ring—one that shines in the warm light of candles. “If I am to have only one—” he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. “Then I shall have you before I cannot.”

You brush the outside of your finger along the small and supple cheek of your babe, their sweet eyes still shut as the lull of their breath calms your soul. Something so small, and precious—“Laenor.”

A boy. An heir. You hum a soft song, as you take on the name of your son. His silvery tendrils of his hair giving away his heritage—another Targaryen prince.

“Sweet girl.” Your eyes shift upwards, smiling at your grandmother who enters the room with a steadfast gentleness. “Why did you not call on me?”

You glance down: “He came so quick.” The bed dips as she eases beside you, looking at him. “How perfect is he?”

“That he is.” She holds out her hands, and you pass the sweet child to her without fear. “What is his name?” You watch as she cuddles him into her, with the knowledge that this is her blood before her.

You smile: “Laenor.” Her eyes widen before settling back on the babe, your son.

“A strong name. Just as his grandsire.”

•

•

•

“To claim a dragon requires more than blood.” You hear the echo of your mother’s voice, “It requires sheer will.”

You imagined the day you faced a dragon, you would be claiming Seasmoke, but face to face with Vahaemion—the ancient beast of caverns. She hid deep in the mountains many years ago, and recently was spotted nearby.

You never thought you would take the leap, but you did, staring down the beast—you keep yourself upright.

“Lykiri…” She was once ridden, A Targaryen war dragon— “Lykiri Vahaemion.” She growls, but bends to the will of words. Lowering her head but never quite relaxing.

You do not hesitate, “Dohaeras.” You hold out your hand, “Lykiri.”

Sir Criston Cole sees a dragon breech the sky—l sporting a rider of silver hair. The dragon is large as well, with scales the color of soot. His eyes widen, one notable trait being the silvery purple scales that shimmer across the dragons chest—Vehaemion.

A bell rings out as you circle Kings Landing, your eyes set upon the balcony of your shared room. Knowing he would rise to see the commotion, called upon as a protector.

He sees you, instantly drawn as he makes contact and for a moment, you think he smiles. Upon neutral soil, you wait upon the cliffs edge for his arrival. Knowing it is time to face your sin.

“I always knew you’d claim a dragon.” His voice is as you remember, although it used to sound sweeter. “You and I are alike in that way.”

“I had hoped you’d ask of our son.” Your face remains stone, Aemond has trouble reading your expression.

His face brightens in a way that you do not appreciate, “A son?”

“He’s healthy. A beautiful boy.” You add quietly, knowing just as well that he would not care if it were a girl. “The Aemond I loved would have asked.”

“Laenor.” But he knows that, know you enough to know that is his name. He did shy from the idea, did not seem phased. For a moment you saw, Aemond. “Come home, Y/N?”

You shake your head, “Aemond I can’t. You’ve spilled too much blood. My blood.” Your grandmother. Your brother. There is too much.

“Y/N.” And for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the way he says your name. “It’s war.” Even now he admits it, he’d be on his knees if you asked. You are strong, look strong—dragon rider suits you. For a minute, you kiss him and let yourself have a moment with your husband. With the first and only love you’ve had. Just this moment.

You pull away, “you’re right. It is war.” You mount your dragon, leaving a part of you to die in that mountain. Knowing the next time you saw Aemond, you would be on opposite sides of the field.

[elissanatok]

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 3

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angsty , shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

the air in the dining hall had been suffocating you. you could see the smug look in the eyes of your oldest uncle. he used to look at you differently and you had questioned before if it were his feelings for you that changed, or he himself. and if Aegon changed that much, did the others do too? 

you had been late, much to your mothers dismay. your uncle Daemon had not expected anything else. he always knew the days when it was time for a nightmare. maybe that was because he cared so much, or maybe because he liked to know all of the people surrounding him. you had forgotten your jewelry too, making your neck and shoulders bare. your deep red dress contrasted with the one of heleana who was sitting next to your brother. 

you deeply regretted arriving late - because at the end of the table, to your left, sat the one eyed prince. his gaze burned holes into your skull and except from the smile you send him when you arrived you did not dare to look in his direction again, too afraid he would look at you the same way he did when you arrived. 

you had hoped things would be different and he still held the same love for you he had when you were children. but this was different. 

having you avoid his gaze angered him even more than the pig placed in front of him. he could not care for that damn pig because he already felt disgusted of himself. he thought your feelings for him could not change, you could not change, but there you were avoiding his gaze like never before. Now that you were of age, you would probably want a good looking man, a kind one too. hearing his mother ask about the lord in the north made him choke on his wine, and made you finally look at him. 

your lavender eyes looked at him with concern, the line between your eyebrows deepening. “Are you alright prince aemond?”, you asked quiet and kindly. he nodded, humming as an answer, which definitely did not satisfy you. you wanted to hear his voice. he realized when you looked down at your lap, biting your lip embarrassed and playing with your fingers. but still, he did not know what to say.

