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princessbellecerise · 4 months ago

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Unlikely Places

Summary ✩ The unusual place your hotd lover likes to fuck you

Warnings ✩ Smut, straight up blasphemy (Aegon), semi-public sex

Jacaerys Velaryon

As the King, it’s not exactly wrong for the two of you to do it, but it does feel taboo every time you ride him on the Iron Throne

Every time you climbed on his lap, mindful of all the sharp points and swords, you couldn’t help but think that you’re breaking some kind of rule that doesn’t exist. After all, Jacaerys is the King and technically it is his seat. As the most powerful man in the realm, there’s no one for you to answer to after doing such an act but it certainly feels like you should

The first time that he asked you to do it, you thought that he was crazy. It was so unlike Jacaerys to do something so…risky, that you genuinely thought it was a prank at first

Only when realized you that your husband was completely serious did you really start to consider it

And you had to admit, the rush of power that you got as you bounced on your husband’s cock, riding the most powerful man in the most powerful seat in the realm was nothing like you’d ever experienced before

It quickly became your guilty pleasure to do so, never minding when Jacaerys summoned you to the throne room at such late hours

For you knew what awaited you when you climbed those steps, and each time you were filled with delicious anticipation to do it all over again

Aemond Targaryen

Ever since he was a child, Aemond had been absolutely fascinated by dragons

His obsession with those beasts was almost unnatural as his mother used to say, and you were quite inclined to agree as one day, Aemond tried to convince you to let him fuck you on top of Vhagar

Of course, the request had been so ridiculous that you genuinely thought your husband to be ill at first, maybe having contracted some disease during his many travels

Only when you saw Aemond’s confident smirk did you realize that it was indeed not a jest, and your husband really did want you to ride him on top of a fucking dragon

So there you were, thousands of feet in the air and praying that you didn’t fall as you straddled Aemond’s lap

You held onto him tight as your cunt sank down, your hips moving with his in the large saddle

Every kiss, every touch was concealed within the clouds, Vhagar flying steady while you rode your husband. The sound of her wings masked the pathetic way you cried for Aemond, filthy praises and words of encouragement being whispered in your ears as you soared across the skies

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon figures that if he’s going to hell anyways, he may as well have a little fun in his mortal life

What’s life without a little risk anyways, he figures. This is why he has no problem fucking you in the Sept of Seven, having you on your knees, naked in front of the statue of the Mother

Instead of praying to her though, you worship him. You praise his cock and the way it makes you feel so good—better than praying, really

The absolute trill of someone coming in and getting caught is like no other. Sometimes, Aegon even hopes that you’ll be discovered—preferably by his mother or that cunt of Septa that’s always preaching about sin and virtue

He imagines their faces as he fucks you from behind, taunting you and making you look directly at the statue when you cum around him

Aegon’s never really believed in the Gods much, but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him is heavenly

And to him, there’s truly no greater tasting sin

Daemon Targaryen

Otto Hightower had once called Daemon brazen, irresponsible, violent, arrogant, reckless and a second Maegor

He supposed that it was true, but still, Otto Hightower was a cunt in Daemon’s mind, and the Prince would do anything to get back at him

…Including fucking in his bed

In Daemon’s very weak defense, he hasn’t meant to, really

When he pulled you in a for a kiss, intending to take you quickly before he had to attend a meeting later in the day, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he pulled you

He just wanted to feel you, to touch you before he had to leave for the day

And what do you know—the place that he ends up brining you to fufill your hurried tryst was the fucking Tower of the Hand

Neither of you realize it at first, too caught up in each other to notice the amount of green, grey and white around you

It isn’t until you stumble onto the actual bed, Daemon fumbling to get your clothing off do you finally look up and you’re greeted by a portrait of Otto fucking Hightower on the walls

Alarmed, you immediately tell Daemon and it takes only a second to realize where you’ve accidentally stumbled

Of course, Daemon thinks it’s hilarious and even if you want to leave, a little creeped out at the thought of being fucked on the same sheets the Hand of the King sleeps on, Daemon is entirely too thrilled to leave

Once the idea is in his brain, it won’t be going any time soon

A mischievous grin grows on your lover’s face, and somehow, Dameon convinces you to let him take on Otto’s clean, perfectly folded sheets, loving the way you mess them up with your messy fucking

Of course, he’ll just blame the servants for all the mess, but now every time he faces Otto there’s always a knowing smirk on Daemon’s face, smug that the Hand will never know the dirty things said and done on the very mattress he sleeps on

Cregan Stark

Cregan was the Lord of Winterfell, and because of that he was allowed to eat where he pleased, train where he pleased…and fuck where he pleased

It was this that he reminded you of as he took you in one of the hot springs the castle had to offer, water splashing as your husband’s hips thrust into yours

He had you on his lap, your tits pressed against his warm wet chest as you bounced on his cock

The both of you were well aware that this was a public place and that anyone could stumble upon you, but that only spurred you on more

Honestly, seeing your honorable and kind husband act so reckless was a turn on in itself, loving the way Cregan grunted and didn’t care who heard him

He was lost in the feel of your cunt and the warm water which only added to the sensations

Add that to the trill of getting caught, and neither of you really lasted long when you fucked in the springs

Still panting and filled with your husband’s seed, you grinned as you ran a hand through his tangled hair

“Another day without being caught,” You said, slightly disappointed

Cregan shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll succeed next time.”

Benjicot Blackwood

“Ben, not here! Someone could see us!”

“Then let them see. Let those Bracken cunts see how a real man pleases his Lady wife,” Benji whispered, and you couldn’t even deny that fucking right on the Blackwood-Bracken boundary line didn’t bring a kind of fire to your veins that you craved

Your lover had always been more shy and sweet than anything else, but you knew just how deep his hatred for the Brackens ran when he threw all of that away and fucked you so close to their territory

Deep, satisfactory moans left his lips as he rutted into you, the thrill of getting caught edging you both on like no other

You pressed against Benji, panting as his cock drove in out of you and hit your sweet spots over and over

All you could think about, all you craved was cumming around your husband’s cock while his enemies watched; and you did

Benji was beyond proud of himself as you moaned and let the entirety of House Bracken know what was happening. Let them know how good he was making you feel

He felt bad for the wives of those smug cunts as surely they’d never know such pleasure, but at least Benji knew that you couldn’t relate

The Brackens could say whatever they wanted about his family, but at least the Blackwoods knew how to fuck

And who knows, if they were watching, then maybe they’d even learn a thing or two from Benji

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

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wyvernest · 5 months ago

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tf you mean "cregan was supposed to appear in the season finale and his scene was cut" give me my husband now

[update]

#cregan stark #house of the dragon #wyvernest #cregan stark x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #benjicot blackwood #alicent hightower #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones

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that1nerd-20 · 18 days ago

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When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

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the-djarin-clan · 1 month ago

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When you look for a fic on Tag Reader and the main character already has a name and social security number...

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councilofcastamere · 3 months ago

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WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

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entitled-fangirl · 5 months ago

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Game of Thrones Masterlist

Back to Main Masterlist

Cregan Stark

Cregan Stark masterlist.

