#ao3 a song of ice and fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msmorningstaarr · 5 months ago

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let me be yours | part II

ao3 | masterlist | < part I |

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x f!Martell Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

a/n: well, it’s been a long time since I don’t post a fic here and I was considering seriously ending my blog (i still do low key and end totally my last social media but let’s ignore that) but I have fun here and I love sharing my stories with you guys. thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoy it <3 comments, reblogs, likes are very much appreciated.

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

The next day, Rhaenyra summoned you to visit her again, and you brought your cloak to show her the sewing and embroidery you had completed. Her praise for your work and dedication was effusive, each word like a sweet melody to your ears. As she examined the intricate stitches and delicate patterns, her hand would occasionally brush against yours, a gentle touch that sent a thrill of warmth through your entire being. These fleeting moments of physical contact spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken tenderness and connection between you.

Her gaze remained as intense as ever, locking onto yours with a depth that stirred both admiration and longing within you. There were times when she leaned in closely to speak, her words brushing against your ear with an intimacy that left you breathless. Occasionally, she would press a lingering kiss to your cheek or temple, the softness of her lips leaving an indelible impression.

Each gesture, each touch, each word of affection stirred a flurry of emotions within you. You found yourself wondering if Rhaenyra's actions were merely those of a caring future mother-in-law, or if they hinted at something deeper, something that mirrored your own feelings. The uncertainty added a bittersweet edge to your interactions, blending desire with apprehension as you navigated the delicate dance between duty and desire in her presence.

And each night, you would touch yourself thinking about Rhaenyra.

Finger twirling around your clit.

Daring to play with your entrance.

Mumbled words desperately calling for your Queen.

Fingers down on your cunt until you come undone on your fingers.

Wishing it was on hers.

But after almost a month of engaging in your own pleasure, it came ahead of you the unstoppable moment of your life: your wedding. You remember yourself being a little princess in Dorne, waiting and counting your days to know how long it would take until she would be wedded to someone and there you were, now dreading this moment.

You wished to fulfil your fantasy, you wished to have a way with Rhaenyra. How could you marry her son and still think of her, every night? Marriage is just a piece of paper, Rhaenyra well said, however, would you ever be willing to be the one who brings pleasure, true pleasure, into your life?

There you were, five days away from your wedding, knocking on Rhaenyra’s door to spend your time with her. This time, she asked you to come in your evening garments, a cream nightgown with long, tight sleeves. Your hair was loose and carried no jewellery on your body. The Queen opened up her door for you with a soft smile, signing you to go inside her bedchambers.

“Your Grace.” You courtied her, bending your knee. Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, silently remembering you of her wish. “Sorry, Rhaenyra. I cannot help but treat you as you deserve.”

Rhaenyra held a smug smile after hearing you call her by her title. Her hands reached yours and entangled your fingers, greeting you in a more intimate manner. “Then as your Queen, I command you to call me by my name, little sun.” The Queen beamed at you, mischievously with her faint, playful smile. You laughed, although still a bit shy. “I apologise for summoning you in the night, my darling.” She began, walking throughout her room.

You followed her and one of her QueensGuard closed the door behind you and finally left the both of you alone. You were nervous, joining your hands on your back as you followed her, trying to disguise your anticipation around Her Grace. “I could not fall asleep and felt in need of your company. You lift my spirits.” The Queen said, sympathetically. Your eyes sparkled as she praised you, heart beating in anticipation and having a weird sense of validation, hence her sweet talk. “I hope I have not interrupted your sleep.”

As if you could ever go slumbering without touching yourself to the thought of Rhaenyra. You beamed briefly and shook your head, finding you a place to stay still, right after Your Grace. “You did not, as I myself have also been in some trouble finding my own sleep, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at you after a long sigh and her eyes seemed more relaxed when around you. She looked so beautiful in that blue nightgown, honouring her mother, a Lady of Arryn. Her hair was long and thick, she took great joy in braiding it before sleeping, but you would rather see it all loosen down, giving her a more human aspect to her godly, ethereal appearance.

Rhaenyra approached you, involving your hands on hers and grinning, which you grinned back before she led you towards a small table with a jar of wine with two goblets beside it. “We barely had time these days to share our daily moments. It is a shame.”

You started drinking by the same window Rhaenyra teased you, being bathed by the moonlight, Rhaenyra seemed even more stunning when in a more natural state. Rhaenyra drank her own wine but her eyes were locked on you, as it would always be. “I have been missing you, but with the current state of your wedding, we have both been quite busy lately.”

You nodded, positioning your cup on the window to lean your chest over it, watching from afar the lights of Flea Bottom. You didn’t know what to feel or think about it. You had so much time to spend with Jace and he seemed polite, but rather distant from you.

Maybe it was your fault, you should stay away from the Queen’s web, perhaps make more effort to be in acquaintance with your betrothed before the actual wedding. It was a rare thing, to live amongst your future husband, could give some default to the life ahead of you. However, you wasted it. “What troubles your sleep this evening, my sun?”

Your hands were sweaty again, your eyes lowered, looking to the immensity of darkness on the ground. Rhaenyra grabbed your face with her hands and smiled, as a sign of her affection. “I am nervous, Rhaenyra, I must admit.” You started, hesitant. “I have been thinking about what you told me in a former encounter of ours.”

Rhaenyra stared at you, intrigued. Her eyes narrowed, trying to recall their older gatherings. “You have?” Rhaenyra said with a hint of surprise in her eyes. The Queen looked at you with curiosity, trying to remember the words she said in the last moments they shared together. “Continue, dear.” Rhaenyra encouraged you with her gentle smile and her eyes still on yours.

“About marriages, duties and happiness…” You started, taking a smirk from Rhaenyra. Her fingers caressed your chin after squeezing it gently.

“Ah, those words, yes.” Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head. She gently cupped your face with her hands, her fingers caressing your cheeks. She took a step forward, standing very close to you.

“That was... very interesting of you to bring it up again.” The woman hummed, staring into your eyes.

You hummed yourself, feeling her lavender oil scent invade your nostrils and involuntarily, you bite your lower lips, feeling the heat grow ridiculously fast as Rhaenyra preyed on you, like a dragon seeking out its food. “And why does Your Grace find it interesting?”

Rhaenyra smiled down in amusement, watching your teeth sink into your lower lip. She traced her thumb over your lower lip, tugging slowly to free it from your teeth. She looked into your eyes, her pupils wide and full of lust.

“Because... I wonder if you remember the words I said that evening…” She said, almost whispering it to you and she leaned in closer.

Your mouth went dry instantly with the pace the gap between your bodies was closing. You remembered it more than well, but lacked the confidence to say it out loud. Not for not trusting in her, but mostly out of fret for what could happen now. She was too close to the pyre and the chances of being burned were immense. Either way, you said it. “A marriage is just a piece of paper.” You mumbled, breathing against her fair skin.

Rhaenyra chuckled lowly, her eyes slowly moving all over your face. She took the time to take in your expressions and your reactions to her body being so close to yours. She saw the way your throat moved slightly when you swallowed. The Queen took another step forward, feeling your chest against her own. She could feel your heart beating against your chest and she had no doubts that you could feel hers too. Rhaenyra could almost feel your breath against her lips as she let out a soft hum. “Correct.” She said, quietly.

“Once we are in a marriage, we can still have our… preferences. I learned it well with my late husband,” Rhaenyra traced her fingertips on your soft lips, attentively staring at it. “Bedding is not the biggest of your problems, my dear, but the lack or opportunity to be vulnerable. It can be the greatest of our strengths or weaknesses.”

Rhaenyra introduced your thumb within your mouth and instinctively, you suckled on it and closed your eyes as she spoke. Your warm tongue licked and pulled her thumb closer in a sultry move. Your cunt was soaked, dripping for Rhaenyra. “Open your eyes and look at me.” She softly commanded and you immediately complied. Your reaction encouraged her and her thumb gently moved under your bottom lip. The silver queen gently brushes it across the plump surface.

“How can something so flawless and beautiful exist in this world?” Rhaenyra muttered to herself. Her gaze never leaves your face. It was surreal, was it really happening to you? Your head was free of thoughts, only living in the present and wanting more of that enticing woman. “You see, you make me quite vulnerable to you. I wonder if you will make a strength or a weakness out of it.”

Then, Rhaenyra got closer. Now, the fabrics were much thinner than the other dresses both women wore. You could feel the swell of her breasts, her waist glued against yours, her breath close to you again. You startled, feeling her fingertips grazing on your skin, gently and superficially.

Once the Queen took off her finger and muttered her words, you opened her eyes and stared at Rhaenyra. “You think this highly of me, Your Grace?” You asked, muttering back.

“A woman as beautiful as you has no right to exist. Perfection itself. An artwork the Rhoynar Gods made to torture men.” Rhaenyra muttered back, as her fingers traced along your soft jaw and down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. “And they have. A vision so perfect and lovely has tempted me like no other. A true flower of the desert." Rhaenyra whispered.

“Do I tempt you?” You asked again, whispering as well. Your figures were now pressed against each other. Rhaenyra moved her head up a little, her lips ghosting over yours, not yet kissing, but close enough to feel her breath on your skin as she spoke.

Rhaenyra chuckled and lifted her chin slightly, feeling your body shiver slightly against hers as you let her touch travel down on your nightgown.

The material was soft and thin, doing a terrible job to hide how much it was affecting you. The blonde hummed when she felt your body shuddering under her touch. The Queen let her hand slide behind your waist, enjoying the heat of your skin under her touch.

“You have no idea of the power you hold, my sweet girl. No idea of how weak I am for you.” Her words caused you to silently gasp in front of her, you gave in entirely to Rhaenyra, your dream was coming true and fear grew as arousal spread through your body.

“Why do I make a weak of you?” You asked your possible lover, granting yourself the benefit of the doubt as you played naive for the cold truth: she wanted you as much as you wanted her.

“Because I long for you.” Rhaenyra muttered, still running her thumb gently across your bottom lip. She couldn't help but stare down at the mouth of this sweet thing. Just the thought of her kissing you was enough to send you the edge. The temptation was too much to bear.

“I long for you too, my Queen.” You finally admitted, mumbling at Rhaenyra. Ever since you landed on King’s Landing to be warded by the Queen, you find herself daydreaming of kissing her lips and being her own little Queen.

“Is that so, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra’s voice was low and sultry, her eyebrow arched in a mixture of curiosity and desire. A soft smile played on her lips as her thumb gently traced the contours of your plump, soft lips. Each stroke sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Every time she looked at your lips, a deep hunger ignited within her, a yearning to taste you and make you hers in every sense. Your gaze lingered, filled with a fierce determination to claim you as her own, to explore every inch of your being and etch her presence into your soul. The moment hung heavy with tension and unfulfilled desire, as if the world itself paused to witness the profound connection between you.

“I wish I could be yours." You reply, your eyes burning desire for Rhaenyra. You pay no mind for any liability; you care not that she is your Queen, the mother of your future husband, a woman. You wanted Rhaenyra.

“You can.” Rhaenyra muttered. She brought her other hand to your face, making sure to be completely focused on every part of you, taking in everything about you. Every part of her was perfect. As her thumbs trace over the soft flesh of your face, her eyes flicker down to your parted lips and she cannot help but gaze down to them, feeling the need to feel them on hers. “Just say the word.”

You touched the hand of Rhaenyra that was resting on your face and bit your lips again while listening to Her Grace. Submissively, you replied. “Let me be yours, Your Grace.” You mumbled, in a disguised begging for Rhaenyra to claim you, to have her way with you.