His mother eyed him and the pig warily. She truly did not wish for something bad to occur, but she could literally feel the anger radiating of her youngest son. She tried changing the topic “But he has not made a proposal yet? Has he?”, but failed miserably.

Aemond felt lucerys smirk before he saw it. Not only could he now laugh at his dumb pig but at the obvious distress he felt over the possible marriage of his princess.

You shook your head no while chewing your dinner slowly. You did not wish to move to the north, to leave your family behind and be lady of house Winterfell. You just wanted to stay here. With him.

And after Heleana made her toast about marriage life and “he mostly ignores you”, it sounded like a death trap to her.

Aemonds abrupt standing up and hitting the table made you flinch. You could see it in his eyes. He truly did change and when he openend his mouth to make his horrible speech, you could feel it in every bone.

Although he did not take your name in his mouth, you could clearly hear the insult he threw at your siblings and you.

While everybody stood up, Aegon pushing lucerys head on the table and Aemond throwing Jace to the ground, you looked down at your lap. Tears that dropped down your cheeks pathetically were wiped away by your sleeves. This was not what you hoped for when they told you of your return but it was exactly what you feared.

Daemon saw it first, calling out your name to check on you and pulling the attention of the rest of your family towards you. You shook your head at him, while you tried to come up with anything helpful to say but found nothing that would make this situation better - so you left.

You did not see Aemonds smug smile fall because you did not turn around to look at him again.

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @leahjean @bellaisasleep @tempt-ress @let-love-bleeds-red @millies0bsimp @alysmondstuff @chimmysoftpaws @justsumtuffstuff @havlindzk @partypoison-00-blog @zillahvathek @oureternalbond @aemondssiut @minttea07 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @pastelorangeskies @bellstwd @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @trikigirl271 @florxdexcerezo @eddiesbitch83 @maviee @melllinaa @zgzgzh @shiny-trashs-blog @bcon24 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @deliazeedork @ilovemydinoboi

I’m not continuing the tag list Sorry guys :(

[tabathastan]

Any fanfic were reader is Rhaenyra daughter are just. 💯💯

Send them my way or request any.

[maidragoste]

The Portrait

Princess Rhaenyra's naming day was approaching, so King Viserys and Queen Aemma asked her beloved daughter what she wanted as a gift this year. The king expected the princess to ask for something like a new horse or new fabrics so that her maids could make her new dresses, but Rhaenyra surprised him by asking him to hire a painter because she wanted to have a portrait with you, her dearest friend. The king soon granted the princess's wish and a few weeks later you and Rhaenyra found themselves in her chambers dressed in white with a painter.

The painter had to make many drafts because you and Rhaenyra first tried to make serious poses like the both had seen in the portraits of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, but the two of you always ended up laughing when your eyes met each other. In the end, you ended up posing sitting looking at the princess while she was standing behind you resting her hand on your shoulder while you caressed her hand. The poor painter had to improvise a little since neither the princess nor you could stop talking but anyway, he ended up painting them both with a smile and Rhaenyra with a blush on her cheeks.

Years later, when the celebration of your wedding with Harwin ends, the first thing Rhaenyra does, when she returns to her chambers, is look for that portrait and while her eyes fill with tears she can't help but think that she liked that white dress you wore better with her than the one you wore at your wedding. If she were just a man, then nothing would stop her from taking you as her wife and reigning over the Seven Kingdoms together. She would give you everything, her heart, her soul, her power and she would make you the happiest woman in the kingdom. But she can never have you because she is a woman and you chose Harwin.

[mortalfaerie]

𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕤' 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (+ 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕖𝕟𝕒) (pt 1)

this concept is stuck in my brain so...

your were always in the shadow of your twin, jacaerys. he was born only ten minutes before you, but in doing so had outshined you for a lifetime.

while your grandfather might have bent the law further for you if you had been born first, he wouldn't do so for the rest of the realm - and being a girl, the birth of your immediately younger brother meant you wouldn't inherit driftmark, either.

that's not to say that you didn't love your brothers - they were your closest friends, especially after your mother had moved your family to dragonstone.

you missed your aunt helaena, however. at only two years your elder, she was more like a cousin or a sister to you, and as the only other girl you two had idled away long hours with tedious septas together.

for the first few months you wrote faithfully to eachother, but after the disaster at your aunt laena's funeral, an irrevocable schism has opened between factions of your family.

from that day, two more years would pass before you saw her again.

when helaena was thirteen, she came to dragonstone to claim a dragon. it was a cold and diplomatic trip which the king was too ill to attend and the queen had flatly refused to consider, and so the hand of the king escorted her along with a platoon of guards.

you were eleven years old, clasping hands with your twin on the windy shores of dragonstone as the princess' boat came ashore. all of you, even joffrey were ill at ease during this first meeting of factions in years. but, when the princess pulled back the hood of her cloak and stepped onto the beach, you found your heart hammering for an entirely different reason.