Robb Stark

A change of sigil.

Jace Velaryon

I won’t burn you. SMUT

I can't promise that.

Unknown.

Staying warm. SMUT

Aemond Targaryen

I hate you.

The middle of war. Part 2

Thunder.

Reading late.

Chance. Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The crown.

Gwayne Hightower

Lady Hightower.

Cheeky. SMUT

Never happier.

A good father.

Foolish.

Sweet nephew.

Benjicot Blackwood

Devotion.

Violence through his veins.

Aegon Targaryen II

A ratcatcher's wife.

Rumors and the bastards of one Aegon Targaryen II.

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una-hopeless-romantic1118 · 5 months ago

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ACT I - CHAPTER 1 ⋆.˚ ☾.˚of wolf's blood and dragon's wrath — Aemond Targaryen⋆.˚ ☾.˚

a/n: thought I would release this here :p still going to be releasing in ao3

summary, playlist, and character aesthetics

(p.s. @saturnssrings ik u requested i post the story here. so sorry I haven't been active on here since I was already doubtful the story wouldn't attract ppl, but here it is if you are still interested)

pls let me know in the comments if you would like to be added to a taglist :)

WARNINGS: not proofread, non-canon aemond bc both show!aemond and book!aemond suck, cursing, mention of blood, pathetic male yearning, graphic depictions of violence, rlly bad Northern accent dialogue

.˚⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚⋆ .˚❆⚔.˚⋆ .˚❆⚔.˚⋆ .˚❆⚔.˚⋆ .˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚ ⋆.˚❆⚔.˚⋆.˚

Aiana attempted to simmer down the already tense air between the Princes, her bestest of friends. Her father called it admirable, but advised strongly against it, for reasons he does not tell her.

But of course she knew the Velaryon boys were bastard-borns; she too noticed and questioned it herself, their physical traits so distinct from Targaryen likeness. And since no one dared speak about it to her, she asked about it no longer. What made her different to the gossiping maids however, was that she was still intent in maintaining her friendship with them. She did not see the scandal the whole court seemed to grimace on about. Their characters were respectful and kind. They were her Princes, and she respected them no differently than she respected the Targaryens. And most especially if their mother, the Princess Rhaenyra, was ever so caring to her, and their father, Ser Harwin Strong, a man her Father thought suited honor well.

Aiana thought Aemond the loveliest, sweetest of all. Of course, next to Helaena. He was always gentle-mannered in everything he did with her, in teaching small phrases and words of his familial language and in comforting her when Aegon would insult her Northern habits and her adoration for her direwolf pups.

But as friends do, they always maintained a consistency of tender love with playfulness and mischief, as one or the other always initiated in playing chase. They shared secrets and gossip they managed to grasp from whispers, and giggles as they hid under tables and dared one another to wrap a hand around a victim’s ankle to startle them.

But their friendship was structured firmly with their adoration for one another—an understanding of each other to an extent no one else had the privilege of seeing.

Aiana was the second born child to Rickon Stark, but the Gods already gifted the family a first born son called Cregan Stark, so right when she entered the world, she had given the Northerners another reason to find relief in the existence of her brother. She would not be treated with the utmost respect like a highborn Lord like Cregan was, only adoration, that a little she-wolf so gentle and blissful was born to during the harshest of winters.

There is no mistake that her parents still expected good judgment from her and to take her position as a proper lady seriously, but her fate was still as clear as day: she wasn’t meant for much.

Aemond was half-brother to the Princess Rhaenyra, and the second son to Queen Alicent. This line of available heirs left Aemond in the dust, but he too had a lot to prove to fulfill his title as a Targaryen prince.

They were observers, the pair of them. They were forced in the back to watch their older siblings, the priorities to everyone. But Aiana did not seek the praises Cregan would receive. All Aiana wanted was to be taken seriously, not be portrayed as a flimsy little thing, Cregan's little sister and the mighty Lord Rickon's darling daughter.

Aemond wished for the same, but it was never easy. Soon enough, he expected the whole world to pay for it.

The night of the tragedy was the first time she learned a valuable lesson. Dragons belonged to the skies and the stars, and wolves kept their patted paws in the ground.

She hated that she woke to the smallest of sounds, but to the sound of the mighty Vhagar growling outside the castle walls, she had to get out from her sweet slumber to watch in fascination.

Though distances in the sky away from her small window, Aiana squinted with all her effort at the figure atop the dragon. A new rider already? She was eager to discover who the dragon had chosen at this hour of late, and this early on, considering her former rider had just been sent to rest at sea.

The dragon neared to land, and the rider was still too small to see compared to her size. But the distinct, faint blonde hair hit Aiana like a revelation. Despite her tired state, the overwhelment from anticipation and eagerness to meet her good friend had aroused her completely awake as if it was the new day already. She quickly slipped into her shoes.

She had not a care in the realm whether her running in the empty halls were disrupting others from their own slumber; in fact, if they did wake, she would be glad in having more people celebrate the young Prince.

Aiana was looking through every possible window to find where the Prince had landed, and upon the main hall of the Velaryon castle, she was able to arrive exactly as the new dragon rider did, at the area behind where the wake was held for the late Princess Laena.

She had sped past her fur coat, only dressed in her favorite blue sleep dress in the late hour. And now she was glad to at least have her shoes on so at least her feet were not cold and dirty.

The young Stark wolf rushed out to the back of the castle and sped down the stairs.

“Aemond!” She wheezed out as she watched the Prince jump out of the dragon’s saddle and slide down her wing, though maintaining a cautious distance and volume so as not to make the warrior dragon feel threatened.

She tried again louder but breathlessly, this time finally getting his attention.

He squinted in the dark. Aiana took another step forward the nearest torch, and Aemond broke out into a wide, relieved grin. “Aiana?” His breath was heavy, evident in the white air that expelled from his mouth. His voice alone let Aiana know he was ecstatic. “You saw?”

She nodded frantically. “It woke me from my slumber, but I did not mind. And surely not when it was you had claimed her. Well done, Aemond!” She gushed.

“Why must you dwell in the dark? Wouldn’t you like to come closer?”

“I would, yes.” She responded as she marveled at the dragon. “That is the very reason I came down.”

“Well, then, come closer,” he ushered her with his hand, an air of confidence Aiana chuckled at.

“I would rather not. I don’t want to make her feel threatened.”

“That is nonsense, Aiana,” he let out a laugh. “I've bonded with her. She knows my heart. I want you to meet her.”

Aiana giggled to herself at how quickly Aemond is to boast his new dragon. She thought it fair, as he had waited for years, growing desperate at times enough to visit the Dragonpit unaccompanied. That is what she and the Queen Mother shared; the concern for Aemond and his tireless determination to pursue a dragon that he would place himself in such dangerous situations.

She approached under the light of the night sky, watching the massive dragon in front of her.

Aemond laughs at her timidity. He grabs for her arm and pulls her into the light of Vhagar’s view closer.

