#big sister rhaenyra

[idontevenknowhowtolife]

So Daeron is fostered in Oldtown and he does not like his cousins. They do not like him either and they hate him for being a Targ, they hate Tessarion for being 'unnatural' and Daeron is constantly being forced to the Sept to 'be cleansed of his unaturalness and to strengthen his noble Andal Blood".

Rhaenyra is a little more politically adept in this and she has a network of spies that she sets up with the Velaryons, specifically keeping an eye on the Faith and the Citadel

So when she gets word of suspicious movements and infighting between the more tolerant parts of the Sept and the conservative parts she decides that she needs to it for herself and decides to go there on the basis of visiting Daeron and Maegelle (who has been feeding her info and has also expressed concerns about Daeron)

She very much leaves the telling them she's coming part to the literal last minute and as such when she arrives and demands to see her brother Daeron is undergoing a 'cleansing ritual'

The Hightowers cant stop her from rushing off to find him (there may be some Targ mystic bad feelings pushing this) and when she comes across Daeron being ceremonially whipped to 'cleanse his wicked blood' while he prays to the Seven for forgiveness she may or may not threaten to burn them all down while Syrax backs her up by landing on the roof of the Sept.

There's not a whole lot that they can do against the threat of Syrax so they have to bow to her demands to release him and, after prompting from Daeron, to take her to Tessarion. Syrax is still circling above them, getting dangerously close to the buildings and being very menacing. She happens to be the one who laid the egg Tessarion hatched from and is very protective of her hatchlings. As such when they see the small cage shes kept in and the marks from chains and old injuries it is only Rhaenyras desire to bring Daeron and Tessarion back to Kingslanding and into the care and protection fo the Dragonkeepers and their family that keeps her from burning Oldtown down.

Daerons pretty much shut down by this point, hes just hanging onto Tessarion and trying not to panic as the sister he has been told will kill him for the throne puts him on her much larger adult dragon and just flies off with him, while also hoping that this means that he doesn't have to go back.

When they get to Kingslanding the Keepers immediately sweep Tessarion away to look after her - though they are followed by a very protective Syrax. Meanwhile their riders head to the keep where they are met with Alicent whose confusion at Daeron being here being swapped with horror and concern at the state hes in. They rush off to the maesters and Rhaenyra explains whats happened to a horrified Alicent who had no idea what was happening.

They get the rest of the family involved and start planning on how to deal with Oldtown. This goes along with very tearful screaming matches that end in Alicent and Rhaenyra reconciling, awkward convos where Rhaenyra assures her siblings she has no plans to kill them, Daemon being forced to behave by his wife, cousin and niece, Viserys getting ignored when he says something stupid and Daeron alternating between being held by someone or holding Tessarion.

Every lives happily ever after except for the Hightowers and the Faith.

[lya-dustin]

Cupid kills with arrows

Chapter 15

Gif by @merlinaddams

Taglist:@cljordan-imperium @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9

He has taken to calling her his queen since that nightmare.

As far as terms of endearment go, it’s not that bad.

Aemond gets a blush creeping up his pale and freckled neck when she calls him Star Eyes.

She produced that nickname when they had been getting tipsy with an aged Dornish red and he’d been reciting the most irritating poems he could find in one of the books given to them as gifts.

Aemma had gotten bold enough to compose a very bad poem for him where she rhymed eye with sky and Vhagar to swagger.

He wrote it down, on the back cover of his poetry book, and both had forgotten about it until today when she wanted to cheer him up.

He’s been so tense, the stick up his arse back in its earlier place it seems.

They had been fine until that night at Cider Hall.

He had been puffing out his chest in pride hinting at having gotten her with child and seeing them shake in their boots when they saw the magnificent Dragon Queens they rode.

Then he had a night terror he wouldn’t speak about and suddenly he was acting as if they were waging war on anyone who didn’t see her as her mother’s heir.

Acting as if her mother was their enemy and Aemma too blind to see it.

“Something is bothering you.” She says as they eat a late supper together after making the good decision of turning down mama’s invitation to dine with them.

They had been home for less than a day, he was snapping at everyone for no apparent reason and worse calling her brothers ‘Strong Lads’ while they played ball with Joffrey in the gardens.

Joffrey didn’t even know he was a bastard yet. Her baby brother ran out of the garden in tears thanks to Aemond hinting he had two dead fathers.

“I am perfectly fine, sweet girl.” He said using her mother’s term of affection for her.

The words come out mocking her, making her sound like a prissy little princess who hides behind her mother’s skirts.

He had been as rigid as a board when they were welcomed home by them, cold and civil, and now he was scratching at her with these sharp claws of his.

“Aemond, do not scratch at me.” She warns from across the table in their new rooms.

“Have you ever considered that your mother may love your brothers more than you?” he asks again, not looking at her, as if he might say something else he refuses to voice.

“All parents have favorites; I know for a fact that your mother loves Aegon the least out of the four of you.” What the fuck has gotten into him? He was getting on her nerves with this sudden change. “I am very sure we will have favorites amongst our children, and it won’t be the same child.”

“Hypothetically, if Driftmark were to repeat itself and it was our child maimed for calling their cousins bastards, who would your mother defend?”

This was what the nightmare was about, it must be, it would not make sense if it weren’t.

Aemma is at a loss for words, frankly, she has no idea how this would go.

“Hypothetically, it would never happen because they would be raised not to give a shit about it, at least by me, and their cousins would be trueborn.” The princess said knowing the true answer.

Mother would defend her sons and grandsons because that is what any mother would do. She wouldn’t demand an eye for an eye, no one with a functioning brain would have asked for such high a price unless the assailant was their inferior.

And even then, only if done out of malice.

Alicent had been too busy waging war against her mother she forgot her reason there.

This had been an accident; Luke had been punished enough and everyone else as well.

“Aemma. You know that is not what I meant.” Her husband reminds her.

“Fine, she would likely take their side.” Once she says the words he wanted to hear, she cannot stop. Comes out like fucking vomit.

“To call them bastards is to remind all that the law for adultery in the royal family is to kill all including the children. I won’t be spared should it ever come to that because those who bring it up will say I am not trueborn either to suit their ambitions.

If I am not careful, someone will turn us against each other with the intention of having us kill each other so they can rush in with Aegon because gods forbid a woman inherits over a man.

My mother already fears that you will manipulate me into taking the sword hanging over my brothers’ head and swing it; your attitude today may as well confirm her worst fears.

So no, I don’t think my mother would choose me over my brothers, but I cannot fault her for that because I would do the same in her situation!

Is that what you wanted to hear, dear Aemond?!”

Aemma’s chest is heaving, and she feels angry enough to take it out on something or someone by the time she done.

So, she leaves, she isn’t sure where, she just needs to be out of there.

“Aemma.” And as he always did when they were children, he follows hot on her heels.

“Aemma!” He calls again as she bounds out of the room needing air and a moment away from him before she tells him Driftmark was as much his fault as it was her brothers and cousins.

Yes, he was the worst injured, but he had thrown the first insult and later picked up that rock.

It was as much his fault as it was her brothers and cousins.

“Aemma, where the fuck are you going?” He reaches out to her and takes her by the waist causing her to fight him like a madwoman.

“Anywhere, but here.” she answered somehow wiggling out of his hold. “I just need air.”

“Then let me go with you.” Aemond suggested feeling some guilt for causing her this emotional distress.

“I’d rather be alone.” The princess said knowing it hurts him more than it hurts her.

How do you apologize for making your wife voice fears she hid so deep even if he was surprised about them existing?

Mother was fond of saying how Rhaenyra would kill them to solidify her reign and apparently Rhaenyra had warned Aemma about him and his family wanting to do the same.

The two women were far too similar to each other, it was no wonder they became enemies.

When Aemond hears soft footfalls as he checked on Vhagar’s nest, he turns hoping to see his wife and being disappointed when it's his sister instead.

“I had assumed you would have been with Aemma, but I suppose it’s better she weren’t here.” Rhaenyra said quietly and yet her words still had the chilling effect of ice water running down his spine.

He felt like he was eleven again.

Small and weak, the butt of the joke and always at the mercy of anyone considered better than him.

“I will apologize to Joffrey later; I will say I misspoke and meant the Father and Ser Laenor.” The prince said quickly, wishing his hand hadn’t begun shaking as he remembered how Larys used hot pincers to take out the tongues of those who claimed mother had been father’s lover when Aemma Arryn still lived. “That should buy you enough time to figure out how to tell him the truth.”

“Thank you, I know after what happened in Driftmark I do not deserve such things form you, but you have my gratitude, little brother.” It is genuine and yet, Aemond fears her like a mouse fears a cat.

“I am not doing it for you, sister, Joffrey will already suffer enough when he learns his identity is based on a lie. He deserves a few more years of blissful ignorance.” Aemond swallowed his fear and banished the nightmares from his mind as they walked back into the Dragonpit.

Vhagar was too big for it, she preferred the beach near the caves making them walk back through the caves connecting them to Rhaenys’ Hill or take a carriage.

Rhaenyra seemed to have walked there, something he had not expected as she looked like she was about to pop.

“Thank you, anyways.” They settle for uneasy silence before Rhaenyra gets brave enough to say something else. “I am sorry for what happened that night. It was a terrible accident, and I shouldn’t have threatened violence for speaking the truth. As your sister, I should have never made you think for a second, I would willfully hurt you and instead ensured you had all the care and support you needed.”

He had not been expecting that.

What in the Seven Hells did Septa Teora do with these people?