helaena had grown taller and more beautiful since you last saw her, though she seemed completely unaware of it as she anxiously took in her surroundings. she had all the beauty of the targaryen line in her, and the beginnings of what would make her a regal looking woman one day. and yet, she was softer in her features and appearance than the rest of your family in a way that was completely disarming.

though the feel of her visit was detatched and lacked the warmth of a family reunion, you found every excuse to seek her out over the duration of it. at first she was wary of you, no doubt because of your brothers and stepsisters and the role they had played in her brother's injury. after a few days though, she warmed and you slipped into a rapport like that before you had left for the island castle.

when it came time to venture up the dragonmont in search of a dragon, you begged and pleaded your mother to allow you to come with the princess - after all, your egg had never hatched and you lacked a dragon as well - and after exhausting the crown princess she relented.

on the dragonmont with a mixture of red keep guards and those loyal to rhaenyra, you and helaena camped on the mount for days, venturing to a different part of the mountain each day in search of dragons. at night, you shared a tent and kept eachother awake giggling and telling stories.

on the sixth day on the dragonmont, you met with the dragons dreamfyre and silverwing, who had belonged to two queens and sisters before you. after the pair of you successfully mounted the dragons and took to the skies, you returned to the beach of dragonstone with a renewed fire inside of each of you.

the night you returned to dragonstone's castle, a feast was held to jointly celebrate two dragons being claimed. you and helaena danced joyfully as the musicians played, and eventually you fell back to let your twin take your place. it was then you felt the first twist of jealousy in your stomach as jace made her laugh.

you snuck into the chamber helaena was staying in that night to recreate the little would you had when sharing a tent. that night, she had said to you before falling asleep, "you and i shall be bonded forever. dragon-bonded," she had said dreamily, then added, "soul-sworn."

before you could ask what she had meant by that, she was asleep.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Speak now (Alicent Hightower x Reader) 

Summary: Alicent is not too sure of how she feels about you. Or about the fact you just proposed to run away. But she is sure about how she feels about the wedding. 

Warnings: Canon typical angst. Mature language. Violence. Screaming at Viserys. 

Requested: Yes! Enemies to lovers + Alicent. Not answered in the original ask because it contained two requests. 

Alicent stayed kneeling before the statue of The Mother. She paid no mind as Rhaenyra and you exited the Sept. The two of you were little more than a pair of heathens, in her eyes. Neither took seriously the worship of the Seven, believing in your foreign gods. 

Not her, though. She knew her duties. 

“Forgive me Mother, for I have sinned by pride in my abundant evil iniquitous and heinous thoughts.” 

And Alicent had. One would say, being the daughter of the Lord Hand himself and a close companion to the Princess, she was the most envied maiden in all the Kingdoms. Men praised her beauty, she was often called the prettiest girl at court. 

But as of late, Alicent had started to experience what most girls her age experienced when looking at her. And it was all because of you. 

A daughter of Corlys Velaryon, your arrival at court had come at the prompting of the King himself. He was looking to remarry, and who was better suited to the task than the eldest daughter of one of the last houses of Old Valyria? 

Everyone praised your grace and intelligence. You were nowhere nearly as beautiful as Alicent was, or so her father said. But you had the striking coloring of the Velaryons, and knew more languages than she could count. Light as a feather on your feet, dexterous as a hawk on your dragon, there was no way Alicent could compete. 

Rhaenyra had eyed you with distrust, then. She hated the idea of you sweeping in and taking her mother's place. Alicent, though, had been secretly relieved. Her father's plot had been trumped. 

The King had asked to take a walk in the gardens with you, one morning. You had gone, nearly shoved towards it by your father. Whatever it happened during that walk, you had both come back changed. The King, deathly pale, and you, triumphant with a grin like the sharpest steel. 

Your father had been angry, but had not dared to pull you from court. No, because whatever you had done to deter Viserys had cemented you as Rhaenyra's most trusted companion.  

Alicent had started to envy you, then. What was it about you that made you so fearless? Why could you say no to a man like Viserys? Her father said you had ruined your chance, but to Alicent, you had not. Instead, you had done the brave thing and fought for your freedom. And not only that. You had won. 

She wished she could be a little more like you. Women never won, in her experience. Not Rhaenyra, not her. Not even her mother, not even the late Queen Aemma. What made you so special? Whatever it was, she wanted it.

Rhaenyra just loved you. She praised you constantly, and asked you to go everywhere with her. Even, where Alicent couldn't follow. You had a dragon. An awful, ill-mannered beast that had the foulest temper. Just like her owner. Rhaenyra and you spent the mornings flying and playing chase, while Alicent remained forgotten on the ground. 

Every time you entered a room, Alicent's blood boiled. She felt as if she was on fire from how much the thoughts consumed her. She hated you. She hated you. She hated you because she wanted so badly to be you. 