The eyes of Rhaenyra brightened and she was in total bliss. Hearing your sweet words in that pretty mouth, in that sensual tone, was like music to her ears. Rhaenyra leaned in close while both her hands gently held your face. Her nose gently brushed your own and she looked deep into your eyes.

“You are mine. My sweet girl.” Rhaenyra whispered as her tongue gently traced over your lip. She was close. You moaned lightly and she hummed with your reaction.

“I’m yours, Your Grace,” You whispered back, with a trembling voice and a mixture of reverence and longing. The words hung in the air, laden with the weight of her surrender. Impulsively, you pulled Rhaenyra closer, her fingers grasping the fabric of her gown with a desperate need to feel her warmth.

Yet, despite the burning desire coursing through her veins, you hesitated, her breath hitching as she stopped just short of initiating the kiss. Your faces were mere inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s breath mingling in the charged air. She gazed into Rhaenyra’s eyes, finding herself lost in the depths of those piercing, commanding orbs.

Feeling you pull her closer, Rhaenyra had to act. She closed the remaining distance as she pressed her mouth against yours, kissing you. Her lips moved slowly against your own, enjoying the feeling of you beneath her, knowing you were hers. Her thumbs gently stroke the flesh of your cheeks as she begins to explore your mouth.

Her kiss was ethereal as her beauty. You explored the inside of her mouth with her tongues in an enticing dance, moaning between the kiss as her hand possessively wandered through your hair. Rhaenyra hummed again against your mouth, delighting herself with her reactions. Her arm possessively brought you even closer, as if it was possible and another hand of hers grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss.

Gently, the silver Queen pushed you against the cold wall of her chambers, causing an electrifying thermal shock on your body. Her fingertips traced through your jawline and she tightened her grip, feeling her smooth flesh, rubbing against yours and the feeling was beyond incredible. Rhaenyra parted her lips for a brief time, staring at you with eyes full of hunger.

“Do you want me, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra whispered, with a husky voice as her eyes darkened, burning with desire and need for you. She watched you closely, waiting for an answer from you, holding you on a firm grip. You nodded at her question, taciturnly responding at her.

“Say it.” The royal commanded again, filling the air with tension enough to explode the room. Her eyes were locked on yours, breathing heavily towards your lips, you were drowned in pleasure, your voice was about to falter, right in front of your queen.

“I want you, My Queen.” You whispered. Her lips curled into a devilish smirk, with one of her hands letting go of your waist to cup your cheek, brushing your olive skin in very gentle circles. Rhaenyra joined your noses and rubbed each other, teasing you. Your desire went over the edge. It was overwhelmingly good being claimed by Your Grace, you would make sure this night was perfect. Rhaenyra's tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Feeling the warmth inside and tasting you on her tongue.

“Are you mine, sweet girl?" She asked, moving from your mouth down to your jaw, sucking and leaving marks on your soft flesh. Her moves were quick and furtive, as a dragon should be. Her face roamed yours, examining your expressions with cunning and desire.

“I am yours, Your Grace,” you whispered, with a voice having a delicate blend of devotion and anticipation. A soft hum of pleasure escaped your lips as you felt the tender nibbling and gentle suckling on your skin, each touch sending delightful shivers through her body. The sensations were exquisite, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender.

“You are mine.” Rhaenyra replied against your skin. You tilted your head back, moaning lightly as the Queen suckled on the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine nipples to instantly turn visible through your nightgown. Her hand travelled south, squeezing your waist and hips and soon after, your thigh. “Mine, mine, mine…” She continued, repeating the word like a prayer, still close to your neck.

Swiftly, she flipped your body and pressed the front of it against the cold wall, pulling your hair to the side and kissing your back as a contrast to her rough and sudden gesture. You purred with pleasure as Rhaenyra had her hands reaching the laces of your nightly garments and you moaned lightly, feeling her kisses on your neck. Your hands, delicately, pulled her head against your neck, beseeching for more action on her side.

“I am all yours,” You replied, faintly moaning with the motion of your dress falling onto the floor. “Yours, yours, yours…”

Rhaenyra mischievously smiled, out of satisfaction hearing your voice so submissive to her. Her soft hands wandered up and down on your bare back, admiring your naked body. Your neck was invaded with kisses, bites and suckles, mixing pain and lust at the same time and your moans were becoming desperate for her.

"I want to worship you, sweet girl. Will you let me?" Rhaenyra asked in a sultry whisper, her hands finding the lace of her own dress and revealing her pale skin. You agreed in silence, feeling her nipples brushing against your back. "Perfect." She muttered, her voice barely a mutter. One of her hands moved up to your breast, gently caressing it with her thumb.

And then, Your Grace flipped your body back to face your front. A brief silence rose amongst you two, her body screamed the yearn to devour you completely. Rhaenyra pinched your left nipple and you moaned in a low tone. "Gorgeous." Rhaenyra murmured as her mouth took in your pert nipple, her tongue flicking over it softly and your hands almost immediately reached her hair again, not allowing Rhaenyra to let go of your chest. Her tongue circled one nipple and alternated with suckling, kisses and bites on your nipple.

No one has ever seen you naked before. Yet, being all exposed for Rhaenyra for the first time was no hardship. You felt close to explode once her lips reached your breast and a soft cry came from your mouth. Rhaenyra hummed against your flesh, continuing to give your breast the attention it desired.

One of her hands lowered over your cunt as her lips suckled and licked your chest. Her other hand moved down across your torso before gently placing it between your legs and gently stroking a digit across your core, making you melt into her arms, exploding with her skilful manoeuvring.

Rhaenyra gently removed her mouth from your breast and looked up into your eyes. Her thumb continued to circle your core, picking up the pace as she watched you. "Does it feel good, sweet girl? Do you enjoy this?" The Queen muttered with a teasing smirk as she watched your hips bounce for her. You looked right into Rhaenyra’s eyes, moaning silently and crying out in pleasure against that wall, only nodding in response to her question.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you once more as her thumb pressed down gently on your sensitive clit, delighting herself with your moans. "Say it." Rhaenyra whispered, repeating her command and wanting to hear you say out loud how much you like this.

“I-It feels so good… Y-your Grace…” You stammered, with your voice trembling with pleasure. You leaned in and pressed her lips to Rhaenyra’s, kissing deeply and fervently, as the Queen’s hands continued to explore her body with master, tender touches. Each caress heightened your senses, mumbling soft moans from her lips and making her pulse race with a mixture of excitement and desire.

The Queen vibrated in response and pressed down more on your sensitive apex, slowly increasing the pressure, watching closely for your reaction.

As she did this, her other hand moved up to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing you. You moaned, gazing directly into her eyes. "That's it, sweet girl. Let it all out." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice now husky and needy.

Not all times you touched yourself you could be as good as Rhaenyra was touching you. She knew how and where exactly to do it on you and it built an imminent desperation for release within your body. Your hands reached her shoulders, squeezing it as she grew closer to come on her fingers.

As your whines and moans grew, Rhaenyra knew you were close. Her thumb kept circling and pressing on your sweet spot, listening to the soft noises coming from your mouth. The sight of her in front of you was perfection. Rhaenyra squeezed your neck gently and whispered to you. "Come for me, my sweet. I want to see you fall to pieces in my hands... just for me."

With her soft command, you felt your legs faltering and a single tear of joy leaving your right eye, with a moan so similar to a whine leaving your mouth while your climax hit you, exploding just as the fourteen fires of the Valyria of Old. You buried your head on the crook of Your Grace’s neck, irregularly breathing and trembling your body.

Rhaenyra slowed her movements, taking her time to pull you through your orgasm. With each gentle rock of her thumb across your sensitive jewel, she kissed and licked up your neck. The sound of your moans and whines filled her ears and sent shivers down her spine. Feeling your body tremble against her sent a tingle between her thighs. "That's it, sweet girl. You've been so good, so perfect for me." The Queen muttered in praise as her arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, still in ecstasy from the aftershocks of that alluring moment you had shared with the Queen and kissed her lips gently while your body recovered. After the brief kiss, they stared at each other in silence and you proceeded to suckle on the finger that touched you, wiping all of your own wetness with her lips from Rhaenyra’s hand, who let go a groan as she watched you taste her on your fingers.

She could feel a heat beginning to burn deep within her core. You needed her. She brought her hands to your face and cupped your cheeks, kissing you deeply as she backed you towards the bed. The Dragon Queen pushed you down onto the soft silk sheets and hovered over top of you.

"I need you." She whispered against your mouth, her voice hoarse and desperate.

You felt the impact of falling onto the bed and kept kissing Rhaenyra and feeling the Queen alternating between her lips and neck. You spread her legs to accommodate Rhaenyra on top of you while Your Grace’s lips tasted your skin roughly and desperately.

“Then take me, Your Grace.” You whispered back, muttering ‘please’ onto her ear, which drove Rhaenyra to complete madness over you.

Rhaenyra lowered her body down, grinding her thigh against your wet core. You moaned a bit louder to the pressure and the sensation. She wanted to tease you, but you could not hold back anymore. "I am going to make you squirm, sweet girl." She muttered as her hand moved down your body, caressing your breast before her knee gently found your cunt. Rhae was gentle at first, pressing down gently as she rocked her knee against you. You, on the other hand, complied immediately to her promise, squirming and allowing your body to spasm under her touch. Instinctively, you grabbed her arse to keep Rhaenyra close.

Rhaenyra moaned as her body trembled, feeling your hands grab her arse and rock her. She leaned in close, biting down on your neck as she pressed her knee against you. "Feels so good, sweet...girl." She muttered as she continued to rub gently, her free hand gripping into your waist, as her own moans began to fill the room.

“Please, my Queen… more…” You pleaded as Rhaenyra kept rocking her knee against your sensitive centre, leaving moans from both mouths. You left one hand to the Queen’s hair, bringing her closer and the other hand kept squeezing Rhaenyra.

Your desperate moans made Rhaenyra go feral, her need and longing to hear more of your sweet sounds was overwhelming. "Say my name." She muttered, darkening her eyes and lowering your voice to a devilish tone, wanting to hear you utter her name on your lips.

You were torn, unsure if you should dare to call Rhaenyra by her name. It still seemed as a terrible lack of respect, yet the pleasure she derived from obeying her was overwhelming. As the sensations intensified, bringing you closer to the edge, you have decided to comply without question.

“My Queen,” you murmured breathlessly, opting to avoid using Rhaenyra’s name. The words felt both formal and intimate, a reflection of your submission and the profound connection you felt in that moment. Rhaenyra had her body trembling with anticipation, each touch and command driving her further into a state of astonishing surrender.

Rhaenyra listened intently as her thigh pressed and slowly paced against your intimacy, getting off your moans and whines. The queen smirked and kissed at your neck, gently sucking on the bare skin.

"No, my dornish sun.” She whispered in your ear, her voice sultry and seductive. “Say it... my name. I need to hear it from your sweet lips.”

“Rhae… Rhaenyra…” You moaned as Rhaenyra alternated between her fingers and knee on your intimacy. Your whines became more urgent as another orgasm began giving its early signs.

Upon hearing her name, Rhaenyra gently but firmly rolled her knee against your cunt, feeling your body tense slightly with your approach at climax. Wanting nothing more than to send you over the edge, Rhaenyra suddenly stopped and made you sigh heavily out of frustration for the denial of her release.

“Please, Rhae…” You pleaded, unable to finish her name, clenching your entrance around nothing and humping your cunt in the air.