“Aemond!” She scolded him under her breath. Her hand was naturally trembling when he slowly led her hand against Vhagar’s head, which lowered for Aiana. She looked at him in disbelief.

The gesture eased her anxiety, and despite the rough, uncomfortable feel of her scales, and the focus of her amber eyes on her, Aiana found it flattering that a creature so fearsome could find it to be sweet tempered with her.

“Your hands are cold, Aiana.” Aemond’s hand squeezed hers. If she hadn’t peeled her eyes away from the dragon to look at him, she would have never thought the Prince’s concern was laced with amusement. “Where is your coat?”

“Do not insult me! I’m cold, but I’ll survive." Then, she giggled. "Wolves are made to adapt to whatever cruel measures one sets for us." She mocked in her Father's voice.

Aemond was quick to slip out from his coat despite. Aiana watched with a complexed but amused expression. “But you will be cold.”

“I will not,” he covers her with his cloak and ties the strings for her, his cold fingers confident and free of shaking, but they occasionally brush against her chin and neck. “I am of fire, and with a dragon I can surely prove it now.” Indeed, the smell of the dragon from his cloak —which was a strong mix of a musky and ashy smell— was quick to fill her nostrils.

“Well, you certainly smell like one too.” She smirked, to which Aemond mimicked, taunting her high-pitched voice.

She wrapped the thick clothing further around her, grinning at her friend. “She is marvelous, Aemond. Well done.”

Aemond only tilted his chin up. “She will surely silence my nephews. Humble them, even.”

Aiana tried to ignore the unusual chills that crept up on her skin. She debates whether to argue back, but it would not be an argument of logic, only bias. While she cared for the Velaryon brothers, Aiana was beginning to surpass their immature, unacceptable behavior because of her pity for their legitimacy and the shame the people enforce on them that they must bear for the rest of their lives. She would defend Aemond against them when the time called for it, but she limited and chose her words in a careful manner that her defenses were small and useless.

But like her Father always tells her, “find a voice of your own,” and despite the hope that his encouragement would encourage her heart, he couldn't help but add, “but there are sure consequences to the use of it.”

Combing her hair with his bear-like hands, he would explain, “you’re a wolf of the North, little jewel. I’m raisin’ you to have judgments of your own, but I can’t promise the rest of the realm will smile down at you. They’ll frown upon you, and then at me, gossiping behind our backs to criticize my ways. You’re a little girl, who will surely grow into a woman whose single hair on her arm wouldn't raise in fear at the harshest criticism or curse. Aye, the woman you will be, so stiff against insults from lousy men—you’ll remain standing, upright, like a wolf against the strong winter winds.

“I want you to know you have a valuable place in this world, sweetling. If you say or believe, I trust that you’ll know to think on it first with that brain of yours. And to tell the truth as it is. Don’t go and sugarcoat to coax people. A wolf’s eyes and ears are keen in observin’ their surroundings, and we can gather a lot of the world even in our silence. Especially in our silence. It’s what we decide to do with ‘em that matters, if we do our part in tellin’ the truth. Honesty inspires honor, and honor, to justice.”

How heavy the words were to a small heart like hers. Guilt plagued her quickly.

Aiana knew Aemond’s pain all too well. She too longed to prove herself worthy. To Aemond, it required a dragon for the ridiculing to stop. To Aiana, it required a male anatomy to be a son for her mother to love her. She was a failure from the beginning, no matter how hard she mirrored her brothers’ mannerisms or jests, she could be nothing like them.

Her circumstance, though impossible to treat, allowed her to sympathize with another with a similar experience.

In this moment, Aemond needed her honesty. Her defense. Her Stark voice.

She reached for him and clung on to him in an embrace.

“How relieved I am that this pressure for a dragon on your shoulders has sloughed off,” she said against his shoulder. “It has been a lot on you, and while I care deeply for the Velaryon brothers, I tried my hardest to convince mine mind that their mistreatment of you was just playful. But I know what playful is, and it was never funny to me seeing you after another series of their jesting. I care about you as your friend and forever comrade in this cruel world. I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t care for your feelings.”

Aemond has been still since Aiana had practically crashed herself onto him. Aiana would hate to let go, as she never feels satisfied if the hug was not returned, but waiting for it to be returned in this way is not only awkward— it might also make the Prince feel restrained from his own will.

She lets go to look at Vhagar again, though his eyes were heavy on her.

She began to feel the pressure of them and she began twirling the strings of his cloak, muttering comments about her scales, her growling, anything, until-

“You think you must apologize?” He muttered incredulously.

Aiana frowned. She forced herself to face him and was immediately alarmed. “Why do you look nauseated? Are you alright?”

The young Prince was standing awkwardly— uncomfortably—beside her. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at her, his breaths shallow and audible. He was in utter disbelief.

She thought she was right, that he was hurting through the newfound anger. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Aemond. I thought it best to be hones-”

“ No, Aiana.” He responded firmly. “It boggles mine own mind how you, out of all of them, are the one to even think about apologizing.” His tone portrays correctly his disbelief. “Trust me, you have done no wrong. You are in no place to apologize. Everyone pities those bastards.”

Aiana flinched at his anger. She hoped to revert it. “That is an offensive word, Aemond.”

He only smirks. “Their whole beings are an offense to our line.”

“Aemes-”

His attention was back on Vhagar, and there is no doubt somewhere in his mind he is brewing for his revenge. Aiana twirled the strings of the cloak as she observed him, and for the first time, Aiana feared Aemond.

The Aemond of yesterday withered away from insults, where behind closed doors he only then expresses disappointment in himself. The Aemond of now clenches his jaw, plotting, his fingers flexing, and his eyes reflecting the fire from the standing torches that is no doubt mirroring his brutal intentions. This was the Aemond she pitied, the one she would gladly comfort. Now she faces a dark soul fuming with such unfamiliar anger, Aiana could only look down from it.

She had to be honest with him.

Aiana shifted her weight on one leg uncomfortably, and Aemond snaps free from his thoughts. “Would you like to?” He motioned to Vhagar. “I know you’d like to.”

She did. Aiana shook her head, a look of dread on her face at the thought of riding with him in this drunken state. “I’m not dressed for it.” She lies so easily for a Stark. “And in this late hour?”

Aemond laughed. “Oh, now you’re scared? You made me swear upon knifepoint you’d be the first person I take for a ride on my dragon. Don't you remember?”

She recalls, but she cannot bear to go about the night pretending to be daft to the Prince’s new guise. Even if Aemond promised he feels no hatred for her, Aiana still felt like she might offend him for walking one foot alongside him, while the other accompanied the Velaryon boys. She does not want to side with either if it would betray the other.

But it didn’t have to be a feud, if each side would just get along. They were family. It should not have to be a challenge.

“I do not mind, Aiana.” Aemond reminded. “Vhagar wouldn’t either. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. We won’t go as high.”

“It’s late, my Prince.” She reasoned, her voice weak. “Tomorrow, when the sky is brighter, mayhaps?”

Tomorrow, mayhaps, when he is much sober from this wrath and arrogance.

“Then it’s settled.” He offered her his hand. “Let me walk you to your chambers.”