With no one to divert King's Viserys' attention, Alicent found herself cornered. Her father said it was a good thing, that the King realized he didn't need a spirited wife. You were a wild, willful maiden, with teeth as sharp as the ones on your dragon. Were you made Queen, you would have bled Westeros dry. Alicent was much better suited to the task, meek and subservient as women should be. 

But if she was all those things, as her father said, why did she feel such rage? By the Seven, when you were near, Alicent wanted to scratch your face to shreds. 

Envy. It was envy and it was a sin. She often tried to remind herself of that, when she saw you parading around the Red Keep, surrounded by Rhaenyra and a round of age appropriate suitors. 

It didn't work to calm her heart. 

“Are you still in here?” Your voice brings her out of her contemplation. You stand at the entrance of the Sept, a quirky little smile on your face. "It's been quite a while.” 

Alicent looks at the candle she had lit, when the three of you had come to the Sept earlier this morning. It's burned almost completely, only the smallest piece of wick and wax remaining. She has stayed here for hours and barely noticed. That strong of a hold you had over her thoughts. 

“Evidently.” Alicent answers, tone harsh. Your face drops slightly. 

“I didn't mean to disturb you. Rhaenyra is looking for you, that's all.” You are not even that pretty. Alicent is much more comely. Your features always glimmer with a hint of intellegence that's just not proper for a lady of your station. 

“I'll go when I am ready.” 

You leave her alone with her thoughts and the sparks of the fire. If you were a better person, perhaps you would have stayed. But you are not, so you run off as always, chasing whatever inane pleasures you are always up to. 

Not even a week passes before that awful announcement. No one tells her. She finds the same as anyone else. Rhaenyra's look of betrayal is etched into her memory. 

She isn't quite sure of what to feel. Alicent knows this is a great thing, she will turn into the most powerful woman in the realm. Nothing could bring her house more honor, there is no greater achievement of her duty. 

At the same time, she is terrified. King Viserys is not the kind of man she ever dreamed of marrying. Alicent had hoped for a groom closer to her age. The fact that he is Rhaenyra's father makes her skin crawl with disgust.

When she had thought of marriage, she had always envisioned it as being like what her parents had. Alicent remembers the times when her mother was alive, how her father had tended to her, how much he had mourned her. That was true love, she had thought. True love a thousand times. A love so powerful her father never remarried, never even looked at another woman. 

But while Viserys was old enough to be her father, he was not half the man Otto Hightower was. Instead of remaining in proper mourning, he had started making arrangements immediately to marry another. 

Even your sister, tiny Laena Velaryon, had been considered. Alicent had found out because of the hell you had raised, when she was sent on her own walk with the King. You had screamed at your father until you went hoarse, and received a hearty slap as a reward. Not even that had stopped you from looming menacingly at the entrance of the Red Keep, watching them with hawk's eyes. Viserys had decided he would not marry her either. 

What was it about you? Gods, Alicent knew she should be the happiest maid in Westeros. Her father's plots to secure a future for her had been well rewarded, she was about to do her duty in the most spectacular manner. No longer would her father have to fear for her like yours did. The most important man, the one blessed by the Gods themselves to rule Westeros, had chosen her. Yet, Alicent still envied you. 

It made no sense. You could not be in a worse position. You were spinning out of control, or so everyone said. First, it had been the rejection of the King's advances, then the screaming match with your father. There was a certain strength in your rebelliousness, though. You braved the rumors with your head held high, strolling through the halls of the Red Keep as if you owned the place. 

Rhaenyra was never far from you now, either. That, too, she envied. Before your appearance, they had been thick as thieves. Suddenly, she was all about you, and none about Alicent.  This marriage proposal had been perceived as the ultimate betrayal, and she didn't seem to believe Alicent when she had tried telling her she had not known. 

You tried to go on with your normal routine regardless. Every time you got the chance, you tried reuniting Rhaenyra and Alicent in one room. You must get a lot of enjoyment out of seeing Rhaenyra yell at her because once more, you had organized for the three of you to have tea. It was not going well. Or it was going very well for you. Alicent could not tell. 

“You could have refused him.” Rhaenyra slammed her hand against the table. Unperturbed, you stared between the two of them. 

Alicent felt the urge to scream and scream and never stop. This was terribly unreasonable.  But instead, what came out of her mouth was…

“He is the King!” 

“He is my father!” And with that last shriek, Rhaenyra was out of the parlor. 

“He never asked.” Alicent growled, slamming her own hand on the table. She couldn't afford to scream, less the guards hear. But she surely felt like it. 

You sprawled back on your seat, an amused expression taking over your face. Alicent wanted to slap the smug look off your face. 

“He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.” 

“He asked you?” Alicent's head turns. Of course he would. You were so important, after all. So freaking perfect. So learned and special. Oh, how she wanted to grab you by all that pretty hair and tug. 