"I want you to come on my lips." Rhaenyra groaned into your ear. Rhaenyra eagerly positioned her head between your legs, her mouth kissing along the inside of your sensitive thighs and making you arch your back, sobbing with the utter state of bliss. Rhaenyra moaned at the sight of your intimate spot, swollen, covered in slick and sensitive from the foreplay.

"So pretty for me, sweet girl." She whispered as her fingers gently parted your labia, exposing your jewel to her gaze. You moaned in anticipation by the simple act of having Rhaenyra kissing your inner thighs. Your lips were quick to be bitten.

Rhaenyra smirked at your moans, feeling her own desire building between her own legs. The sight of you squirming made her want you even more. She lowered her head gently, her tongue giving tentative licks to the sensitive skin on your thighs, biting softly into it. "And so responsive..." She murmured.

The more you moaned, the more desperate Rhaenyra was to hear more. She gently parted your lips further, exposing your sensitive intimacy. Slowly and gently, her thumb began to rub your sensitive bud, while her mouth returned to the skin above your cunt, suckling and biting at the flesh “Say my name, sweet girl." She whispered against your skin.

“R-rhaenyra…” You called her in a desperate moan. You pulled the Queen’s head closer to your damp core and her body arched back, feeling all the pleasure Rhaenyra had to offer to you.

Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of her name falling from your lips and leaned in closer as you pulled her head forward. Her tongue suddenly moved forward to brush across your sensitive bud, circling gently. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Does the Queen make you feel good?” You moaned as the royal returned back to gentle licks and circling motions.

“So good, my Queen…” You replied, humping your intimacy against Rhaenyra’s face.

The queen groaned out at the feeling of you rubbing against her, your soft noises making her heart beat faster in her chest. Your moans were the sweetest sound to her, music to her ears. Her tongue continued to move, the circles slowly becoming more and more erratic with her movements, her tongue adding more pressure to the side of your bundle of nerves.

You had your legs shaking once more and desperation built within you, a single tear leaving your eyes and Rhaenyra sped up the pace as she worked her tongue on you.

The sight of you beneath her only edged her on further. Rhaenyra felt her own desires and needs building within, her own core growing desperate for the same kind of attention. However, she continued with making you feel good. She wanted to make you cry, wanted to make you come undone. Rhaenyra leaned a bit closer, her pace quickening as her tongue flicked back and forth against your sweet spot.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" Her voice vibrated against your cunt, alternating her voice between eating your cunt out.

“Yes, my Queen…” You replied, agonisingly feeling Rhaenyra down on you, having you as if you were her last meal. Your whines were consistent and urgent, the warmth of her mouth made you feel even closer to your peak.

Rhaenyra groaned against your clit, feeling your body grow tense and more desperate. You were so close to falling over the edge, she could tell. "Come for me, sweet girl. I want to hear you call out my name when you reach your peak." Rhaenyra whispered before returning her tongue to your bundle of nerves, the speed in her circles increasing and becoming more frequent.

“Rhaenyra-…” You were quick to comply and let go, feeling your body convulsing under the overwhelming presence of your Queen licking your cunt and once more, you climaxed and now on her tongue. Rhaenyra groaned as your body convulsed under her mouth, her tongue continuing its ministrations through your peak.

The queen, however, hovered over you once more and kissed your lips hungrily, her face all covered in your wetness. “I am not done with you.” Rhaenyra groaned at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, her fingers digging into your skin slightly as she kissed your lips, her teeth gently biting over your pulse point.

“Mine.” She murmured against your skin, her breath hot yet soft as she whispered into the crook of your neck. The possessive edge in her voice and the way her teeth gently gripped onto your skin sent tingles down her spine, her body shivering against yours.

“I’m yours, Rhaenyra.” You muttered back, feeling Rhaenyra’s hand cup one of her breasts and taking a moan out of your lips.

Rhaenyra roughly squeezed your breasts at the sound of your moan, your breath shuddering softly against your skin as she moved her hand over your body, her fingers trailing over your hips, feeling again the mix between soreness and lust.

“Only mine.” She whispered quietly into your ear, her breath hot and shaky as she placed her legs between yours and pressed against you. Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of your moan, her body shivering as it pressed against you and her leg grinded against your centre.

“You feel that, darling?” She whispered her husky and shaky voice in your ear as her fingers trailed down to your hip, her leg gently and slowly rubbing against you. Rhaenyra’s hips gently grinded against yours, her breath shaky as she continued to rub her leg over you, her fingers digging into your hip slightly as she slowly began to rub at a steady pace.

She let out a low groan, her own need for you evident. “You feel so perfect, my darling.”

“Please yourself with me, Your Grace…” You said between moans as Rhaenyra rubbed her leg against your intimacy. Your mind rummined about her cunt against yours and it drove you straight into madness. Your body could barely understand the variation of emotions going through at this moment since you were close to come for the third time by that moment. Even still, you knew you could handle her, you wanted anything she had to offer you.

Rhaenyra gasped softly, her moans getting louder as her leg continued to rub against you, her hips shaking against as she listened to your moans. “I want you.” She groaned as her leg moved against you at a growing pace. “Gods, I need you.”

You wanted more, you wanted her to feel as much as you were feeling and perhaps it could be a risky move, but you pulled her body closer and positioned Rhaenyra’s aching core against your own cunt, mimicking a scissoring motion. “Please yourself with me, Your Grace.” She repeated herself, both moaning to the feeling of their clits against each other.

Rhaenyra gasped at the feeling of your bodies pressed in this way, her breath catching in her throat. ”Gods.” The queen gagged, her eyes rolling back slightly as a low and heady moan escaped her. Her hands grasped for your hips and gripped them as she listened to your moans. “S-sweet g-girl…” She called out your name, rocking her cunt against yours.

You bounced your hips and created more friction against Rhaenyra’s intimacy, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, moaning in a perfect symphony.

Her whole body trembled as her hips rocked against yours, moans coming out of her mouth uncontrollably as she ground and rolled her hips into yours. Her breathing was shaky and uneven, her grasp on your hips tightening as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. Your moans and sighs of pleasure seemed to fuel her own, and she found herself moving faster against you, letting out a low, keening sound as she felt her climax building.

“I’m close…” You said, feeling that Rhaenyra was almost close as well. Both Queen and Princess moaned loudly as they rubbed their clits against each other and hips moved fast to increase their pleasure. You cried out, desperate for release.

Rhaenyra had her body shook, her breath coming out in sharp gasps and moans as she felt herself nearing her peak. She gasped and moaned loudly, her body arching into yours as they ground against each other, desperately chasing her release.

“Gods, I’m going to—“ The dragon queen gasped out, her whole body shuddering and shaking. Her fingers dug into your hips and held you tightly as her body twitched against yours.

Your body shaked violently through your climax as it hits the duo fastly. You moaned loudly on a desperate whine, trembling and rocking for the last time against Rhaenyra as the Queen peaked as well. Rhaenyra’s whole body arched as they both came together, moaning and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her. She held onto you tightly, her breathing coming out in hot and shaky puffs as she rode her climax, riding it until her body fell, limp and trembling against you, completely spent.

As you finished, Rhaenyra gently kissed your cheek before pulling back and crawling closer to your face and body. Her own breathing was laboured and her body flush. "You're so beautiful when you fall apart, sweet girl." She whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips gently. You hugged Rhaenyra while you tried to recover from the intense orgasm. After it, you brushed her sweaty hair while Rhaenyra was still on top of you.

Rhaenyra laid against you, her body feeling heavy and limp as she slowly began to come down from her high, her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal. Her hair clung to her face from the beads of sweat, her lips pressed to the crook of your neck as she tried to catch her breath. ”Gods.” She whispered breathlessly.

You breathed heavily and tried to regulate along Rhaenyra and smiled, wiping the sweat from the Queen’s face. “That was intense, Your Grace…” You whispered back, breathless as well.

Rhaenyra let out a faint chuckle, lifting her face from your neck and looking down at you, a small smile on her lips as she gazed at you. “Very intense.” Rhaenyra agreed. Her fingers lifted and traced over your face, her eyes full of adoration and affection as she looked at you.

“I’ve never lost control like that.” She said quietly, her voice low and full of wonder. You smiled coyly at Rhaenyra and kissed her chin gently, still gazing at her.

Rhaenyra groaned softly as she felt your tender kiss. Her own hand clutched gently onto your shoulder, her nails slightly digging into your skin. "You'll ruin me, sweet girl." Rhaenyra whispered, caressing your hair as she stared at you in bed.

Now was your time to smirk at her face. You grabbed her chin and kissed it, enticing her imagination and internally trying to see if that really wasn’t a dream. You had her. Your wish was conceded. And it was good as the fantasy you indulge yourself in. “Good.” You then said, whispering in her ear and enduring your mischievous face. Rhaenyra giggled and pulled you closer, giving a peck to your lips. “You are mine now.”

And finally, you could admit with happiness. “I am yours.”

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ladythornofrivia · 7 months ago

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Aemond existing:

Me: no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, you could dracarys me like how you dracarys the Riverlands, or take me as a prize of war and i'd still ride you.

(Decided to make part 2)

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kc-writes-sometimes · 3 months ago

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Crown and Kin

Ao3 Account

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Born a bastard and later legitimised by King Viserys, Daella Targaryen is thrust into the deadly world of court politics, where power is fleeting and trust is a rare commodity. As the Targaryen family fractures under the weight of rivalry and mistrust, Daella must navigate a web of shifting alliances and hidden agendas. With war on the horizon and dragons poised for battle, she becomes a pawn in the escalating conflict between the Greens and the Blacks. Torn between love and loyalty, Daella must face a harrowing choice that could determine not just her fate, but the future of House Targaryen.

In a world where everyone must choose, those who don’t will perish.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

Also on Ao3

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emptyportrait · 9 months ago

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ship so good they yearn for each other without even knowing one another's existence

#snowstorm #jonerys #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #agot #the winds of winter #jegulus #ao3 fanfic #let me know if y'all know more pairs who fits in this trope!#ao3 #darklina #the darkling #alina starkov

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bisexualmultifandommess · 5 months ago

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My favourite kind of Gendrya fic is either a reunion or post-reunion fic or a relationship reveal fic of any kind where Gendry and Arya obviously seem to know each other and Jon is just stood there watching them like:

#he’s always so confused why his favourite sister and his new blacksmith bestie are so familiar with each other #it’s usually sandor who reveals it too just because he finds it funny or tormund lmao #arya is like “uh I knew him first back off”#the gendrya ao3 tag mixed with the jon snow knows nothing ao3 tag is a gift #when the confusion turns to protectiveness it means the fic is amazing #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #game of thrones memes #got memes #memes #jon snow #arya stark #gendry waters #gendry baratheon #gendrya #gendry x arya #arya x gendry

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bloodybellycomb · 1 year ago

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deeply respect people who write fix-it fanfics because my instinctual reaction is always the complete opposite. I will look at something I love to my very bones and think "hmmm...this could be more fucked up, how about I make everything worse, that seems fun". like some kind of mad unethical evil scientist experimenting on the people I love the most.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #death note #eventually #once i finish the one i started #ao3 #writing #fanfic #love to read comfort fics #but i literally cannot write them myself #really wish i could but alas #birdy chirps

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simplynotcapable · 9 months ago

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in interest of having my valyrian be more accurate in my fics (i use a translator and it’s often incorrect or uses the wrong conjugation; i was initially okay with this but my perfectionism is kicking in) i was wondering if anyone knows of an accurate translator? or if anyone who does know the grammar rules sees this and would like to help me out occasionally, i’d really appreciate it <3