Aiana handed him her hand. Expecting Aemond to take the lead, he instead pulls her in a hug that alarmed the young girl.

“You are my one and only true friend.” She felt him sigh into her shoulder.

She was just a few inches taller, so Aiana rested her cheek on top of the Prince's head. Her doubts still linger, but she feels for Aemond. “It is an honor,” she sniffled, finding relief that she can recognize her friend again.

Then she tugged the end of his blonde hair. “Pretty girl.”

He scowls at her while massaging his scalp. Not a minute spared he returned the action by twirling first her black hair in his fingers, and then tugging harshly down at it. “You’ve got a tangle in your hair, wolf.” He spat back.

“Compared to yours,” she swatted his finger away, “my hair is better kept. Yours is always frizzed and wild.”

“As if yours are never sticking out of place like a witch’s.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Take a bath.”

“You first.”

They left Vhagar to rest again, and she was quick to fall back to sleep with a low growl of pleasure.

Aiana, too, relaxed. Her old companion is back as she lures him away from the source of his arrogance.

“How was it then?” She sniffled from the cold. “The first flight. Must be as thrilling as it looks.”

“It is even better,” Aemond sighs blissfully.

“Must have been terrifying, too. Was it not?”

Aemond scoffs. “Hardly.”

Aiana only rolls her eyes, unconvinced. “There is no point in lying. Even I remember the Princess Helaena struggling to maintain a perfect balance sitting atop such a creature. Even your drunk of a brother.”

“Well, that is simply that: Aegon is a drunk. He staggers about as he loses his senses to the wine.” He pauses, hesitating. “But if I admit to it, will you tel-”

“I swear, Aemond. I will not tell.” She faced him. “Your secrets are safe, for however long you’d like. I won’t mutter any of them out even if Aegon tries to weasel his way to one. But you needn’t lie about them, either. I can read you well.”

Aemond’s whole system flooded with relief. “Then, it was a struggle to get on. But I held on tight.” It was a challenge to confess, as if being humble was a sin, and after he is searching in her face for any twitch from the restraint to laugh.

He found none, but a smile of absolute sympathy.

“Must have been,” she looked back at Vhagar. “She’s massive. Surely, however, soon you’ll be able to ride her like it is second nature.”

She spoke with such gracefulness and kindness, it was enough to make Aemond’s heart full to burst. He is so grateful for her. So forever in her debt. His forever comrade in this cruel world.

Aemond in his late nights awake often dreamt of becoming a fearsome dragonrider, sword strapped into his waist belt, riding into battle against those who have taken advantage of Aiana and her kindness. Pathetic as his fantasies may be, the fantasies along with Aiana’s faith in him have given Aemond enough encouragement to claim his right to a dragon. Now, he rides the largest in the world.

Aiana introduced him to a friendship and kindness that he could not find in his own family. How does she expect him to accept that she is to move back to the other end of Westeros? Aemond felt like a helpless child again.

They see the underground passageway from their distance, and all the while they walked and talked of bonding with dragons, the subject of her direwolves came up.

“They’re growing faster than I expected. Of course, my Father warned me. Cregan too, but to reflect on their tiny yapping and their fragile bodies, and remember now they’re big enough to stand on their hind feet and feed off my plate at the dinner table—I don’t think I can bear it. But, at the same time, it’s a joy to tend to them.”

“Do you miss them?” Aemond asked, and Aiana hugged herself.

“With every fiber of my being,” she thought sadly to herself. “My time away only makes me worry for them. Silly as it may sound, they are both my friends and children. It's rather lonely at home being the only girl.”

It would sure make someone scowl in snicker at the thought. 2 pups who were by all means always covered in mud, and whenever they would pounce on her, Aiana would get scolded for letting them dirty her finest dresses. Their howls could never be silenced, because they are happy and filled with pride and life. They were hounds who always woke everyone in the hall with their pawing of Aiana’s door in the early mornings, eager to be taken for their walks.

It was Ivory and Luna—it was the 2 of them, as her sworn and loyal protectors forever. Her girls.

Aemond sees the glimmer in Aiana’s eyes, lost in her thoughts. It was moments like these between them that Aemond liked to observe. He often observed things he would rather not, but of his own accord he would gladly study a beauty such as Aiana. He would even gladly argue with a thousand men who would say her shining eyes simply reflected the moon’s kind and gentle light. He knew it was more than that. It reflected her own benevolent heart that lives for those around her, deserving or not.

Aemond thought it deserving she was nicknamed the Northern Star. Everyone likes looking at pretty things, and they’re twice as desirable if they are completely out of reach.

Aiana was a star alright, unattainable and untouchable even if she was down on this Earth walking amongst commoners and sinners and cowards. Southerners thought Northerners as filthy brutes who were below them. But here she was, Aiana, a beauty Southerners can’t help but eye for. Aemond is no different, and as much as it disappoints him to admit it, his nephews share the same observation.

But Aiana was much more than a beauty. She was indeed a spectacle in the sky that gives purpose to those who wish upon it, a sense of direction to the lost and hope to the desperate.

Only now does Aemond allow himself to be the lost, desperate boy, if it meant being lost and desperate for Aiana.

“What’s wrong?”

Aemond’s nose twitched, alert. “Nothing.”

“You stare quite a lot at motionless things.” Aiana looked off to her side, at the beach. “I suppose the beach is quite lovely at night. It’s calm. I’ve never been to many beaches, you know, as you can assume there are none in Winterfell. Just the same, boring lakes that freeze and melt away as the seasons pass.”

Aemond swallowed hard. “Do you plan on returning to Winterfell, then?” His voice came out hoarse. He had overheard Ser Criston and his mother discuss Lord Rickon’s plan to return soon and hoped it to be false.

It was a question that has been plaguing his mind and soul lately. Even though he wished Winterfell was a place Aiana hated and despised as much as he did King’s Landing, her solemn “yes,” plunged into his heart brutally.

Aiana was quick enough to pick up his sagging shoulders. “Winterfell is my home, Aemond,” she shook him. “Of course I must return.”

“But what of your studies with Septa Marinah?” was his first attempt.

“I have my own Septa at home, Septa Elayne.”

“But Septa Marinah is one of the best. She’s young and patient and kind-”

“Aemond-”

“And what of Lord Stark and Cregan? They must uphold their duties here.”

“My father is just an old friend of the King. He has no duties expected of him here except to accompany your father in his hunts and wine tasting. We are temporary invited guests from the North, and so we must return home, sooner than later. I know our fathers and your uncle have bonded over hunting,” she gave him a tight lipped smile, “but this isn’t my home, Aemond. I hate the sun’s intensity here. I wish to go home.”

But Winterfell is a sad, gray place, he wanted to reason. What about the flowers you enjoy so much you’ve made it a habit to collect them and make everyone flower crowns? What sign of life can you find in the desolate North?

He kicked the sand, frowning. “It snows here, too...”

“We’ll still see one another as we always have all throughout our lives,” she added as they entered the cave. “Every name day and every wedding, we shall come back. It’ll be an offense to the King, your father, if we don’t.”