“I said no. And I said I would rather die than marry him, for he was as old as my father and a bad man, who would sacrifice his wife as if she were a breeding bitch…” It is as if once the words start tumbling out of your mouth, you can't stop them, blurting them without a care. There is a strange look in your eyes. “And then I said I would feed his limp dick to my dragon if he ever tried to force me, and raze his fucking Kingdom to the ground.” 

Fear. You are scared, Alicent marvels. Scared of Viserys. Just as she is. Your words are feverish, you seem to be drowning in them. Like you need to scream, and scream and never stop. 

“And his guards didn't say anything?” She says, still in disbelief at your words. 

“Oh, I said it all in High Valyrian.” It's not even funny, but it cracks both of you up. Alicent realizes, startled, that perhaps you are not so bad after all. 

A few days pass before you come to her again. This time, you are wearing riding attire, sweat making your hair flatten against your skull. You are so much like Rhaenyra in that instant that Alicent's heart stutters. 

“I have been thinking about your problem.” You say, perching next to her in what surely you believe to be extreme daintiness. You are also the sort to think her dragon a baby, so it's not like it's unprecedented. 

“Excuse me?” Alicent frowns. She wasn't aware she had a problem, much less that you were intent on fixing it. She had thought her hatred reciprocated.  But was it? Suddenly, all of your interactions are in a new light.  All of your snide little comments, all of your interruptions. You had never been trying to argue, you had been trying to befriend her. 

“Run away with me.” You whisper, grabbing her hands. “Don't marry him.” 

Alicent stumbles back. What you are suggesting could be considered treason. Perhaps you did hate her after all. 

“Why should I trust you? You might be plotting my ruin.” 

“I might. Or I might be saving you from the worst mistake of your life.” 

She only thinks back to your proposal on the day of her wedding. Alicent spends the days leading up to it in a state of such nerves she can barely think of anything beyond how doomed she is. Your words don't register as an actual possibility. 

Alicent's father says she is the most gorgeous bride he has ever seen. He says she looks just like her mother did on her wedding day, that he is making him proud. And she clings to that. But it's not until she is entering the Sept and sees you on the front row, clapping, that she breaks. 

You stand in a blue gown, clapping almost aggressively. Her eyes search for yours, as she is about to say her vows. 

You stare back. You arch an eyebrow. 

“I am…. I can't do this.” Alicent drops her cloak, gathers her skirts, and runs. She passes you and grabs you by the arm, forcing you to run too. You catch up quickly. 

The guests stare. King Viserys opens and closes his mouth. 

“What..?”

“Alicent!” Her father screams. “Come back here, you foolish child!” 

“Good for you!” She can almost make out Rhaenyra's voice, from the crowd. It only pushes her to run faster, harder. 

“Hurry, before they recover!” You scream, pulling her even more. 

The two of you share your first kiss hours later, with no one but the endless ocean and your dragon as witnesses. 

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt

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

Later

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

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

[vintagegirl01]

Vying for the Sea 🌊 (Pt.3)

Duke Leto Atreides x female Velaryon reader

Summary: You and your newly wedded husband consummate your marriage.

A/N: Thank you to all those who took the time to respond to my poll. Greatly appreciate it. Keep in mind, this is my first time writing smut as part of a fic’s plot. Other than that, please enjoy the story and feel free to reach out with feedback if you have any.

Links to Part 1 & 2 Below:

Leto carried you into your bedroom, his eyes filled with a mix of love, protectiveness, and desire. He laid you down gently on the bed, his tall frame towering over you in the soft lighting.

Taking a moment to savour the moment, Leto leaned down to capture your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, his hands gently caressing your body through the fabric of your wedding dress.

You smile. “You like the dress, husband?”

Leto gives a small laugh, his eyes roaming over you, taking in the sight of you lying there in your wedding dress. The dress hugs your curves beautifully, the soft, silvery fabric almost glowing in the dim light. He runs a hand over the material, feeling its softness under his fingertips.

“I love it,” he replies, his voice low and filled with admiration. “But I think I’m going to love taking it off even more.”

You blush, looking up at him as he gently takes your tiara off your head before placing it somewhere beside you two. “Remember what I told you before…”

Leto looks down at you, a half-smile on his lips, his gaze heated and intense. He gently runs his fingers through your hair, the feeling of it sliding through his fingers like silk.

“Oh, how could I forget,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with a hint of huskiness. “And you can rest assured…that I shall be taking my time.”

“I’m just worried… about not being able to do it right the first time…”, you sit up before looking down in embarrassment.

Leto notices your look of embarrassment and sits down beside you, his hand gently reaching out to take yours. His touch is warm and comforting as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his tone reassuring and soft.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soothing, “There is nothing to worry about, my love. I do not expect perfection. This is new for both of us. We shall take it slow, okay?”

You nod, knowing that you could trust Leto to be the man who would take great care of you being deflowered. You just thank your lucky stars that this is not a bedding ceremony where people have to watch the both of you.

Leto smiles, seeing the relief on your face. He brings your hand to his lips, giving it a light kiss, his eyes full of affection and understanding.