#hotd fic #hotd #house of the dragon #ao3 work #ao3 author #high valyrian #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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samieree · 10 months ago

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"Dawn of the North || Robb Stark" Masterlist

(fanfiction)(Robb Stark x OC)

[General Masterlist with list of boys I can write one-shots with here] [Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Masterlist]

[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin]

Prologue + description

Chapter I ''Beginning''

Chapter II ''Two worlds''

Chapter III ''Walder Frey''

Collages: "two years"

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ilreleonewikiart · 4 months ago

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TDIOBCB challenge - day 23: pregnancy

Pregnant Rhaena, Daeron and their children, Nyra and Vivi

"This is probably one of the family dynamics I love the most that I’ve created. I briefly mentioned that in this fic Rhaena and Daeron would get married and have children, but I never focused on them. However, out of all the children that will appear, they are the most important and the ones who will return most often, as they will be born almost at the beginning of the story and grow over time, especially the first two, though Rhaegal, who will be born only at the end of the fic, also has an interesting conception. The first two are twins and are named Rhaenyra and Viserys. For simplicity, they are called Nyra and Vivi by the family, and they are the very first grandchildren of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Nyra is practically a miniature version of her aunt Baela, with a light touch of her grandmother, from whom she takes her name. Being born a few seconds before Vivi, she is considered the older one and, for a few years, was seen as the most likely heir after Aegon III. She is her father's favorite, who adores her and can never say no to her. Sometimes the two even dress alike. Vivi, on the other hand, is his mother's little angel, whom she adores. Like the grandfather he’s named after, he loves sweets. His sensitive soul makes him fall under the strong-willed nature of his sister, whom he follows in everything and is often the victim of her pranks. Both love dogs and ponies. Rhaengal, the youngest, isn't born yet during the fic, but his presence is felt even while he's still in the womb. In fact, unlike his siblings, he is not Daeron's son, but Addam's, though they will do everything possible to pass him off as a legitimate child. In any case, he is deeply loved by both parents, and his two siblings adore him."

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

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havenlyd · 4 months ago

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Aegon III Targaryen x Barba Bolton, by senblvd

Chapter 11 is up!

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lukreziaaa · 2 months ago

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The three heads of the dragon

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msmorningstaarr · 5 months ago

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let me be yours. | part I

ao3 | masterlist | part II >

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

Word count: 3.1K

Ever since you left your homeland to be a ward in King’s Landing, life has become a journey of too many changes and mixed feelings. The sense of homesickness and fear of the unknown was present and huge within your heart.

You were a princess of Dorne, the second in line to inherit Sunspear after your brother. After the rise of Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she successfully united the relations with Dorne and finally brought it into the feud and unifying the realm once and for all. You, after all, were presented at her courtyard as a sign of good will from the Martells and forge a prominent marital alliance between you and the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Jacaerys, in order to legitimise the coming of the dornish to the courtyard.

You obviously missed the sultry dunes of sand, the sweeteness of Dornish Red, the incandescent sky, with a fiery burning sun crashing your skin and the sense of community amongst your siblings and the freedom your country provided. You felt less lonely in Dorne, for the life in King’s Landing could prove to be challenging under the judgemental and prejudicial nature of the rest of the Westerosi. Some became outraged by your presence, others just spoke in whispers around the corners of the Red Keep, yet, it was undeniable that as soon as you stepped into the city, you became the centre of attention, always remembered by the courtyard for your mysterious peek, luscious, long hair and exquisite beauty or your luxurious sense of fashion. It distanced yourself from the standard beauty of the other ladies in the realm, putting yourself easily as the fairest maiden of your time.

You had no idea if this title came over the fact that you hold a big status as future consort and people wanted to fuss around you or if you were indeed the most beautiful lady in Westeros. However, you knew well that ever since the Queen has met you, she had been enchanted by you and held you in high regard, always complimenting you and your astonishing beauty. Her Grace enjoys calling you by terms of endearment, being “sweet girl” her favourite name for you, showering you with jewellery and plenty of expensive gifts or simply having your company along the day, to have long walks throughout the royal gardens and even show you the Dragonpit became a regular routine when she arranged time between her royal duties. You barely had time to bond with Prince Jacaerys, given the fact you became her loyal companion.

Speaking from the back of your mind, you cared not much, once you found yourself drowning into the alluring beauty of Rhaenyra. The Westerosi average accent for you was dull and ugly on everyone else; on her, it was perfection. Her touch was gentle and her violet eyes were rather attentive, careful of you. You spent your nights having supper with her and her other sons or simply sharing a good conversation. She made you feel less lonely in that castle.

You questioned yourself if what you were feeling was no more than a delusion, a projection over your neediness for attention. But you could swear you caught yourself in a moment with her where your gazes locked on each other and she lightly pinched your chin, getting too close to your face. Queen Rhaenyra was a daydream. You never indulged in kissing or having any romantic interaction with other ladies but Rhaenyra lit a fire within you - a liability only Her Grace could solve.

And now there you were, another night where she requested your company for supper. You wore an orange dress with silky cuts giving a slight volume to the gown, although it was a more simplistic dress, more adequate to the occasion. Her Queensguard announced you at the door and she received you with a polite smile before you gave her a courtesy.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” You speak, bending your body on a polite greeting gesture to Rhaenyra.

“It has been a far cry since we are done with courtesies, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra said, silently commanding her servants and guards to leave her with you. Her peek examined your features and smiled softly at you.

“It is a costume I would rather not lose, Your Gra-… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself, remembering she wanted you to address her by her name only, as a sign of how much she enjoyed your presence. She giggled and guided you through her chambers, ever so caring and jolly.

“I should warn you,” Rhaenyra began, walking through her private apartments. “I commanded the cook to prepare you something special.” Her Grace spoke to you, graciously raising her eyebrows and excited, yet contained beam. Your eyes lit up, already knowing what she was talking about.

You sat after her on the small table fetched for the two of you and a set of plates strategically placed for the duo to have dinner. Even before you would open it, you already knew. “The dornish recipe of roasted lamb.”

Rhaenyra grinned and joined her hands once she realised how much you enjoyed the said surprise. “I had the cook searching for this recipe for days, sweet girl. I hope it is of your liking.”

And then, after waiting for Your Grace to start eating, you hummed in satisfaction eating your meal. The spicy flavour exploded in your mouth, invading your taste and drooling your mouth by the slightest of satisfaction. “I take for your expression that you enjoy it a great deal.” Rhaenyra told you, after taking a bite of her own dinner. You nodded eagerly tasting it and had to contain yourself to not lose your composure in front of the Queen.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It tastes delicious, I have missed this.” You reply to her and involuntarily touches her hand, squeezing it delicately. Once you tried to take it away, Rhaenyra held it tighter, forbidding you to take it away and stared at you, silently reassuring you it was acceptable. Her hands entangling on yours was almost electrifying, causing goosebumps on your skin just with a simple touch or an exchange of looks. Her face, however, was tender and calm, with a soft smile whilst looking at you.

Rhaenyra put her hand over the table once again and her fingertips traced patterns over your soft skin. “My pleasure, sweet girl.” She muttered at you and tension was thick in the air. “Do you miss Dorne, my dear?” Rhaenyra asked you and her other hand grasped the cold metal of her cup of wine, taking it to her mouth to drink it, but her gaze never left yours.

You craved her attention, thirsting for more of Rhaenyra. Her presence sparked questions in your mind about her prowess as a lover; with so many sons, it seemed plausible her husbands found her passionate and fulfilling in bed, particularly Daemon. Could she bring that same intensity and allure to you? As Rhaenyra doted on you in your future role as a daughter-in-law, you could not help but ponder how she might express her affection in a more intimate relationship. Her gestures and glances, filled with warmth and intrigue, hinted at depths of passion waiting to be explored. The thought of her as a lover stirred your curiosity and desire, wondering how her charm and grace would translate into romantic moments.

"I do," you replied, your voice tinged with anticipation and full of honesty, grappling with the allure and uncertainty of what lay ahead. Would she meet your expectations, exceed them, or perhaps offer something entirely unexpected? The prospect both thrilled and unsettled you, as you navigated the complex emotions and possibilities that Rhaenyra's presence brought into your life.

“Well, darling, this is your home now. Your Queen will make sure you feel enoughly accommodated in my court,” Rhaenyra replied, breaking the contact between them to cut the tension shortly after it. The Valyrian Queen cuts a piece of her meat and fidget her fingers on her cup, tracing the boards as her eyes rested on your features. You, on the other hand, smiled gently at her words, deeply touched by her kindness towards you. It was not supposed to feel right to yearn for a full desire of Rhaenyra, you had to get rid these ruminations from your mind and replace them with Jacaerys. But how could it ever be possible when she is just in front of you, cornering you to fully focus on you and your relationship with her?

“I should hope you’re preparing your cloak with your ladies-in-waiting.” Your marriage, however, was a sensitive subject. Jacaerys was a dutiful boy and the interactions you had with him were more than pleasant, still, he was not what you were looking for. His long, brown curls had its appeal, but his mother unveiled things she wished she felt for Prince Jace. “I was done with the embroidery yesterday. I can bring it and show you on our next encounter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra lifted her eyebrows and lowered her eyes, smirking at her food as she ate it, seemingly thinking about something. You laughed, nervously drinking your wine. Your hands felt sweaty and heart beating just as it was about to rip open your chest out. “I would be most glad, sweet girl. Are you nervous about your wedding?”

You nodded, with your eyes sly and cautious while lingering on the Queen and she smiled at you again, on an attempted shared empathy. “I was a little thing like you when I married my first husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, Jace’s father,” Rhaenyra began. “He was not my choice of husband, earnestly.” She giggled and drank a sip of her wine. “But we had a good marriage. Laenor was a good man and provided me with children and good company. We loved each other in our own ways. Jace will treat you well too, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, Your Gr-...” The Queen lifted an eyebrow, reminding you of her request. “Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself again and she mumbled something as ‘much better’. You giggled alongside her as she shook her head in amusement.

“A marriage is just a piece of paper,” Rhaenyra began. “You and Jace will understand you both can perform a duty and still find your happiness.”

Her words sounded suggestive, was the Queen motivating you to commit treason before your marriage? Was Rhaenyra testing you? You raised your eyebrows and Rhaenyra smiled mischievously again, her eyes gazing at you intensely and in quietude. You rummined what was going on within her mind. Rhaenyra's violet eyes held a depth that made you feel seen and understood in ways that no one else ever had. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and possibilities. Rhaenyra's touch was a lifeline in the vast sea of desires you were feeling. Her thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to ask her so many things, but the words seemed to fail you in the face of her overwhelming presence.

"Sweet girl," Rhaenyra began softly, her voice a soothing melody, "My first marriage was also born out of duty. I can relate to the worry in your eyes. I want you to know that your happiness means a great deal to me, equally as my son’s. Your marriage to Jacaerys is a duty, yes, but it does not have to be the entirety of your existence."

By this point, you both had finished your plates and no desire for dessert rose for any of you. Rhaenyra had her wine by a window, feeling the cold breeze blow on her face with you by her side. The moonlight casted a silver glow, contrasting with her fair skin and silvery locks. Her words were a lifeline, pulling you from the deep core of your anxiety. The way she looked at you, with such intensity and sincerity, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"Rhaenyra, I..." You hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside you. She squeezed your hand reassuringly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Are you testing me?”

Rhaenyra stared at you, grinning and confused. “Why would I test you, sweet girl?”

The proximity of her and the warmth of her breath on your skin, was intoxicating. You found yourself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her nearness was both a comfort and a temptation, stirring feelings within you that you had never dared to acknowledge before.