Even mother wouldn’t apologize for trying to keep him from flying and training after he lost his eye thinking she was doing it for his well-being.

“As your goodmother I should not have assumed you were the type of man to use my daughter so cruelly.

And for that I apologize as well.”

Aemond tried not to stare as she says things, he was convinced he’d never hear in his lifetime.

He supposed his grandsire’s death had opened the path to true reconciliation.

“She told you what our quarrel was about?” he asks, and she nods sheepishly.

“Don’t hold it against her, she was quite angrily mending your shirts when I visited your rooms. She admitted to some things, and I filled in the blanks.

I have known her for seven and ten years, Aemond.” Rhaenyra doesn’t mention him not accepting her apology.

The loss of his eye and his loathing of her and her sons had defined quite a lot of him. It is a hell of a thing to move past.

He will forgive her eventually, he thinks.

Aemma can’t begrudge him that because he has accepted that it will take just as long for her to forgive his mother.

But he must ask, just to get it out of his mind and move past the thing that caused the first marital spat in his marriage.

“If Driftmark were to repeat itself, would you have done to your grandchild what you and father threatened to do?” he asks reminding himself a thing like that wouldn’t happen, that it was his fears talking.

His children would not be poisoned against their kin like mother had done believing they were the enemy.

The only enemy they had had been grandfather who would have killed them to get his wish: absolute power.

To show he was willing to make peace with them and prevent the war father and Helaena keep seeing in their dreams, he offers his sister his arm as they walked back into the caves.

“No, the children would be made to apologize for the accident, she or he would be treated with all the care needed, and the children punished accordingly.” Rhaenyra accepted his arm with a hopeful look so reminiscent of Aemma and Helaena. “We should have done that the first time around, none of us adults should have let our politics and animosity take over. I hope you can forgive me someday, little brother.”

“Perhaps I will.”

[percentstardust]

Rhaenyra sits with Aegon II in her lap, bouncing the boy in an effort to amuse him. The toy dragon he likes carrying around is in his small hand. She actually gifted him that. The princess smiles down at him as she does so.

"Don't tell anyone, but, I might take you to see Syrax, baby brother." She whispers to him since she assumes they are alone.

[wcrriorhearts]

@halfyearsqueen said: “You should rest, my dear. Let me help you sit somewhere.” / helaena

She was not used to Rhaenyra's presence in the way it should have been natural for sisters. When she had been much younger, she remembered spending far more time with the oldest of the family, but as the years went by and Rhaenyra had her own sons, they interacted less and less. That was not to blame solely on Rhaenyra, however. Helaena was very withdrawn and quiet, most often preferring her own company to that of others. With her mother's and grandsire's constant whisper in her ear to shun the princess, it was often best - in her eyes at least - to keep equal distance to all of them, especially after she had been wedded to Aegon. This alone had destroyed her trust in most of the adults in the family, because they had sanctioned such an unhappy union.

Naturally, Aegon had been eager to consummate the marriage right away and managed to conceive a babe immediately. Helaena had not understood the changes in her body at first and grown even more withdrawn through the suffering of everything that was ailing her. The constant movement of the babes inside her womb were the worst to her. Given how averse to touch she was, this was a living nightmare to the girl and she wanted it to end desperately, no matter how afraid she was to actually give birth. It truly felt like a punishment from the Gods to carry not one, but two children at such a young age and Helaena felt very disconnected from it all, disassociating most days, as she sat in her chambers and stared at walls. Today she felt restless and had taken to strolling the gardens and empty halls of the Keep, trying to alleviate some of the aches and pains she felt by moving. When she encountered her sister, Rhaenyra must have noticed the exhaustion etched upon her features and Helaena accepted the offered hand hesitantly to let the older girl lead her towards a chaise. "I don't feel well today. I thought walking would help but it hasn't. My stomach hurts and I am so tired", she confided in her sister, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

[asoiafhead]

i understand why in the show we don’t get a lot of rhaenyras relationship with her siblings (i imagine she doesn’t have much of one with either of the boys considering they are her children’s ages 😭) but i like to imagine she has somewhat of one with helaena. to helaena of all people……. there is love there….

[nightsister-juisid]

Asking for fic recommendations/ (or) Giving fanfic ideas

Someone knows or would like to write a modern AU of HoTD, in which Vyseris dies, Alicent runs away from home or is just a very negligent step mother, and Rhaenyra has to raise teenage Aegon, Halaena and Aemond all by herself even at her young age, after losing all their money due the Hightowers keeping the Targ’s family company for themselves? Meanwhile she has to deal with Aegon’s drug and criminal problems? Halaena’s autism and Aemond trouble behavior at school, who’s in love with Halaena too? Nyra doesn’t know how to deal with all that shit. But she can’t blame or ground Aemond. Since she has been sleeping with her uncle since her father’s death (Yes, uncle Daemon. The one her younger brothers adore and has saved them multiple times from starving or being poor)

Some shit similar to Shameless or skin drama. Stuff like that

[moonlightrafe]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[councilofcastamere]

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✫彡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✫彡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✫彡

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

But you weren’t alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…your charms.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cregan, I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter)

Instead of Jace meeting Cregan to get his alliance — what if it’s the reader. And when Cregan meets her he’s attracted to her and instead of just remembering his allegiance towards them, he purposes a wedding instead? Like he’s willing to help more to the Black’s IF he’s allowed to wed her daughter. 😏 Definitely just a rough ask so feel free to add or change anything!

It's been a long time coming... I have received so many request for this one! I picked little things from each and turned it into a slightly bigger fic. Reader is Velaryon, and Jacaerys' twin sister. I will be turning this into a small series as the story is getting too big and heavy in content for one post

Title (for ao3): The Pact of ice and fire

Warnings: mention of character deaths (spoilers), political marriage,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Dragons are faster than ravens, so Rhaenyra sent her children on dragonback to raise support for her claim to the throne. Lucerys went to Storm’s End, Jacaerys to the Vale and you flew North to Winterfell. 

Lord Cregan Stark welcomed you into his home and offered you a seat at supper — and a chamber for the night. Dragonstone was a long way to Winterefell, your stomach was grateful for a hot meal. 

While you were eating, you informed the northman of the usurper sitting on the Iron Throne — your mother's throne — and how a war to take it back was about to begin. You didn’t forget to kindly remind him of his father’s oath to your grandsire. Starks were known for being just and honorable. 

‘’Starks do not forget their oaths, Princess,’’ Lord Stark said between two bites of mutton stew. ‘’My father made an oath to King Viserys twenty years ago, and I shall honor this oath. But winter is coming. I cannot promise the Queen my men — I need them at the Wall.’’

‘’Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim, to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my Lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.’’

Cregan took a long sip of his wine, thinking as he drank, then set his cup down. ‘’I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters.’’

Graybeards? You frowned, trying to understand. Did he mean old men? 

‘’No offense, Lord Stark, but I cannot accept—’’ 

‘’They are well-honed,’’ he reassured with a soft chuckle, sensing your concern. ‘’They are not that old, Princess. I can ready them to march at once.’’

‘’If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them,’’ you replied with a smile, reaching for your fork to take a bite. You preferred duck over mutton, but was polite enough to eat what was given to you. 

‘’What do I get of this arrangement?’’ 

A frown drew between your eyebrows. ‘’Excuse me?’’

Cregan cleared his throat, then reformulated his question. ‘’If I give the Queen some of my men, what do I get in return?’’

You considered quickly. ‘’I can send a dragon to protect Winterfell—’’

‘’Winterfell is safe from the Hightowers, Princess. I doubt they will march the three month journey to the North to attack us. It would serve them nothing. And if they did, they would not be able to trespass our gate.’’

‘’Then, what do you want, Lord Stark?’’ 

He turned to you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. ‘’A wife. I would be more inclined to help your mother’s cause if she offered me her delightful daughter.’’

You were caught off guard by Cregan’s demand. While you clearly understood his proposal, the realization of it was slow to dawn on you. For a moment, your mouth opened, before swiftly closing it again, lost for words.

When you overcame your own disbelief, you looked to the man beside you with suspicion. ‘’I am flattered, but I am not looking for a husband. I plan to fight for my mother’s throne, not stay behind and grow heirs for a lord.’’ 

‘’Who said anything about an heir? I am in no rush to step down as Lord of Winterfell. From your perspective, you see only disadvantages, but an alliance by marriage between two highborns would be strategically advantageous. Family is very important for Starks. If we were to wed, we could stand together. I will follow you to war, I will fight for your mother.’’

The dining hall fell into a long, contemplative silence as you considered Cregan’s proposal. You had come north to gain the support of the Northerners, not to find a husband. But an alliance with the Starks would be quite powerful, and perhaps Lord Stark had a point. A Stark and a Targaryen. A wolf and a dragon. Such a marriage had never happened before. 

And you wouldn't be displeased to have him as a husband. The Warden of the North was undeniably handsome. He had this rugged charm about him, with piercing gray eyes. You would not mind warming his bed. 

‘’Would I be required to reside to Winterfell?’’ 

Leaving your family during a time of war was not something you wanted.

‘’Not immediately, but eventually. It is the seat of House Stark, Princess. I would expect my wife, the Lady of Winterfell, to live there,’’ Cregan explained, his gray eyes fixed on yours, his expression serious. ‘’But we could make some arrangements to allow you to remain in the South until the war is over. Would that suit you?"