“No one will be watching us,” he reassures you, “It is just you and me. It is our night, to enjoy as we please. And I intend to make it a memorable one.“

As you make a move to remove your cloak and dress, Leto gently stops you, his eyes filled with heat and desire. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a low, rough whisper:

“No…let me. I want to take my time…unwrap you slowly…”

You agree instantly as if you were hypnotized before letting your husband take the lead.

Leto’s hands move slowly and gently, his touch almost reverent as he sets to the task of undressing you. Starting with your cloak, he unbuttons the fastenings one by one, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate finesse. The cloak falls to the floor in a pool of fabric, followed by your gown, slowly revealing the expanse of your body to his hungry gaze.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you in your undergarments, his eyes roaming over your body with an intense hunger. His hands reach out, gently trailing over your skin, feeling its softness under his fingertips, his touch full of an almost tender possessiveness.

“Would you like me to help you, start taking your clothes off as well?”

Leto looks at you, a hint of a smirk on his face. He gives a small chuckle and shakes his head. “No darling. I want you to lay back and let me take care of everything. I want to focus all my attention on you…every single inch of you.”

“What about you?”, you ask.

Leto’s smirk widens, his eyes roaming your body hungrily.

“Me? Oh darling, do not worry about me. I have waited a long time to have you all to myself. And right now, I want to savor every moment, every touch, every sound you make. Let me take my time with you.“

You pout.“But I want you to feel pleasure too.”

Leto’s smirk softens into a smile as he hears your words, and he leans down, gently taking your chin in his hand.

“And I shall, my love. Trust me, I shall. But right now, my pleasure derives solely from pleasuring you. I want to make you feel worshipped, cherished, loved. I want to show you how deep my love runs, and what you mean to me, physically, emotionally, spiritually.”

His smile stays in place as he lowers his head, his lips finding a sensitive spot on your neck. His mouth kisses, nips, and sucks at the skin, his tongue gently soothing the marks he created. One of his hands gently runs down your side, mapping out the length of your body, until it comes to rest on your hip, his grip firm and possessive.

Leto’s lips move slowly down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses along the soft skin. Each moan that slips from your lips is like music to his ears, and his hand tightens its grip on your hip, his touch both gentle yet possessive. After a moment, he pauses, lifting his head up to look at you, his eyes darkened by desire.

“Gods…the sounds you make…the way you react to my touch…” He murmurs, his voice hoarse with need. He leans in once more, his lips brushing against your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Do you have any idea how badly I have wanted you…how badly I have dreamt of this night?”

You shake your head wordlessly at him.

He gives a low chuckle, the sound dark and throaty, his lips moving once more down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses. He nips lightly at the tender skin, just enough to leave a mark, a mark of his possession.

“Well, I have…so many times. Nights when I would toss and turn, aching for you, desperate for your touch. Wanting to sink my fingers into your silky locks, wanting to hear your moans of pleasure, wanting to feel your body pressed against mine…”

With your permission, he works towards removing your undergarments.

When you are finally left bare before your husband’s eyes, your hands move to cover your breasts.

Leto gently prises your hands away from your chest with a soft shake of his head, a smile on his face.

“No, darling…there is no need to be embarrassed. I want to see every inch of you…do not hide from me. You are beautiful.”

You remove your hands from your breasts, hoping that your body is pretty enough for the older man.

Leto’s breath hitches slightly as your hands move away, his eyes roaming over your body, taking it in with an almost reverent gaze. The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know. He finds you beautiful, he wants you, he is filled with a hungry desire for you, and you alone.

“Gods…” He murmurs, his voice thick with lust and reverence, “You are perfect.”

You blush profusely, caressing Leto’s cheek. “You are too, husband.”

Leto leans in, his body pressing closer to yours, the heat and the weight of him almost overwhelming. He turns his face into your hand, nuzzling his cheek against your palm, his eyes closed for a moment as he relishes your touch. He then gently takes your hand, placing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, his tongue gently tracing across the sensitive skin there.

“And you are all mine.”

Your hand that rested on his cheek before having it travel to the buttons of his shirt.

A small, amused smile quirks at the corner of Leto’s lips as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, his eyes filled with a mixture of heat and indulgence.

“Eager to undress me, darling?” he teases, his voice filled with a hint of huskiness.

The redness from your cheeks never disappears and you look at your husband. As if to ask if you can undo his shirt.

Leto chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the way the blush stays on your cheeks, his gaze soft and affectionate as he looks down at you. He nods, giving you silent permission to undo his shirt. “Go ahead, my love. I’m all yours to undress.“

Slowly, you start to unbutton your husband’s shirt until you facing his bare chest.

As he shimmies out of the shirt and throws it to the side, your eyes are taking in his form. While he is toned, you notice his chest is littered with old and new scars combined from combat.

Leto sheds his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. His chest bears the marks of countless battles, scars both old and new adorning the muscular expanse of his chest.