Aemond let out a small grunt as he stared at his own two feet, too pained to look at her. He already foresees his future days. He might as well resort to living in the skies, among the clouds, if he can’t walk the land without the Northern Star by his side.

“Can’t you just ask for your direwolves to be sent here?”

Aiana chuckled. “Aemond–”

“It’s him!” A voice squeaked from out of the quiet. “And the Lady Stark’s with him!”

Aiana noticed a look of betrayal in Baela and she returned a puzzled one. Soon followed Jacaerys, Lucerys, and her little sister, Rhaena.

Feeling the sudden, overwhelming heat of the 5 young dragons around her, practically fuming fire from their nostrils, Aiana slipped out from Aemond’s cloak. “Have we done something wrong?”

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x stark #aemond x stark!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen childhood best friends to lovers #prince aemond targaryen #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #hotd fic #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #young aemond targayen

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goldensunflowe-r · 4 months ago

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winnysplayground · 3 months ago

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“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”

i think we need to work on you first.

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multific · 6 months ago

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The Wolf and The Rabbit

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: The meeting between the wolf and the rabbit never ended well. The wolf would devour the poor rabbit in seconds. And yet, this wolf would never harm the poor bunny.

When your betrothal was announced, it came as a surprise to you.

Cregan Stark is a feared warrior and for a reason.

He was brutal and killed men without a flinch. His sword drowned in the blood of men.

And yet, it was you he chose as his wife.

You have only met him once, when you were very young, both of you were actually. At the time, he called you a scared little bunny.

You didn't pay much attention to him, you only stayed in his father's Kingdom for a couple of days.

Sure, your house might not be as strong as his, but you held a great name. With a proud father and mother, you were a true Lady.

A Lady who was now declared to become the wife of Cregan.

"But Father, why me?" you asked your father who looked so proud.

"The word came from him, he chose you as his future wife."

"But... why?" you asked rather quietly as you looked at your mother.

"It doesn't matter why. He chose you, it is all that matters." your mother replied.

And soon, you were in a carriage, being delivered to him, wearing your finest dress.

You looked out of the small window of the carriage, letting out a long sigh.

"Why me?" was the question in the back of your head at all times.

As the carriage moved down the road, in between the trees, heading further and further North.

You knew he would be waiting for you.

He would be standing there.

You wondered how he looked, how he had been since you had last seen him.

From the tales, you knew he was fierce and strong. You couldn’t imagine what he looked like. As a young son, he was often told how he would be handsome.

You couldn’t see it. But you were only a child, now you were a woman.

Things might have changed.

You at least hoped they did.

You let out a sigh as you got closer and closer. The nervousness grew deeper and deeper in your heart as you got closer.

Soon, you arrived and the door to your carriage opened. The cold immediately hit you.

It wasn’t the kind of cold when you could see your breath, but you knew what was coming.

Winter.

Not so different from your home.

Home.

This was your home now.

This will be your home now.

You grabbed the servant's hand as you got out and soon, you saw him.

His hair was shaved on the sides. He was handsome.

Damn him.

Even from afar, you could tell, he looked handsome.

He wore fur over his clothes, keeping him warm as he stood tall and proud.

He rolled his shoulders back as he saw you. You could see how he let out a sigh.

“Lord Stark, I am here to announce you, Lady Y/L/N from the House of Y/L/N. As you wished, your bride is presented to you.”

You bowed your head as you were introduced to him. You didn't look up or anywhere, but soon, you did look up.

Your eyes locked with him for the first time in a long while.

How cold and dark his were.

“How could I forget this Little Bunny.” He said with a smirk for a smile.

You just kept your eyes on him.

“My Lord.” You said as you waited for him to lead you into his home.

Lord of Winterfell had a home which looked incredible.

Snow has melted in some places, yet it is still present.

You liked it.

You were left in the hands of a servant who showed you the castle, The Great Keep.

And finally, your room.

"Lord Stark was very adamant about your sleeping arrangements," she said before she opened the door to his chambers. It was his. There were no questions about it in your mind.

The room felt and smelled like a man. It made you very nervous.

You were about to be a wife, his wife. It was up to you to make the Stark name strong and give him children. And that petrified you to no end.

“Why me?” you still asked yourself.

Even when you were left alone to catch a breath, your mind was running.

Soon, you were asked to join him during dinner.

You sat in the chair right next to him, to his right as he sat at the head of the table.

It was a feast, so many different food was placed in front of you, fruits you have never seen.

"I had them make everything as I do not know what you like, as of yet." his voice sounded strangely soft.

It almost didn't fit him.

And yet it did.

His eyes didn't meet yours, he only focused on the food in front of him.

"Thank you." you suddenly said, surprising both of you as you began to eat.

"Wine?" he asked and you nodded as a servant poured you a glass. "It is one which your father sent. Hopefully, it will make you feel more at home."

"Thank you," you said once more as you continued to eat. What felt like the first time in forever, you ate as much as you wished.

"You sure can eat." he suddenly said and you became aware of everything all at once.

"I'm sorry," you said as you pushed your plate and looked at him. "It is just... delicious."

"I'm happy you like it, I didn't mean to make you stop or anything," he said as he pushed the plate back in front of you.

"Oh, okay," you said as you continued to eat. Occasionally you looked at him, only to see that he was avoiding your eyes.

You wondered why he was doing it. You wanted to ask, ask how he ended up choosing you from all the women he could have chosen, he chose you.

Out of all the princesses and ladies, he wanted you. But why?

You will have to find out one way or another.

But for now, you were taken to get washed even if you insisted that you were more than capable of doing it yourself.

You were quick to learn that Cregan Stark didn’t like the answer no.

And so, as you were bathing you asked one of the servants, “What kind of a man is Lord Stark?”

The servants looked at you with a smile.

“He is a wonderful ruler.” One of them said.

“I wish to know the real answer, not a political one, please.”

“He is a good man. A true warrior, he is always practising his sword, and he is a great leader. He always keeps his word. He will be a good husband.”

She did look as if she was telling the truth. At least that helped you to some degree.

But even if it wasn’t true, you feared that she would have not told you. After all, who would?

You knew the two of you would share a room, maybe you could get to know him more intimately.

At least you hoped to, but as soon as you got into bed, the soft furs embraced you and you almost immediately began to fall asleep.

You woke up the next morning.

His side of the bed was cold, which made you wonder if he even slept.

You were dressed in warm and beautiful fur as you headed out to the garden.

Although winter was almost here, and every tree and flower lost their colour, you still enjoyed the garden very much.

The lady who showed you around kept telling you stories about the garden and soon, you entered the training grounds.

"My Lady, we probably shouldn't be here," she said but you just dismissed her and continued on.

You didn't want these men to think that you were only a decoration, a pretty little thing too afraid of some blood and sweat.

But what you found rather interesting was Cregan. He was in the middle of practising his sword and all you could focus on was his muscles as he moved.

"Princess," he said when he saw you.