“Rhaenyra, what are you asking of me?” You finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “I am asking you to trust me, to let me guide you through this. Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

“I trust you.” You simply replied, sighing heavily. You should not desire her this much. However, being this close made you want to touch her, kiss her perfect lips and beg for her to claim you as his. She smiled at you, relieved and her fingertips stroked your hair, pulling it behind your ear. Her scent was a blend of lavender and something uniquely her. You felt the pull towards her, a magnetic force that you couldn't resist. Tentatively, you leaned in, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it.

“Good.” She mumbled against your skin as Rhaenyra came closer. You never had been this close to her before. Her fingers reached your chin, lifting it to bring it closer to her lips, but her kiss was redirected to your cheek, so gently and delicate, yet so intense and slightly lustful. “Will you visit me next evening, my sweet?” Her Grace asked you, whispering words softly and close to your ear. It was a dangerous game you two were engaging in and you knew it well. But what is duty compared to what you are feeling now? You nodded in silence, quietly responding to her question as her hands embraced you slowly, bringing you closer, like a viper defeats its prey.

“I shall leave you to rest now.” You whispered at her, trying not to look into her eyes. Rhaenyra did not deviate her eyes from you, caressing your hair and staying close enough to feel her breath close to your face. “If you excuse me, Your… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself for a last moment and she giggled briefly to your face and finally let you go.

You were right in front of a windy window and your body was catching fire after having that moment with Rhaenyra. The cold breeze contrasted sharply with the heat that had built up inside you. As you left her chambers, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Making your way back to your quarters, the corridors felt longer, each step echoing with the memory of Rhaenyra’s touch and her whispered words. You couldn’t shake the feeling of her fingers against your skin, the promise and peril in her gaze. It was a heady mix of excitement and apprehension, knowing that you were treading a fine line between duty and desire.

Once in the privacy of your room, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to catch your breath. The room felt different, almost foreign, as if it no longer fit the person you were becoming. You moved to the window, looking out into the night, the stars twinkling like a thousand silent witnesses to the secrets you now held.

You changed your clothing for a simple nightgown and decided it was time for your slumber, laying on the mattress and allowing you to rest. However, your mind recalled the way Rhaenyra was too close to you, the way her hands had touched you, her soothing voice in your ear felt as the prettiest of melodies, made just for you. It was by far, the most erotic encounter you ever had and you found yourself silently begging for more. Her words echoed in your ears, a constant reminder that your happiness was just as important as your duty. Your hands wandered throughout your body, pinching your nipples, squeezing your breasts and closing your eyes to imagine it is her touch on them. Your hand then passed down on your clothed belly and thighs, teasing yourself before actually going all the way to your pleasure. A soft moan left your lips as you played with your nipples, fantasising about Rhaenyra taking over that liability.

When her body was enoughly worked up and her cunt ached, your hand had encountered your centre over the thin fabric of your dress and when you could feel a small trace of wetness staining on the undergarment, you hummed slightly. Your hand was not a regular tool, you tried it a few times only, but her touch was so recent and her scent was well alive in your nostrils, it felt logical for your body to demeanour in that manner, begging to be touched. You moaned lightly when your fingers pressed against your swollen clit, causing your body to shudder under your own touch. You reminded her sweet talk so close to you, how soft her lips were kissing your cheek and your mind screamed, pleading for those lips to kiss your lips, your chest, your cunt…

As you moved your hand south, your fingers circled around your clit in a slow, tortuous motion and caused your body to arch your back, mumbling words of ‘please, Rhaenyra’ , begging to release for her. Alternating between circles and light taps on your sweet spot, you drove yourself to madness, humping your crotch in the air. Traces of sweat fell down your face as heat grew inside your body. Your breathing was quick to become erratic, just as the pace of your hand became more urgent on your sweet spot. Soon enough, your moans were a bit louder and the pleading became more insistent, desperate. When you least expect it, your body convulsed violently, and orgasm hits you, making your legs quiver, spread wider, hips bouncing against nothing and lungs breathing heavily, your entrance clenched around nothing. You never came this strongly before, and all thanks to your Queen. Trying to gain consciousness, you stared at the ceiling, reflecting about what you just did. Not even a single trace of guilt had reached your body and you considered doing it again if your eyes were insistent to be closed and put your body to sleep.

———

a/n: missed writing and hell yeah i got inspired by THAT scene. please consider leaving likes, comments and reblogs. it’s very important for the writer! <3

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

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ladythornofrivia · 5 months ago

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Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen has entered his Sephiroth Era

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kc-writes-sometimes · 3 months ago

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Crown and Kin | Chapter Ten

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Ten: The Bonds That Tie

Word Count: 7,806

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daella continues her journey of self-discovery, wrestling with the pressures of training and expectations in the Red Keep. Amidst the trials, she finds moments of connection—Aegon’s playful teasing, Aemond’s steady encouragement, and Helaena’s quiet wisdom—each contributing to her growing sense of belonging. Daemon’s stern yet supportive presence challenges her to rise to her potential, while the bonds with her cousins offer warmth and levity. Through struggles and shared secrets, Daella learns that her new life as a Targaryen is a blend of resilience, strength, and unexpected love.

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A moon had passed since Daella’s arrival in King’s Landing, yet peace remained elusive. The Red Keep’s towering walls were not just stone but secrets that held her tight, reshaping her world into something both magnificent and terrifying. She was no longer just a bastard girl from a brothel. She was a Targaryen—her name now heavy with power, expectations, and responsibilities that felt far too large for her small shoulders. A castle that had once been a distant silhouette, looming over King’s Landing like a fortress in a child’s story, had become her home—a home that seemed intent on swallowing her whole.

Her cousins, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena, had woven themselves into her new life, each leaving an indelible mark. Aegon’s teasing, though relentless, carried an odd sense of comfort. His words were sharp but never cruel, like a mischievous game she hadn’t expected to enjoy. The way he taunted her was different from the jeers she had known growing up—a challenge rather than a slight, an invitation to push back rather than shrink away. Helaena, in contrast, was like a shadow, drifting in and out of Daella’s days with an ethereal presence. She whispered of dreams and strange sights, her eyes always distant, her words lingering in the air like the echoes of forgotten myths. Helaena spoke of things that made no sense, yet Daella couldn’t shake the feeling that there were truths buried within those strange phrases, truths that would one day mean something to her.

But it was Aemond whose absence gnawed at her most. In the beginning, they had shared moments of quiet understanding—hours spent in the dusty, forgotten corners of the castle, where they would trace their fingers over the old maps and dream of dragons. Lately, though, Aemond had grown distant. Where once there had been shared smiles and soft words, now there were only glances that avoided her own, his presence slipping away like the wind between the leaves. Daella couldn’t explain the hollow ache that his avoidance left in her, nor could she deny the sting of it. What had she done wrong?

And there was her father—Daemon. His gaze was always on her, watching, scrutinizing, filled with an expectation that was as heavy as the name she now bore. She could feel the heat of his disapproval when she lingered near her cousins, especially Aemond, as if he feared she would become soft, too attached. It was an unspoken barrier, a wall between them, built not of stone but of silence and the unfulfilled hopes she could feel every time his eyes met hers.

The warmth of the morning sun spread across the training yard, chasing the chill from the early hours, and casting long shadows over the stone. The clang of steel and barked orders echoed off the high walls, but Daella barely noticed, her focus locked on the wooden sword in her hands. Her fingers tightened around the hilt, the rough wood feeling too heavy, too awkward in her small grasp. Her legs quivered despite Daemon’s earlier command to relax. Her body remained tense, bracing for the inevitable critique, for the moment when her failures would be pointed out, exposed for all to see.

Her father stood a few paces away, his figure a sharp contrast to her own hesitant stance. He watched her with that calculating gaze she had come to know so well—sharp as Dark Sister, always seeking out her weaknesses. He held a wooden practice sword today, his stance relaxed, as if this was hardly worth his time. Everything about him spoke of ease, of confidence, while her nerves betrayed her every movement.

“You’re too tense,” Daemon said, his voice carrying that faint trace of amusement that somehow made everything worse, its edges pricking her pride. “Your sword isn’t a hammer, Daella. If you grip it like one, you’ll wear yourself out before the fight even starts. Relax your hands. Let the sword move with you, not against you.”

She nodded, her face flushed from exertion and the relentless heat of his gaze. Loosening her fingers felt unnatural, like she was losing control of the weapon. The sword wobbled in her grip, and her heart pounded as she quickly corrected her stance, afraid of dropping it, afraid of failing again. Frustration swelled inside her, a tide she couldn’t hold back.

Daemon’s expression softened, though his tone remained firm. “You’re fast, but right now you’re overthinking everything. Stop worrying about the sword. Focus on your feet.”

His words echoed in her mind, but they didn’t soothe the bubbling frustration in her chest. She wanted to please him, to prove she was worthy of his attention—worthy of being a Targaryen. But nothing felt right. Her legs felt heavy, her arms weak, and the sword… it felt like it was fighting her every step of the way, refusing to obey.

“Come at me,” Daemon instructed, stepping back, and raising his practice sword. His stance was open, almost daring her to attack. “Remember—speed, not strength.”

Daella hesitated, her grip instinctively tightening once more. She darted forward, her feet fumbling over the uneven stones beneath her. The sword seemed impossibly heavy in her small hands, dragging her down as she swung with all her might. Daemon sidestepped her easily, not even bothering to block, and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself before she fell.

“Too slow,” he said, though his voice held no malice, only patience. He stepped closer, tapping her shoulder lightly with the flat of his blade, a reminder of her vulnerability. “You’re trying to overpower it. You can’t force the sword to bend to your will. Let your body lead—your feet first, then the sword.”

Her frustration spiked, hot and sharp, a weight pressing against her chest. She wasn’t fast enough. She wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t enough.

She huffed, straightening with renewed determination. Her cheeks burned, the heat of embarrassment searing her skin, but she clenched her jaw, refusing to let it overwhelm her. She tightened her grip again, wanting—needing—to prove herself, to show him that she could do this. But it was harder than she had imagined. Every movement felt sluggish, every swing a failure.

“Again,” Daemon said, stepping back into position. “But this time, don’t rush. Study where I am, and aim for where I’m not.”

Daella’s breath hitched as her frustration ebbed, replaced by a fierce resolve. She couldn’t afford to give up. Not now. Not with his eyes on her—always watching, always judging. She adjusted her stance, mimicking the lightness of his posture. She could do this. She had to.

She darted to the side, her feet moving with more care. Her small size could be an advantage if only she could control it. But as she swung, her balance wavered, the sword wobbling once again. Daemon blocked effortlessly, his movements fluid, as though anticipating her every action. The impact of his block sent a shock through her arms, and she stumbled back, nearly losing her grip entirely.

“Better,” he said, his patience evident, his tone softer now, almost encouraging. “But you’re still leading with your arms. Watch my feet, not my sword.”

“I… I can’t!” she blurted, her voice edged with desperation. The sword felt like a burden, too heavy for her small frame, too clumsy in her hands. “It’s too heavy… and I’m too slow.”

Daemon’s gaze softened, and he knelt before her, bringing himself down to her level. His violet eyes met hers, their intensity softened by a gentleness that made her breath catch. “You’re not slow, Daella. You’re learning. The sword feels heavy because you’re fighting it, instead of letting it work with you.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her voice barely broke above a whisper. “But you’re not even trying, and I can’t even—” Her words trailed off, and she stared at the ground, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her failure, under the burden of being his daughter, of having to live up to his name.

Her father rested his hand on her shoulder, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through the usual stern exterior he presents during their training session. “Do you think I was born a swordsman?” he asked, his voice quiet, gentle in a way that cut through her frustration. “I was terrible when I first started. I stumbled. I fell. I bled. But I didn’t stop because it was hard. I kept going until my body learned how to move with the blade. You’ll do the same.”

A flicker of determination reignited within her. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t slow. She could be fast, just like he said. She would be.

“Now,” Daemon said, rising to his feet, his hand slipping away. “Forget the sword for a moment. Focus on your feet. Move. See where I am, and get to where I’m not.”

Daella took a deep breath, her hands still gripping the sword, though this time she tried to ease her hold, to let it flow with her movements rather than fighting against it. She studied Daemon’s stance, focusing on his feet rather than the blade.

She moved. Her feet were lighter, and quicker, though still awkward. She darted to the side, her heart pounding as she tried to remember not to think about the sword’s weight. Daemon turned, and before he could block, she slipped to the other side, her sword swinging wide. The strike was slow, and clumsy, but it connected—she tapped his arm with the flat of her blade.

Daella could hardly believe it. She had landed a hit. It had been awkward, a flicker of success amid countless mistakes, but it was something. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for the first time in days, she felt a surge of pride swell inside her. Daemon’s approval was subtle but clear—a slight nod, a ghost of a smile on his lips, a shift in his stance that told her she was finally on the right path.

“Not bad,” he said, warmth creeping into his voice. “You’re learning.”

She wanted to hold onto that feeling, to let it settle deep inside her where all the fear and uncertainty had taken root. She was learning. She was getting stronger. Slowly but surely, she was becoming the person her father believed she could be.

Just as Daella began to savour the small victory, the sound of familiar footsteps echoed across the training yard, shattering the fragile sense of accomplishment. She glanced over her shoulder, her breath still heavy from exertion. Aegon and Aemond strolled into the yard, both dressed in casual training attire, their presence a disruption that seemed almost inevitable.

“Well, well,” Aegon called out, his grin widening as he approached, “what do we have here? Daella Targaryen, the warrior? Or are you just playing at swords, trying to catch up to us?”

Aegon’s teasing had become familiar, and though his words could be biting, she found a strange comfort in them. It was almost like he was daring her to fight back, to prove herself. Daella bristled slightly, but her cheeks flushed more from the effort of her training than from his words.

Aemond, standing a bit behind his brother, was watching her closely. His gaze was sharper than Aegon’s, more observant, more intense. He didn’t speak at first, his purple eyes studying her form as she gripped the wooden sword tightly.

“She’s improving,” Aemond said, at last, his voice soft but certain. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

The simple acknowledgement sent a ripple through Daella, a small bloom of warmth in her chest. Aemond had been distant lately, more reserved than usual, but the weight of his words now stirred something inside her. Pride, perhaps. Or maybe it was something else—something she didn’t quite have the words for.

“I’m getting faster,” Daella said, though her voice was quieter now, almost unsure. “Father said so.”

Aegon laughed, rolling his eyes in exaggerated disbelief. “Oh, did he now? Well, let’s see about that! What do you think, Aemond? Should we test her?”

Aemond’s eyes flickered between Daella and Aegon, a slight tension in the air between the brothers, as there often was—Aegon always needing to prove himself, to be the best, and Aemond with his quiet intensity, his subtle defiance. Aegon’s teasing was lighthearted, but there was always an edge to it, especially when he felt challenged.

Before Daella could even respond, Daemon’s voice cut through the moment. “She’s not ready for whatever nonsense you’re planning, Aegon,” he said, his tone edged with warning. “And I’m not interested in cleaning up after you.”

Aegon pouted, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Oh, come on, Uncle! I wouldn’t hurt her—she’s my cousin.” He looked at Daella with a mischievous grin. “Besides, it’d be fun.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and Aegon instantly sensed the seriousness behind them. “Leave her be,” Daemon said firmly, his voice low, protective.

Aegon shrugged, the playful smirk still plastered on his face as he turned back to Daella. “Maybe next time, then.”

Daella felt a mix of relief and frustration. She knew Aegon was only teasing, but part of her wanted to prove herself to him too, to show that she wasn’t just some little girl who couldn’t keep up. She clenched the practice sword tighter, her knuckles white with effort, but she said nothing, her eyes flicking briefly to Aemond.

Aemond, unlike his brother, hadn’t moved. He stepped forward slightly, his gaze still focused on her, his voice calm, lacking the teasing tone Aegon always carried. “You’re holding it too tight,” he said softly. “If you don’t loosen your grip, your arms will tire before you even get a good strike in.”

Daella blinked, looking down at her hands. She had heard the same advice from her father, but hearing it from Aemond, someone her own age, made it feel different—more real somehow. She tried to loosen her grip, though the sword still felt awkward and heavy.

“Good,” Aemond said with a small nod, noticing the change.

Aegon, meanwhile, leaned lazily against the stone wall, clearly growing bored of the exchange. “Oh, look at you, Aemond. Giving her advice now? You sound like an old man.”

Aemond shot his brother a sharp glance, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing in response. His eyes returned to Daella, and she felt the weight of his focus settle on her again. There was something about the way Aemond looked at her, that made her feel understood.

Her father’s hand suddenly came to rest on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him. “That’s enough for today, zaldrītsos,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with pride. “You’ve done well.”

Daella’s heart swelled at the familiar term of endearment—little dragon. She wanted to keep going, to prove she could be faster, stronger, but her arms ached, and her legs trembled with the effort of the morning’s training. She had done her best, but exhaustion was settling in fast.

“I’ll be faster next time,” she said, her voice filled with quiet determination.

Her father smiled, his hand brushing through her dark silver hair. “I know you will. And soon enough, no one will be able to catch you.”

As her father stepped back, allowing Daella a moment to catch her breath, Aegon clapped his hands together, breaking the stillness. “Well then, if training’s over, who’s up for a game of dragon’s egg? I’ll even let Aemond try and keep up this time.”

Aemond shot him a withering look but said nothing, clearly uninterested in whatever game his older brother had in mind.

“I think I’ll pass,” Daella said, offering a small, tired smile. The weight of the sword still clung to her, and the thought of running around after Aegon made her limbs feel even heavier.

Aegon shrugged, unfazed. “Suit yourself, but don’t complain when we have all the fun.”

With that, Aegon bounded off toward the far end of the training yard, already calling out to one of the servants to fetch something for his game. Aemond lingered for a moment, his gaze still on Daella, before turning to follow his brother.

As she watched them disappear into the shadowed corridors of the Red Keep, Daella let out a long breath. She had survived another day of training, but something deeper lingered in her mind—a growing sense of uncertainty about her place in this world of dragons and swords. She was a Targaryen. And one day, she would prove it.

“I’ll be faster next time,” she whispered again, this time to herself.

The warmth of the midday sun had chased away the morning mist, but Daella still felt the chill lingering in her bones from the morning's training. She sat cross-legged in the shade of the stables, her legs stretched out in front of her as she watched Aegon and Aemond spar in the training yard. The rhythmic clack of their wooden swords echoed through the courtyard, each strike deliberate, like a beat in a song she was just beginning to learn. There was something magical about it, a promise of strength and skill she longed to grasp.

Aemond’s strikes were sharp and precise, each move calculated, while Aegon’s fighting style was reckless, his wild swings often catching his brother off guard. Aegon laughed when he knocked Aemond back, his joy contagious despite the sloppiness of his form. The playfulness of their sparring contrasted with the intense seriousness of her earlier lesson with her father. She could still feel the weight of the practice sword in her small hands, her palms tingling from the effort to hold it steady, her fathers voice echoing in her mind—firm, demanding, but never unkind.

Her gaze dropped to her own wooden sword, its worn hilt resting beside her on the ground. She traced the rough carvings with her fingers, feeling the ridges and remembering the struggle to follow her father’s instructions. Aegon and Aemond embodied everything she wanted to be—bold, fearless, and completely at ease with their swords. She couldn’t imagine herself like that. Not yet.

"Thinking about this morning, aren’t you?" a soft voice spoke from behind, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She turned, blinking up at Ser Harwin, who smiled down at her. His large shadow fell over her, shielding her from the glare of the sun. She hadn’t heard him approach, but his presence brought a warmth that made the knots of doubt in her chest loosen, at least for a moment.

“I... I wasn’t fast enough,” Daella admitted, looking away, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “And I still can’t hold the sword right.”

Harwin chuckled, lowering himself to sit beside her. The wooden bench creaked under his weight, and he leaned back, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched Aegon and Aemond. “It was your first real lesson, little flame,” he said, his voice gentle and steady. “You can’t expect to be as skilled as them overnight. It takes time. Practice.”

Daella chewed her lip, her eyes drifting back toward her cousins. Aegon had just knocked Aemond’s sword from his hand, laughing as Aemond’s face turned a shade of red, his eyes narrowing with irritation. Aemond picked up his sword and swung at Aegon with renewed determination. He was smaller and slighter than his brother, but there was a fierceness in his eyes, a burning desire to prove himself that Daella couldn’t help but admire.

“I want to be faster,” she said softly, her voice nearly drowned out by the clamour of the courtyard. She gripped her practice sword tighter, her fingers pressing into the wood until her knuckles turned white. “I want to be as good as them. As good as Father. As good as you.”

Harwin smiled, his gaze softening as he turned his attention to her. He reached over, stroking her hair—much like Daemon had earlier that day. “And you will be. In time,” he said. “Don’t rush yourself, Daella. You’ve already made more progress than you realise.”

Daella looked up at him, her violet eyes wide and hopeful. She wanted so much to believe him—that one day she could be as strong as her father, as fearless as her cousins. “I’ll practice every day,” she said, her voice firmer now, filled with quiet resolve. “I want to be great.”

Harwin’s laughter was rich and warm, like the crackling of a hearth on a cold night. “I don’t doubt that,” he said, his eyes glinting with pride. “You’ve always been stubborn, Daella.” He gave her a playful smirk.

She giggled, throwing a soft punch at his shoulder, her tiny fist hardly making a dent. Harwin barely moved, his body like a wall of muscle, but her laughter made her feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Perhaps it was because of Harwin’s words, or the small progress she’d made that morning with Daemon, but for the first time that day, Daella felt a little bit more confident, a little more sure of her place here.

Aegon and Aemond’s sparring session was winding down, Aemond scowling as Aegon ruffled his hair in triumph. Daella stood, brushing the dirt from her tunic. “I’ll be faster tomorrow,” she murmured, more to herself than to Ser Harwin. There was a fire in her voice that hadn’t been there before, a quiet determination that made Harwin smile.

With that fire in her heart, she turned away from the training yard and headed towards the Keep. The corridors were busy, filled with a frantic energy that hinted at something special. She quickly realised it was the preparations for Princess Rhaenyra’s upcoming wedding—banners of House Targaryen and House Velaryon being hung along the walls, the vibrant reds, blacks, and blues adding splashes of colour to the muted stone. The scent of freshly baked bread and blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the ever-present smoke from the kitchens.

As she passed by a large window, Daella paused, leaning against the cool stone ledge as she gazed out over King’s Landing. The sight of the bustling streets below, the smallfolk going about their day, made her think of her old life—the brothel, Rosalie, the warmth of the women who had cared for her. Did they know where she was now? Did they think of her as often as she thought of them? Part of her missed that simplicity, that feeling of being protected, but another part of her knew there was no going back. Not now. She was Daemon’s daughter—a Targaryen. It was a heavy mantle, but one she was determined to bear.