He watches as your eyes trace over his scars, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze, as if he was waiting for your reaction, waiting for your judgment.

Your fingers gently touch his scars. “Do they hurt?”

A soft gasp falls from Leto’s lips as your fingers touch his scars, his muscles tensing for a moment under your gentle touch. He shakes his head, his eyes darkening slightly as he looks down at you.“No, not any more. Just…unpleasant reminders of the past.“

“These only prove to me that my husband is brave and is stronger than what or who tried to kill him.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Leto’s lips at your words, and he reaches out, his hand cupping your face gently. “You are too good for me, you know that?“

He leans in, bringing his lips close to yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“And yet…you are mine. All mine. And I’m going to show you just how much I love and appreciate you…”

His lips find yours, crashing down in a passionate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss is deep, intense, and full of a desperate need and desire. It is possessive and hungry, as if trying to devour you. He moans against your lips, his hands gripping your hips, holding you tightly against him, his body pressed close to yours.

His mouth breaks away from yours, both of you gasping for air, your lips both swollen and pink. Leto’s hands roam over your body, his touch almost fervent, his eyes filled with an almost primal need.

“I want you…I need you…” He breathes, his voice thick with lust, his hands gripping your hips so tightly, you’re sure there will be marks later.

“Oh, Leto! You already have me”, you proclaimed affectionately.

Leto groans, his eyes darkening even further at your words, he gazes down at you, his jaw clenching, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

“I know…gods I know…but I need more. I need all of you…completely, utterly mine. I need to mark you, claim you, make you mine in every possible way.“

“Go ahead. Take me…”, you say breathlessly to him.

Leto’s eyes flare with a dark, feral heat at your words, and he kisses you once more, his mouth devouring yours, his tongue licking and tasting every inch of your mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a soft bite. His hands move from your hips, roaming over your body, as if trying to memorize every contour, every curve.

“You are sure, darling?” He breathes against your lips.

You nod, your hands begin to move towards his trousers in an attempt to remove them.

Leto's breath catches in his throat as he feels your hands move to his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours, his breaths ragged and uneven. He nods slightly, giving you permission for you to continue. His body is tense with anticipation, his muscles hard and taut as your hands work to undo the lacing of his trousers.

With the trousers undone, you can see how hard Leto already is underneath the fabric. His desire for you evident. Leto's eyes are almost impossibly dark, filled with an almost feral hunger, as he watches your hands move to the fabric, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as he waits for you to remove the remaining item of clothing.

Removing the last piece of clothing, you are shocked at the state of Leto’s member. “Are… are all of them normally that big?”

Leto lets out a rough laugh, his hands holding your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he speaks, his voice filled with a dark, possessive edge. “No…I hae been told I’m above average.“

His thumbs gently caress the skin above your hip bones, his hands warm and almost possessive as they hold you still, his eyes never leaving yours.“Scared, my love?“

You shake your head. “Not of you. Never of you Leto. I just… what if does not fit in my…”, you motion down towards your womanhood.

Leto’s eyes darken at your words, you can almost see him fighting with the primal, carnal part of himself, the part that just wants to take you, to ravish you completely. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep control, his fingers gently massaging the skin of your sides, in an effort to soothe your nerves.

“We shall go slow, darling.” He murmurs, his voice barely a growl, still thick with lust, “Just trust me.”

You nod, knowing that you can trust Leto with ensuring that you are taken care of. Not only tonight but for the rest of your lives together.

With a low growl, Leto’s body is hovering over you. He holds himself up with his arms, looking down at you. He gazes down at you for a moment, his eyes almost black with desire, his breath coming in short, rough gasps.

He gently spreads your legs, moving to settle between them, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowers his body, his chest coming to brush against yours, the skin of his chest hot against your own.

His lips find your neck once more, and he begins to kiss and nip at the skin there, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, his hands holding your wrists gently but firmly next to your head, keeping you pinned beneath him. His body is pressed against yours, the weight of him almost overwhelming, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. “Are you ready, darling?“

He murmurs, his mouth against your shoulder, his lips moving against your skin as he speaks.

You look into your husband’s eyes nodding. Though Leto doesn’t want that. He wants your words.

Leto leans in, his mouth close to your ear, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks.

“No, I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say I can take you, that you want me to take you.”

His hands grip your wrists a little tighter, his body pressing even closer to yours, his body hard and needy, his desire for you almost palpable in the air.

“I do, Leto. Please…”

A low, guttural growl rumbles in Leto’s throat as you speak, the sound a mixture of lust and possession, his body almost trembling with the need to take you.

“Gods, you are going to be the death of me.“He mutters, his voice a rough whisper against your neck. “Just…tell me if it hurts. I never want to hurt you.”

Once again, you nod in agreement. Anything to make the pleasure you feel continue.

As he puts his manhood into you, he looks to you to see how you are doing. So far, you were doing okay despite the uncomfort.