You were not a princess, you told him before, but he didn't care.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I'm having a walk. L-"

"Let me show you around," he said as he left to quickly put his sword down. You looked at the servant who had been walking with you, she simply bowed and left without another word.

You stood there as the men kept staring at you. You tried to softly smile at them as they kept murmuring between one another.

You knew those looks too well.

It made you so uncomfortable.

Finally, Cregan arrived back and you two quickly left the training grounds as he guided you back to his home.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Princess?" he suddenly asked and you looked at him in shock.

"Soulmates?"

"When I was a young pup, my mother told me a story. She said that every person is born as a half and it is up to them to find their other half. You see, she said in the beginning, men and women were one, but we angered the Gods and they separated the whole into two. It is said all of us a doomed to find our other half. And many of us don't while others do."

"I do remember my mother told me the same story."

"Then you must understand my feelings. When I first saw you. We were young and I didn't know back then what my feelings meant. However, now I do. We were meant to be. We are soulmates."

"You must be joking, Sir Stark. How can you believe that?"

"I believe it because I feel it. Do you not?"

"I-" You didn't want to say no, because truth be told, you never actually thought about it. But if you were honest with yourself, you did feel a certain pull towards him. "I'm not sure. Is this why you chose me as your bride?"

"Who else could I choose but you?" weirdly, you understood him, you should have thought he was crazy.

And yet you didn’t.

In your heart, this all felt so right.

“I used to watch you, Princess. Even as a young boy, I knew, there was something special between us. I asked for your hand in marriage because of this connection which I believe in. Do you also feel it?" he looked so hopeful.

His eyes shone as he took a step closer and held both of your hands in his.

"I asked your father for your hand but now, I ask you, Princess. Will you marry me?" you took a deep breath.

"You say such sweet things. Talking about destiny and love, Lord Stark, but how do I know you are truthful? How do I know your words are more than a deception to get closer to my family?"

"I had a feeling you would fear as such. It is why I tried to best my home with the things you like, to properly welcome you. Since I cannot share my feelings with you. I had a new library put in, since a garden in this weather would not hold."

"I will be your wife, Lord." you suddenly said. "Not because of your library or garden, but I do feel the same you claim to. And I'm tired of pretending that I don't. Ever since we were children, I never forgot about you. Even if it was so long ago." you looked into his eyes and they shined with happiness.

"My Love, I promise you will not regret being open about this. I plan on keeping you safe and happy. And tomorrow, after our wedding, I will give you an eternity filled with joy and love."

You believed him, you really did, after all he sounded extremely sincere.

You placed your hands on his chest as he pulled you in for a hug.

You knew this was the beginning of your forever with him.

---

The wedding went well. Suspiciously well.

You expected some kind of disaster.

But nothing.

You two were wed, and celebrated along with the guests.

Your parents were proud of you, you could see it in their eyes, but they also told you multiple times.

You danced, drank and had an amazing time at your wedding.

It was the very first time your husband kissed you and it felt as if everything just fell into place.

As if all of your hidden feelings came to the surface.

Then, years passed.

You heard of a war coming and you feared the worst.

You were with your first child when the news about the Dance of the Dragons came to Winterfell.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon came to ask your husband for his help during the war.

Of course, Cregan promised the Prince his men and sword.

"What bothers you, My Love?" he asked the same night, in the dark of your chambers as he sat on the bed while you stared at the fire.

"I fear my child will grow up without a father."

"I know how much you hate war, My Queen, but-"

"No buts Cregan, I understand why war is coming and I understand why you choose to partake."

"Then you must understand, I am doing it for our child and their future." he stood up and knelt on the floor in front of you. "I promise you, I will be back before our son is born."

"Or daughter." he laughed a little.

"Or little princess. You are right."

You put your hand on his cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone.

"I love you, My Wolf."

"And I love you, My Wife." he moved his head and kissed your palm before he picked you up and carried you to your bed.

It might have been a simple story. A simple love story.

But it was yours and you knew it was special.

With a strong and dedicated husband, who would go to war for the future of your child and you.

Who trained a dozen wolves to protect you, who always made sure to not only tell you that he loved you but prove it to you in any and all ways that he could.

House of the Dragon Collection

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

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Can you write How would jacaerys, aemond, benjicot, and cregan court the reader? Thank youuu

Benjicot Blackwood was a kind man, a sweetheart to you, a lite awkward but he made it endearing and sweet.

Benjicot knew that there was only so much that his house could offer you in comparison to other houses, but he made sure that you were never alone as he was always by your side; providing you with his company all the while making you well versed with Raventree Hall and all it encompassed.

He treated you better then most men of the realm by treating you with respect and dignity which meant a lot more to you then meaningless expensive gifts of jewellery, as you knew that with Ben you’d be treated as a living breathing human, rather then be considered a possession out of duty.

Benjicot practically worshiped you and the ground you walked on. He was loyal to you and only you and he made that evident with how often he spoke about you in high regard as he stands by your side strong and firm like an oak tree. Benjicot would gladly go down fighting for you for your courting meant that much to him as he just wants to prove to you that he would forever be the better choice in suitor.

Which he is, he definitely is. He’s the perfect man and would treat you like you were the one sat upon the iron throne.

He’s probably the one to ask your father to court you before anyone else could get you before him, he’s determined to have you as his spouse but does it in the most sweetest and respectful way possible that would end up making you melt.

Benjicot didn’t need to be the richest man in Westeros to win you over because his words and his actions spoke louder than meaningless transactions of coin. He would defend you to his last breath while holding you in his arms as he kisses you.

Benjicot was like a warm fireplace as you burrowed your head into his neck, never having felt safer then you did in his arms as he whispered sweet honeyed words of how he’d protect and watch over you as you sleep.

The man would raise hell if you’d come to harm but that’s something you were made well aware of and had you finding safety in his arms faster then most.

Aemond Targaryen could be a possessive man when it came to courting you, such as blessing you with his gifts of jewellery that bore the same blue sapphire that was embedded into his face, a stark reminder to all who had your heart.

He trusts you, which was rarity on its own, but he didn’t trust everyone else. and so if he found out that someone was encroaching on what was his? Aemond would be quick to make an example of them during his training sessions, making sure that there would be enough eyes to witness the persons humiliation -yours included- as he effortlessly knocked them down within minutes.

Aemond expressed his interest in very unique ways and would bolster the fact that he rides the largest dragon in Westeros. -Reader and cannibal from my other series would scoff at this- along with how much safer you were with him, and he would tell you how he’d gladly set towns aflame if anything were to happen with you with a deadpan face.

He keeps a close eye on you that it’s borderline suffocating but at least you’ll have someone who’ll immediately know what you were feeling through sheer observation, where he’d take you aside and show a softer side to you as he asks you how he could help you feel better.

Aemond could be soft if he wanted but I think the biggest sign that he was certain he wanted to be with you and that’s by showing you his sapphire eye. He’s very much still insecure about it despite it being so long and so many things had happened since then but old scars tend to hurt in moments of nostalgia, and so when he showed you his sapphire eye, it means he takes your courtship seriously and hopes that you think the same.