"Daella?" a soft voice called, breaking her thoughts.

Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Princess Helaena. The young girl, only a few years older than Daella, stood with her hands clasped in front of her, her lips curved into a shy smile. Helaena’s gaze was distant, as though her mind was in a world all her own, but her eyes were gentle, a warmth that made Daella feel at ease.

“Princess Helaena,” Daella said, curtsying awkwardly, her fingers bunching the fabric of her tunic.

Helaena’s smile grew, her voice soft as a breeze. “You don’t need to call me that. We’re cousins now, aren’t we?” She said the word "cousins" as if it held a special kind of magic, as though the bond of family was something precious. Her gaze drifted past Daella to the training yard beyond the window. “I saw you watching Aegon and Aemond. Do you like swords?”

Daella nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “I want to be good with one. Like Father. Like Ser Harwin.”

Helaena tilted her head, her pale silver hair shifting around her shoulders like a veil. “Swords are sharp. They can cut both ways, you know,” she whispered, her voice almost distant. Her gaze flicked back to Daella, her eyes wide and filled with something otherworldly. “But there are other ways to be strong. Not just with steel.”

Daella blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. She never quite understood Helaena’s words, but there was always a sense of truth in them. “What other ways?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a breath.

Helaena’s eyes lit up, her lips curling into an excited smile as if Daella had asked the perfect question. “Knowledge, kindness, understanding,” she said, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the windowsill. “And dragons. Dragons make us strong too.”

A shiver ran down Daella’s spine at the mention of dragons. She thought of Caraxes, of the way her father had spoken of her one day having her own. It felt like a dream—something too grand, too impossible. But hearing Helaena speak of it, so calmly, so confidently, made it seem a little more real, a little more possible.

“You have a dragon, don’t you?” Daella asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had heard whispers about Helaena’s dragon, Dreamfyre, but hadn’t dared ask before.

Helaena’s gaze softened, her distant expression melting into something warmer. “Dreamfyre,” she said reverently. “She’s beautiful—like the sky at dawn, all blues and silvers. She’s old, but kind. She sings to me sometimes, when I visit her.”

“Does she listen to you?” Daella whispered, awestruck. She could hardly imagine commanding a creature so powerful.

Helaena nodded, her eyes drifting, as if she were seeing something beyond the walls of the Keep. “She does. Not in words, but in feelings. When I’m near her, I feel... safe. Like nothing can hurt me.” She paused, her gaze meeting Daella’s. “One day, you’ll have a dragon too. And you’ll understand.”

Daella’s heart skipped a beat. The idea of having a dragon—a creature as majestic as Caraxes or Dreamfyre—felt almost impossible. But Helaena’s quiet confidence made her believe that perhaps, one day, it could happen. That she could be as strong as her father, not just with a sword, but with a dragon by her side.

Suddenly, Helaena’s eyes brightened, as though she had thought of something wonderful. She took a step forward and, to Daella’s surprise, took her hand. Daella’s eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, her heart giving a small jump. Helaena’s touch was light, almost fragile, but there was a determination behind it.

“Come,” Helaena said, her voice filled with a childlike excitement. “I want to show you something.”

Daella hesitated, glancing down the bustling corridor. She wasn’t sure she should wander off, not with all the preparations for Rhaenyra’s wedding, but there was something in Helaena’s eyes—a warmth, a promise of something special. She nodded, allowing Helaena to lead her through the winding corridors.

Their footsteps echoed in the quieter parts of the Keep, the noise of the bustling servants fading behind them as they ventured deeper into its older, more forgotten corners. The halls grew narrower, the air cooler, and finally, Helaena stopped before an old wooden door. She pushed it open, revealing a small chamber filled with shelves of jars, books, and curious trinkets.

“What is this place?” Daella whispered, her eyes widening. It felt like she had stepped into another world.

“It’s my collection,” Helaena said with quiet pride. She led Daella inside, her fingers brushing over a table cluttered with glass jars. Each jar held a different insect—beetles, moths, butterflies, even a few spiders—all carefully labelled with neat tags. It was like a library of tiny creatures, each one perfectly preserved.

Helaena picked up a jar containing a large beetle with iridescent wings that shimmered in the dim light. “This one’s called a Jewel Beetle. They say its colours come from the fire of dragons.” She smiled. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Daella nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. The beetle’s wings were like tiny pieces of stained glass, shimmering with hues of green and blue. It was strange, beautiful—delicate, yet full of something magical.

“Each of them has a story,” Helaena continued, her gaze drifting over her collection. “They teach us things if we watch closely—patience, resilience. This one,” she pointed to a jar with a spider spinning a delicate web, “teaches us how to build, even in the dark, even when everything seems hopeless.”

Daella stared at the spider, her mind wandering to her own journey here—to finding her place in a world that often felt too big and overwhelming. “They’re like us,” she said softly, her eyes still on the spider. “Trying to find their place.”

Helaena smiled at her, a soft, understanding smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “Exactly. We’re all trying to find our place. And sometimes, we need a little help.”

She set the jar down gently, turning to a shelf of worn books. She pulled one from the stack, the leather cover cracked and faded. “This book has drawings of all the insects I’ve found,” she said, handing it to Daella. “It’s helped me understand them better. Maybe it will help you too.”

Daella took the book, her fingers brushing over the cover. It felt heavy, and important, like it held secrets she was meant to uncover. “Thank you, Helaena,” she whispered, her voice full of sincerity.

“You’re welcome, Daella. You can come here anytime you want. The insects don’t mind visitors. And neither do I.”

Daella found herself completely entranced in Helaena’s world—her gentle explanations, her fascination with the small, fragile lives captured in glass. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed, and Daella listened as Helaena spoke, her voice weaving a spell as intricate as the webs the spiders spun in their jars. It made Daella feel as though she were part of something larger, like the beetles and the butterflies, each of them small but meaningful.

Helaena’s words shifted to stories of Dreamfyre, her dragon. She spoke of the sky, the feeling of soaring above the world, the wind in her hair, the powerful rush of the earth falling away beneath her. Her descriptions were so vivid, Daella could almost feel it herself—the sting of cold air, the thunderous beat of wings. For a moment, she imagined herself there—beside Helaena, flying over the city, the world stretching out endlessly below. It was a dream that filled her chest with warmth, a hope she held tightly.

As the light in the room began to fade, Helaena paused, her eyes flicking to the window. “It’s getting late,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back to Daella, her smile warm. “You should go before they come looking for you.”

Daella nodded, slowly rising to her feet, reluctant to leave the warmth of this quiet sanctuary. She held out the book, but Helaena shook her head. “Keep it,” she said softly. “There’s still much for you to learn. And when you’re ready, we’ll add your dragon to it.”

Daella’s heart swelled, her eyes wide with wonder and gratitude. “Thank you, Helaena,” she whispered, clutching the book tightly to her chest.

Helaena’s smile widened, her eyes glimmering. “Until next time, cousin,” she said, her voice barely louder than the soft flutter of wings in the jars around them.

As Daella left the room, she glanced back once, seeing Helaena already lost in her world again, her fingers brushing over her collection. The walk back to her chambers felt different now—more purposeful, like she was carrying something precious with her. She held the book close, her fingers tracing its worn cover as she navigated the Red Keep’s winding corridors. The halls were quieter, the day slowly giving way to night. When she finally reached her chambers, she felt the weight of the book in her hands—a promise, a piece of belonging she hadn’t known she was missing.

The door creaked slightly as Daella pushed it open, stepping into the room that had been prepared for her. The first thing that struck her was the sheer size—it was larger than anything she had ever known, far different from the cramped, shadowed quarters of the brothel or the stark, stone chambers of the servants in King's Landing. Here, the space breathed warmth and comfort, with the evening light filtering through tall, narrow windows, casting long, dancing shadows across the polished stone floor.

A heavy wooden bed stood against one wall, its frame intricately carved with dragons and Valyrian symbols that she still struggled to decipher. The bed was piled high with thick furs and soft linens dyed in the deep, rich reds and blacks of House Targaryen. It looked like something from the stories Ser Harwin had told her on cold, lonely nights—a bed fit for a princess. Yet, the thought made her uneasy. She still had trouble thinking of herself as anything other than a common street rat—a child of ash and shadows, not of grandeur.

Across the room, a small desk sat near one of the windows, a collection of parchment and ink neatly arranged on top, everything too pristine to touch. The fireplace, though currently empty, sat along the far wall, its mantel adorned with silver candlesticks, their gleam soft in the fading light. The shadows they cast reminded her of something alive, something that might slip away into the corners if she looked too closely. A wardrobe carved from dark wood stood in the corner, the dresses within an array of unfamiliar silks and velvets—garments far removed from the rough-spun cloth that had defined her past life. She hesitated to even open it, the clothes inside whispering of expectations she wasn’t sure she could ever fulfil.

Moving toward the window, she looked out at the sprawling city below, rooftops basked in the golden glow of the setting sun. The cool air slipped in through the slightly cracked panes, brushing against her face, carrying with it the scent of the distant sea, mingled with the faint perfume of the gardens below. It was peaceful, and quiet—a far cry from the bawdy laughter of the brothel or the bustling market noise that had always filled her ears. A place she barely recognised, yet slowly felt drawn to.

With a sigh, she turned back toward the bed, placing Helaena’s book gently on the desk beside her High Valyrian texts and the worn journal of Queen Visenya. Her fingers traced the cover of Visenya's journal, the intricate, fading embossing hinting at its age and its secrets. The journal intrigued her—tales written by a queen of fire and blood, pages heavy with triumphs and sacrifices that Daella couldn’t yet comprehend. Every time she believed she had understood the meaning behind the words, another layer seemed to slip from her grasp, elusive as smoke.

She climbed onto the bed, curling into the soft weight of the furs, the texture a strange comfort beneath her fingertips. She pulled her knees to her chest, the world narrowing around the flicker of the candlelight and the journal’s pages. As she opened the book to a familiar entry, her voice broke the silence, a quiet murmur as she read aloud. The stories spoke of a queen’s strength, her unyielding will, and the burden of wielding power so great it shaped kingdoms. Daella felt a mixture of awe and distance—Visenya’s courage and strength were admirable, but they felt like things far beyond her reach.

She paused at a passage detailing Visenya’s bond with her dragon, Vhagar. It wasn’t just about power; it was about something much deeper—a connection that seemed almost sacred. Daella’s fingers skimmed across the words, her heart heavy with yearning. She could almost see it, feel it—the thrill and the weight of responsibility that came with commanding such a creature. She wondered if she could ever share such a bond. Could she ever be like Visenya, fierce and unyielding, with her own place in the world?

As she read, Daella found herself slipping deeper into the stories. There was a strange comfort in these tales, even if she couldn’t fully grasp their meaning. The words painted vivid images in her mind—images of dragons and fire, of queens who refused to bend. They were images that made her chest ache with both hope and uncertainty. Could she ever be that strong? Could she ever claim her place among them?

She imagined herself older, standing beside her own dragon as her father did with Caraxes. The thought filled her with equal parts excitement and doubt. She was beginning to feel a sense of belonging here, among the Targaryens, but the reality of that life still felt overwhelming. Was she really a part of all this, or was she just a child lost in someone else's story?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door—a sharp sound that startled her, breaking the silence. She quickly closed the journal, her heart pounding from the unexpected noise. The knock came again, more insistent this time. She slipped off the bed, her bare feet cold against the stone floor as she made her way to the door.

Hesitation gripped her for a moment before she pulled the door open, her eyes widening as she found Aegon leaning against the doorframe, his silver hair tousled and a lazy grin on his face. He looked like he had wandered aimlessly, his expression caught somewhere between boredom and curiosity.

“Well, if it isn’t my little Ella,” Aegon drawled, his tone dripping with mock theatrics. He looked her over, his eyebrows raising in amusement. “Tucked away in your dusty books again? Don’t you know there’s more to life than staring at words all night?”

Daella frowned, tilting her head. “It’s late, Aegon. I thought everyone was asleep,” she said quietly, a slight defensiveness in her voice. She wasn’t quite sure why he had come looking for her.

Aegon gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as if deeply disappointed. “Everyone else is asleep or arguing. Frankly, it’s boring as hell.” He flashed her a grin. “Supper’s long over, and you missed the excitement. I thought I’d rescue you from whatever riveting history scroll you’ve been reading and show you what the Red Keep looks like after dark. It’s much more interesting when no one’s looking over your shoulder.”

Daella blinked, hesitation and curiosity flickering across her face. She glanced back into her room, her gaze lingering on the journal resting atop her bed. She had missed supper entirely, losing herself in Queen Visenya’s words and the weight of her legacy. And now here was Aegon, with that impish look that made her feel a little less alone—like maybe she didn’t need to carry everything so heavily all the time. She nodded slowly, closing the door behind her softly as she stepped out into the hallway. “All right,” she murmured, her voice still soft, but a hint of curiosity there.

Aegon’s grin widened, his eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s the spirit!” He gestured for her to follow, and they began walking down the dimly lit corridor. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows against the stone walls, the quiet of the castle surrounding them. He moved with easy confidence, almost a swagger, his footsteps echoing softly. Daella followed close behind, her eyes widening at the unfamiliarity of the empty halls and the way the keep seemed to transform at night.

“So,” Aegon started after a while, glancing back at her. “You’ve been hiding away in that room of yours a lot lately. What’s got you so fascinated? Old dusty dragon tales?” His tone was laced with teasing, a crooked smile on his lips.

“There’s a lot I need to learn,” Daella replied, her tone growing defensive. “About dragons, about our family… about what it means to be here.”

Aegon snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, please. You’re starting to sound like a Maester.” He gave her a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You know, Ella, there’s more to life than just studying old books. What you need is a little fun. That’s what the Red Keep after dark is for.”

She looked up at him, her expression unsure. Fun wasn’t something she’d had much of since arriving at the Red Keep. Everything here mattered too much—every glance, every word, every lesson felt like something that would determine her future. But Aegon’s carefree words were like a breeze blowing through her mind, loosening some of that heaviness.

He turned sharply, guiding them down a narrow, steep staircase. The air grew cooler, the shadows lengthening as they moved deeper into a part of the keep she’d never seen before. He glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ve got a secret spot. Somewhere to get away from all the ‘important’ stuff,” he said, mimicking her serious tone. “I think you could use it.”

Finally, they emerged into a small courtyard, hidden away behind ivy-covered walls. The moonlight poured down, casting a silvery glow on the stone benches and the old tree that stood in the centre, its branches stretching out like a protective canopy. Flowers still bloomed, their fragrance mingling with the cool night air. Aegon flopped down onto one of the benches, stretching his legs out comfortably.

“See?” he said, looking at her expectantly. “Not everything has to be about dragons and lessons. Sometimes, it’s just about sitting under the stars and remembering there’s a world beyond all that.”

Daella tilted her head back, her gaze lifting to the vast sky dotted with stars. The cool air brushed against her skin, and for a moment, she felt some of the weight on her shoulders ease. She sighed softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe Aegon was right—maybe there was more to life than just trying to belong.

Aegon glanced at her, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Then, with a quick movement, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small book. He held it out to her, his usual mischievous look returning. “Here,” he said, almost as if it was an afterthought, though his eyes held a hint of intention. “It’s different from what you’re used to—no dragons, no grand battles. Just some old tales. Figured you could use a break from all the seriousness.”

Daella blinked, surprised. She took the book, her fingers running over its worn leather cover. It felt lighter than the weighty tomes she had been studying—more inviting. She looked up at him, her eyes softening. “Thank you, Egg,” she said quietly, a genuine smile forming.

Aegon grinned, leaning back with an air of exaggerated self-satisfaction. “Don’t mention it, Ella. Just don’t go getting all sentimental on me, all right? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He nudged her with his elbow, his grin widening. “Besides, I can’t let you turn into some stuffy Maester. Life’s too short for that.”

Daella laughed softly, the tension in her chest loosening. “I promise I won’t. As long as you promise not to get us into too much trouble.”

Aegon snickered, his grin turning into a smirk. “Trouble? Me?” He placed a hand over his heart with mock innocence. “I’d never dream of it.” He winked at her. “But, you know, trouble has a funny way of finding me anyway.”

They sat there in silence for a while, a sense of comfort settling between them. The courtyard felt like their own secret space—a place untouched by the heaviness of her new life. Daella traced the edges of the book, her heart feeling a little lighter, the weight of expectations not as crushing here beneath the stars.

Eventually, Aegon’s voice broke the quiet, his tone still playful but holding a note of something deeper. “You know, Mother told us to stay away from you.”

Daella’s head turned sharply, her eyes widening. “She did?” she asked, her voice quiet, hurt flickering in her gaze.

Aegon nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Yep. Said you were Daemon’s problem, not ours. Told us not to ‘get involved.’” He paused, his eyes glinting with something rebellious. “But you didn’t seem like much of a problem to me. Besides, I’m not exactly known for following rules.” He smirked, adding, “Especially hers.”

Daella looked down at her hands, her fingers brushing against the book. The words stung, settling heavily in her chest. She had felt the distance from the others, but hearing it confirmed made it sharper, more painful. “Why did you come, then?” she asked softly.

Aegon shrugged, a more genuine smile appearing on his lips. “Maybe I was curious. Maybe I thought you could use some excitement.” He nudged her again, his grin softening. “Turns out I was right. You needed a little trouble, and who better to deliver it?”

Daella smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. For tonight, she wasn’t just the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, trying to prove herself. She was simply a girl, sitting beneath the stars, with a cousin who had reached out despite everything.

“Thanks, Egg,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aegon laughed, the sound carefree, his eyes sparkling. “Anytime, Ella. Just don’t make it a habit, yeah? I’ve got to keep up my ‘reckless prince’ image.” He stood, stretching his arms lazily before offering her his hand. “Come on, it’s late. If Mother finds us out here, she’ll probably have both our heads—and not in a fun way.”

Daella took his hand, letting him pull her up. The courtyard’s magic lingered, a promise of moments yet to come—moments of warmth, connection, and the small rebellions that made all the heaviness a little easier to bear. As they walked back, she held the book close to her chest, her heart a little lighter, her smile a little brighter, knowing she wasn’t as alone as she had thought.

After Aegon escorted her back to her chambers, Daella lingered at the door, watching as he gave her one last grin and sauntered down the hallway. She let out a small sigh and turned, her heart still light from their time beneath the stars. As she stepped into her chambers, she paused, noticing the flicker of firelight casting shadows against the walls.

A soft rustle caught her attention, and her breath stilled when she noticed Aemond sitting by the hearth, his small form almost swallowed by the large armchair, his eyes locked on the dancing flames. Seeing him there in her room sent her heart into a little jump—surprise mixing with a prickle of hope. It had been weeks since they’d spent time together. His absence had been sharp, like the pages of a book missing chapters.

“Aemond?” she called softly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a feather brushing against stone. She took a careful step closer, her expression balancing between uncertainty and hope.

Aemond’s gaze flicked up to hers for a second before dropping again, and Daella noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers tapped absently on the armrest. He didn’t respond, his eyes returning to the flames, as if trying to draw something from their warmth.

She closed the door behind her, the sound of it quiet but definitive. There was a thick tension in the air, like a storm hovering over the sea, waiting to break. She stepped closer, her bare feet almost soundless against the cold stone floor.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the whisper of the fire.

He looked back to the hearth, his expression unreadable. His fingers tapped a few more times before going still. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant, almost lost in the crackle of the flames. “I wanted to see you.”

Daella’s heart twisted at the uncertainty in his voice. She took another step, closer now, her eyes fixed on his face. “But you’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with hurt. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

Aemond’s eyes met hers briefly, a flash of guilt before they fell away again. He took a deep breath, his shoulders tense, as if bracing himself. “You didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “It’s… Mother.”

Daella’s brows drew together, confusion coloring her features. “Your mother?” she repeated, her voice dipping with a mixture of confusion and worry.

Aemond clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed on the floor now. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, the words escaping as though they pained him. “She told me to stay away from you,” he admitted, his voice tight. “She said you were… trouble. That you were Daemon’s problem, not ours.”

Daella’s chest tightened, her breath hitching. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it trembled despite her best effort. “So you listened?” She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the sting in her eyes. “You just… left me?”

Aemond’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers, frustration sparking in the depths of his gaze. “I didn’t want to!” he said, louder now, the words almost tumbling over each other in his desperation. “I didn’t want to, Daella. But… she’s my mother. She told me it was for the best.”

Daella swallowed, feeling her heart ache at his words. She took another step forward, closing the distance between them, her eyes searching his face, trying to understand. “I thought you were my friend,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought you understood me.”

Aemond’s expression softened, the frustration fading as something else—something raw and uncertain—took its place. He stood up slowly, moving toward her, the firelight painting shifting shadows across his face. “I am your friend, Daella,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, like he was scared the words would shatter if he spoke too loudly. “More than anyone.”

Daella looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Then why did you leave?” she asked, her voice so small it almost broke his heart.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm, hesitant and almost afraid to touch her. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “Mother said you were trouble, like your father—that being close to you would only bring problems. I didn’t want to believe her, but… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Daella’s heart twisted painfully at his words, but she could see the fear in his eyes—the fear of disappointing his mother, the fear of making a wrong choice. She took a deep breath, her small hand moving to rest on top of his, her fingers curling around his. “I don’t want to be trouble, Aemond,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I just want to be your friend.”

Aemond’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his gaze was that of a scared little boy, not a prince. He squeezed her hand gently, his own voice barely audible. “You are my friend, Daella. And I don’t care what Mother says anymore. I won’t avoid you again.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she took another small step forward, her free hand moving to rest on his shoulder. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination. “Promise me no matter what anyone says, we’ll be there for each other.”

He looked into her eyes, and she could see something fierce and unwavering within them—a spark of the Aemond she knew, the one who wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. He nodded, his voice steady and sure. “I promise,” he said. “No matter what.”

Her heart felt lighter, the weight that had pressed on her for days finally easing. She nodded, her fingers tightening around his. “I promise too.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the firelight flickering around them, casting their shadows across the room. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a dramatic vow, but for Daella, it was enough. It was a promise, and it meant everything.

Daella finally stepped back, her hand slipping from his, though she still felt the warmth between them, the bond they’d just renewed. “We should get some sleep,” she said softly, a gentle warmth still in her voice. “It’s been a long day.”

Aemond nodded, his eyes meeting hers again, softer now, the tension that had coiled in his shoulders finally loosening. He hesitated, then offered a small, shy smile. “Goodnight, Daella,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Goodnight, Aemond,” she replied, her heart lighter than it had been in days.

He turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps soft against the stone floor. Daella watched him until he was out of sight, a faint smile still tugging at her lips. She turned back to the hearth, stepping closer and staring into the flickering flames, feeling the warmth seep into her skin.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt the warmth wasn’t just from the fire. It was from the promise they’d made—one forged not by duty or commands, but by something far more precious.

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