⁂

After treating with Cregan, you made the journey back to Dragonstone to bring the Queen good news. The northern Lord seemed disappointed to watch you leave, having taken a liking to your company in the few hours you spent together, but you promised to return in a fortnight. He kissed your hand before you mounted on Seasmoke, and watched you take the sky. 

You landed on Dragonstone as the day was turning into night. A knight of the Queensguard took you to your mother’s chambers where horrible news was waiting for you. 

You crumbled into your mother’s arms as the words left her lips, feeling your heart breaking into pieces. As twins, you and Jacaerys had a special bond. But you always felt protective of Luke. You would climb into his baby crib when he was crying at night and sing to him until he fell asleep. 

When you left her chambers, you visited the children’s. Aegon and Viserys were with the nanny, but Joffrey was sitting on the floor, holding a horse toy Luke had handed down to him. A sob escaped your lips, getting the little boy’s attention, and he ran over to you. You hugged him tightly. He was sad and confused, too young to understand death. 

⁂

The days that followed, you were not allowed to leave the castle. During a small council meeting, you had voiced your desire to get on your dragon and go to King’s Landing to burn Aemond Targaryen to a crisp. Jacaerys was on your side, wanting revenge for Luke, but your mother had shut the idea down quickly and forbade the two of you to leave castle ground. 

Alone in the library, you were reading about dragons to make up for not being allowed to ride your own. Unfortunately, the feeling was not the same. Seasmoke, who you had claimed after your father’s death, missed you. You could see him calling for you and flying over the bay from your chamber’s window. 

You sighed and flipped the page of your book, daydreaming of the wind hitting your face and the thrill of flying. 

A voice pulled you out of your head.

‘’A raven arrived from Winterfell, Princess. A message to you from Lord Stark,’’ Maester Gerardys said.

The maester handed you a piece of rolled parchemin, sealed with the Stark sigil. You thanked him, and he left, giving you privacy. You drew your eyebrows together, not expecting anything from Cregan. Did he wish to revoke his proposal? 

Dear Princess,

I have learned of the tragic loss of your brother, Lucerys. I offer you my deepest condolences in this dark hour. Losing a brother is a pain I know myself. Winterfell stands with you in your grief. May the gods give him rest. 

With deepest sympathy,

— Lord Cregan Stark

⁂

Following the murder of Prince Jaehaerys, the Greens had sent ravens throughout the realm claiming Rhaenyra had ordered the death of the little child in revenge for Lucerys — a son for a son. The accusation was absurd. Your mother would never order the murder of a child, or inflige this kind of pain to an innocent like Helaena. 

When night fell, Dragonstone was attacked. Ser Arryk infiltrated the island by passing for his brother, Ser Erryk, and came to the Queen’s chambers, attempting to slay her in her bed. Thankfully, Mysaria noticed the wrong brother making his way to the castle and alerted the guards, saving Rhaenyra’s life. 

‘’Thank you, Elinda,’’ Rhaenyra said as she poured tea to help her calm down. 

After hearing commotion in the corridors, you had asked one of the knights what happened and rushed to the master chambers to check on your mother. She was a little shaken after witnessing the Cargyll twins dueling and dying before her eyes. 

‘’Where was Daemon?’’ you asked, sitting across from her on the couch. 

She shrugged, not knowing. ‘’Harrenhal, I assume.’’ She took a sip of her tea, her hands slightly shaking. ‘’He has been talking of raising an army there.’’

‘’He should have been here��’’

‘’Daemon is following his own path.’’ 

You understood her words as closure to the conversation and respected her desire. 

Come morning, Dragonstone was deemed no longer safe for children. By the Queen’s command, Rhaena embarked a ship with your little brothers, their dragons, and dragon eggs to Pentos. Saying goodbye to your brothers — and half-sister — was sad, but they were too exposed on Dragonstone. 

⁂

‘’Releasing your anger through your sword is going to get you killed. Have you learned this tactic through Daemon?’’ you asked Jacaerys, his sword clinked loudly against yours as you trained on the beach. 

You took a quick step to the side, your movements fluid and graceful. 

Jacaerys grunted, adjusting his stance, and swung his sword again, aiming for your side. You blocked the attack with ease, your eyes never leaving his. ‘’How can I not be angry? The walls of Dragonstone have been infiltrated by the enemy, yet she refuses to attack.’’ He let out a frustrated sigh, his movements growing more aggressive.

‘’Because her war strategies are passive doesn’t mean she is doing the wrong thing. Do you remember when we wanted to go to King’s Landing and kill Aemond ourselves? We were angry and hurting, it was impulsive and foolish.’’ 

At the time, it seemed a brilliant idea, but with Vhagar patrolling over King’s Landing, she would have attacked the both of you before you could get to Aemond. Your mother was hurting so much from losing Lucerys, she would not have bore losing two more. 

Jacaerys swung his sword again, this time with greater force. ‘’It would have been justice.’’

‘’It would have been death.’’ 

Training came to an abrupt end, leaving Jacaerys to himself on the beach. You didn’t want to argue with him. He was usually the rational one between you, but going to King’s Landing to kill Aemond was a stupid idea. 

You were directed to the great hall by one of the guards as soon as you stepped inside. The Queen wanted to speak to you. 

She was standing at the head of the painted table with a piece of parchment before her. ‘’A raven came from Lord Staunton informing us that Ser Criston's army has burned his fields and livestock. Supplies in Rook's Rest are beginning to run low and he requests assistance. I want you to change into your riding gear. You and Rhaenys will be going to Rook’s Rest.’’ 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. It was the first time she was sending you on a mission since Luke’s death. 

‘’Yes, Mother— Your Grace,’’ you quickly corrected. 

Rhaenyra smiled at your slip-up. ‘’Be safe. Listen to your instinct. Turn back if anything feels wrong. It’s okay to retreat.’’

⁂

The journey to Rook’s Rest was relatively short. When you got there, arrows were flying from both armies. The Green’s was larger, but Lord Staunton’s garrison did not back down. 

‘’Dragon!’’ one of the Green knights called out, catching sight of Meleys coming into view. 

Ser Criston’s archers shot arrows and scorpions fire at Meleys. The dragon was largely unharmed by their attacks, and responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragonfire. Their screams echoed through the air, a chilling reminder of the chaos below. You tried not to let it get to your head that humans were being burned alive. They were Greens soldiers.

Coming right behind Rhaenys, Seasmoke roared, and burned more of  Ser Criston’s soldiers. A small part of you was praying to catch the man himself and turn him into ashes. It would be an amusing story to tell Jacaerys and Baela when you return. 

You clung to the saddle on Seasmoke's back as you scanned the battlefield from above, searching for any sign of Criston Cole. The heat from the dragonfire was intense, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. 

Your search was interrupted by a deafening roar coming from behind and filling the sky. You looked up to see Sunfyre, its golden scales glinting in the sunlight, joining the battlefield with Aegon atop him.

It was expected. The Greens would have been fools to come to battle with at least one dragon.

Rhaenys turned her head toward Sunfyre, having heard his roar, and came to meet him with her claws and teeth. 

The two dragons clashed in mid-air, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Meleys' scarlet scales flashed as she attacked, her claws slashing at Sunfyre's underbelly. Sunfyre responded with a blast of dragonfire, which Meleys narrowly dodged. 

You flew to Rhaenys’ aid. Although Sunfyre was slightly larger than Seasmoke, your dragon had battle experience from when your father was his rider. They participated in the war for the Stepstones together. 

Before you could get to them, another loud noise came from the forest — Vhagar. The massive dragon's roar sent chills down your spine as she emerged from the treeline, her vast wings unfurling. With Aemond atop her, Vhagar soared into the sky, heading straight for the battle.

Seeing them sent rage in your blood. They took your brother from you. 

You wanted to take them down, to kill them both to avenge Lucerys, but you knew Seasmoke would never win against Vhagar. 

Rhaenys glanced back, seeing the new threat approaching, but she didn’t let go of Sunfyre. She was determined to not let them go unscattered from this battle. 

You finally joined them, commanding Seasmoke to bite Sunfyre’s wing. Sunfyre cried out in pain as Seasmoke's jaws clamped down, and Meleys continued to claw at him relentlessly. The combined assault overwhelmed Sunfyre, and his injuries soon became too severe. With a final, agonized roar, Sunfyre began to crash toward the ground, Aegon clinging desperately to his back.

As you and Rhaenys watched Sunfyre and Aegon freefall and crash into the forest with a loud thump, Vhagar, taking Rhaenys by surprise, came from the other side and clamped her massive jaws around Meleys’s neck. The force of the attack was brutal, and Meleys roared in agony as Vhagar’s powerful grip tightened.

‘’No!’’ you screamed, knowing this bite would be fatal for the dragon. 

Life left the red dragon’s eyes, giving one last glance at her rider as they freefell from the sky together, leaving only you and Aemond standing. He looked at you with a smug winning smile on his face, having taken another member of the Blacks down. 

You could have continued this battle, but your mother’s words echoed in your head. It’s okay to retreat. 

With teary eyes, you commanded Seasmoke to turn around and return to Dragonstone, leaving behind the Queen Who Never Was. 

⁂

You felt like a failure after your first battle. Rook’s Rest had fallen into ashes, Rheanys was dead, and you lost a dragon. Your mother had been right, sending her inexperienced children to war was a terrible idea. 

Still in shock from the battle, you stepped into your mother’s chambers, tears streaming down your face. ‘’I’m sorry, Your Grace. I failed.’’

⁂

Guilt gnawed at you since you had returned from Rook’s Rest. Rhaenyra said it was not your fault, but you should not have let yourself be distracted when Vhagar was still standing. Rhaenys died because of your mistake. 

A knock at your door raised your attention. 

‘’Come.’’

The door opened, revealing your mother who came to check on you. She may be Queen, but she’ll never stop taking care of her children. Ser Steffon closed the door behind Rhaenyra, and waited outside your chambers. Since Ser Arryk infiltrated the castle, a knight of the Queensguard was always accompanying her.

She took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, looking stunning in a blue dress. The color was unusual on her, preferring shades of red and black. 

‘’How is Lord Corlys? And Baela?’’ you asked, fidgeting with your fingers. 

You wanted to be the one bringing the regretful news of Rhaenys’ death to her husband, but your mother didn’t allow you. Although Lord Corlys had shown kindness to your family and that losses were inevitable in a war, he would not hesitate to put the blame on Rhaenyra for sending his wife to her death. 

Your mother regarded you with a mixture of concern and sadness. ‘���Lord Corlys is devastated, and so is Baela.’’ She observed the guilt in your expression and the tension in your body. ‘’You mustn't blame yourself for what happened,’’ she said, her voice gentle and loving. ‘’But it is not the matter I came here to discuss. I want to discuss my succession. If my end comes during this war, Jacaerys will ascend and take my crown, as intended. But if anything were to happen to Jace, I want you to take my crown.’’

The thought of something happening to your mother terrified you. But losing your twin brother, your other half, made you nauseous. 

You nodded. ‘’I will, Your Grace. But nothing will happen to Jace. We will protect each other—’’ 

‘’By making you the spare heir, you will be targeted, so I want you to take Seasmoke and stay at Winterfell,’’ she interrupted, her tone resolute. ‘’Lord Cregan Stark will ensure your protection.’’ 

You were taken aback by your mother’s declaration. You felt a pang of hurt and confusion. How could she send you away? She already lost two dragons, and Daemon was in Harrenhal. You going North would subtract another, leaving her defenses with only three dragons.  

‘’I do not wish to hide, I want to stay here! I am an asset to your sleeve, you need me on Dragonstone. I may not be at my best right now, but I am not a fragile daughter. I will go into battle again. Please, do not send me away,’’ you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

Rhaenyra took a difficult breath, her heart aching at your anguished plea. She understood your anger and frustration, having once been brushed aside due to being a daughter. But she never saw you as less than a boy. You always trained with your brothers and often had the upper hand when dueling with Jace. She was doing this to ensure the survival of her succession and the protection of the realm.  

‘’It is not a sign of weakness to hide. It is a sign of strength to know when to pick your battles.’’ Your mother took your hands in hers, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘’I speak the truth when I say the last thing I want is to be separated from you, but I cannot risk you getting captured. I can’t risk the Greens getting their hands on you.’’

⁂

No raven had been sent to Lord Stark to inform him of your arrival to Winterfell. You could not risk revealing your position were the message to fall into the wrong hands. So when Cregan heard from his men that a dragon had been seen flying over the northern villages, he was confused. 

With a loud thump, you landed outside the courtyard and dismounted Seasmoke. Guards bowed their heads as you walked to the gates of Winterfell, seeing the sigil of House Targaryen on your clothes. They escorted you into the castle as whispers of your arrival began to spread amongst the court, leading you to the council chamber where Cregan was occupied with matters from the Wall.

‘’I will inform Lord Stark of your arrival,’’ one of the guards said. 

You gave him a nod and waited in the corridor.

Normally, no one disturbed him during council meetings, but you insisted that the matter was urgent. With a nod, Cregan dismissed his council and instructed the guard to bring you in.

The men filed out of the chamber as you stepped in, dressed in your riding gear and flakes of snow sprinkled on your braid. Cregan stood from his seat at the end of the table, his towering figure casting a shadow against the cold stone of the chamber. 

‘’Pardon me for not welcoming you myself, Princess. Your presence here is unexpected.’’ His eyes fell on the bag on your shoulder, holding personal effects, raising his curiosity. ‘’But always welcomed,’’ he added, not wanting to give you the wrong impression.

You gave him a small smile. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I apologize for my unannounced presence. Sending a raven was just not a possibility; actions had to be taken rapidly and in the utmost secrecy.’’ 

A frown formed between Cregan's eyebrows. Seeing you walk through his doors unannounced could only mean something serious had happened. You wouldn't come all the way to Winterfell unless it was necessary. 

He then gestured to a seat at the table, motioning for you to sit down. 

You tried to not make a scraping sound with the chair as you pulled it, and sat down across the taller chair. Cregan joined you, his gray eyes looking at you, waiting for explanations. 

‘’There was a battle at Rook’s Rest,’’ you began, a lump forming in your throat as horrific flashes of Rhaenys falling to her death filled your mind. ‘’Aegon the Usurper and his dragon were severely injured from my and Princess Rhaenys’ dragon. She and Meleys didn’t survive the battle.’’ You blinked rapidly, chasing the tears from your eyes. 

‘’May the gods give her rest,’’ Cregan said respectfully. 

You nodded in reciprocal, then continued. ‘’The Queen is worried they will come after me for what I’ve done to their King and decided I should go into hiding. Since I accepted your demand, she send me to Winterfell under your protection.’’ 

Before you, Cregan's frown deepened as he thought about the upcoming departure to the Wall. In a week, he and his men would be leaving for a long, harsh winter, and he wouldn't return until spring. As Warden of the North, his duty to the Wall was stronger than his duty to the Queen, but was it stronger than his oath to his future wife? You were only betrothed at the moment, but assuring your protection was part of his duty as husband. 

He gave you a single nod. ‘’Of course, Princess. You will be safe here, you have my word. No harm shall come to you behind these gates.’’

—

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[drmaddict]

It would be a little unconventional

Summary: Aegon and (Y/n) just married. No one has seen them in the last four days. But that doesn't change the fact that half the castle can hear what they're doing.

Word count: 1.309

Autors note: a bit subby Aegon, anal fingering, well... smut as you may have guessed

"How long has it been since anyone's seen them?", Daemon asked the group, bored.

Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent killed her wine goblet with a look. Jaecerys surprisingly joined Alicent and cut his flesh with more force than necessary.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra rebuked him, still smirking.

He was not impressed. "When was the last time you saw them?", he asked her directly.

She rolled her eyes. "At the wedding.", she replied curtly.

"Which was four days ago.", he added just as curtly.

"Princess, perhaps you should-"

The door to the dining room opened. All eyes shot to (y/n) like moths to a flame.

"Is that your night gown?" Jaecerys asked his sister in shock.

"Yes.", (Y/n) said curtly and immediately grabbed various dishes from the table. She threw a handful of bread rolls onto the plate of fruit, which she simply took and immediately reached for a carafe of wine.

"You can't walk around-"

(Y/n) immediately interrupted her brother. "I'm already off again. Just relax. By the gods."

"Where's Aegon?", asked Alicent.

(Y/n) smiled. "He's asleep."

"At such an early hour?"

"He was tired." (Y/n) shrugged and pressed the carafe of wine into the hand of the member of the Kingsguard who had been following her until just now.

"Long night?", Daemon grinned.

(Y/n) grinned. "It seemed rather short lived to me."

Jaecery's glass shattered in his hand, his grip was so firm.

With that, (Y/n) simply turned round again and motioned to the man from the Kingsguard to follow her. He complied, overwhelmed.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as Jaecerys and Lucerys shoved their food back into themselves with an angry look. "Be glad you can't hear them.", he said to his nephews, sounding bored. "Whorehouses sound more chaste than those two."

Jaecerys leapt across the table towards him.

"Aegon?" she whispered, jerking his shoulder slightly.

"Ngh.", he sighed and curled up, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I got something to eat."

A snore was her reply.

She sighed. Had she overdone it? Was it too much for him? He liked sex. She knew that. She liked sex. They had sex. A lot of sex... Mainly because of her. And she wanted to do it again. Was she overwhelming him? Him? Aegon II Targaryen, who had spent his entire adolescence shagging his way through every brothel he could find?

She looked at his sleeping face. How could he look so innocent after what they'd both been doing for the last four days?

She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down in the armchair in the room.

The last few days had been wonderful and exciting. They had tried each other out before the wedding, but had always been careful not to risk pregnancy. They hadn't gone all the way. They also had to meet in secret. They had to be quiet. But now. Now they weren't holding back. And by the gods she would do anything to hear the sounds he was making. Those little sighs. The whimpers. The high clear moans when he was about to come. His eyes. Watery and so big as they looked up at her. He didn't want to believe that she had already read a thing or two.

That she wasn't completely ignorant. She was sure he wouldn't question her creativity again.

She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire of the flickering fireplace.

But perhaps she was really overdoing it. Everyone always made fun of how much lust Aegon had indulged in over the years. But she understood. Would people make fun of her too?

She heard the blanket rustle. She turned her face towards the bed. Aegon sat up, his face scrunched up. He rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly from his head. Irritated, he looked around, then his gaze landed on her. "What are you doing?", he asked, pouting slightly and still sounding sleepy.

She looked at her glass. "I'm drinking wine." ,she explained simply.

Aegon pouted more. "What are you doing in that armchair? Come here!", he whined.

She grinned awkwardly. "I just thought you might want a break.", she mumbled.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "From what?"

"Well..." she pointed vaguely at the bed. "From me-"

"If I want a break from fucking my wife, or letting her fuck me,", he winked at her, "I'll let you know."

She smiled awkwardly. "It's not too much?"

He shook his head with a smile. "If anything, I've got a few books and we'll try everything I found in there."

She grinned. Playfully, she stood up. "Anything you want to start with?"

Aegon smiled. "It would be a little unconventional.", he purred.

He gripped her hips as she settled on his lap.

"Tell me about it.", she whispered and kissed his neck softly.

His breath trembled. "There's a contraption. A harness and... hmmm... and a fake phallus. You could take me with that. Fuck me."

"And that's good for you?"

"I never come harder."

"Explain it to me.", she sighed against his neck.

Aegon reached out to take her hand. Without hesitation, he took two of her fingers in his mouth. One would almost think, he wanted to blow her fingers, licking over her tender skin with such fervour.

"Fuck.", she sighed. His eyes were glassy and so wonderfully veiled.

Aegon released her fingers and lay on his back. She moved beneath him. He quickly shoved one of the pillows under his bum and spread his legs. "And now-", he placed her fingers at his opening. His breathing was shaky. "Start with one finger. Push upwards. There... fuck... there's a point... Ha."

He dropped his head powerlessly into the pillows as she slowly slid her finger inside him. "Like this?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!"

She pressed in further. Watched his face. The crease between his eyebrows. The closed eyes. The slightly open mouth.

"Add the second one. But slowly."

She complied with his request. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "It only stings at first. It's better with oil."

She grinned. "Do you do that to yourself?", she whispered against his ear.

He grinned. "As often as I can."

She grinned. "You like it?"

He nodded quickly. "Move your fingers. Like you're fucking me."

She withdrew her fingers and pushed them back in. Aegon sighed happily.

"You were talking about a point."

He nodded. "Further in. That's right. Press your fingertips upwards. A little to the right. Ah, right there! Oh fuck. Fuck!"

She drew little circles over the spongy spot. "Like this?"

Aegon groaned, whimpering. "Yes.", he whimpered. "Faster. Please. AH!"

She complied with his request. She started kissing his neck again. Caressed his skin. "Can you come just like that?"

Aegon simply nodded. Unable to speak. The sight made her feel the heat between her legs. She felt the wetness. He lay decadently in front of her and she savoured the sight of him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Aegon's semen shot all over his chest and down to his chin. Even (Y/n's) cheek was not spared.

His body tensed. It felt like his insides wanted to break her fingers.

He drove his ass towards her fingers like a madman. Much longer than usual, he floated in ecstasy before his body collapsed.

He lay there, beaten and unable to move.

"Holy mother.", he sighed.

(Y/n) giggled. She kissed his cheeks. She playfully rubbed her nose against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever been so wet.", she whispered.

Aegon's body trembled. He smiled slightly.

"I can't move a muscle, but... If you want a repeat of last night...", he grinned mischievously at her.

She bit her lip. She positioned her thighs next to his head.

"But tell me if I get too heavy.", she smirked.

"I'd die a happy man," he grinned.

[idontevenknowhowtolife]

And so the story I fondly call the Torture AU is finally done! Its also about three times as long as I originally intended, so theres that!

[venusbyline]

Rumors ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 24, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader x Daemon Targaryen

— type: smut, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: threesome FFM

— summary: If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather.

— word count: 3.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 24th day, female!reader, Alicent Hightower's younger sister!reader, Jacaerys Velaryon's betrothedl!reader, threesome (female/female/male), throuple, Targcest (uncle/niece), Daemyra, dubcon, nipple licking, nipple play, breast worship, praise kink, fingering, breastfeeding, lactation kink, overstimulation, corruption kink, dry humping, dry orgasm, crying, dacryphilia, oral mentioned (male & female receiving), voyeurism, age gap (older man/younger women & older woman/younger man mentioned), ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, consensual infidelity, Queen!Rhaenyra, King Consort!Daemon, fluff and hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, almost everyone lives, Targaryens being a happy family (or something like that), virgin!reader, Jacaerys is a little shit, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x Baela Targaryen, referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), religious guilt, underage marriage, implied underage sex, bisexual!Rhaenyra, bisexual(?)!reader, cuckold!Daemon, book canonical ages (it's 129 AC: Reader's 22, Rhaenyra's 32, Daemon's 48, Jacaerys' 15), dom!Rhaenyra, dom!Daemon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

It took Rhaenyra weeks to convince Daemon to agree to marry his nephew-stepson to Alicent's younger sister. Daemon did not know anything about you, nor did Rhaenyra know much about you, really. All they knew was that Otto Hightower had a youngest daughter from his second and current marriage to a random Lady in King's Landing.

When Alicent suggested the betrothal, Daemon immediately became furious. He did not want the next Iron Throne's King married with a fucking Hightower again. It was enough for Alicent to be a pain in his ass all those years. He did not need another girl with red hair and big eyes filling his patience.

For Rhaenyra, her biggest concern was the age difference, even though it was not a big deal. You and her half-brother, Aegon II, were conceived at the same time, as Alicent and her stepmother became pregnant within a few weeks of each other. Aegon was born just three days before you, but even so, you always lived in the shadow of all your other family members. Otto preferred for you to be raised in Oldtown along with his new wife and his other children when he lost his position as Hand of the King. Then, since you was two years old in 109 AC, you grew up far from the Red Keep and from your half-sister Alicent new family. Rhaenyra knew nothing about you, even though Alicent had assured you that her sister was a maiden and a kind young Lady. All she remembered about you was your young baby's version, the few times she saw you on Alicent's stepmother's lap. But Rhaenyra was always worried about more important things than watching a little girl crying.

At first, Rhaenyra considered marrying her firstborn to Helaena, Alicent's only daughter, but the proposal was immediately rejected by the older woman. Rhaenyra had her suspicions about the reasons, but preferred not to bring up the subject. One of Daemon's twin daughters could even be a great choice, but Baela was too impulsive for her own good and she knew that Lucerys was already in love with Rhaena. You had been the last and easiest choice for that deal, in the end.

Convincing Daemon seemed almost impossible and required a lot of sex as a form of emotional blackmail. However, in the end, the betrothal had been finally agreed.

Your arrival at King's Landing felt like a dream. You did not remember anything there and every moment in the carriage made you smile watching the streets. Rhaenyra had been crowned the Queen just a few weeks ago and the city was divided between lively festivals and people grumbling about your nephew and Queen's half-brother, Aegon, deserve to be the true heir. Despite the criticism from the commoners, Aegon was not bothered at all, because as soon as you got off the carriage, he was the first to take your hand, surprising you by mistaking him for some kind of beggar, due to the strong smell of wine - even that he was extremely beautiful.

"My sweet aunt! It is a pleasure to see you again. Last time we saw each other, we were both just snotted and whiners little babies." His greetings were terrible and you found yourself giggling sheepishly while the rest of the family looked at the Prince with shame.

"Oh, my thanks, My Prince." You smiled lightly, your cheeks flushing when Aegon gave you a look up and down before kissing the top of your hand.

"No more formalities now, darling. Just nephew or Aegon. Do not forget that you are the next Queen Consort of Westeros..." He scoffed, before looking at his family members. "At least if Jace does not back out of the marriage or order you a tragic murder."

His sentence caught you off guard and you furrowed your eyebrows with bewilderment, but Alicent pulled her son away from you, forcing a frightening normality as she hugged you, the green velvet dress matching her dark red hair perfectly. "Oh, how beautiful you look, little sister. The years living in Oldtown have done you so much good."

You faked a smile. "It is a cool place, and Gwayne is great company too." You said without think too much and Alicent frowned. She missed her brother and still remained upset about the fact that he had not come to visit her many years ago. "However, I believe King's Landing will be so welcoming as my own home."

Your words were directed towards the Queen and King Consort, who came out of their brief trance and nodded, approaching along with Alicent. You bowed to them both, careful not to trip over your light pink velvet dress. It had been a piece chosen by your ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure if it was a good color choice, considering everyone there wore just red, black, or green clothes.

Daemon Targaryen's gaze trailed down your figure, taking in your youthful curves and the delicate neckline that hugged your breasts. His laryngeal prominence made a funny move after he looked away and Rhaenyra seemed to notice this too, because she looked at her husband with some amusement shining in her violet eyes. You observed her facial features, especially her nose, so beautiful and pointed that it left your legs shaking for a few moments, before Rhaenyra herself broke the silence.

"And it is a pleasure to have you here with us. We will host you until all the details of your wedding ceremony with my firstborn son Jacaerys are finalized in a maximum of two moons."

Daemon interrupted both of you when you were about to thank her. "That is almost sixty days. We should start preparing everything as soon as possible." The King Consort spoke to Rhaenyra, earning a stern look from his wife before she sighed, turning to the same spot Aegon had faced earlier. "Anyway, it will be amazing to have you here with us, our dear daughter-in-law."

Daemon's words did not sound innocent at all and both you and Rhaenyra noticed that, his side smile after kissing your hand brought you shivers than when it was Aegon who kissed your skin, especially when Rhaenyra returned Daemon's smirk, clearing her throat and introduce yourself to the other members.

By the end of the night, you had already met almost everyone. Lucerys, Rhaenyra's second son, was sweet and gentle, also very funny. Rhaena, one of Daemon's daughters from his second marriage, was also kind and despite being quieter, her eyes were always shining at Lucerys. Joffrey was quite messy and they had to send him to the chambers along with his younger brothers, Aegon III, Viserys II and his newborn sister Visenya and his cousins Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor.

Aemond, one of Alicent's youngest children, was too quiet and a little weird. You had already heard the rumors about Lucerys taking out one of his uncle's eyes during a violent fight when everyone was just kids, and that was why he wore an eye patch. It was scary but so fucking attractive at the same time.

Helaena, your half-sister's only daughter, was one of the cutest people you had ever met. She had given you a wooden toy as a way of welcoming you and tried to start a conversation with you, which surprised Alicent and even Rhaenyra, since the princess did not was used to interact with the family more than the necessary. Even though she does not like being touched, she did not mind about touching your hair and praising your red strands, smiling and talking about her favorite bugs and random cute things.

Daeron was a better version of Aegon. He was very handsome, daring and liked drinking wine a lot, as well as loving winking at you and the servants who passed by. But unlike Aegon, Daeron was charming without overstep anyone's boundaries, while Aegon had to be removed from the banquet early when he started mocking and insinuating rumors about Jacaerys and Baela's absence, which angered Daemon and Rhaenyra and embarrassed Alicent and your father Otto.

When the dinner was over, Jacaerys and Baela still had not appeared. Rhaenyra sighed, looking with some frustration at Daemon, who tried to explain to you that Jace and Baela were probably flying with their dragons and forgot today was your arrival day at the Red Keep. You knew your father-in-law was lying, so you just replied him with a sad smile in agreement, not wanting to cause any more drama to the already catastrophic situation.

You had pictured that Jacaerys did not want to be betrothed to you. After all, no one liked arranged marriages. However, you at least expected him to try faking sympathy, since everyone said he was a noble Prince, despite being so young.

Alicent volunteered to take you to your private chambers and you almost accepted, before you felt Rhaenyra's warm and firm hand on your shoulder, not in a painful way but almost possessive. Your sister did not question the Queen's silent interruption, just sighing and nodding, letting Rhaenyra lead you through the corridors, her right arm entwined around your left arm. You felt tiny around her, not about physical terms. It was a painful inferiority. You had not even married her son yet and you were already listening rumors about his affair with another woman. His cousin.

"You were a little bit quiet and shy during the dinner..." The Queen's murmur echoed into your chambers when both of you entered the room and she dismissed the help of the maids. "I mean... You had a lot of fun talking to my half-sister Helaena, which I personally found charming from you. Many people do not have patience to deal with her exotic personality. I am glad you noticed her pure soul."

Your only action was to silently agree, your eyes wandering around the large room that was now just for you. At least for now, until you and Jacaerys finally got married and shared your chambers. Anyway, after the whispers during dinner, you did not doubt that the heir would want also to keep the two of you private chambers. After all, he seemed much more interested by flying with Baela Targaryen. Or anything like that.

"My honest apologies for my son's absence and poor manners..." The Queen began, breaking you out of your trance when you were reflecting and observing the delicate and pink details in the room, although it also had a few green decorations, to remind you of your Hightower House, but with light tones to match the overall aesthetic. "Jace is... Having trouble accepting your union. Not that it is something against you, I assume."

"I already understand, Your Grace." You said coldly, feeling your head ache as you realized you needed to hear your own mother-in-law talk about her son's lack of interest in you.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at your slight irritation, checking to see if the door was locked before pointing to the bed at the back of the chambers. It was much bigger than the one you had in Oldtown, and the pink silk sheets were much fluffier than the white ones your family's maids always brought you. You felt Rhaenyra's gaze following you when you walked to the edge of the furniture, finally sitting down and looking at her with a look of curiosity and suspicion. After continuing to watch you for a few minutes, Rhaenyra cleared her throat and approached, the smell of wine filling your nostrils as she sat down next to you, not too close to invade your personal space, but close enough to make you rub one thigh on the other under the dress, a reaction that not even you could understand the reasons for.

Rhaenyra's long slender fingers came to your hair, pulling at the pins that held some strands together and formed some braids that was too tight for her own liking. "Your natural beauty is more beautiful. It is like the living embodiment of female innocence."

Her words surprised you, making you swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Was it a compliment? A disguised mockery? Just a drunken comment? You had no idea and Rhaenyra noticed the confusion written across your features. "Gods... If Alicent had told me that she had a half-sister so fucking beautiful like that, I would have ordered your presence to King's Landing much earlier."

You could not help but chuckle lightly at her shameless flirting. Was it absurd that you were feeling so weak for your own mother-in-law? Would the Gods punish you for this? Would you embarrass your family? Would Daemon kill you? Would Jacaerys jump at the chance to call off the betrothal?

"You do not need to worry..." The Queen purred, her fingers trailing down your dress, lowering the neckline enough to expose your breasts. They were not that big due to your young age, but Rhaenyra's lips watered and she licked both of her thumbs before starting to rub your nipples, leaving them sensitive and perky while you squirmed at the touches, whimpers escaping your pretty lips even if you tried to hold back. "As I said, Jace is not taking your betrothal very well. I will not lie to you about his sexual and romantic affair with my stepdaughter, Baela, but I want you to know that as Your Queen, I am granting you permission to seek out lovers."

Your moans stopped immediately upon hearing her sentence and you almost choked trying to understand that magnitude. Was she allowing you to cheat on her own son? This was a sin in every possible way.

Catching Rhaenyra off guard, you pulled away, getting up from the bed, your breasts still desperate for more touches. "I-I should not have other men..." You mumbled, your voice breaking. "It is normal for a husband to have many affairs. But the opposite is very-"

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "Do not act like a saint, bunny. You and all people of Westeros know very well that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were legitimized, but they are not the biological children of my first husband, Laenor."

You sighed in frustration, knowing she was right. Everyone knew about this and that was why many commoners called Rhaenyra a whore, saying Jacaerys should not be the next in line for the Iron Throne, but perhaps Aegon III, Rhaenyra's eldest son with Daemon. "But that is different, Your Grace. From the rumors I have heard, your ex-husband did not even like... Women." Your explanation made Rhaenyra chuckle, her eyes shining as you were about to pull the neckline of your dress back up.

"Do not you dare." She ordered, pulling you to sit on her lap, causing you to moan with surprise. You stare her face to face, surrendered by the violet color in her irises that seemed to burn your skin. You were so shocked by the Queen's rough action that you barely noticed that she had moved her hands up the hem of your dress, caressing your bare thighs while her index finger rubbed your swollen bud. "Your cunt is already shaved. Then, did you think my son would want to fuck you as a welcome gift?"

The fact that she noticed the wetness and your lack of pubic hair due to the thin fabric of your underwear made you tremble on her lap again, moaning and wanting to get out, however, one of her hands was firm holding your waist, keeping your hips on top of her lap. "I-It was my ladies-in-waiting's idea! I swear this to you, My Queen! They thought he might... He might want something before the consummation of our marriage." You defended yourself through your tears, resting your head on her collarbone as you moaned at her intense touches on your clit, he other hand coming up to squeeze the soft and delicate skin of your breasts.

"Shhh... It's okay, bunny. I was just curious." Her reassuring voice minimized the pain inside your chest and increased the juices that flowed from your slick cunt, making obscene noises. Rhaenyra knew you were virgin and Jacaerys would demand you stay that way until the consummation of the marriage, so she needed to restrain herself from just using your body and letting you use hers with other ways, never fingerfucking you for a while. "Take off my dress and suck my breasts, princess."

The mention of your new title sent a shiver down your spine. Ignoring the tears still wetting your cheeks, your fingers began to work to undo the knots on the Queen's red and black velvet dress, your mouth watering at the sight of those large perky breasts, wet with a few drops of milk, due to baby Visenya's breastfeeding. "T-that's very wrong..." You tried to argue, being immediately silenced by Rhaenyra's eagerness, who began to rub your clit more roughly, eliciting loud and desperate moans from you, your head immediately falling between her breasts, almost self-suffocating when you surrendered to the sins and began licking her light pinky nipples, sucking on them and listening to Rhaenyra's moans mix with your pathetic whimpers.

It did not take long for you to cum on her fingers, your release running down her hand and dripping onto both of your dresses, your lips still closed around her breast, being breastfed like a baby while she laughed. Rhaenyra smiled, caressing your red hair and kissing your flushed tear-filled cheeks.

"What a beautiful sight..." Daemon teased, entering your chambers, being graced by the sight of his daughter-in-law licking his wife's large breasts, heavy and full of milk, your own neckline exposed a lot and sweaty. Your legs shaking due your recent orgasm.

"Dear Husband..." Rhaenyra smirked, removing her fingers from your clit and showing them to Daemon. "Try a little." You did not move when Daemon approached even more, you just opened your eyes and saw that his knuckles were a little bruised, and you wondered if he had punched Jacaerys for his disrespect towards you.

Daemon licked your wet release from Rhaenyra's hand, a wicked smile as he looked at his wife's horny look and then shifted his attention to you, still weak and confused with your swollen lips busy on the Queen's nipple, eyes wide and teary watching the couple exchange glances. You knew that at first they were both completely against your marriage of convenience to Jacaerys, but something seemed to have changed drastically in the minds of the Queen and King. "Do not worry, bunny. Perhaps Jace is not as loyal and honorable partner as we pictured him before. We cannot promise that his affair with Baela will end, because it probably will not." Daemon's harsh words made you let go of Rhaenyra's chest with a sad pout, leaving the couple's hearts aching.

"Hey, little girl. It does not mean anything. If Jacaerys is going to be a terrible husband to you, remember that I already gave you permission to seek emotional and sexual comfort from other people." Rhaenyra repeated what she had said before and you swallowed hard. It was a crazy and dangerous proposition. And yet you found yourself nodding weakly after Daemon pulled Rhaenyra's neck for an intense kiss and then did the same act to you afterwards. When Daemon's lips released yours, Rhaenyra took his place, the hand of each of them going to one of your soft breasts and playing with them. “This is going to be our little secret, alright, bunny?” The older woman hissed and you moaned with agreement, arching your head back when she started licking your collarbone and Daemon took the opportunity to start ripping off his pants and starting to rip off the underwear he was wearing, freeing his big thick cock for both of you.

If Jacaerys Velaryon would be unfaithful by cheating on you with his cousin, then you would be mean too. You would cheat on him with his own mother and his uncle-stepfather. You would not have a bad conscience. Nothing else would matter. You did not need his false excitement at meeting you or observing his lack of admiration for you. Everything you wanted and needed was right there: your mother-in-law Rhaenyra Targaryen about to get down between your legs to eat you out while your father-in-law Daemon Targaryen put his cock between your lips until it reached the roof of your mouth.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterkist

[pumpkinfyre]

Being Rhaenyra's Only Daughter and Heir

Yandere House of the Dragon/Bastard! Velaryon! Reader

warnings: yandere content, platonic yandere, romantic yandere, reader is based on my oc naelys velaryon, but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, protective mama nyra, readers father is cole, hubby! aegon, daemon

RHAENYRA, who adores her baby girl! Oh, she would waltz around the Red Keep with her baby in her arms, showing the little Valyrian bundle of joy to anyone who crossed pathes with her. Her daughter, I imagine, would be the product of her time with Ser Cole, and while they no longer were close, and Criston seems to despise Rhaenyra now, she holds nothing but love for her precious daughter. Rhaenyra is very protective of her babies, but moreso of her daughter. Society is cruel to little girls, and she knows this very well. During the Dance, Rhaenyra became increasingly paranoid because her baby was stuck in Kings Landing. Her ultimate fear is losing (Name), and they are separated after the death of Viserys.

DAEMON is (Name)'s stepfather, and while she doesn't seem to like him very well, he holds a great fondness for her, as though she were his own daughter. He isn't very adequate as a father, and he often comes off as annoying and cocky, but he loves (Name) dearly! There is a theory that Daemon and Rhaenyra had Laenor killed so they could be together, and she hears these whispers. (Name) tries to keep a distance between her and Daemon, but he almost pushes himself into her life. As soon as Daemon and Rhaenyra marry, he starts to refer to himself as (Name)'s father, and this makes her upset because she still grieves Laenor.

JACAERYS, LUCERYS, AND LITTLE JOFF love their big sister! She's so wise and beautiful, and she dotes on them all like little ducklings. Jace is only a few years younger than (Name), so he takes on an almost protective role towards his sister. I imagine she's soft-spoken and sweet, much like Aemma was, so Jace feels like he needs to watch over her to make sure that no one corrupts his dear elder sister. Lucerys depends on (Name) for emotional support, as he's rather insecure. Both Lucerys and Joffrey follow her around and look up to (Name). I imagine she'd be especially close with little Joff, as he often clings to her like a suckerfish.

AEGON is (Name)'s husband and father of her children. Viserys marry them to each other in a bleak attempt to mend the differences between Alicent and Rhaenyra. It doesn't work, obviously, but Aegon is absolutely whipped for his wifey. He follows her around like a lost puppy and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her at his side. Once the war begins and their first son is murdered, Aegon becomes paranoid and forces his wife into isolation, for her own good, he says. He holds a hard disdain for her mother and tries several times to turn her against Rhaenyra. Aegon really just wants to take his wifey and babies to essos to life peacefully, but he knows he can't.

CRISTON COLE is (Name)'s true father, and despite holding disdain for Rhaenyra, he yearns to be close to his daughter. As a knight, Criston knows that he will never have a wife, nor will he ever become a father to happy children. He knowingly gave all of that away when he said his vows. Alas, Rhaenyra's pride and joy is a living reminder of his shame. She is innocent, sweet, and honorable, everything Criston is not. The pain of having to watch his child being raised by two different men kills Cole, as all he yearns for is to cradle her in his arms like any father would. Once the Dance begins, Criston fights with dedication. The dedication of a father.

the reader is based on my oc Naelys Velaryon from my fic 'prisoner of vows' (≡・x・≡)

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[dedalvs]

Someone on Reddit asked about a name like "Star Eater" in Valyrian for a dragon and I wanted to share my response here, as well.

*****

If you want my 2¢ on this, names like Star Eater, Moon Racer, Sun Chaser, etc. are good examples of Common Tongue dragon names, but not good examples of Valyrian dragon names. In the Common Tongue (a.k.a. English) it's easy to put together compounds and come up with names. This is much, much less likely to happen in Valyrian. You can do it, but, frankly, it sounds clunky and awkward.

To give you a real world example of this, here are some Song of Ice and Fire names translated into Spanish:

Storm's End: Bastion de Tormentas

King's Landing: Desembarco del Rey

Rattleshirt: Casaca de Matraca

The translators are trying their best, but these translations simply do not (a) convey the sense you get from the English, or (b) come off as natural-sounding Spanish names. This is exactly what you get when you translate things like "Moondancer" or "Dark Sister" into Valyrian.

A more natural way to create a Valyrian name that sounds Valyrian is to start with your target word and embellish it. If you start with qēlos you might get Qēlazmia or Qēlalbrion, both of which might be kind of clunkily translated into English as "Great Star". In truth, there's no way to capture the sense of it with a single word in English because our morphology works differently. You'd have a better shot in Spanish (maybe Estrellona).

If you wanted to translate "Star Eater" literally, it'd be something like Qēlosipradaros. It is quite literally "star-eater", but it doesn't look like a Valyrian name. Think about all the Valyrian names you see in the book—for dragons and people: Daenerys, Aegon, Viserys, Meraxes, Aemon, Aenys, Rhaegar, Jaehaerys, Helaena, Rhaenyra, Daemon… They don't look that big. They don't look like compounds. They can essentially be broken down into three parts: (1) the main semantic content piece, (2) the augment (optional), and (3) the ending. Daemon, for example, looks about as basic as a Valyrian name gets. You have part (1) daem and part (3) -on. We see the ending -on a lot, so we know it's an ending, as opposed to -mon, for example. Daeneryslooks a little bigger, so you have part (1) daen, part (2) -er, and part (3) -ys. That is as big and complex as a Valyrian name gets.

If you look at the list of known dragons, the only time you see the English-y names for dragons are afterAegon's Conquest. And this makes sense. Once they're living in Westeros, the Targaryens start adopting Westerosi customs more and more: their language, their religion, their day-to-day practices... The younger Targaryens are essentially Common speakers that Valyrian as a heritage language. It makes sense that they'd name their dragons in the Common Tongue. There are a still a few Valyrian names mixed in, but that's also to be expected, depending on whether they want to honor their family's heritage or do something new that speaks to them.

In short, it doesn't make sense to render the Common Tongue names in Valyrian as they were never Valyrian to begin with. I'd say if you like the meaning "Stareater", do it in English. If you want a Valyrian name, build it up in a Valyrian way.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

HARWIN SMUT HARWIN SMUT HARWIN SMUT ‼️‼️‼️‼️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Forgive me, I fear I am not the best at writing smut, but I tried my best for my husband Harwin <3

pairing: ser harwin strong x fem!targ!reader (mother is unspecified)

warnings: quick mention of criston cole, 18+, minors DNI, reader is a targ (mother is unspecified), a bit angsty in the first part?, p in v sex, oral receiving (m and f), missionary, cowgirl, accidental creampie, reader has hair long enough to braid, use of the word whore, sworn protector harwin, forbidden relationship, loss of virginity?

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i need harwin strong biblically. smut under the cut <3

Ser Harwin Strong, son of the Hand to the Kind, was set to be your sworn protector, which you absolutely hated.

As the second daughter of King Viserys, he was quite protective over you, especially after losing Aemma and then your mother in childbirth. He was much more hesitant to wed you off, much more insistent to keep you safe from a fate such as theirs.

Though, by your Targaryen blood, you detested being safe; always searching for some kind of adventure, whether it be taking to the skies, or mingling in bars in Flea Bottom.

But now that your father’s strongest knight has been pulled from the City Watch to be your babysitter, there was no possible way for you to escape the Red Keep.

For weeks now, Ser Harwin has been closely following your every move: standing outside of your chambers at night, following you to your lessons, even going all the way to the dragon pit with you.

You started to get annoyed with him, clearly displaying it.

“I do not understand why you have to stand there,” you were in the gardens with your older sister, reading about the histories, complaining out loud.

She hit your arm gently, “He is only standing at his post.”

Ser Criston Cole was standing just a bit further away from the pair of you; Cole being your sister’s sworn shield.

“But does he have to stand there? His big body is blocking the sun,” you complained.

“I can move, if you wish, Princess,” he shifted backwards, but you stood and dusted yourself off.

“No need, I want to leave.”

He followed closely behing you. You walked faster, trying to lose him within the maze of walls in the castle. He never once put up a fight chasing you around the Red Keep out of the many times you’ve challenged his watch.

You began to run straight to your chambers, only slowing when you turned the corner to find your father walking with Lord Strong. His guards swiftly grabbed you by the arm, Ser Harwin not far behind.

Shocked at the sudden contact and the presence of your father, you straightened up.

“Father.”

“Please, do not tell me you have been running from Ser Harwin, again,” he spoke, vexxed at your behavior.

As if he was summoned, Harwin came around the corner. Your father shot his attention directly at your guard, his own father giving him a stern look.

“Ser Harwin, you would not lie to your king, correct?”

“I would never, your grace.”

“Has my daughter been keeping you agile, running about the Red Keep?”

He hesitated, glancing from your father to you and your hardened gaze; a slight shake of your head, warning him not to tell on you.

Looking back at your father he gently nodded, “Yes, your grace.”

“Mmm. Let her go,” he ordered his guard. Walking to you and placing his sickly hand on your cheek, he sighed, “The more you fight your protection, the stricter it will become. I am warning you, daughter. I am only doing this because I care for you.”

He dropped his hand and you sighed, “But father, Nyra doesn’t have this many rules, and she’s your heir!”

“What Rhaenyra is doing is none of your concern.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so! I am your father and your king! I will make the rules as I please.”

Everyone watched the argument awkwardly, standing as still as possible. You pouted at your father, nearly stomping away from the scene.

As you got to your room, you shut the doors quickly, preventing Ser Harwin from entering. Wanting to scream, you threw yourself onto your bed, an action truly unbecoming of a woman and more like a child.

A sudden knock at your door kept you from throwing a tantrum.

“Princess? Are you alright?” Harwin’s voice rang out.

Of course he would try and talk.

“Fine!” You shouted back.

“May I enter?”

Sighing, you walked to the door, the silence scaring him. You opened the large wooden door, meeting him face to face.

“Come in,” you stepped aside, allowing him in.

Continuing your tantrum, you started to rant to him.

“I honestly do not understand him! Nyra and Aegon both are reckless and barely watched, and yet it is I who is constantly under surveillance!”

He watched you pace around your room.

“And you! You following me everywhere is enough to drive me mad! For once I just want to be free of you!” You angrily spat out, only turning to see him with a slight frown.

“I did not know you felt so imprisoned by my presence,” your face dropped in an instance.

“I am sorry, Ser Harwin, I did not mean to offend you—”

“No need, Princess. If you truly feel this way, I can surely ask for a change of post.”

“No, just— just leave me. I’m sorry, I need to breathe.”

He bowed his head to you and swiftly left, leaving you feeling more guily than angry.

As much as you complained about being followed and watched, you truly were starting to enjoy being by Harwin’s side, when he wasn’t annoying the life out of you.

Although you were not being pushed hard to marry and would rather never wed, you wouldn’t mind seeing what the husky knight’s intimate moments were like.

Maybe it was your emotions controlling your sinful thoughts, or maybe it was the pent up frustration fueling your delusions, but now you regretted sending him away from you.

-

Late that night, you were still thinking about your earlier words; you had sent a maid to fetch Ser Harwin.

He quickly entered, his sword almost unsheathed, ready to fight whatever threatened you. When he found you alone, he relaxed.

“You summoned?”

“I did.”

“I thought you wanted to be free of my suffocation?” You could’ve had his tongue for that.

“I did.”

“Did? Not anymore?”

“Sit, please,” you pointed to the settee, he followed your directions, taking off his helmet and sitting.

“You know, I used to sneak out, before my father swore you to me, down into Flea Bottom.”

“Yes, I remember,” he was the one to report to your adventures to your father, telling Viserys that he could protect you from your late night leaves.

“I would go drink, for hours, only returning to the Keep just moments before the sun came up.”

Harwin listened silently to your story, watching you pace with wide eyes in awe.

“I used to walk past these houses… on the Street of Silk.”

“Princess, I am not sure where you are going with this story, but I am not sure if this is appropriate…”

“I always wondered what it would be like, as a common-born, free to roam the brothels.”

“You do not mean that.”

“I do,” you turned to face him, his face in a stoned expression, his helmet on his lap.

“But you are not a common-born, you are of Targaryen blood, born for greatness… not a brothel.”

You came to sit next to him, “Don’t you wish for one moment that you, yourself, could know what it is like?”

“To be someone’s whore?”

“Yes.”

“No. No I don’t. I am perfectly content as I am,” he lies to you. If he had been born into a common family, he would wish to be your whore.

Sighing, you placed a hand on his large thigh, “I just wanted to know…that is why I detested your protection! I did not want to lose my excersions out of the Keep.”

He looked at your touch, then looking away.

“What if I could show you?”

“Show me?”

He remained silent, still looking away from you.

“Harwin,” he breathed heavily at your voice, “Look at me.”

“I should go. I have overstepped. I cannot break my oath or my head will be on a spike before dawn,” his head was still down, looking away.

“Look at me. That is a command from your princess,” you said it more sternly, he turned his head to meet your eyes, “What do you mean you could show me?”

“I—”

“Speak free and plainly.”

“I had been into many brothels on the command of Prince Daemon, to find thieves and liars, to serve them justice as a Gold Cloak. I have seen the obscenities of the Street of Silk.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, he could not tell if you were horrified or intruiged. You moved your hand to hold the side of his face.

“I want you to show me.”

He leaned in closer to you, stopping just seconds before touching your lips to his, you could feel his breath on you, “I should stop. I am a man of honor—”

“I do not care. Dishonor me,” pushing yourself into him, you captured the sweet taste of your sworn shield.

He moved his body to face you more intimately, his helmet clanging on the floor. You clawed at his armour, he quickly untied every piece. As he fervently took off his outer layers, you pulled at the strings of your dress, until you were both in your undercloths.

You could see his manhood through the thin linen pants he wore. He stripped you down after pulling his own cloths off, still kissing you passionately.

He grabbed at your waist with his large hands, pulling you onto his bare lap to straddle him.

Your breasts pushed up against his hairy chest, your sensitive parts rubbing on his own. He moved to kiss your neck as he began shifting you slowly, his cock rubbing against your throbbing bud and slit.

Throwing your head back at the sensation, it gave Harwin an opening to suck at the base of your neck, nearing your collarbones.

He elevated you, allowing his mouth to move to your tit, kissing his way around your nipple bfore taking it fully into his mouth. You moaned loudly, Harwin’s hand coming up to muffle your yells.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in, he got close to your ear, nipping at your lobe, he let out a low growl, “Do you want us to get found, Princess?”

Stuttering out, you struggled to form any kind of response, “No— I, no.”

“Then we need to be silent,” he smiled at you seductively, warning you.

You pushed yourself off his lap, sinking down to the floor in front of the settee, between Harwin’s bare knees. Your hair was still braided from the events of the day, pulled back and out of your face.

You stared at the girth of Harwin’s cock, grabbing the base of it and stroking. You watched as he shivered at your touch.

Taking his length into your mouth, you started slowly, trying to find the right pace. As an instinct, his hand flew to the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock.

You toyed with his balls as you slid your tongue around his tip. Feeling himself about to come undone with your mouth, he swiftly pushed you off, it becoming almost painful at the loss of your touch.

“I mustn’t release before you,” he heavily stated.

Lifting you with ease, he laid you back, spreading your legs and slotting his face nearing your cunt. He kissed the inside of your thigh, moving closer to your sensitivities.

“Do not tease, Harwin,” you just barely moaned out. He kissed your bud, latching his mouth to it and sucking. He moved his way down your womanhood, his tongue reaching your entrance.

Darting his tongue into the squishy walls of your insides, you reached pleasures you could have never even dreamed of. Working wonders with his tongue, he licked up and down, in and out, pushing you to your peak.

Your legs shook, clamped around Harwin’s head. He moved to tower over you, kissing you to make you taste your own sweet release.

He lined himself up with your entrance, his large girth penetrating your maidenhood. It sent a pinch to your core at first, but you eased into it. You moaned out loudly at the feeling, an obscene moan, more sweet than anyone could hear in a brothel. Harwin nearly came as he heard you.

He thrusted hard, fucking you into the settee. You kept your eyes open to look at him as he fucked you. Leaning down, he kissed you all over your neck and breasts, forcing you close to another release. He watched your tits bounce with every thrust, pulling him close to his own release.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he shifted your position. He flipped the two of you, him on his back and you on top of him.

You steadied yourself with a hand on his broad chest, his hands shooting to your waist. As you straddled him, he groped at your waist, your hips rolling over his.

You leaned forward to be chest to chest with him; your hips were still moving rapidly. The motions of your hips forced your release, your walls clenching his cock; your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck.

The tighness of your walls made the waves of pleasure come crashing into him, releasing his seed into you before he was able to pull out.

“Princess…” he moaned out.

Smiling into his neck you laughed gently, “I think we are passed formalities, Harwin.”

The vibrations of your laugh tickled him into adoration, Harwin smiling as well. He wrapped his big arms around your naked waist, breathing into your neck.

You pushed yourself off, feeling cold at the absence of him inside of you. Picking up your small clothes off the ground, Harwin watched with a smile, “So eager to get rid of me?”

“I never said for you to leave,” you smiled back.

“I should go.”

“No. Stay with me, just for tonight?”

He sat himself up, spreading himself out, his elbows resting on his knees. His sweaty curls clung to his neck and forehead, making him look ethereal in the moonlight. He thought about your offer, nodding to himself.

“Just this once I will stay, but I must leave before morning light.”

Dropping your smallcloths back on the floor, you stalked over to him, mounting his strong lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed his jaw chastely.

He smiled at the touch, “So I would assume my presence isn’t suffocating you any longer?”

You rolled your eyes, dismounting and pulling him towards your bed, “Believe me, you are still unbearably suffocating… just in a different way.”