Jacaerys Velaryon is the epitome of a gentleman.

His mother raised him well as he treated you as though you were the most precious person in his life, which you very much were.

He’d gladly wake up at weird times of night if you were ever in need of anything and he could do something about it, such as sneaking towards the kitchen on Dragonstone for lemon cakes or something to drink.

Anything your heart wanted, Jace would get it for you tenfold, no matter how far he’d have to go to get it. If it was for you then Jace would gladly fly to the far reaches of Westeros to get it.

Flights on Vermax were a common thing between you and Jace so much that Vermax was well acquainted with you and grew to love you, much to Jace’s relief. He loved it whether you held onto him as tightly as possible, even after he reassured you that no harm could come to you on Vermax, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of you pressed up close against his back.

He’s quick to take up arms if anyone were to ever speak a threat towards you. No hesitation, he will fight on your behalf because he wouldn’t dare let anyone get away with saying such foul words against you.

‘Their words should mean little to you,’ he’d tell you as he holds your face in his hands, making sure that you were looking him directly in the eyes. ‘ for you are far more then what they say and I will not have you echo their words either, an insult on you might as well be an insult to me too.’ He then presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘I will not allow others to tear you down as you deserved to be lifted up.’

Jace is a man of his word and he’s never go back on it ever. He was loyal and honourable man who’d eyes never left yours as he awakes in the morning, ready to think of new ways to spoil you absolutely rotten.

Cregan Stark is another man who’d treat you far better than most in the realm.

He would most likely get you a Direwolf pup when he came across one mourning its dead mother, finding the star shape mark on its forehead interesting, before gently scooping it up and taking it home with him to bring to you.

You named the Direwolf Astarion.

Cregan would make sure you’d have the best equality furs possible to keep out the cold weather of Winterfell whether for your shared chamber or to wear outside the castle. He knew that the cold wasn’t for everybody and would much rather you be comfortable during your stay at what would possibly be your future home should your courting go well.

Cregan would probably gift you flowers that had adapted to surviving in the cold winter whenever he was out hunting.

‘For the most beautiful soul in the realm.’ He’d say as he handed them over to you, smiling as you took them in with a smile of your own. He’s truly a sap with you and you wouldn’t want it any other way as having a man as notoriously stoic and duty driven, but yet be so soft and carful of you was enough to get you weak on the knees.

He’s devoted to you and you alone and it showed in the softer moments you shared where he looked at you as though you were the muse for the most beautiful artwork in Westeros today. He could be quite clingy also but you weren’t complaining when you had a man as pretty as him keeping you against his chest, reminding you that his heart beats for you as he lists off many reasons he desires you.

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princessbellecerise · 4 months ago

Text

You Kiss Their Scars

Summary ✩ How your lover reacts to you kissing their scars

Warnings ✩ Mentions of violence and blood

Jacaerys Velaryon

You were amused as your lips pressed against the teeth shaped scars, in the shape of tiny little bite marks that Jace explained were from Vermax

“He used to bite me plenty when we shared a crib,” Your husband told you. “He was a nasty little thing. Mother was afraid he’d take a chunk out of my arm—but he never did. He stopped doing it when I bit him back,” He revealed

You giggled as you imagined baby Jace and baby Vermax—both the same size at one point—going at it while Rhaenyra tried to separate them. “So I suppose you’ve both always been temperamental then,” You said

It was no surprise that your husband, who also had quite the temper, related so much to his dragon. The two were one of the same, and you guessed that’s why they got along so well

“Yes,” Jacaerys agreed, a fond smile on his face as he recalled the memories. “We were quite a menacing pair indeed.”

Aegon Targaryen

“She did it again,” Is the only thing Aegon had to tell you in order for you to pull him into your arms, kissing the spot where a nasty red bruise was forming

It was no secret that your husband and his mother did not get along, but never did you think that she would have the audacity to strike him after an argument

It was appalling to you every time it happened, and you wanted nothing more than to march towards her and give the same treatment, Queen be damned

It wasn’t fair that she took out her anger out on Aegon but he begged you, no pleaded with you to not do anything

“It won’t do any good,” He’d tell you sadly, and your heart would ache as you saw the brokenness, the sadness on his face. “She’ll just hate me even more if you act.”

Aemond Targaryen

“Hold still.”

You jutted your tounge out in concentration as you cleaned Aemond’s scar, making sure that it was sanitized properly for the day

Your husband trusting you with such a thing was an act of love itself. The fact that he trusted you to see his deepest insecurity meant alot to you, and all you could do to repay him and hopefully bring up his spirits was pepper light kisses on the skin surrounding it

“There, all done.”

“Thank you, my love,” Aemond smiled slightly as he touched the spots were your lips touched, still wondering how he got so lucky as to find someone like you

Cregan Stark

“Ow! Be gentle, woman,” Cregan said playfully, wincing as you brushed over his ‘scar’ with a wet cloth

Somehow, for some reason, your dear husband thought it would be funny to wrestle with his dire wolf and then he had the nerve to come crawling to you, asking you to patch up his wounds after the beast had bitten him

Of course, it wasn’t really that big of a deal and Cregan wasn’t really hurt, but you still smirked as you pressed a kiss to it like it was a real wound

“There. That should ease some of the pain, you big baby,” You teased, rolling your eyes

Cregan chuckled as he checked your work, looking at the bandage you had placed over some ointment

“What do you suppose it’ll look like when it heals?” He asked you seriously

“It’ll look like you simply have a freckle, Creagn,” You responded sarcastically, and then you giggled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap

“Don’t make fun me, wife. You should be proud,” He said, flexing the arm where the bite was. “How many men do you know have taken on such a beast and lived to tell the tale?”

“Only you, husband. Only you.” You snorted at his dramatics, wondering just what you were going to do with your silly, drama queen of a husband

Benjicot Blackwood

There was reason they called your husband ‘Bloody Ben’

You found this out when one day, he came limping home after solving a conflict in the Riverlands, covered in wounds and blood—so much blood

Thankfully, most of it wasn’t his but Benji still did have a few wounds that needed looking after

The Maester was busy, having been sent by your husband to tend to the other men, so you got the pleasure of dragging him to your chambers, making sure that he was clean before you began to stitch him up

The entire time you worked, Benji barely even flinched which amazed you

By the time that you were done with his top half, he’d barely said a word or complained which led to you kissing over a few of his stitches as a reward

“What was that for?” He asked in wonder, a small blush on his cheeks while you grinned

“That, my love, is for being such a good patient,” You told him cheekily, and you did not expect what Benji did next

Standing up, he loosened his trousers and then he grinned as he pointed at the area beneath his small clothes

“Well in that case, I’ll need plenty of kisses here, too. No promises that I won’t move if you touch me there though.”

“Benji!”

#house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader

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wyvernest · 6 months ago

Text

cold nights by the fire

cregan stark x betrothed f! reader

cw: smut, piv, creampie, fluff, slightly typical-medieval sexist views, loss of virginity

summary: your soon-to-be husband keeps you warm on your first cold night in Winterfell

Ever since the war ended, nights have grown colder in the regretted absence of most dragonfire in Westeros. High and sharp winds have started growing in the North, sweeping far south of The Wall and clawing at the gates of Winterfell.

Tonight was no different. You had asked your handmaiden to build a fire in the hearth for both your comfort, but with little gain. As soon as you stepped away from the red, licking flames, the cold took over like shadow vanquishing light.

“It’s all in vain.” you mutter, defeated.

“I shall bring more furs, m’lady.” your handmaiden insists, getting up from her spot by the fire.

“Don’t.”, you chuckle, “Any more and I’ll suffocate. They’ll have to send all the guards to come looking for me amongst them come morn’.”

Your companion lets a shy laugh escape her trembling lips, although short-lived as a tall, broad shadow appears by the door.

“My lady.” Your heart flutters wildly at the unmistakable sound of your betrothed’s voice, so gentle and concerned. “Are you well?”

Nodding for your handmaiden to retreat to her own chamber, you now become aware of your condition; kneeled on the rough tapestry, crumbled into a ball of pelts, hands above the flames. Sour shame washes over you, for having dared to believe you were one of the toughest of your family during harsh times, yet now conquered by the cold on your first night in Winterfell.

“Cregan.” you shuffle to raise to your feet but your freezing legs aren’t eager to heed your intent. “I must admit, my northern blood has betrayed me tonight, for the first time.”

You are startled amidst your struggles to flee from the furs as he braces you with a firm hand on your back, before his other comes around your waist, easily lifting you off the rugs. He walks back, placing you on the soft bed and sitting beside you, the covers rigid with night’s chill underneath.

“I will not have my lady wife quiver in my own keep.” He rids himself of his cloak swiftly, draping it over your smaller frame. The hastiness of the gesture makes a newfound warmth pool in your veins, reminding you of the same way he is to soon cloak you as his lady, in sight of the Old Gods.

“Thank you,” You whisper, surprised and stunned, as you cuddle closer into his embrace. His body heat soon seeps into you, your trembling diminishing as his strong arms faintly squeeze more and more.

‘Exhilarated’ didn’t begin to properly describe how you felt when Lord Cregan started courting you not long after he had returned from the southern war of the Targaryens. Your house is pledged to the Starks, but with the safety of the North now secured, he did not deem it necessary to strengthen alliances with marriage anymore, not when he could follow his heart so freely.

A giddy shiver rouses you from oncoming slumber, as the last slither of cold leaves your body in a sneeze you wished you could suppress.

“Come closer.” You can feel his hot breath on your face as he moves you over his lap, his right arm running up and down your back in hopes of keeping you warm.

“Is this proper? So soon, before the wedding?” You do not wish to so easily disrespect customs and laws, but it wasn't rare that you found yourself fantasising about finally being his.

“I am merely looking after my beloved. I already vowed to shield you from harm.” You cannot tell if there was a trace of amusement in his tone or if it was just your mind jesting.

“Not before the gods.”

“The gods knew of the pledge before I could speak it. The ceremony will be held, but my loyalties will have been with you for long before.” The hold around your waist tightens, affectionate.

You look up at him, pondering your next words carefully; but before you could muster up a word, your eyes drift to his lips, only for a moment. He doesn't need a clearer impulse to proceed.

His mouth meets yours with a warm exhale that seems to bewitch you, all senses and shock diffusing into the need of being with him. Your face is hot, the skin of your waist is buzzing under his touch even through thick clothing. Your kiss is shy, despite his growing hunger. He nips at your soft lips, his right hand cradling your face, warm and calloused, yet so tender.

His left palm grazes your thigh, a reassuring safety seasoned with soft need.

You cannot dream of stopping him. Your only concern is him ceasing at an awful time, only to return to his usual, honourable self and leave you desperate until the wedding. But he does not back away, more and more enraptured with you, the scent of you, your skin and your soft sighs.

He kisses down your jaw, down your throat, wet, hot and open-mouthed. Your body has forgotten all about the sting of cold, leaning back onto the furs. He follows without breaking away, climbing on top of you slowly yet steadily. You moan in surprise as he begins to toy with the back strings of your dress.

“If you wish me gone, I will be gone at once, wife.” He vows.

Returning into view, he looks at you from atop, his brows soothing at the realisation that you are about to welcome him.

“Warm my bed tonight, husband.” You utter, a feather’s puff aways from his lips.

With that, he descends upon you, tasting your words on your lips, his hands cradling your liquified body like softened candle wax. You're burning up and twisting with excitement under the blazing flame of his heat.

His hands slowly rid you of your garments, leaving you in your white shift, before slipping underneath and grabbing your waist. His touch leaves your skin aching and burning behind, his kisses mark you in a scorch palpable only to you. His touch climbs past your waist, coming to fondle the soft flesh of your breasts. Your heart beat is so strong you swear he might feel it as he softly squeezes your tit.

You shuffle in his hold, seeking to press yourself closer and closer into him, as if to become one. He indulges, himself wanting to wrap you up entirely in his embrace. Your soft breasts come flush against his hard chest, legs curling up around his waist as you receive him between your parted thighs.

His breathing gradually becomes laboured as he moves against you, pulling the covers over you both. As he continues to caress the curves and dips of your shape, his groin brushes up against your flower and your hips betray you, dragging back up against him. With a low grunt, he frees himself from his breeches with one hand, and you pull at his chemise to fully undress him.

“Are you certain?” You inquire, out of breath.

“Always have been.” He soothes your worries with another heart-stopping kiss, sealing the premature bedding with an undoubting vow.

You feel him guide himself into you, the tip of his manhood prodding at the pink petals of your unplucked rose, claiming you. He pushes in and you gladly accept him, wet and wanting.

“Gods, you feel amazing.” He groans above you, finally settled completely into you, before pulling back out and starting to roll his hips, steady yet hard enough to have you tensing at the sudden feeling of kindles in your womb.

He sinks deep into you with every thrust, breathing heavy on your neck, groaning in your ear, whipping at the cold and dark of the bedchamber. You can smell the pinewood and musk on him, closer than you’ve ever been before, and it drowns out your senses, reducing you to the rapid waters of a river, bending and breaking against harsh stones of mountains, willing and united.

You gasp out his name as the air is filled with your moans and pleas, the wood-carved bed frame ramming into the bleak stone walls of Winterfell with an echoless rhythm.

He worships your body like you were a godly grace bestowed upon him, listening to your every sound and heeding every sign that he could do more for your pleasure. Eventually his thrusts grow urgent and scattered in between breaths, and before he can muffle your ecstatic whines with another kiss, you come, your delicate flower quivering around him, pushing him into the peak of his own satisfaction.

You feel him throb inside, filling you with a strange, new sensation. He collapses by your side, tenderly dragging you with him. He strokes up and down your back, his breaths calming with a deep sigh.

“Is my lady still in discomfort?” He jests lightly, proud with himself and immensely content.

You snuggle at his side, head on his chest. “No. But I'm afraid I will be in need of your aid every night, my lord.”

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #rhaenyra targaryen #benjicot blackwood #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen

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