Leto continues to watch your face, his eyes searching your features for any sign of pain or discomfort. He moves slowly, gently, his body almost trembling with the effort of holding himself back, wanting to take you but also not wanting to hurt you, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps in an effort to control himself. He kisses your forehead, his voice almost a whisper.

“Please, continue”, you say as you begin to move in sync with Leto’s thrusts.

Leto lets out a low, guttural moan as your words reach his ears, his head lowering to bury his face in your shoulder, his body still trembling with the effort of restraining his own need. “Gods, darling, the things you do to me…“

His voice is a rough, breathless whisper against your skin, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him, his eyes closed for a moment, as he tries to steady himself against the overwhelming feeling of you.

“Leto… Leto…. Leto…”, you moan repeatedly as your hands make way to his back.

The feeling of your nails on his skin, the sound of his name on your lips, the way you say it, it’s almost more than he can take. He lifts his head, gazing down at you, the look in his eyes almost feral, a maelstrom of lust and desire.

“Love…say it again.” He gasps, his voice rough, filled with a need for confirmation.

“Leto…I’m close…”, you moan out.

Leto’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a low, guttural moan rumbling in his throat.“So am I…”

He gasps, his pace quickening, moving a hand to hold your hip, a desperate need to keep you close, his breaths becoming more ragged with each movement.“Together, love…I want to…I need to…”

With a final thrust, you feel Leto’s seed in your womb as the world around you two seems to disappear. It is as if every other moment up to now, every second spent together, every touch, every glance, has led to this moment, and it is almost more than either of them can handle.

Leto’s body trembles against yours, his breaths ragged and uneven as he holds you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, as if afraid to let you go. He gently brushes his lips against your skin, his breath hot and ragged in your ear, his voice low and rough as he speaks. “Gods…I…you…“

He lets out a long, shaky breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he tries to regain his composure, the feeling of you against him almost overwhelming, he can barely find the words to speak. Meanwhile, you have your right hand gently caressing his dark curls.

At the feel of your fingers gently running through his curls, Leto lets out a soft, almost involuntary sound, a low, almost purring noise, as he lays his head near your breasts. He presses his face against them, his arms, still wrapped around you, holding you close, almost as if he does not ever want to let you go. He lets out a shaky, uneven sigh, the feeling of your hands in his hair almost soothing to him, after the intensity of what just occurred.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you, his expression filled with a mixture of contentment, and a hint of awe, almost as if he can’t believe that he gets to have you, to feel your touch, to see you lying there with him. His eyes roam over your face, taking every detail in, as if trying to commit this moment to memory, his voice quiet but filled with an almost reverent tone.

“You are so beautiful, darling.” He murmurs, letting his eyes travel over your face and form, almost admiringly.

“And you are very handsome, my sweet duke”, you return the same admiration he gave you.

Leto gently brushes his fingers over your flushed skin, his touch almost tender as he explains his desire for you to remain like this, wanting to ensure that his seed takes hold and you may possibly conceive. He studies your face for a moment, his own expression a mix of affection and slight possessiveness, as if wanting to lock you down, to tie you to him in this way, to give him a legacy, an heir.

“Do you mind?” He murmurs, his hands brushing over your hips and thighs gently.

“I want to carry as many children as the gods will let us have. As many as you will plow into me…”, your voice laced with affection.

Leto lets out a low, almost primal growl in response to your words, his eyes darkening, filled with desire, possessiveness, and a touch of something else...something that can only really be described as primal desire, as if he wants to claim you, here and now, forever.

“Careful, darling...that kind of talk almost makes me want to get started on the next one immediately.” He murmurs, a slight hint of playfulness in his voice as his hands wander over your skin.

“The next one? We do not even know if there is one that will be in my belly after this night”, you giggle out.

Leto lets out a soft huff of laughter at your laughter, a playful smirk on his face as he gently caresses your skin, his touch remaining tender, almost caressing as he looks you up and down, taking in your form, a twinkle of mischief in his gaze.

“No, darling, we do not…which is why I might just have to spend many more nights with you to ensure it takes. Not that I would mind at all.“

He grins, his hands moving to playfully wander over your body.

“And not that I have any objections to that,” you wink playfully at him.

A low, rough chuckle escapes Leto's chest at your playful wink, his heart almost skipping a beat at the sight. He gently moves his hand to brush a strand of hair back from your forehead, his touch gentle as he gazes down at you, a smile on his face. “Good...because I had some other activities in mind for later...if you are willing, of course.”

He adds, his voice low, almost a whisper, his eyes darkened with desire.

You answer his question with a sweet kiss to his forehead.

Leto lets out a low, contented sigh as your lips find his forehead, and he closes his eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your kisses. A small, but genuine smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes remaining closed even as he speaks again, his voice just a little more tender than usual. “Gods, I could get used to this.”

His arms wrap around you tighter, holding you against him, his body almost seeming to envelope you, cradling you in his warmth and strength.

“So could I, my sweet husband. So can I.”

Link for Part 4 below: