#big sword little sword dynamic

[ihavesomejays]

on first loves yunqing lol they are silly that's it that's the prompt anyways i think this is like the first thing i've posted here that has an actual background which is kind of insane. i think you can tell i don't draw backgrounds very often. anyways yunqing is so ponytail puller annoying each other even though they've realized they like each other core and it's satisfying my peepaw heart

bg only/closeups under keep reading

[demenior]

Happy wip wednesday! More of the Fealty au. What are high seas adventures without at least one really big ocean storm??

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The whole ship shakes as a wave washes over the bow. Jester’s feet fly out from under her. She’s thrown so far that her safety line threatens to cut her in half as it goes taut. She hits the deck. Her head spins, and with it, her focus on the storm wavers.

Hands grab her, pulling her up. She coughs, winded. Before she can speak she reaches out to grab the air, as if she can physically snatch her control back. She feels it anchor in her sternum again, the turmoil and rage of the storm alive around and inside of her at the same time.

“Are you okay?” Eadwulf asks. He has to shout to be heard, even at this distance.

Jester jerks away from him. His hat is tied tightly under his chin, but it’s soaked through and lost it’s form. Despite his coat and hat, he’s waterlogged from head to toe.

When she doesn’t respond, Eadwulf ties off his safety rope beside hers.

“What are you doing?” she moves further away from him.

“You’re holding concentration on a spell,” Eadwulf reminds her, “I’m making sure you keep it.”

[sixeyesonathiel]

the spoils of sanctity

pairing — holy knight gojo x demon princess reader

cw: heavy dubcon, noncon elements, yandere themes, power imbalance, explicit sexual content (oral sex—forced fellatio, penetrative sex—vaginal, tail play, cock slapping, clit slapping, nipple play, edging, multiple orgasms, creampie, breeding kink, cervix penetration, sex positions—kneeling oral, bent-over doggy style, missionary with hips tilted, folded missionary, face-down doggy, pinned missionary, cowgirl), brat taming, dacryphilia, degradation/humiliation, corruption/dumbification, mind break, forced submission, public humiliation mentions, restraint/bondage (sashes, choker enchantment), asphyxiation (throat squeezing during oral), size kink, sadism, perverted behavior, religious sacrilege (mock prayers, holy/demonic themes), pseudo-marital dynamics (trophy wife as a literal prized possession), 18+ only, minors DNI. 10k+ wc.

a/n : damn. i may have written satoru here a lil too freaky.

the war had torn the world apart, kingdoms reduced to ash and bone, and satoru, the holy knight, stood as its shining fucking savior. the people wept at his feet, praising his blessed sword, his sanctified armor, his pure goddamn soul. they thought he’d dragged you—the demon princess, half-human spawn of filth and pride—back to the palace to purge the evil from your veins. to correct you. to save the world from your clawed, defiant existence.

they were wrong.

so fucking wrong.

behind the palace walls, he wasn’t saving shit. he was breaking you. claiming you. turning you into his collared little trophy wife, a prize he’d won with blood and steel. the world saw mercy in his grip on your leash. you saw the truth: a perverted freak who got off on your humiliation, who wanted to fuck the humanity into your demon half until you cracked.

his private chambers smelled like wax and sin, the air thick with the flicker of sanctified gold candles lining the walls. their light danced over the stone, over the tattered remains of your finery—black silk shredded at the thighs, clinging to your sweat-slick skin like a second hide. your wrists burned where the ceremonial sashes bit into them, the same ones that had once bound saints, now twisted to tether you to the floor. he’d repurposed them with a smirk, his big hands tugging the knots tight, like he was wrapping a fucking gift.

satoru loomed over you, all white hair and sharp blue eyes, his armor shed to reveal the taut muscle beneath a thin tunic. holy knight, my ass. he looked like a predator playing dress-up, and you were the prey he’d been salivating over since the battlefield. your tail twitched behind you, black and forked, a little rebellion against the restraints. he noticed. of course he fucking noticed.

“still got some fight in you, huh?” his voice was low, mocking, as he crouched down, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw. “thought i’d beaten that out of you by now, princess.”

you bared your teeth, a snarl ripping from your throat. “i’ll claw your fucking eyes out, you sanctimonious prick.”

he laughed—deep, filthy, and it made your stomach twist in a way you hated. “oh, i’d love to see you try. but first—” he reached into a velvet pouch at his hip, pulling out the choker. it glowed faintly, a thin band of silver etched with runes, pulsing with some holy enchantment that made your skin crawl. “—let’s get you dressed up proper.”

you jerked back, but the sashes held firm, yanking a hiss from your lips. “don’t you fucking dare—”

too late. his hands were fast, wrapping the choker around your throat, the clasp clicking shut with a sound that echoed in your skull. the enchantment hit instantly—your demonic power dulled, a heavy fog settling over the fire in your veins. but that wasn’t the worst part. no, the worst part was the way it fucking glowed, a soft pulse of light that brightened when your body betrayed you. and it was already flickering, damn it, because his fingers lingered on your neck, brushing the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t stop the heat pooling low in your gut.

he stepped back, tilting his head like he was admiring a painting. “look at that glow, princess. you’re already begging—and i haven’t even touched you.”

“fuck you,” you spat, cheeks burning as the choker pulsed brighter. you hated it—hated him—hated the way your thighs clenched under his stare.

“oh, i will.” he grinned, all teeth and perversion, then grabbed your tail in one swift yank. the jolt shot through you like lightning, a gasp tearing out before you could stop it. your body arched, writhing against the sashes, and he tightened his grip, tugging just hard enough to make you squirm. “sensitive there, huh? perfect.”

you wanted to rip his throat out. instead, you glared, panting, the choker glowing like a fucking beacon. he watched it pulse, his eyes darkening with something sick and hungry, and then he moved. one arm slid under your back, the other under your knees, hoisting you up bridal-style like some twisted mockery of a wedding night. your tail lashed against his chest, but he just chuckled, carrying you across the room with infuriating ease.

“put me down, you bastard—” your words cut off as he dropped you, not gently, onto your knees. the stone bit into your skin, cold and unforgiving, and you glared up at him, chest heaving.

he didn’t say a word. just smirked, stepping back to grab something from the edge of the room—a mirror, tall and angled, dragging it over until it faced you dead-on. your reflection stared back: disheveled, flushed, the choker glowing like a neon fucking sign.

the candles flickered as he adjusted the mirror, the scrape of its base against the floor loud in the tense silence. you stayed on your knees, the sashes still binding your wrists behind you, your tail flicking uselessly against the stone. every muscle screamed to lunge at him, to sink your claws into that smug face, but the choker’s enchantment weighed you down, dulling your strength to something pitifully human. it pissed you off. he pissed you off. and yet, your body was buzzing, the heat from his touch still lingering, the choker’s glow a constant reminder of how fucked you were.

he didn’t rush. he savored it, peeling off his tunic slow enough to make you twitch with impatience, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the faint scars crisscrossing his skin—proof he wasn’t just some prissy knight playing hero. he was a fighter, a killer, and now he was your goddamn captor. the pants came next, sliding down his hips, and you couldn’t help it—your eyes flicked to the bulge straining his undercloth, thick and heavy, and the choker pulsed brighter. fuck. he caught it, of course, his grin widening as he stepped closer, cock springing free when he shoved the fabric down.

“like what you see, princess?” he taunted, fisting himself lazily, the tip already glistening. “don’t worry, you’ll get a real good taste.”

you snarled, baring your teeth again. “i’d rather choke on glass.”

“cute.” he closed the distance, towering over you, the mirror framing the whole filthy scene—your knees on the stone, his shadow swallowing you whole. “but you’re gonna choke on this instead.”

you fought the urge to vomit, glaring up, defiance blazing in your chest, lips sealed tight, jaw clenched. no fucking way you were giving him this. not without a fight.

“open up,” he said, voice all smooth mockery, like he was coaxing a stray dog. “don’t make me ask twice, princess.”

“make me,” you shot back, flashing your fangs, a bratty snarl curling your lips. your tail flicked behind you, smacking the floor, and his eyes gleamed—dark, perverted, like he’d been waiting for that exact answer.

“oh, i will,” he said, and he moved—fast as hell. one hand clamped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open just enough, and the other swung his cock down, slapping it against your cheek with a wet, humiliating smack. your head jerked, a snarl caught in your throat, and the choker flared bright, glowing like a fucking spotlight in the mirror.

he did it again—harder, the head smearing pre-cum across your skin, the sound echoing sharp and filthy. your eyes watered, not from pain but from the sheer rage boiling up, tears welling up as you glared, unblinking, refusing to let them fall.

“look at that,” he purred, leaning down, breath hot against your ear. “tears already? didn’t know demons could get so worked up.” his thumb brushed the corner of your eye, smearing the dampness, and you snapped your teeth at him, missing by an inch. he laughed—low, nasty, and it made your stomach twist.

“you’re not a princess anymore,” he growled, straightening up, fisting his cock right in front of you. “you’re my wife. say it.”

“fuck. you,” you hissed, voice dripping venom, tears brimming but holding, your glare cutting through the haze. the choker glowed brighter, betraying the heat pooling low in your gut, and he grinned, all teeth and sick delight.

“wrong answer,” he said, and then he shoved himself in—no warning, no buildup, just the thick, hot length of him filling your mouth, hitting the back of your throat so fast you gagged hard. your eyes widened, tears welling hotter, stinging as you fought to breathe, your throat spasming around him. he groaned, deep and guttural, like it was the best fucking thing he’d ever felt, and his hand fisted in your hair, yanking the sash tied there, pulling tight enough to make your scalp burn.

“that’s it,” he grunted, hips rocking slow at first, dragging it out, letting you feel every inch. “take it, you nasty demon slut. choke on your holy knight.”

you did—fuck, you couldn’t stop it. your throat clenched, spit dripping down your chin, and every gag made him thrust deeper, harder, picking up speed until your head spun. the tears wouldn’t stay back now, pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you glared through them, locking onto his face—his smug, perverted grin, the way his blue eyes drank in every twitch, every flinch. he slid his free hand down, fingers wrapping around your throat, pressing the choker into your skin, cutting off your air just enough to make your chest tighten.

“can’t breathe, huh?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy as he squeezed tighter, fucking your throat with a rhythm that left you dizzy. “poor little half-breed, choking on my cock. just relax—let it happen. i’ll take care of you.”

you gagged again, harder, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, and the tears brimmed over, not falling yet, just sitting there, heavy and hot, as you glared up at him, defiant even with your air gone. your tail lashed out, smacking his thigh, and he tightened his grip, cutting off more, his thumb stroking the glowing choker like it was a toy.

“keep fighting,” he rasped, voice rough with lust, hips snapping faster. “makes it better when you break. look at those eyes—fuck, you’re gorgeous like this, all teary and pissed.”

your lungs burned, your throat raw, every thrust making you gag louder, wetter, until your vision swam. he talked you through it, nasty and low—“breathe when i let you, slut. yeah, just like that, gag on it, let me feel that throat”—and you hated how your body reacted, hated the slick pooling between your thighs, the choker pulsing wild and bright like a damn beacon. he groaned again, louder, his grip on your hair tightening, and then he pushed deeper—nose pressed to his pelvis, air completely gone, holding you there as your throat spasmed helplessly.

“fuck, yes,” he growled, watching your eyes, the tears trembling but not spilling, your glare still burning through the haze. “look at you, choking so pretty. holy salvation’s too much for you, huh?”

you wanted to claw his face off. wanted to scream, bite, anything—but all you could do was glare, tears welling thicker, chest heaving as he finally eased up, pulling back just enough to let you suck in a ragged, desperate breath. spit strung from your lips to his cock, and he smirked, wiping it with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

“aw, poor thing,” he said, sarcastic as hell, when you coughed, gasping, throat wrecked. “can’t take it? too bad—i’m not done.” he shoved back in, slower this time, dragging it out, letting you feel every inch as he fucked your mouth again, hand still on your throat, squeezing light then hard, playing with your air like a game. “cry for me, princess. let me see those tears fall.”

they didn’t—fuck him, you wouldn’t let them to—but they sat there, heavy and defiant, as you gagged and glared, the choker glowing so bright it lit up the mirror behind you. your reflection showed it all: your wrecked face, his cock stretching your lips, the sashes binding you tight. his breaths grew ragged, his thrusts sloppy, and then he came—hot, thick, spilling down your throat in pulses you couldn’t escape. he held you there, choking you through it, forcing you to swallow every drop, his fingers digging into your neck as he groaned, long and filthy.

“good girl,” he purred, pulling out slow, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his tip. “look at you, all messy and fucked out.” he wiped your mouth with his hand, smearing it more, and you coughed, gasping, the taste of him bitter and overwhelming. your eyes burned, tears still welling but not falling, and you glared up, chest heaving, tail twitching uselessly behind you.

he didn’t give you a second to recover—just hauled you up by the arms, your legs wobbling, weak from kneeling, and threw you over his shoulder like a sack. your tail dangled against his back, smacking him weakly, and the mirror caught it: your flushed, teary-eyed glare, his smug grin, the choker still glowing faintly as he carried you off, ready to break you more.

the room spun as he carried you, the candles flickering low, wax dripping onto the stone like little tears he couldn’t wring from you. your throat ached, raw and bruised, spit and cum still slick on your chin, and those damn tears sat heavy in your eyes, stinging but stubborn, refusing to spill.

your tail flicked against his back, a weak protest he ignored, and your wrists burned where the sashes dug in, your body buzzing with rage and something darker—something the choker wouldn’t let you hide. he crossed the room in long strides, the mirror looming ahead, and then he dropped you—hard—onto your knees, the stone biting into your skin. you hissed, tail lashing out to smack his leg, and he laughed, kicking your thighs apart with his boot, setting you up for the next round.

the mirror threw it all back at you—your knees pressed into the cold stone, your flushed face staring back, hair wild, the choker glowing like a fucking spotlight around your throat. your tattered silk hung off you in shreds, barely covering shit, and satoru loomed behind you, all muscle and menace, his tunic long gone, scars crisscrossing his chest like some holy warrior’s badge. but there was nothing holy about the way his hands slid down to grip your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, or the way he tore the silk aside with one rough yank, exposing your ass and the dripping mess between your legs. the air hit your skin, sharp and humiliating, and he groaned low in his throat, like he’d just unwrapped a goddamn present he couldn’t wait to ruin.

“look at that,” he muttered, voice crude and thick, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp. the jolt shot through you, your body jerking, and tears welled up fast, hot and heavy in your eyes as you glared at him in the mirror. “already soaked for me, huh? some fucking demon princess you are—dripping like a cheap whore. you sure you’re not some lowly succubus?”

“die,” you snarled, twisting against his grip, claws scraping the stone, but he tightened his hold, pulling your tail up and back, forcing your hips to tilt for him. the choker pulsed violently, glowing brighter with every ounce of heat pooling in your core, and he laughed—dark, filthy, leaning down until his breath ghosted your ear, all teeth and sick delight.

“nah, you don’t get to talk back, slut,” he said, crude as hell for a holy knight, his free hand grabbing his cock—thick, heavy, way too fucking big—and lining it up, the head brushing your entrance, teasing, not pushing in yet. “you’re gonna thank me for this. every thrust—say it. say thank you, or i’ll leave you here, leaking and desperate.”

“like hell—” your words choked off as he slammed into you, no warning, no mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. your scream bounced off the walls, raw and ragged, your body jolting forward until your palms slapped the stone, claws digging in hard. fuck, he was huge—too huge—stretching you so wide it burned, splitting you open, and the tears brimmed thicker, stinging your eyes as you glared at him, refusing to let them spill.

“say it,” he growled, hips snapping against your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and obscene. he grabbed your tail tighter, using it like a goddamn leash to yank you back onto him, each thrust deeper, harder, his cock hitting spots that made your vision blur. “thank me, princess, or i’ll stop right now.”

you only gritted your teeth, stubborn, claws raking the floor, defiance burning even as your body shook under him. he stopped—dead still, cock buried so deep you felt it in your guts, the sudden lack of motion making you twitch, your breath hitching. “no? fine. then you don’t get shit,” he said, voice low and mocking, his hand sliding up to press your face against the mirror, smearing your cheek into the glass, your hot breath fogging it up.

“you bastard—” you started, but he pulled your tail again, sharp and punishing, and thrust once—hard, slow, dragging it out—before stopping again. your eyes fluttered, tears welling hotter, the choker glowing so bright it lit up your wrecked reflection—hair tangled, lips parted, those damn tears welling up as you glared.

“say it,” he repeated, voice dark and dangerous, his cock twitching inside you, teasing you with how full you felt. “or i’ll leave you like this, dripping and empty, with that pretty little choker telling everyone what a needy slut you are.”

you hated him—hated the smug tilt of his mouth, the way his blue eyes glittered with perverted glee, drinking in your teary glare like it was fucking wine. but your body was screaming, aching, and the words clawed their way out, bitter and sharp. “thank you,” you muttered, barely audible, venom dripping from every syllable.

“louder,” he snapped, thrusting again, slow and deliberate, dragging his massive cock out then back in, making you feel every inch. “mean it, or i’ll fuck you dry and leave you begging.”

“thank you!” you spat, louder, the humiliation burning hotter than the stretch, your tears trembling on the edge as you glared at him in the mirror. he grinned, satisfied, and then he let loose—fucking you rough and relentless, each thrust shoving you harder against the mirror, your cheek pressed tight, your breath fogging the glass in quick, desperate pants.

“look at you,” he purred, voice dripping with sarcasm, his hand sliding down to grip your hip while the other tugged your tail rhythmically, matching his brutal pace. “being good for once. my holy cock’s ruining you, huh? turning you into my perfect little cocksleeve.”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think—your body shaking under the onslaught, the choker glowing like a damn star as he pounded into you. the mirror showed it all: your ass bouncing with every thrust, your tail twitching in his grip, your flushed face with those tears welling up, defiant and furious. he leaned down, teeth grazing your shoulder, and his voice turned crude, nasty, a holy knight gone feral.

“what if your subjects saw you now, huh?” he growled, thrusting harder, his cock stretching you so wide it hurt in the best fucking way. “their proud little princess, ass up, choking on the dick of the knight who slayed her father for mercy. bet they’d love to see you crying for it—tears all pretty, pussy leaking like a tavern wench.”

“shut—up,” you gasped, voice breaking, the tears trembling heavier now, your glare sharpening even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him. he groaned at that, loud and filthy, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so you had to watch yourself—watch him fuck you into the stone.

“nah, i’d parade you like this,” he said, crude and gleeful, his cock slamming in so deep you swore you felt it in your throat. “show ‘em how their haughty little half-demon queen takes it—tail yanked, choker glowing, all teary-eyed and fucked stupid. they’d bow to me instead, huh?”

your claws dug into the stone, scraping hard, and you tried to crawl away—knees scraping, tail lashing, anything to escape the heat, the shame, the way his words made you throb despite yourself.

satoru only yanked your tail hard, pulling you back with a growl, his cock grinding in deep, holding you there. “oh no you don’t,” he said, breath hot against your neck, teeth nipping your skin. “you don’t get to run from this.”

he shifted, one hand sliding under you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast and rough while he fucked you, and the tears welled thicker, your glare burning through the mirror as your body tensed. “cry for me,” he muttered, voice low and nasty, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, deeper, his dick so big it felt like it was rearranging you. “let me see those tears, princess—gimme something to jerk off to later.”

“fucking pervert,” you rasped, voice raw, the tears trembling on the edge, your hips bucking despite yourself as he worked you closer, the heat coiling tight, so fucking tight. he laughed, crude and dark, his fingers relentless, his cock grinding in just right, and you felt it—the edge, right there, your whole body shaking, the choker glowing blindingly bright.

“gonna cum already?” he taunted, leaning down, licking a stripe up your neck, his voice a filthy whisper. “thought you were tougher than that, demon slut. go on—thank me again. louder.”

“thank you,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-moan, the tears trembling, your glare locked on his smug face as your body started to unravel, the pleasure crashing in hard. but he stopped—pulled out completely, fingers off your clit, leaving you hanging right on the brink, a wrecked, shaking mess. your scream was pure frustration, raw and pissed, your tail lashing out to smack his chest, and he laughed, loud and filthy, stepping back to admire you—ass up, dripping, teary-eyed, and glaring like you’d kill him.

“not yet, princess,” he says, voice dark and promising, his cock still hard, glistening with your mess, bobbing as he shifts his weight. he leans in close, breath hot against your neck, and grabs your tail—fingers wrapping tight around its base, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp, tears pricking sharper, your hips jolting back into him.

“we’ve got more to play with,” he growls, crude and gleeful, tugging again, slower now, dragging you backward step by step, your knees scraping the stone as he pulls you toward the bed.

the mattress looms ahead, plush and draped in rich silks, and he shoves you forward, your palms sinking into its softness as you catch yourself, ass still raised, tail twitching in his grip. he releases it with a rough swat, climbing onto the bed, settling back against the headboard, legs spread wide, cock heavy and waiting. he pats his lap, grinning like a bastard, daring you to crawl up, his eyes glinting with perverse hunger.

“if you’re so strong,” he taunted, voice dripping with that sick, perverted glee, “ride me. show me that demon pride you’re so fucking proud of.”

you glared, chest heaving, the choker flickering as your blood boiled, those tears welling up hotter from the sheer audacity of him. no way you were letting this smug prick win easy—he wanted you to climb up and take him? fine. you’d ram it down his throat, make him choke on his own game.

with a snarl, you crawled onto the bed, the silk soft under your knees, and straddled him, your tail flicking behind you like a whip, smacking the mattress in a bratty little tantrum. he grinned, leaning back, one hand stroking his cock slow and deliberate—thick, massive, glistening with your slick from before—the other beckoning you closer like you were some pet he owned.

“go on, princess,” he said, eyes glinting with dark delight, drinking in your glare, the way your lashes fluttered with unshed tears. “prove you’re not just a trophy wife. show me what that half-demon filth can do.”

“watch me, you sanctimonious fuck,” you snapped, bratty as hell, planting your hands on his chest. your claws dug in, scratching red lines across his skin, and he hissed—pure pleasure, not pain, the sadistic freak.

you braced yourself, lining up over him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, and fuck, he was huge—bigger than you’d clocked up close, a monster that made your thighs tremble just looking at it. you started to lower, slow, cautious, feeling the stretch burn right away, and your breath hitched, a whimper slipping out before you could bite it back.

how did it even fit inside you earlier?

it was too much—way too fucking much. you got an inch down, maybe two, and the tears welled thicker, stinging your eyes as you glared at him, refusing to let them fall. the choker flared, bright and humiliating, glowing with every twitch of your hips. you forced yourself further, another inch, gasping as the stretch split you open, your claws raking his chest harder, leaving bloody streaks he didn’t even flinch at.

“pathetic, huh?” he muttered, voice low and crude, his eyes a sea of crazed blue, pupils blown wide, locked on your face—on the way your brows knit, your lips parted, the tears trembling as you struggled.

“shut up,” you hissed, panting, shifting your hips to try again. you sank lower, slow and stubborn, determined to take him, and a choked moan tore from your throat as he stretched you wider, deeper, the burn mixing with a heat you hated. your tail lashed wildly, smacking his thigh, and he grabbed it fast, yanking it just enough to make you jolt, the choker glowing brighter, your slick coating him as you squirmed.

you pushed down harder, forcing yourself, and then—fuck—he hit your cervix, the blunt pressure making you cry out, raw and sharp, your whole body shuddering as you finally bottomed out.

the tears spilled then, hot and unwilling, streaking down your cheeks as you glared at him, chest heaving, thighs shaking from the effort. you’d done it—three shaky, agonizing thrusts, riding him slow and deliberate, your claws digging into his chest for balance.

but it wasn’t enough for the impatient bastard beneath you—too slow, too fucking tentative—and he groaned, low and frustrated, his hands slamming onto your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“fuck this,” he growled, crude and impatient, his holy knight patience cracking wide open. “you’re too damn slow, princess—thought you’d ride me like a queen, not whimper like a bitch.” before you could snap back, he took over—lifting you up like you weighed nothing, then slamming you back down onto his cock, full force, the head smashing your cervix again. your scream echoed, raw and desperate, tears streaming now as he filled you completely, the stretch so intense your vision blurred.

he didn’t stop—bounced you again, harder, using you like a fucking ragdoll, his grip iron-tight on your hips. up and down, fast and brutal, each drop driving him deeper, hitting your cervix every time, the wet slap of your ass against his thighs filling the room.

“that’s better,” he grunted, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every tear, every gasp, every twist of your expression like a perverted addict. “look at you—crying on my cock, princess. so fucking pretty when you break.”

“fuck—you—” you gasped, voice cracking with every thrust, your body shaking in his hands, the tears falling freely now, hot and bitter, your glare still burning through them. the choker glowed violently, a pulsing spotlight on how soaked you were, how your thighs clenched around him despite your snarls.

he laughed, dark and filthy, one hand sliding up to grab your tail again, tugging it in time with his rhythm.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he purred, bouncing you faster, his massive cock spearing you, the pressure on your cervix making your sobs louder, your tears streaming harder. “too big for that demon pride? too holy for your filthy little cunt? i’m cleansing you, slut—fucking all that evil right out of you.”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think—your claws scrabbling at his chest, leaving bloody trails he ignored, your sobs mixing with moans you hated yourself for. he kept going, watching you fall apart, his breaths ragged but controlled, like he was edging himself too—holding back just to savor how fucking gorgeous you looked, all teary and wrecked.

“cry harder,” he growled, crude and sadistic, his voice rough with lust. “gimme those tears—holy knights like me live for this shit, purifying dirty little demons with big, fat cocks.”

your legs started to give out, muscles trembling, and you slumped forward, chest slamming into his, face buried in his neck as he kept bouncing you, relentless, his dick grinding so deep it hurt in the best way.

“aw, poor thing,” he cooed, sarcastic as hell, one hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back to see your tear-streaked face. “can’t take it? too bad—i’m not even close to done.”

he slowed then, just a little, grinding you down onto him, letting you feel every inch of that massive length, his cock throbbing inside you as he watched you sob, tears dripping onto his chest.

“fuck, you’re too pretty like this,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and crude. “all teary and fucked out—makes me wanna cum, but nah, i’m a patient man. holy, right? gotta drag this out, keep cleansing you till you’re pure.”

you were shaking, sobbing, the heat coiling tight in your gut, every grind pushing you closer, your body betraying you as you rocked against him, chasing it despite the tears, the humiliation. he groaned, eyes fluttering, his own edge creeping up, but he held back, sadistic bastard that he was, loving how you looked too much to let it end.

“gonna cum, huh?” he taunted, voice a filthy whisper as he felt you tense, your sobs turning to desperate gasps. “go on—thank me and i might let you. say it, slut.”

“thank you,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-sob, tears streaming as your glare locked on his smug face, your body right there, teetering on the edge, so fucking close. but he stopped—yanked you off his cock completely, flipping you onto your back in one swift, brutal move, the silk soft against your spine as he pinned you down, his dick hovering over you, hard and dripping, his grin wide and wicked.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and crude, his chest heaving as he edged himself too, holding back just to watch you writhe. “we’re switching it up, princess—got more filth to fuck out of you.”

he didn’t let you whine about the loss and denial—just yanked the sashes up, tying your wrists tight to the headboard, and forced your legs wide, turning the plush bed into some fucked-up altar. his bite mark throbbed on your shoulder, his cum smeared your skin, and he settled between your thighs, eyes gleaming with that perverted, possessive hunger, ready to wreck you all over again.

he knelt there, all holy knight bullshit on the surface—white hair catching the candlelight, sharp jaw set like he was about to pray—but his hands were pure filth, sliding up your thighs slow, thumbs brushing the slick mess he’d left behind, smearing it like he was marking you. your tail flicked, smacking his wrist in a bratty little rebellion, and he grabbed it fast, pinning it to the bed with a rough tsk, his fingers digging in just enough to sting.

“still got some fight, huh?” he said, voice low and mocking, spreading your legs wider until the stretch burned, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. “let’s see how long that lasts, you filthy demon whore.”

his fingers traced your folds, slow and teasing, dipping just barely into your entrance—light, shallow, not enough to do anything but make you twitch. the choker flickered, a faint glow pulsing with your heartbeat, and you hissed, tugging at the sashes, the knots biting your wrists.

“don’t you fucking dare—” you started, ultimately annoyed at his backtracking, but he cut you off, sliding one finger in—just one, knuckle-deep, curling it slow to graze that spot inside that made your hips jerk up, chasing more despite wanting something else.

“shh,” he murmured, crude and dark, his other hand pressing your stomach flat, pinning you still as he worked that finger in and out, agonizingly slow, letting the heat coil tight in your gut. “holy things take time, princess. you’re still a dirty fucking mess—gotta clean you up proper.”

you snarled, thrashing against the sashes, but he held you down, adding a second finger, stretching you just enough to make you gasp, then stopping—completely still, letting you clench around him, your breath hitching as you glared, tears welling up hot and heavy.

“please,” you spat, venom dripping, and he smirked, pulling his fingers out slow, dragging them along your walls until they slipped free, leaving you empty. your sob echoed, raw and pissed, and the choker flared brighter, slick dripping down your thighs as you bucked your hips, desperate for anything.

“not good enough,” he said, voice a filthy lilt, chanting some mock-prayer bullshit—“purify this sinner, wash her clean”—while his fingers went to your clit, rubbing light, maddening circles that made your whole body tense, teetering right on the brink. your tears spilled then, streaking down your cheeks as you glared at him, defiant even through the haze, and he groaned low, like the sight of you crying was better than fucking you.

“look at those tears,” he muttered, crude and gleeful, leaning down to lick one off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow. “crying for my cock already? pathetic little half-breed.” he pulled back, grabbing his dick—still hard, massive, dripping—and slapped it against your clit, the wet smack loud and humiliating. your body jolted, a choked moan tearing out, and the choker glowed violent, lighting up your wrecked face in the dim room.

he didn’t stop—kept it up, relentless, playing you like a damn fiddle. he’d drag his cock along your slit, slow and teasing, nudging your clit with the head, then pull back, slapping it down again, each hit making your hips buck, your sobs louder, tears streaming as you glared through them.

“damn you,” you rasped, voice hoarse, tail lashing out to smack his arm, but he pinned it down, laughing soft and dark as he leaned in, breath hot against your cunt.

“keep crying,” he purred, crude as hell, licking one slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, stopping just shy of your clit. your whole body arched, a scream caught in your throat, and he pulled back, slapping his cock against you again—harder, the sting sharp and electric. “holy knight’s gotta taste that demon filth—wash it out with my tongue, huh?”

he dove in then, but never enough—tongue flicking your clit light and quick, then pulling away right as your thighs started to shake. he’d suck it hard, lips sealing around it, only to pop off with a wet smack, leaving you gasping, sobbing, the tears falling faster as he watched, eyes dark with sick delight.

“so fucking pretty,” he muttered, sliding two fingers back in, pumping them deep, curling them just right until your hips rocked, your breath hitching, then yanking them out, smearing your slick across your thigh.

“please—fuck—please,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-sob, the tears burning your eyes as you glared, your pride shredded, your body screaming for release. he grinned, grabbing his cock again, slapping it against your clit in a quick, brutal rhythm—smack, smack, smack—each hit making you flinch, your sobs turning to desperate gasps, the choker glowing so bright it hurt to look at.

“begging now, huh?” he said, voice rough with lust, leaning over you, his cock brushing your oversensitive folds, teasing, not pushing in. “thought you’d kill me—where’s that fire, princess? all i see is a teary little slut, dripping for me.”

he slapped his cock down again, harder, the wet sound obscene, and your tail lashed out, smacking his chest, weak but furious. he grabbed it, yanking it hard, making you yelp, tears streaming as he pinned it to the bed.

“gonna break you slow,” he growled, sliding his fingers back in—three this time, stretching you wide, pumping them fast and deep, curling them just right until your whole body tensed, your sobs loud and broken. he’d pull them out right as you started to shake, leaving you clenching around nothing, then slap his cock against your clit again, over and over, the sting mixing with the heat until your mind was a haze of need and rage.

he kept it going—hours, minutes, who fucking knew—switching it up just when you thought you’d snap. he’d lick you slow, tongue dragging along your folds, then stop to suck your clit hard, pulling off with a grin as you screamed. he’d fuck you shallow with his fingers, then deep, then pull out, slapping your cunt with his hand, then his cock, each hit making your tears fall faster, your glare burning through the haze.

“holy work’s never quick,” he’d murmur, crude and dark, licking your tears again, groaning against your skin. “gotta purify you, my filthy bride—cry all you want, it’s just making me harder.”

your body was a wreck—shaking, sobbing, slick pooling beneath you, the choker glowing blindingly bright as he played you, every nerve on fire. he’d tease his cock against your entrance, pushing in just the tip, letting you feel the stretch, then pull out, slapping it against your clit again, laughing as you bucked, your sobs turning to desperate, broken pleas.

“i’ll kill you,” you rasped, voice raw, tears streaming as he hovered over you, his dick brushing your folds, his eyes locked on your teary glare.

“cute,” satoru only purred, slapping his cock down one last time, hard and wet, making you flinch, your whole body trembling, right on the edge, so fucking close you could taste it.

but he didn’t let you—pulled back completely, leaving you panting, sobbing, a wrecked mess tied to the bed, as he loomed over you, his massive dick hard and dripping, his eyes dark with that perverted hunger, chest heaving from his own restraint. he untied the sashes, letting your arms flop uselessly, then grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your back with a cocky smirk.

he didn’t waste a second—hands clamped on your hips, yanking you down the bed until your ass hit his thighs, your legs splayed wide over his. the silk bunched under your back, damp and warm, sticking to your skin as he knelt between your legs, his cock hovering over your cunt, thick and heavy, the head glistening with pre-cum and your slick.

your chest heaved, tears still streaming, your glare burning through the haze as you rasped, “you’re a fucking monster,” voice raw and broken from sobbing.

“and you’re my filthy little demon,” he shot back, crude and dark, grabbing his dick and slapping it against your clit one last time—smack—the wet sound loud and obscene, making you flinch, a sob tearing out as the choker flared. “gonna breed that evil right out of you, princess—fill you up till you’re clean.”

he lined up, the head nudging your entrance, and thrust in—hard, deep, no mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal snap of his hips. your scream was instant, guttural, your body arching off the bed as he stretched you wide, his cock slamming past your limits, hitting your cervix with a dull, aching thud.

thee tears fell faster, your glare dissolving into a desperate, teary mess as the heat exploded, the orgasm crashing through you immediately—weeks, hours, who fucking knew—of pent-up need unraveling in a single thrust. your cunt clenched around him, tight and pulsing, slick gushing out, soaking his thighs as your legs shook, toes curling, a raw, “fuck—fuck—” spilling from your lips.

“there it is,” he groaned, voice rough and filthy, his hands digging into your hips, holding you still as you spasmed around him, your first release ripping through you like a storm. “cumming already, huh? such a needy little slut—couldn’t even wait for me to move.”

he didn’t stop—didn’t even pause—just started fucking you through it, slow at first, dragging his cock out inch by inch, letting you feel the stretch, the way your walls fluttered, then slamming back in, hard and deep, hitting that aching spot again.

the sensation was overwhelming—his cock filled you completely, thick and unyielding, the head grinding against your cervix with every thrust, a dull, bruising ache mixing with the sharp, electric pleasure still buzzing from your orgasm.

your thighs trembled, spread wide over his, the muscles twitching as he kept your legs pinned, knees bent slightly, feet dangling uselessly in the air. the silk rubbed your back raw, your spine arching every time he drove in, your breasts bouncing with the force, nipples hard and sensitive against the cool air.

“look at you,” he growled, crude and sadistic, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp, tears streaming as he twisted it in his fist. “crying like a bitch while i fuck you clean—holy knight’s dick too much for your demon filth, huh?” he thrust harder, faster, the wet slap of his hips against your ass loud and relentless, your slick dripping down onto the silk, pooling beneath you.

your second orgasm hit fast, spurred by his tail yank and the brutal pace—your cunt spasmed again, tighter this time, a hot rush of slick coating him as you screamed, voice breaking, “fuck you—fuck—” the tears wouldn’t stop, your glare flickering, softening into something dazed as your body shook, the pleasure too much, too soon. your clit throbbed, oversensitive from his slaps, and every thrust sent a jolt through it, sharp and searing, making your toes curl harder, your breath hitching in short, desperate gasps.

“that’s two,” he purred, voice dark and gleeful, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow, groaning against your skin. “sobbing so pretty—keep it up, princess, i’m gonna flood that filthy womb.” he shifted, hands sliding under your thighs, lifting them slightly, bending your knees more, tilting your hips up so he could hit deeper—straighter—his cock grinding into your cervix with every thrust, the pressure building, aching, making you sob louder.

the position burned—your thighs stretched wide, muscles straining, your hips tilted at an angle that left you completely open, vulnerable, his weight pressing down as he fucked you into the bed. the silk caught every drop of slick, every tear that fell, your arms limp at your sides, claws digging into the bedding as he pounded you, the sensation splitting you apart—sharp pleasure, dull pain, all of it blending into a haze. your third orgasm crept up slow, coiling tight as he kept that brutal rhythm, his cock dragging along your walls, the head smashing your cervix, your clit rubbing against his pelvis with every thrust.

“holy fuck,” he grunted, crude and breathless, his own restraint fraying as he watched you unravel, your tears glistening in the candlelight, your face flushed and wrecked. “look at that—crying and cumming, such a perfect breeding bitch.”

he yanked your tail again, harder, and you screamed, the sound raw and broken as your third hit, your cunt pulsing around him, slick flooding out, soaking his cock, his thighs, the bed—a wet, messy gush that made him groan louder, his thrusts faltering for a second before he picked up again, relentless.

your body shook, legs trembling, the sensation electric—your clit throbbed against him, your walls clenched tight, the pressure on your cervix a deep, aching pulse that made your sobs turn to whimpers, your glare fading into a glassy, teary stare.

“can’t—fuck—can’t take it,” you gasped, voice slurring, your hands clawing at the silk, tail twitching in his grip as he kept fucking you through it, drawing it out, the wet squelch of your cunt loud and obscene.

“you’ll take it,” he growled, crude and dark, shifting again—hands sliding under your ass, lifting you higher, your hips off the bed now, your lower back arching as he folded you more, knees pushed toward your chest. “gonna fuck you till you’re pure—till you’re dripping with me, slut.” the new angle was brutal—his cock hit even deeper, straighter, every thrust slamming your cervix, the pressure sharp and relentless, your clit grinding harder against him, sending jolts through your whole body.

your fourth orgasm crashed in fast, spurred by the angle, the tail yank, the crude filth spilling from his mouth—your cunt spasmed hard, a hot, wet rush soaking him again, your scream turning to a high, broken whine as your eyes fluttered, tears streaming, your face going slack—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and dazed, a wrecked, mindless mess. your body shook uncontrollably, legs kicking weakly, the sensation overwhelming—his cock filling you, stretching you, the ache in your cervix blending with the sharp, pulsing pleasure in your clit, your whole core a throbbing, soaking wreck.

“fuck, yes,” he groaned, voice rough and filthy, leaning down to lick more tears off your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep, grinding into you as you trembled. “look at you—crying and squirting, such a dirty little demon. holy knight’s breaking you good, huh?”

he didn’t stop—kept fucking you slow now, letting you feel every inch, every pulse, drawing out the aftershocks as your body twitched, your sobs turning to soft, teary whimpers, your glare completely gone, replaced by that glassy, fucked-out stare.

he shifted again, hands sliding up to grip your thighs, pushing them back further, folding you in half—knees nearly at your shoulders, ass lifted high, cunt angled straight up for him. the position was obscene—your legs spread wide, pinned, your slick dripping down your ass, pooling on the silk, his cock poised above you, massive and dripping, ready to plunge back in.

your breath hitched, a weak, “no, please—fuck—no more,” slipping out, but he just grinned, crude and sadistic, slapping his cock against your clit again—smack, smack—making you flinch, a sob tearing out as your oversensitive body jolted.

“oh, we’re not done,” he purred, voice dark and filthy, lining up again, the head nudging your entrance. “gonna breed you till you’re leaking, princess—till that demon filth’s gone and you’re mine.” he thrust in slow this time, dragging it out, letting you feel the stretch, the way your walls fluttered, still pulsing from the last orgasm, and your fifth hit almost instantly—a sharp, searing wave, your cunt clenching hard, another gush of slick soaking him as you screamed, voice breaking into a wrecked, teary mess.

your body felt like a live wire—every thrust sent jolts through you, your clit rubbing against him, your cervix aching, the sensation splitting you apart—sharp and hot, wet and messy, your tears falling faster, your face slack and wild, mouth open, eyes rolling back slightly as you shook, completely lost.

satoru kept going, relentless, fucking you through it, his groans mixing with your sobs, the wet slap of his hips against your ass a constant, filthy rhythm, your slick flooding out, soaking everything.

his hands tightened their grip on your thighs, holding you folded—knees near your shoulders, ass lifted high, cunt angled up like an offering. your voice was gone, a hoarse, “no more,” barely audible, but he just grinned, crude and dark, pulling out and slapping his dick against your clit one last time, making you flinch, a teary whimper slipping out as he lined up again, ready to finish what he started.

“gonna fill you up now,” he growled, voice rough and filthy, his hands tightening on your thighs, keeping you bent in half—your knees pressed close to your shoulders, your ass hanging off the edge of the bed, hips tilted so high your lower back arched sharp, the silk bunching beneath you.

your legs dangled, feet brushing the air, useless and trembling, your cunt spread wide, slick and pulsing from the last round, every nerve raw and screaming. he thrust in slow, dragging it out, letting you feel the stretch—his cock thick and unyielding, sliding past your walls, the head nudging your cervix with a dull, aching thud that made you sob, tears falling faster as your glare flickered, fading into a glassy, teary haze.

“fuck—yes,” he groaned, crude and dark, his hips snapping forward, burying himself deep, the pressure sharp and relentless, your cunt clenching around him instantly.

your sixth orgasm hit hard—immediate, a hot, pulsing wave, your walls fluttering tight, slick coating him as you screamed, voice breaking into a wrecked, “fuck—fuck—” your body shook, thighs trembling against his grip, the sensation splitting you apart—his cock grinding your cervix, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, a searing jolt that made your toes curl, your breath hitching in short, desperate gasps.

“that’s it,” he purred, sadistic glee dripping from every word, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, lifting you higher, keeping you folded tight as he fucked you through it, slow and brutal, letting the aftershocks ripple. “cumming again, huh? you really are such a filthy slut for a princess—can’t stop, can you?”

he didn’t let up—kept thrusting, deep and steady, the wet slap of his hips against your ass loud and obscene, your slick dripping down, soaking the silk beneath you. the position burned—your thighs pressed tight to your chest, your knees bent sharp, pinning your lungs, making every breath shallow and ragged, your spine curved so hard it ached, your ass lifted off the bed, held up by his hands like a prize.

his cock filled you completely, stretching you past your limits, the head smashing your cervix with every thrust, a deep, bruising ache that mixed with the sharp, pulsing pleasure still buzzing from your clit. your tears wouldn’t stop, streaming down your face, pooling in the hollow of your neck as you sobbed, your glare gone, replaced by a dazed, teary stare.

“look at you,” satoru grunted, crude and breathless, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you whimper, tears spilling as he twisted it in his fist. “crying like a fucked-out whore—holy knight’s cleansing you good, huh? fucking that demon filth right out.”

he thrust harder, faster, the rhythm brutal, your cunt clenching again, your seventh orgasm building fast, spurred by the tail yank and the relentless pressure.

it hit like a punch—your walls spasmed tight, a hot rush of slick coating him, a messy flood that soaked his thighs, your scream turning to a high, broken whine as your eyes fluttered, tears streaming, your face going slack—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and wild, a wrecked, mindless mess. your body shook uncontrollably, legs kicking weakly against his grip, the sensation overwhelming—his cock spearing you, the ache in your cervix blending with the sharp, electric heat in your clit, your whole core a throbbing, dripping wreck.

“seven,” he growled, voice dark and filthy, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue slow and hot, groaning against your skin as he kept fucking you, drawing it out. “sobbing so pretty—gonna breed you till you realize that you’re mine, princess.”

he shifted, hands sliding under your thighs, pushing them back further, your knees brushing your ears now, your ass lifted higher, your hips tilted so steep your cunt was practically vertical, his cock plunging straight down, hitting deeper, harder, the pressure on your cervix a constant, aching pulse.

the new angle was brutal—your legs folded tight, thighs pressed to your chest, your feet dangling near your head, toes brushing your own hair, your spine curved so sharp it hurt, your ass hanging in his grip, completely exposed. every thrust drove him straight into your core, his cock grinding your cervix with a force that made your sobs louder, your tears falling in a steady stream, your breath shallow and ragged, lungs burning from the squeeze. your clit rubbed hard against him, every snap of his hips sending a jolt through it, sharp and searing, making your whole body twitch.

“holy fuck,” he groaned, crude and sadistic, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, grinding deep as your eighth orgasm crept up, coiling tight in your gut. “look at that—crying and cumming, such a perfect little cocksleeve. gonna fill that filthy womb—make it pure.”

he yanked your tail again, sharp and punishing, and you screamed, the sound raw and broken as your eighth hit, your cunt pulsing around him, a hot, wet rush soaking him, your body shaking, your face slack and wild—mouth gaping, eyes rolling back slightly, tongue slipping out, a teary, fucked-out wreck.

he didn’t stop—shifted again, hands sliding to your hips, flipping you onto your stomach in one rough move, the silk soft under your chest as he yanked your ass up, knees sinking into the bed, your thighs spread wide, your face pressed into the damp bedding.

your arms stayed limp, too weak to move, claws digging into the silk as he thrust back in, deep and brutal, his cock slamming your cervix from behind, the angle sharper, straighter, the pressure a constant, aching thud. your ninth orgasm hit fast, spurred by the shift—your walls clenched tight, slick dripping out, not a squirt but a steady leak that soaked the bed, your scream muffled into the silk, tears pooling beneath your face as you shook, completely lost.

“nine,” he purred, voice rough and filthy, one hand gripping your hip, the other yanking your tail up, using it like a leash to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “crying into the bed—you’re so pretty and pathetic, taking my holy cock like this.”

he fucked you harder, the wet squelch of your cunt loud and obscene, your clit rubbing against the silk with every slam, sending jolts through you, sharp and hot, your tenth building fast, your mind fraying at the edges.

he shifted again, climbing over you, his chest pressing your back into the bed, his knees bracketing your thighs, pinning you flat, your ass tilted up just enough for him to keep thrusting—deep, slow, grinding now, his cock buried so far it felt like it was in your stomach, the head smashing your cervix with every roll of his hips.

your legs were trapped under him, bent slightly at the knees, feet brushing his calves, your arms pinned by your sides, claws scraping the silk as he fucked you down into the mattress, his weight heavy and unyielding, your breath shallow and desperate.

“fuck—yes,” he groaned, crude and dark, his breath hot against your neck as he licked another tear off your skin, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, grinding deep. your tenth orgasm crashed through—a sharp, searing wave, your cunt pulsing tight, slick flooding out, soaking his cock, your scream a broken, teary whimper as your face went slack—mouth wide, tongue lolling, eyes rolling back, a wild, wrecked mess.

your body shook, pinned under him, the sensation overwhelming—his cock filling you, the ache in your cervix a constant pulse, your clit grinding into the silk, your whole core a throbbing, dripping ruin.

“ten,” he grunted, voice filthy and triumphant, his hands sliding under you, cupping your stomach as he thrust deeper, grinding into you. “gonna cum now—fill you up, princess. breed that demon filth out of you.” he didn’t rush—kept it slow, deliberate, letting you feel every pulse, every twitch, his cock throbbing inside you as he groaned, low and filthy, his breath ragged against your neck. then he came—hot, thick, spilling into you in heavy pulses, flooding your cunt, the sensation sharp and hot, your walls clenching around him as he ground it in, creaming you deep, the excess dripping out, pooling on the silk.

“fuck—take it,” he growled, crude and sadistic, shifting again—hands grabbing your thighs, flipping you back onto your back, lifting your legs high, pressing your knees to your chest, your ass off the bed, your hips tilted up in his grip, his cock still buried deep, cum leaking out around him as he thrust back in, slow and brutal, pushing his seed deeper.

your eleventh orgasm hit instantly—a hot, pulsing wave, your cunt spasming, a sharp squirt soaking his stomach, your scream a wrecked, teary mess as your face stayed slack, eyes wild and unfocused, tongue lolling, a mindless, fucked-out shell.

“good girl,” he purred, voice dark and filthy, fucking you through it, his cock grinding his cum into your womb, the position tight and brutal—your thighs pressed to your chest, knees bent sharp, feet dangling near your shoulders, your spine curved, your ass lifted, his weight pinning you as he bred you, relentless, your tears falling, your sobs soft and broken, your mind gone, shattered under the onslaught.

he stayed buried inside you, cock softening but still thick, plugging his cum deep as he caught his breath, chest heaving against yours. your thighs trembled in his grip, muscles twitching, your knees still shoved up near your ears, feet dangling uselessly, toes brushing your own hair from how tight he’d folded you.

the silk were a soaked mess beneath you—slick, cum, tears, all mixing into a damp, sticky ruin that clung to your back, your ass, your thighs, the sensation warm and gross, a constant reminder of how he’d wrecked you. your arms lay limp at your sides, claws flexing weakly, scraping the bedding, your breath shallow and ragged, lungs burning from the squeeze of his last position.

“fuck,” he muttered, crude and low, his voice rough with exertion as he pulled back slightly, his cock slipping out slow, a thick, wet squelch echoing as more cum leaked from you, dripping down your ass, pooling on the silk.

he groaned at the sight, one hand sliding under your stomach, pressing down to feel the bulge where he’d filled you, his thumb rubbing slow, possessive circles over your womb. “look at that—stuffed you good, huh? cleansed that demon filth with my holy seed.”

your eyes fluttered, tears still streaming, hot and bitter, pooling in the hollow of your neck as you lay there, wrecked and shaking, your face a slack, wild mess—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and dazed, unfocused, staring at the ceiling. the choker pulsed faint, a dull glow that matched your slowing heartbeat, your cunt throbbing, oversensitive, every nerve fried from the marathon.

your tail twitched, brushing his knee, a weak, involuntary flick, and he grabbed it fast, yanking it just enough to make you whimper, a soft, teary sound that made him grin, crude and dark.

“so pretty like this,” he purred, sadistic glee dripping from every word, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow, tracing the salty streak up to your eye. “all fucked out, crying, full of me—lovely wife, huh?”

his hand slid up, cupping your face, thumb brushing your trembling lips, smearing spit and tears as he tilted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. those blue eyes gleamed, perverse and triumphant, drinking in your wreckage like it was a fucking masterpiece.

you couldn’t speak—voice gone, throat raw from screaming, sobbing, begging through the hours he’d ruined you. your chest heaved, breaths short and shaky, your body too heavy to move, every muscle spent, your cunt aching, stuffed full of his cum, a dull, pulsing heat that made you twitch.

“mine,” he murmured, crude and low, licking another tear off your skin, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped the bruise he’d left earlier, making you flinch, a soft, broken whimper slipping out. “mine. mine.” his fingers dug into your hips, possessive, his cock brushing your thigh, half-hard again, smearing cum and slick as he pressed it against you, teasing, not thrusting in yet, just letting you feel it. “gonna keep you like this—bred, broken, all mine.”

he leaned back, kneeling there, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his scarred skin, his white hair damp and messy, sticking to his forehead as he watched you—watched the cum leak from your cunt, watched your tears glisten in the candlelight, watched your body tremble under his hands.

“holy fuck,” he muttered, crude and reverent, his voice rough with lust and exhaustion. “look at you—wrecked, dripping, crying like a little bitch. my pretty filthy bride, huh?”

he shifted, sliding down beside you, one arm draping over your stomach, pulling you against his chest, his cock pressing against your ass, still half-hard, smearing more mess as he settled in. your legs stayed splayed, thighs quaking, your breath hitching as he nuzzled your neck, licking the sweat and tears off your skin, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple, making you twitch, a soft, teary sob slipping out.

“so good,” he murmured, voice softening but still crude, his breath hot against your ear. “took it all—every drop, every thrust, every fucking tear. you’ll love me. they all do. eventually,”

his hand stroked your stomach, pressing down where he’d filled you, like he was claiming it all over again. your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling you under, your body too wrecked to move, too broken to fight, the tears slowing, your breath evening out as you drifted, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

but then—fuck—it sparked. not life. not hope. just pride. that brittle, burning ember he hadn’t managed to fuck out of you. not yet. not ever.

your eyes cracked open, glassy and bruised, but gleaming with that same imperious spite, the same loathing that had never once faltered—not through the screams, the begging, the breaking. your voice was a rasp, torn from somewhere buried deep, meant not to fight him off but to wound him where it mattered.

“as if i’d ever love a holy mutt who only fucks like he’s trying to prove something.” your lip curled, defiant even as your voice trembled. “must be hard, knowing the only crown you’ll ever have is between my legs.”

the words clawed out, weak but venomous, your tail twitching against his grip, smacking his thigh with what little strength you had left, a final, defiant snap.

he froze—breath catching, his hand stalling on your stomach, his cock twitching hard against your thigh—and for a heartbeat, the room went dead, the candles flickering low, wax dripping silent onto the stone. then his face split into a grin—wide, cruel, unhinged, his eyes flashing with sadistic, perverted delight, his love twisting into something vicious as he moved—fast, brutal, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so hard your knees sank deep into the silk, your ass lifted high, your face shoved into the soaked bedding, his seed and slick smearing your cheek, the scent choking you.

“oh, my filthy bride,” he snarled, voice sharp and scolding, dripping with cruel glee as he fisted your hair, pulling until your scalp burned, his other hand grabbing your tail, twisting it so viciously you screamed, tears spilling fresh, your body jerking under his grip.

“thought you’d learned your place, huh? mouthing off like a brainless brat—guess my cock didn’t fuck enough sense into you.” he scolded you like a child caught stealing, his cock—hard again, massive—slapping against your cunt, smack, smack, smack, each hit wet and stinging, making you flinch, your oversensitive clit throbbing, your sobs raw and loud.

“you don’t get it, do you?” he growled, leaning over you, his chest pinning your back, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he scolded, voice cruel and cutting. “you’re mine. my wife, my trophy, my fucking prize. you insult me? you spit that venom? i’ll carve it out of you, brat—fuck you till you’re choking on your own screams, till you’re begging me to keep you.”

he yanked your tail harder, twisting it like a rope, his hand cracking down on your ass—slap, slap, slap—each hit sharp and brutal, leaving welts, your body jolting, your tears soaking the silk, your glare flickering back, weak but defiant, burning through the haze.

“pathetic,” he sneered, crude and sadistic, his cock nudging your entrance, teasing, the head slipping in just enough to stretch you, then pulling out, leaving you empty, shaking, sobbing. “look at you—crying, leaking, talking big like you’re not supposed to be my breeding bitch. you think you’re tough, huh? i’ll fuck that attitude till you’re nothing but a whimpering mess, till you’re crawling for my mercy.”

he slapped his cock against your clit again—smack, smack—harder, the wet sound obscene, your body bucking, your screams muffled, your tears endless, the choker flaring bright as he leaned in, licking your cheek, groaning at the taste.

“i hate you,” you rasped again, weaker but sharper, venom dripping, your tail snapping against his grip, a frail but furious smack to his wrist, your claws tearing deeper into the silk, shredding the silk, defiance blazing through the tears, the pain, the wreckage. his laugh was cold, cruel, slicing the air as he shoved your face harder into the bedding, muffling your sobs, his hand cracking down on your ass again—slap, slap—welts blooming, your body trembling, his cock poised to ruin you again.

“go on, keep cursing me like that,” he growled, voice dark and filthy, scolding you like a king to a rebel, his sadistic glee a living thing as he lined up, the head nudging your cunt, teasing, promising pain. “i’ll make you pray to me by the time i’m done.”

[siriusly-dc]

Imagine being some random rich person at a Gala and seeing Bruce Wayne in a suit with his shirt probably unbuttoned to his naval

And Bruce is a chill guy so what’s the harm in looking down right

Free titties

And omg the titties

So you stare

And your staring

But you feel a weird chill

You look over Wayne’s shoulder and….

Oh.

My

God

All of Wayne’s freakazoid weirdo ass kids are staring into your soul

And omg why does the little one have a sword abort abort abORT ABORT ABOR-

Bonus:

*internal dialouge*

Damian: never look at my father with such disease in your eyes, your worthless soul does not deserve his beauty

Dick: fuck off fuck off fuck off get the fuck away from my mother father Bruce before I tear out your eyeballs and feed them to you, wait for them to shit out and the feed them to you again and then-

Jason: *pure mindless rage screaming*

Tim: if you know what’s fucking good for you, you’ll stop right there

Steph: *will never admit it but people objectifying Bruce makes her so uncomfortable in a way she will never look at because fuck self reflection* but so help her you leave that poor man alone he’s dealt with enough objectification for a life time

Cass: mama 🔪🔪🔪💣👊 I protect

Duke: I’ve known this man for a few months and he’s such a wet cat, I’m going to kill everyone in this room and then myself if you don’t take a FUCKING STEO BACK RIGHT NOW ISTG MOTHER FU-

Just the kids lowkey treating Bruce like a helpless 1920s damsel in distress in their minds makes me giggle

I the sense of the dynamic you get between slightly grown men and the mother who raised them in hard times in movies eg: I know you lived a hard life and can probably and have killed a man but I will treat you like delicate glass because I love you and you seem so fragile to me and because I’m grown and big and strong now and can protect you like how you protected me but no one protected you but I’m emotionally stunted and can only express this feeling via slightly aggressive affection and protection

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[lilianne-tarot]

⋆.˚PICK A CARD: "What Are They Really Feeling About You" ⋆.˚

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I. II. III.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

Hey there, loves! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page. I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and please show some love, Your support means everything to me! <3

P.S: I tried to write this reading as a message from your desired person, but it ended up becoming a message from your partner (if you are in a relationship) or a situationship if you are in one.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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My masterlist 🫶🏻

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⋆✮ Pile I

Cards Pulled: 3 of pentacles, the hermit, knight off swords, 4 of cups, page of pentacles, Uranus, and oracle cards

This reading is soo adorable sjsdhhobxckvc😭😍

Bestie... this person is down bad for you. And the more calm and collected you are, The more it drives them wild (and confused 😭).They just want to figure you out. To meet you where you are. And maybe, just maybe... be enough for you.

Okay SO... you have probably met them during a major shift in your life like something big had just changed, could also be unexpected change, or you were stepping outside of your comfort zone. It could be things related to career stuff, work placements, school, college, internships, basically somewhere tied to your goals or a professional life where you were pushing yourself.

They see you as “THAT” person!!!!. Like seriously, they think you’re the epitome of structure, elegance, and unshakable composure, to them, you are the standard. I’ seeing that most of yall are introverts. About them, I’m also seeing that they’re obsessed with how serious you look when you're concentrating LOLL. 

This person, Oh honey, they are also soooo ambitious and determined in general, but when it comes to YOU, They’re reckless in the best way possible. Like “I don’t care if I make a-fool of myself, I just want to be yours” reckless (SOMEONE GIVE ME TISSUEEE). They view you as this beam of perfection, someone who always strives for the best and thrives in systems and routines, prolly a virgo. Meanwhile, they’re probably a little chaotic inside like, “How does this angel even function so perfectly all the time?”😭😭

But in reality, behind that facade of perfection, you stress yourself too much, right? cuz they notice it too. They notice that when things don’t go your way, you might panic a lot. And they’re like, “Wow... even their breakdowns are elegant.” LMAO I’m not even kidding.

On the bright side, they see you as someone above them in experience or confidence or maturity. There’s a real student/mentor, or junior/senior vibe here, not literally. They lowkey look up to you. Maybe they’re younger in age, or maybe they just feel way more inexperienced compared to your level. Also, this feels very much like a professional connection. There’s a respect, a formality, kind of dynamic. So again, work or college, or while you were doing your thing. 

Emotionally though, OH BABY. They are in their feelings. Deeply. Like they feel this soulmate-level connection with you. They feel this spiritual bond with you, like you complete them. BUT They also think you’re super introverted (even if you’re not!), and it throws them off. They're over here trying to pour their whole heart out, like "take it, it's yours!" Meanwhile you’re just sitting there like 🧍 “hmm okay but what does this mean?”  “Why won’t they just say they love me the way I want to hear it?” vs “Why are they saying so much at once I need to process???”

You might not realize it, but they feel like you're not as expressive or emotionally certain as they are. They want to you to express yourself to them, whatever you feel, but they feel like you're still calculating the water temperature 

Despite all this They hold you in very high regard. They don’t even think they’re worthy of your love tbh. They’re like “I could never meet those standards ”  and that’s where the self-doubt kicks in. But, they’re still ready to risk it all for you. Like, consequences be damned! This person is on a mission to build a bond with you, even if the odds feel stacked against them.

They’re rushing. Reckless. Emotional. And terrified. They want you RIGHT NOW. And the idea that you might not love them back the same way is Devastating ot them. And because of that, they try to match your vibe, mature, calm, composed, but inside they're EXPLODING. They think you’re so perfect, so ideal, that they’re trying everything to charm you. Like everything. Subtle flirting, random compliments, charming little jokes, they’re throwing it all at the wall to see what sticks.

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˙⋆✮ Pile II

Cards Pulled: 5 of pentacles, the hermit, 8 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, Gemini and oracle cards

I can already feel the heaviness of this connection.😭

Your person are not as emotionally invested anymore or at least, not in the same way. NOW don’t get me wrong here, cuz this DOESN’T mean they are loosing feelings. They are just in a phase where they are thinking “I need to move on for my own growth”. They’re kinda checked out emotionally, sure. And if they’re still in this relationship, they’re questioning whether it’s truly right for them, atleast at the moment.

What I’m getting is that they feel like this thing might not be working,  like it’s just not aligning anymore. They’re looking at it like: “This isn’t helping me grow. This might even be holding me back.” And so... they’re walking away. Not out of hatred. Not even out of anger. But out of emotional self-preservation. For their own sake. And the worst part is, you can’t even blame them for this. 

Right now, they’re turning to themselves. Focusing on themselves. Working on themself. They're in full-on Hermit mode. They’re putting effort into rebuilding their life, mostly about their career or goals in life. BUT what I'm seeing about you all is that y'all are feeling hella suspicious right now. Like, “Are they cheating on me? Is there something I don’t know? Why do I feel like something’s off?” And tbh... I don’t blame y'all for thinking that.

Because i can hear spirits telling me, "be cautious my dear, because not everything is what it seems". Gemini also popped up, It’s a sign that gets associated with duality, sometimes masking intentions, and yes, even lying at times. So it’s no surprise that you are overthinking mind is going crazy. You feel like something sneaky is going on behind the scenes. And the fact that this person is emotionally withdrawing only amplifies those fears.

BUT here's the thing...From what I’m picking up, I don’t think it’s about cheating. I think it’s about distance. Like... your person still likes you (well only for some of you tho). Maybe even still LOVES you.So they can’t just cut that cord so easily. They’re still longing to look into your eyes, for hours. They’re obsessed in a very soft way. But they also feel like time is slipping through their fingers. They’re standing at a crossroads like: “Do I follow this pull toward my future and personal success? Or do I stay in this connection that means so much to me emotionally but feels like it's hampering my success?” They’re not trying to hurt anyone, they’re just trying to figure out why their heart is being so dramatic. BUT your person is also strong-willed AF. When they want something, they go for it. They’re determined and fearless to get it. But now they’re in uncharted territory, because they’ve never felt this deeply before. Like... ever.

They see you as the GOAT. The greatest person they’ve ever known. 💖 They know this kind of connection doesn’t come around twice. But the problem is, they also know that if they stay too long without healing or clarity, it might sabotage their own future. Their dreams. Their growth. Their purpose. So they’re stuck in this mental tug-of-war: “I love them. I don’t want to lose them.” vs. “But what about my goals, my future, my expansion?” I’m also seeing, changes, disruption, and soul-searching across distance, beliefs, or even higher learning paths. This person is questioning everything. And they might even be considering leaving physically, traveling, moving, or shifting away to find clarity. 

They don’t hate you, my dear. They’re not trying to break your heart. That would be the last thing they would imagine. The fact is, actually, They’re just... overwhelmed. They’re scared they’ll get so attached that they’ll lose themselves. So instead of staying and drowning, they’re pulling back to breathe and figure out who they are again.

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˙⋆✮ Pile III

Cards Pulled: wheel of fortune, 9 of cups, The devil, death, the star, pieces, venus, and oracle cards

SO MANY MAJOR ARCANA CARDS IN ONE?!?!?!? That too, such big ones���💀💀and the only minor arcana is also soo powerful and one of my favs. The order in which the cards were laid out is so dramatic and exciting!!!(*rubs hands aggressively*)

This pile is literally every synonym of love😭🥹 ( uhm...maybe obsession and some drama too) Before anything else i'll put it here, if you're unsure or wondering if this person likes you? THEY DO. THEY DO. THEY FCKN DO.

Words can’t even begin to express how intensely this person is feeling on the inside. Like... their emotions they are feeling because of you Are on another level. They feel this incredibly fated connection with you, one that’s deeply transformative, nurturing, and honestly, It feels like their biggest wish has come true. You’re that person for them. To the point where they literally can’t control themselves. There’s this obsessive, magnetic undercurrent to it all, and yes, sexual tension is very much in the room with us right now 🫠. They’re like, “Why do I feel this way? Why can’t I stop thinking about them??” But they can’t even find the words. The connection is hitting so hard, it’s beyond logic. It’s just feeling.

This is giving BIG Venus-in-Water-signs energy. Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces vibes all over. Either you or them (or both) probably have strong water energy in your chart, or you just feel like a water sign, super deep, intuitive, romantic, and soft but intense at the same time. They feel like you’re the one nurturing them. And this connection is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced before. It’s the kind of emotional attraction that feels so healing, but also terrifying. Like... “this is so good it has to be bad, right??”  (but they want it anyway). They literally can’t stop thinking about you. And being in this connection, being with you, is everything. Like, EVERYTHING. Their entire existence is starting to revolve around it.

The intensity of love, emotions and obsession they feel for you Unmatched. It’s honestly overwhelming for them. They feel out of control, and yet... they want to pour every ounce of their soul into this. Because this is something they manifested. Something they dreamed of. You are the person they feel they could never let go of.

Now, real talk, there’s a strong obsessive vibe here too. Some of y’all might not vibe with that energy, and that’s valid!! But this isn’t just a toxic obsession; this is that deep Pluto kind that leads to massive emotional transformation. But don’t be fooled, this person isn’t always this intense. They’re actually very, very sweet. Almost like honey.  And funny enough, that’s exactly how they see you.T o them, you’re like a piece of art they’re lucky to even look at. They admire you. Worship you.. And they just want to hold you forever, like literally never let go. They want to surrender to this connection fully. And they have already surrendered themselves to you already.

And here’s the best part is, even they can’t believe what they’re doing or feeling.

They're like, "Who even am I right now??" They’re in awe of your grace, your magnetism, your aura. You feel so “lethal” to them, but in the most beautiful way. Everything about this connection feels brand new to them. The emotions. The pull. The obsession. The beauty. It’s like tasting a flavor they didn’t know existed. It’s nurturing, healing, and intoxicating all at once. Sometimes, they genuinely feel like they're doing something wrong, like they shouldn’t be this into someone. And they try to pull away. But the feeling? That nurturing warmth you radiate? They can’t leave. They won’t let go. They feel like you are their karma, like everything they’ve done in life led them to you. They know this deep within that “What I seeded is what I now receive.” They truly believe you are the fruit of that karma. The divine reward for all their past efforts. You’re their gift from the universe. And losing you is not an option for them. Not even a thought. There’s this fierce need to protect you. Yes, there’s physical desire and all the fiery sexual tension, but underneath it all There’s this soft, delicate devotion. Like “wrap you in a blanket and make you soup forever” kind of love.

They see you as their emotional support. The missing piece in their soul.

There’s a part of them that’s always felt incomplete, a heart half-full kind of ache.

And you? You’re filling that cup. You’re not just healing them, you’re healing wounds they didn’t even know they had (and you never even caused them in the first place).

They describe you in their mind as honey. The sweetness. The softness. The warmth. The comfort. And they want to protect that at all costs. They don’t see themselves letting you go. They already see a future with you. And honestly? They might already be planning it. (Don’t be surprised if they’ve imagined you two picking out curtains together).

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog ,it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[thekinslayed]

Come and Play

pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x gf!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), dry humping (?), foot humping rly lol, gamer bf!aem, slight dom/sub dynamic, bratty reader

wordcount | 1.4k

note | WE'RE SOO BACK! big thank you to my love @silcoangel for this idea!! she said gray sweatpants gamer aemond and i got to work 🫡 not my best bc i'm a little very rusty but i'm soo happy to be putting this out for u guys. consider this my v day gift <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“They’re right behind the corner, Aeg— Yeah, I see ‘em.”

Your eyes are starting to burn the longer you stare at the bright purple lights that tint the room. Though the dizzy haze of cigarette smoke in the air might have something to do with it too. You’re cold, exposed legs prickling from the near frigid air Aemond always prefers, but something within you burned red hot. Pulsing and creeping its way, both to your head and somewhere down south. 

You huff. Bored and forsaken by your boyfriend for whatever combat game he’s been into. Brows furrowing and orbs starting to burn holes into the back of his gaming chair. His throne, if you will, and his controller his mighty sword. He’s starting to yell into his bulky gamer’s headset, some colorful words thrown to his brother on the other end. Aemond’s always been intense, especially when it comes to winning. 

His navy sheets, usually so pristine, turn mussed and crumpled up the longer you toss around in his bed. They smell like him, and so did his shirt you put on. He smells like pine, of the greenest earth in the deep forest, though tinged by tobacco and musk. It was utterly heavenly. So addicting, and so Aemond. You can’t stop pressing your nose into the fabric every so often to find him.

You miss him right now.

Your patience is dwindling, and on a better day, maybe you would have waited it out for longer. But you want him now. You swing your legs to stand, padding barefoot over to stand behind his chair. Cold fingertips trail along the line of his shoulder, reminding him of what he’s forgotten. He pays you no mind, the furious clicking of his controller unceasing and his hypnotized trance unyielding. Yet you persist, hands caressing his bare chest, nudging your nose into the crook of his neck.

“Aem,” you sigh, breathing in the scent of his skin. Always smells so good. “You said only an hour.”

“Hold on— Aegon, are you fucking blind or stupid? He was right behind you!” He’s loud against your ear, and you can hear his brother equally booming through his headphones. You sigh again, annoyance ticking deep in your chest with being ignored. Yet you were anything if not persistent. You like having your treat as soon as the inkling of a craving starts to tickle your tongue. If the incessant grumbling and quick tapping are anything to go by, their game isn’t going well. Maybe Aemond will get tired by the end, and you’ll have him all to yourself again. You know you will.

You warm your hands down the heated flesh of his abdomen, growing bolder with each caress. Your nails trace the line down his abs, and when your fingertips finally dip into the waistband of his sweats, Aemond starts to break out of his video game-addled trance. 

“Stop,” he hisses, grabbing your hand in a tight grip. His larger palm pulls you away, before returning to his controller like a magnet. It should offend, really, but it only sharpens your aim.  

You peek at the monitor, some first-person shooter game that makes you dizzy with the twists and turns, but then you spot the timer in the corner. Only a minute left, perfect. You decide to play nice, simply settling your hands over the ridged plane of his stomach, hugging the smooth leather of his chair as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Slowly, your fingertips start to trace the bumps of his muscled abdomen, drawing some small circles. You follow the path of his happy trail, feeling the fine hairs under your touch as you descend lower, and lower. And then he sighs, exhaling deep. He’s stopped talking now, but the cinch in his brow tells you he isn’t very pleased— with the game, or with you; it hardly matters. 

Time runs out, and the screen flashes red as they lose the game. “Fuck,” Aemond grumbles, throwing the controller onto his desk and running a hand down his face in exasperation. You preen at his weariness.

“Aw, too bad, babe,” you pout, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly before stepping into his eyesight with a giddy look. “Come to bed?”

He considers you for a moment, eyes draping down your form. Nipples poking through his old college shirt, bare legs prickled in the chilly temperature, thighs subtly starting to rub against each other. Aemond meets your gaze, and for a moment, you can see your victory in his icy blues. Then they shift.

“Yeah, I can go for one more,” he says to Aegon, smirking as he leans back into his chair. You catch his abdomen clench, the shape of his cock outlined by the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants, taunting. Like dangling a treat in a dog’s face. The quick clicking on his controller resumes, and your boyfriend’s focus is sucked back into his game once more. 

“Are you fucking serious?” you glower.

“Let me win this last one, yeah?” he grins. His palm, warm against your skin, softly pushes your thigh. “Can’t see, love, go back to bed.” 

You grow hot, brows furrowing in disbelief. Aegon must be saying something about you, with the way Aemond snickers and his eyes flicker back to you with a lopsided smirk. 

All a game to him. And just like Aemond, you never like to lose. 

You kneel before him, fitting perfectly in the space beneath his desk. His eyes flicker to you in confusion, before speaking into his headset again. Your hands run up the length of his thighs, tracing his dick with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch, and you smirk. You’re quick to grab the waistband of Aemond’s sweats, pulling out his half-hard length before he can protest. You can feel him sparing glances.

You gather spit, dribbling it onto his cockhead, warm and hefty in your hold. It lubricates your hand as you begin to stroke him up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to harden, growing in size once you begin to take his tip into your mouth, and Aemond grunts. You peek at him through your lashes, watching his nostrils flare as he tries to keep a grasp on his composure. 

Your work is quick, head bobbing along the length of him and hand stroking what your mouth can’t take. The other cups his stones, massaging and softly squeezing. You start to hear his breath. “Shit,” you hear him grumble under his breath. Trim hips start to subtly cant towards your face, his defense slowly crumbling with your tongue swirling on his mushroomed tip. The clicking slows, and you think you can hear Aegon yelling at him in his ear.

Soon enough, a loud thud above your head startles you, then another. His expensive gear is tossed with little care before he grips your hair. Aemond begins to thrust into you in earnest, fucking your mouth like his own little toy. “Fucking slut,” he hissed. “Is this what you wanted? Couldn’t even wait ‘til I finish the fucking game.”

His movements are harsher, assaulting the back of your throat. Aemond grips your hair tight, moving your head back and forth to his liking. The throbbing in your core grows unbearable, your panties warm and damp in need. He shifts in his seat, foot perfectly moving just right by the pulsing in between your thighs. You press your clothed cunt into his shoe, steadying yourself by gripping onto his calf for support. 

You hump his foot, moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. A dark chuckle leaves Aemond’s lips at the sight of you, looking down with a sneer. “I thought I fucked you enough, yet you still act like some pathetic, desperate whore,” he says, pressing his foot harder into your pussy. You whimper, gripping his leg tight as you grind your clit onto his foot. He gives you no reprieve, thrusts unrelenting until his hips start to falter. Soon enough, your boyfriend is pulling you off his cock and gripping your chin tight. He furiously strokes his cock, and his foot twists side to side to drive you into further stimulation. It manages to snag your clit just right, and you’re cumming, your mouth falling open as you soak your panties. Aemond follows soon after, gripping your cheeks to keep your mouth wide, and he’s spurting thick, hot seed onto your tongue with a curse falling from his lips. He watches you swallow all that he gives you, looking down from the tip of his nose. Spit smeared to your cheeks, eyes tear-stained and red. You’re perfect. 

“Did I win?” you whisper.

"No, I did," he counters.

"Made you cave in, didn't I?"

Your boyfriend smirks, before pulling you up by the elbow to sit on his lap. He sits you with your back to his chest, thick fingers sneaking past the hem of your panties and finding the mess between your thighs. 

“Why don’t we go best out of two?” 

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

What Kind of Relationship Will You Have with Your Future In-Laws? Pick-a-Card Reading

Because theoretically you're marrying the whole family.

Cards

Queen of Pentacles (Reversed)

3 of Swords

7 of Pentacles

Right off the bat I am getting that your future mother-in-law does not like you, like at all 😬. Luckily I don't see this influencing your future spoues's decision on whether or not to be with you but I do feel like this is something very important to you. You could be someone that has always wanted to have a super close relationship with your in-laws. Like you're just another kid in the family, I can see you being one of those people that wants to go to brunch with his mother and sisters or have shopping dates with his mother and aunt. I feel like they are a close family but that you just don't quite mesh with them (outside of your spouse). I don't see their siblings disliking you but I don't think they'll be going out of their way to deal with you. A scenario I see is them calling to talk with your future spouse and you walk into the room and your future spouse tells their sibling on the phone you just walked in. And instead of telling your future spouse they said hi to you, they end the call with something like "Okay, I'll let you go so you can talk to them." If you want any semblance of a relationship with his family you are going to have to work super hard and I still don't feel like it'll be enough. You may end up in a situation where it is going to just be you, your future spouse, and your children or pets. Like I said, I don't think their siblings will dislike you, they just won't necessarily see you as a part of the family, they will just see you as their siblings spouse.

Cards

9 of Pentacles (Reversed)

Six of Wands

The Lovers

I feel like the relationship with your in-laws will literally start from the first meeting you have with them. I can see this being a holiday dinner where your future husband takes you to meet his family. At first I think they'll just be nice but a little offstanding but they have met some girls in the past that they didn't care for or that just didn't fit their family dynamic. I feel like this is an incredibly close family, like when children are born into the family that child truly has a village full of love and support. As his family is talking to you and feeling you out they're going to start to realize they really like you! I feel like by the end of the dinner his parents are going to be pulling him aside and practically begging him to marry you. And you're future husband could be the type to want to take his time but his parents like you so much they'll basically be saying to him how much more time do you need, she's the one! So I actually feel like your in-laws will be a big part of the reason why your future husband realizes you're the one. I can also see them helping to prepare a big engagement!

I can also see his family cracking jokes like "I think we like her more than we like you." Or "Don't come back here unless you bring her with you."

Cards

The Hierophant

The Lovers (Reverse)

Knight of Pentacles (Reverse)

I feel like your relationship with your in-laws will be a cordial one, you aren't close but you don't dislike each other, the connection just exists because you married into the family. I don't think anyone in the family is particularly close though, they really only see each other for the holidays and special occasions and that's only out of obligation. I feel like this family is very into image and how others perceive them. But I don't see many pleasantries and heartfelt moments between you and anyone in his family. They seem kind of cold and uncaring.

Let me know what pile you chose and if it resonated!

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[eeveesanddragons]

Just thinking about Breanna outside the Joseph Chang's house in The Double Edged Sword Job

Thinking about her speech in The Card Game Job

How she's not even thirty yet and has grown up and literally watched the world set itself on fire. How she has found pockets of the world where she's found her people, carved herself into something with teeth because who else was going to?

How Eliot immediately has her back, keeps an eye on her, let's her talk things out when she needs to. This kid who grew up on stories of him and his family's jobs and how he immediately folds her into it.

How Parker worries about being a good mentor to her (and how Harry becomes another father figure at time to Parker herself), how easily she pulls Breanna into a big sister/little sister dynamic. How she sees parts of herself and everyone she loves in her.

How Sophie meets Breanna where she's at and treats her like an adult, but also with the same nudging guidance she did with Parker and Hardison.

How Harry must see his daughter in Breanna, and how the world they grew up in was made by men like him.

How Breanna grew up with criminals who take down the actual bad guys of the world for older siblings and can see the tsunami of terrible things and still tries to do what she can against it.

How Hardison's crusade is building a wall against that tidal wave, and Breanna sees her older brother trying to help the world, and she wants to be like him - in her own way. Hardison, who in the original series tried to leave things better than they were. Hardison, who is flying around plugging holes in the sinking ship that is the world because that's where his skills are most useful.

Hardison and Breanna, who want to tear the system down and make it better because it ruined so many people's lives, and they refuse not to believe that things could be better.

Just - Breanna.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, I hope this is an okay question to ask. I am s l o w l y exploring and learning what kinds of kinks I like. I’m drawn to taboo kinks and I’m really curious about ageplay, but I’m worried that if I open the door to letting that be hot, I’m going to start seeing actual kids as hot. Obviously that doesn’t mean I would do anything about it, but I’m still not sure I want that in my head. Is there any truth in this fear? Could that happen?

well much in the same way that the majority of pup players aren't trying to hump real labradors on the street, D&D players generally aren't running around pulling swords on random shopkeepers, and my years doing Warriors Cats rp online never made me want to live in the woods pissing in the dirt and eating mice, I suspect that what you're attracted to is the safety of fantasy and play rather than the actual, literal thing. pretty big line between those two things, actually, and most people are pretty clear on the difference between stuff that's made up and harmless and stuff that's really really bad. I use this example often, but I assure you that my abiding love of Batman using his billions of dollars to dick around doing lawless bullshit has not softened my feelings on Elon Musk in the slightest.

I assume that, like most well-adjusted adults, you aren't attracted to children. what you're into is, presumably, adults acting in ways that are characterized as immature, carefree, cutesy, helpless, bratty, etc, and the dynamic of those playacting adults might have with others who take the role of their caregivers. that is... so, so, so far removed from being attracted to an actual human child. I don't know if you've ever actually, like, hung out with kids, but they're pretty different than adults. I mean obviously they're little humans who have their own opinions and ideas and personalities and have a right to autonomy and making their own decisions as much as is safely possible, but they are REALLY different from age appropriate, sexually compatible adults. someone doing ageplay is, like, a million miles from an actual kid.

it's kind of like how when Riverdale was on I'd see gifs of that insane redheaded lesbian and go "yeah, she's hot." like, sure, the character's a teenager, but that actress is an adult woman who's only two years younger than me and we all know that. the idea of fucking an actual teenager is vile. even if I were to see someone and have an initial aesthetic appreciation, the second they open their mouth and start saying 17 year old things the attraction is gone because I've realized that's a child.

(no offense to the teens in the room! you're great and I'm sure your 17 year old stuff is really important to you! but adults should not want to fuck you, is the point.)

so what I'm saying is: seems unlikely!

also, okay. let's assume the absolute worst case scenario happens and you experience a twinge of sexual interest towards a child. that's understandably alarming; that's not an urge most people want to harbor within themselves. that may require some dialing back from ageplay, or a chat with a kink-friendly mental health professional, or seeking out some community and advice from others in your kink scene who may have struggled with something similar. but please, give yourself some credit: you have some shred of impulse control within your body, yes? you're not going to make the leap from having a thought to being an active child predator in one fell swoop. the choice to harm a child, or to seek out pornographic material of child sexual abuse, are still choices that you would have to actually make. and it's making those choices to do harm that actually make child abusers a danger, not just having thoughts. having a thought all by itself doesn't hurt anyone; it's the way you act on it that has the potential to cause harm.

but again, I want to emphasize, sexual behavior is by and large a pretty easy wire not to get crossed with other things. please note the brave billions of people who manage to get through every day without groping their colleagues and random strangers because they understand it's not the appropriate time, place, or partner!

[starsandink13]

Yandere Elf Prince x Elf-Hater

(this is inspired by my own hatred towards elves while listening to Wind Rose and thought this would be hilarious) ❤︎He's completely obsessed with you. Fully and wholeheartedly and unwaveringly. How could he not be? Everything about you is just so perfect and cute and precious in his eyes! Oh, how he wants to just pick you up and cuddle you to his chest while peppering your face in kisses between words of endearment. You're just far too adorable to not want to!

❤︎Too bad you hate those cock sucking tree thumping condescending useless sack of shit wingless fairies stupid knife ears and make it clear that you do not appreciate him in the slightest. Especially since he's the next in line. ❤︎He thinks your insults to be you just being that you're just shy about your affections. No matter how many times you call him a useless, tree hugging, flower fucking, prancing dagger ear deserving of being shoved off a cliff. ❤︎While you're seething (or actively insulting), he's humming a merry tune to himself while weaving you a flower crown and daydreaming about making more in the future for you. He finds the deep frown on your face and your arms crossed over your chest adorable, even more so with the garland of flowers atop your head. It makes you look like a cute little grumpy kitten trying to look like a lion!

❤︎He's always by your side; he can't let you wander off on your own for a moment. What if there's bandits or some monsters out there!? You're totally defenseless in his eyes, and he can't let a single scratch be inflicted on you! So of course, he's going with you to make sure no one tries to do you any harm.

❤︎As you try to leave once again, he gently grabs your your shoulder and asks where you're going before tutting you like a teacher catching his student defacing the wall. He ignores your screams and trying to dig your heels into the ground while he drags you back to his castle (or campfire, depending on where the two of you are) and tries to softly shush you with gentle words. ❤︎When the two of you get back there, he'll tenderly rub your cheek and inspect you for any injuries as he lightly lectures you on the dangers of running about by yourself; you should be thankful that he's there to keep watch over you, because who knows what would have happened if he wasn't. ❤︎He'll feel bad after that, and tries to make it up to you by being extra doting and touchy-feely-- even when you strike him in the jaw and tell him to go back to fucking flowers and prancing around in the woods. ❤︎To that, he'll just rub where you punched him and laugh lightly before kissing you on the top of your head. Only to get punched-- again, to no one's shock but his own. ❤︎No matter how clearly and often express your complete disdain for his kind, he never wavers in his devotion and doting. Even when you try to set the castle's throne room on fire! He just thinks you're just being silly and wanting of his attention. In which case, why he'll smother you even more in it. :D ❤︎Not only that, but he's totally a apologist for you-- no matter what you do. No matter how many times you chase around another hapless elf with a sword or axe, screaming for the total eradication of all dagger ears. Or when you made a mockery of their spring festival by refusing to take part in any of the activities and instead try to sabotage them-- such as you set fire to their flower sculptures. Or conspire to kill his father by trying to shove him off the tower. Why, they probably did something to set you off! It's their fault for upsetting you! Stop being mean to his little flower princess, you bullies. :( ❤︎Your dynamic really is akin to a big, stupid dog trying to win the affections of an especially grumpy cat. Complete with all of the hissing and swatting while he wags his metaphorical tail and stupid grin as he looks at you with nothing but total love. ❤︎A big, stupid dog that will happily maul anyone that tries to take you away from his precious little kitty cat. <3

[thatnonameuser]

After reading about the kidnapping scenarios with darlings and Kalim’s family dynamics a little, brought to mind the what-ifs of a huge component of a relationship: discussion of children.

The single plus side of being Leona’s darling in a female MC setting is his disinterest in children. As a second Prince and not in line for the throne, there’s no external pressure on him to have kids and he has the vibes of a guy who’d get jealous of his own kid for taking his darling’s attention. Unless of course he could see a kid as an extension of love/shackle his darling even closer to him, no way you’d be cruel enough to abandon their own child and thus would struggle to escape…

Besides Leona, Cater, Jamil and Idia probably would be child free too, or have an oops baby. Cater enjoys the traveling lifestyle, refusing to have any kid of his have to pick up and leave constantly and have an unstable childhood like he did. The latter two don’t want to burden their child with their own inherited problems, especially if it would be Your child too. It’s bad enough they’ve brought you into their issues (even though they refuse to let you leave), they don’t want that innocent to be roped in too. But likely having a secret fantasy all the same of a babe with any combination of your features and theirs. Unless there’s a slip up and/or giving into pressure, in which case there so much guilt they feel and turn to you for comfort and assurances.

Everybody else would want at least one.

Kalim? Oh absolutely! He’s always doted on and loved his siblings, he’d be thrilled to have a whole gaggle of kids with you! He doesn’t see why you’d be nervous, full of assurances of how you’re so kind and warm, you’d be a wonderful mother. Whether or not he’d employ the same methods of his dad to protect you and your kids remains unseen…

Probably not until a few years down the road with Vil because he wants to devote himself equally to you and his career, which can only happen once he’s more successful and can balance a work/life balance. His dad made him happy and loved despite his workload, so he’d want to ensure that with you and your child too. At least there would be some breathing room for you, a chance of protection disguised as family planning until he brings up how your child would be the fairest of all for certain. Very wary about letting the public know about any pregnancy or children, he’s well aware how “passionate” a fan base can be, nor does he want any rivals to target you or the little one.

Malleus was planning baby name lists for the future hatchings the two of you will have since the moment you met, no chance he’ll settle for just one after the wedding (whether a honeymoon baby or one to rush the nuptials). Dragons only hatch when surrounded by love, so it’s the truest testament of the relationship you share. He’ll be so happy when the first egg hatches, he’ll forgo the “Mal” tradition if you requested something else.

Expect a big family on the apple farm with Epel, plain and simple.

Fairytale knight that he is, Silver probably fantasizes of the family cottage in Briar Valley, a quiet life with you and two-point five kids enjoying a happily ever after. He has such fond memories of the youth he spent with Lilia here, he’ll measure the children’s height in the same spot his father did, and chop wood with his sword when it doesn’t see traditional use. And Lilia of course has a key and open invitation to come in to dote upon the little ones, a beloved grandfather and feared in law for you, his probing eyes always checking the little hideaways you could be squirreling tools of escape in.

Alright, let’s talk about babies. Obviously, this is after NRC when they’ve taken you for themselves and moved on to have a future with you. 

Keep in mind that I write a female MC, so pregnancy will be discussed.

So what happens when you’ve been claimed. You’re all theirs, and they’ll be doing their best to keep you with them forever and ever, even beyond death. But that life won’t be just you and them. What about a family?

What about kids? And building a family to join you in your ‘happy’ life?

Doesn't want kids/ Accident baby

Despite their undying love for you, they have no desire to have a child with you. Yes, it would be very satisfying to see a mixture of you and them running around but they don't want kids. Plain and simple.

Cater Diamond

Cater’s childhood of constant movement and plus his family forcing him to do things he didn't like are his primary reasons for not wanting them. And while it would be so Magicam-able to post pictures of a tiny him and you, he's not going to put a kid through what he did.  Besides, the single life allows him to travel the world with you. Which might be better for you being allowed to see the world even in your captivity/relationship. 

(Cater might want to freeze your eggs just in case he changes his mind, if he ever gets the baby-buzz later on. But if he doesn't, you'll be free to be child-free, and nothing else.)

If You Get Pregnant - Cater probably will try his best to be a good dad to his kid, trying to be the fun parent that lets his kid pick their own future. But, when it comes to you, he’ll be the kind of partner to document every second of your pregnancy. Wanting to hold onto it forever and ever, to reminisce on the good ole days.

Leona Kingscholar 

Leona’s jealous of things he's predetermined to not have. If you have a kid, then that kid is going to take a lot of your love. And if you had a kid and loved them more than you loved him, then you would have to constantly be watching your child to protect their life. (Fun fact: Lions are very territorial and will kill cubs if they feel their presence threatens the pride)

So for the sake of not cleaning up the mess of an infanticide, he's not having kids. He'll take and make you take potions to make you both infertile if he has to because he's not having any troublesome ankle biters to take your attention away. 

If you come to him desiring a baby he might, and just might consider it. While he despises children, he'll make you an offer that you can't refuse if you want to have his children. 

If You Get Pregnant - Not happy. And he's not gonna be for your entire pregnancy. The parasite’s already stealing your attention from the moment you're aware of it. Now he loses his time using you as a pillow, because you have to get up at night and now you can’t do anything but focus on it ‘because of the baby’. He doesn't want another, and he can barely tolerate this one. Might reconsider if you wanted the baby because then he can use it as a ball and chain. And he might have more with you if the kid gets too old for him to hold against you.

Jamil Viper

As another person who was forced to accept a predetermined life of second best, Jamil also doesn't want kids. But for a different reason. The very last thing he wants is for a child to go through the life he had. Being forced to hide in the shadows so that someone luckier could shine….. He won't allow a child to live through that injustice, let alone a child you bore out both his and your flesh and blood. 

He might want them if and only if he's no longer shackled to the Asim family. Then he'd want one or two, but if he's still stuck with them he's not reproducing.

If You Get Pregnant - He'll be upset about the fact that he’ll be making your child live a life like his, but he'll still love them. He might end up changing his mind on kids, and have another one if the circumstances are right. As for you, he won’t let you lift a finger while pregnant. No matter how tired he is, he’ll take care of you and wait on you hand and foot to make sure the birth of his and your child is a pleasant experience. 

Idia Shroud

Another person with a predetermined future, who doesn't want his future children to suffer like he did. Plus, his trauma makes him scared of having kids. What if he causes another accident like what happened to Ortho? What if your child is dragged to the underworld to be with all the phantoms and dead souls?  He can’t even live with himself after what happened to Ortho, what if it's his, more specifically your, child next?! 

Because of that, you'll be an empty nester for life. He's just looking out for whatever kids you have anyway. He could probably kill them or something by accident.

If You Get Pregnant- He’ll faint. Dead faint. But he'll love the child to pieces. Uncle Ortho will too! But STYX will be getting a new security detailing to prevent a tech savvy kid from going the way Ortho did. But the sight of you pregnant has his hair burning pink. You might as well be the goddess of motherhood and because you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to him.

Wants kids, but a reasonable amount (1-4 max)

For various reasons (all centered around their love for you), they want to build a family with you. They would love to hear little footfalls around the house and be greeted by a smiling face that looks to be a perfect mix of the two of you. Whether it’s one child or more, they want to build a family with you. But, not too many. They wouldn’t want to stress your body out, whether it's during pregnancy or in parenting.

Ace Trappola

As a normal family haver, Ace doesn’t see the downside of starting a family with you. In fact the very idea of it makes him smug. As the first person you met, the one that holds you forever, to watch you carry his child is something that makes him incredibly arrogant. And because of that, he wants to witness it over and over again.

When You Get Pregnant - He’s the kind of partner that shows off his pregnant wife with gusto. He’s so possessive over you that the sight of you full with his child is just the epitome of satisfying. 

How many kids - About 3, average middle-class family number. Maybe two boys and a girl as pretty as you. He’ll be satisfied with any, but that’s just his preference. 

Deuce Spade

A little worried about passing his old delinquent ways onto his child. So he’ll do his best to prove to himself that he’ll be a good father before trying to build a family with you. With you being the potential mother to his child, he’ll ensure that you know, after him kidnapping you, claiming you against your will; that your child/ren is safe with him. 

When You Get Pregnant - You’re like glass to him, so precious yet so fragile. As soon as he learns that you’re pregnant, you’re not carrying anything that weighs more than a cushion. No cooking, he’ll do it. No cleaning, he’ll do it. He’ll be a stellar husband to make sure you’re in comfort. 

How many kids - 2 maybe. I imagine his first child will be a girl named after his mother. 

Riddle Rosehearts

Ever the traditionalist, Riddle believes that building a family is an important step in your life together. After he manages to deal with the issues of his childhood, he'll do his best not to repeat it to your children. So you won’t have to fear them ending up like him. Plus, kids are another way he can control you. Just like his mother did with his father, it’s one of the few lessons he’ll copy. He’ll follow every factual and proven book for conception to the letter up until you’re pregnant. 

When You Get Pregnant - Has his nose buried in a parenting book the moment the pregnancy test says positive. He’s more strict than he’s ever been. You’re precious to him. Your baby is precious to him. He needs to ensure that your pregnancy is the smoothest one to ever be recorded. So, you’ll be on a diet plan, exercise regime, constant weekly doctor visits. Don’t worry, you’ll be allowed plenty of good food and relaxation, he’s not a monster like his mother. 

How many kids - 2 or 3. They’ll be the kind of children the neighborhood parents compare their kids to. 

Ruggie Bucchi

Before Ruggie even considers having a kid, he’ll try to work on his financial situation enough to house a pregnant you and a baby comfortably. After that, he’s ready to go and create a child with you. It’s the ultimate mark of possession to him, watching you mother his cub. 

When You Get Pregnant - He’ll be working hard constantly, both at home and outside of it to care for you, and between caring for you, he’ll be smothering you with love. Don’t think you’ll be able to run away when he’s busy. Besides, it is very dangerous to run so far in a hot savannah while pregnant.

How many kids - Just one. I think it’ll be a girl named Dandelion. Hyenas have a reputation for having nasty births. Sure, your human body allows pregnancies to be much easier, but having a lot of mouths to feed is costly. Plus, he doesn’t want to have any starving cubs. Might have a second if the finances check out. 

Azul Ashengrotto

You’re contract bound to carry his child. Plain and simple. As a possessive yandere, watching you do this, regardless of your contract and the ring on your finger, is the biggest proof of you being bound to him. 

When You Get Pregnant - Arrogant. Cocky. Insecure, but the baby’s helping him heal. The fact his child is growing in your womb is helping his childhood insecurities recover. After all, you're his, and no one else's. So he’s very touchy. You won’t worry for anything, his business practices will make sure you want for nothing. 

How many kids - 1 or 2 (Why is the first thing that comes up for baby octopus is a recipe, also no joke a baby octopus is a fry) fry. Morgana for a girl, Divinus for a boy.

Jade Leech

Jade is a manipulative and sadistic bastard. He wants you to bear his children, but he wants you to want them more than he does. So he’ll slowly break you down and condition you into desiring them first. And then he’ll eagerly reap the rewards of his painstaking efforts.

When You Get Pregnant - He won’t be as cruel to you when you’re carrying his child or children. Instead, he’ll make sure that you are comfortable for your entire pregnancy. It won’t last past the safety window past birth. 

How many kids - 3 or 4, fun fact, twins have a higher chance of having twin children, so expect a higher chance of having multiples. 

Vil Schoenheit 

With the hectic, and sometimes dangerous, aspects of his career, Vil is going to be a little wary of starting a family with you. But if his father could be an amazing actor and a wonderful father, so can he. Vil will wait for the perfect time to step away from his career to build a family with you. And when he does, after announcing his hiatus and going (sort of) off grid so that you can conceive and give birth in the utmost privacy. He doesn’t want to have too many kids (he wants probably two) because while pregnancy can be a beautiful thing, he’s also aware of the ugliness of it and doesn’t want to put you through the difficulty of pregnancy and births. 

When You Get Pregnant - You’re going to  have the most aesthetically pleasing pregnancy ever conceived (heh pun). Designer and bespoke maternity wear, spa treatments to keep you feeling refreshed and comfortable, and all the skin, hair and baby-safe, and delicious food to feed your cravings. You’ll be like an influencer trad wife without all the work involved with it. Vil will ensure that you have every comfort needed, and all the security needed, to ensure that your pregnancy is as easy and as perfectly beautiful as the both of you are. 

How many kids -  2 or 3. Doesn't want to risk too many pregnancies changing your body. The last thing you need is postpartum. Your children will be as beautiful as he is. 

Silver

Prince Charming remembers a fond childhood with Lilia, and that wants to be as good a father to your children as Lilia was to him. So when you have your happily ever after together, he wants to build a family as loving as the one he had in childhood. But only, if you want to. If you don’t want to carry the children to term, he’s willing to adopt.

When You Get Pregnant - So gentle, and hardworking. Every last second he spends will be to make your pregnant life more comfortable. He’ll be a model partner. Just ask and he’ll do it. Expect Peepaw Lilia to be in that cottage everyday until a good year after you give birth. Not just to help Silver be a first time father, or help you both out in the difficult first year of baby care, but to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not taking advantage of Silver’s kindness. 

How many kids - Two, maybe three. Your first child together is a narcoleptic like him, but all will have his aurora borealis eyes. Lilia’s giving his blessing to all of them the second they’re born. And they’ll be beautiful silver-hairs like their prince of a father. All that’s missing is a family pet. 

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is a strict traditionalist, (sure loving a human is breaking that kinda but he loves his darling truly so that outweighs the other) and tradition states that he has a family. Don’t worry about his grandfather’s human…ism? He loves Sebek and he’ll love his great grandchildren too. 

When You Get Pregnant - Still following tradition, he’ll be taking care of you. Try to do anything, that breaks that, you’ll be nesting for the duration of your pregnancy and the first four months post birth if he has anything to do with it. 

How many kids - 4, he just barely meets the cut off for what is below. He has plenty of siblings and he wants to mimic that with you. Like tradition states.

Wants kids, enough to make a spell drive team. (Over 4 to way over 4)

They want a lot of kids. They adore seeing you pregnant, seeing you surrounded by all of your children, the adorable looks on all of your faces. They love you as much as they love their children, and the sight of you going through the throes of motherhood is one of the most perfect sights they'll ever see.

Trey Clover

As the Eldest of a big loving family (one that fits the desired normal for most yandere families) Trey wants to emulate that with his future family. That means a house full of kids. Enough kids to fill a good few bunk beds. 

When You Get Pregnant - So many baked goods, ones that you can be sure that they aren’t laced with anything because it’s dangerous for the baby. You’ll be very well fed and comfortable. 

How many kids - Max 5

Jack Howl

While Jack is fighting a lot of his instinct when it comes to you, he is still a wolf in nature. And wolves are pack animals, so you can see where this is going. 

When You Get Pregnant - You’re confined to your nest. No debates on this. You’re going to be covered in his scent and safe in a nest till your pups are weaned of milk. 

How many kids - Having just one kid isn't in his animalistic nature, plus, that child would be lonely without any siblings and constantly full of energy without siblings to wear them down.�� Also wolves are traditionally born in litters, so the likelihood of having one baby, pup more specifically, is low. Expect multiples, twins maybe. And you won't be pregnant once. Maybe 5 to 6 kids.

Floyd Leech

Floyd’s great with kids. So despite how feral he is, he’s definitely fine with iddy biddy Shrimpey’s swimming around. And that means he needs to have a lot. 

When You Get Pregnant - Some things don’t change. He’s mad that he can’t squeeze you as much. But after the eggs are out, you might end up pregnant again before the eggs even hatch. 

How many kids - Same fun fact, twins have a higher chance of having twin children, so expect a higher chance of having multiples. Also, you might have Irish twins alongside the regular ones. Floyd’s having 6 with you max.

Kalim Al-Asim

(While he doesn’t know about the dark part of him having so many siblings) Kalim wants to have a family as big as his own. And while he knows you can't realistically have as many kids as he had siblings, he wants to at least try.  Besides you’ll be an amazing mother, after all you’re already perfect to him. If you’re scared about it, he’ll get experts to make it easier or hire surrogates to carry them so you can still have kids without the fear of pregnancy. And if you’re worried about your kids being harmed or kidnapped because of his family’s wealth then don’t worry, he’ll figure out a way to keep them safe! You won’t have to worry about a thing. (BTW if Kalim adopts the same idea of his father, you’ll never know about it. Wouldn’t want you to worry!)

When You Get Pregnant - So, SO many expensive gifts. Way too many fucking gifts. He’s so touchy too, wanting to cover you in his love every possible second.

How many kids - Too many. 7 to 10.

Rook Hunt

Rook is a man who I think would believe in the glow of pregnancy despite how miserable it already is (I hc the man has a breeding kink) and as a result of that he wants to see you glowing in radiance as you carry his child as many times as he can. Which means multiple pregnancies and multiple babies.

When You Get Pregnant - Like a worshiper for a goddess, he’ll wait on you in between his hunting trips and bring you gifts to make the nine months of hell easier. (also pregnancy sex. Lots of it.)

How many kids - 5 to 8, maybe more if you have multiples. They’ll all be hunters just like their father. And might probably be as obsessed with you as he is. Maybe one or two are darlings like you. 

Epel Felmier

Epel's family has a farm that requires many hands to work on it everyday. And his family won't be around forever to help him maintain it. (I imagine he doesn't want you to raise a finger to help him because of his masculinity issues) So the two of you will need to provide plenty of farmlands to run it.

When You Get Pregnant - Farm life is tough man. You might be pregnant with a child and might have to work hard to help out. The Tradwife life is not what’s happening. What is, is tending to farm animals, looking after the newborn youngins, picking apples. Epel will try his hardest to take on the hardest of the grueling labor, and save you from what you’ll be doing in the worst months of pregnancy. (Though Epel would love you in a comfy sundress lounging in the sun for him to hug and kiss after a long day of work, still full with his child)

How many kids - Epel sees him being the father of your children as the biggest proof that you belong to him and no one else will ever take you away from him, so you’ll be pregnant a good few times so he can be truly satisfied that you are his. Max 7.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is the sole heir to the throne of the Briar Valley, so obviously he needs an heir. But honestly that doesn't even matter because he’s been planning their names since he fell for you. 

(Sidebar, do you know how terrifying it is to give birth to an egg?! One that's the length and width of Lilia’s torso no less. Imagine having to carry that to term for who knows how long and have a hard egg pressing up on your organs. Plus the egg has to be hard to not be damaged by Maleanor’s lightning or fire, and infant skin is soft by comparison, so imagine how that feels.)

When You Get Pregnant - Like the prize jewel in a dragon’s hoard you’re not going anywhere. And since you’re a queen you’re getting waited on hand and foot. But Malleus is never leaving you alone.

How many kids - Since he's very familiar with how lonely being an only child is, Malleus won't be having just one. In fact he wants to have as many as possible. (Unless there’s some medical issue that prevents you from safely delivering the egg, he'll forgo having any future children if it means you're safe.) Max 6.

[tidalpooles]

Been working on my personal project some more:

Wanted to work on reference for the team, for the millionth time. Although, this time, my creative fervor has settled enough for me to finish them. I'll post more about them soon. Also thought that I'd give a bit of a rundown of their setting. 

Cael and Vic belong to a covert conservationist team that patrol the Sierra Oliva Mountains along the great country of Pinosverdes, looking for signs of eotl channeling creatures, artifacts, and ruins. It's their duty to protect all creatures, magical and non, from potential "discovery" and exploitation. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, given that eotl hasn't flown freely through the biosphere since the dawn of civilization. Its existence and secrets have been all but lost to time, presently known only to a handful of people. 

Eventually, an unprecedented resurgence of eotl across the globe brings in droves and droves of previously mythical creatures and cryptids. They scatter across the wildernesses, and present a significant threat to the safety of animal-kind. and the center of this disturbance is the daffy, fun-loving beast of teeth and fluff who they've decided to name Montel. 

Their general dynamic, I feel is that of a jaded teacher, prodigal understudy, and the big impossibly loud bum that eats all their food, uses up all the hot water, and brings home pets every other week.

I've wracked my head trying to find the "perfect Montel", and in the process, have made several iterations of the same character that I really like. I eventually came to the conclusion that each Montel can be equally as valid, while still maintaining an up-to-date "prime" design, much like with Link, in the Legend of Zelda series. There is a modern, up-to-date Link, who people consider "how the character will look like from now on". But, people still enjoy earlier iterations of the character, and new games are always being made with these older designs in mind.

Montel Iterations as Zelda Games: 

Gen I: Link's Adventure - Simple - the basis for all consecutive installations

Gen II: Wind Waker - Swirly - a little toonier

Gen III: Skyward Sword -calls back to the simpler, first installation - soft and cloudlike

Gen IV: Twilight Princess - Most distinct, odd-looking variation - Adds a handful of new characteristics

Gen V: Tears of the Kingdom - Most recent - References Skyward sword iteration a bunch

The Legend of Zelda is a major influence throughout my creative decisions, so it makes sense that I'd do it that way.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Your Future Partner's Love Language

Hello beautiful people, tonight marks the third post of the week regarding love! (meaning I kept my promise, yay!) I have a sale going on tomorrow, so be sure to tune into that. If you would look to book a reading, please read my guidelines and then dm me! If you have any inquiries, also dm me! Without further ado, please select your pile!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile 1: I feel like you’re the independent woman trope, Pile One. This person will be attracted to you because you have your own. But that doesn't mean that they won’t be giving. This isn’t a stingy lover at all. I get Cancer/Capricorn/Aquarius energy from this person. I see this person will be big on gift giving. They will also shower you with compliments. They don’t expect this in return, to be honest. They’re also really big on paying the tab every time at restaurants. I feel like this person is calm and collected. This person wants to follow in their family’s footsteps. They’re big on marriage and doing things the proper way. They would like to show you off, this is part of their love language as well. And lastly, this person really likes to see people stand on business. Part of their love language is helping you plan and put things into action. They’re going to be your number one fan. Expect roses and romance with this person, Pile One.

Cards Used: The Hierophant, The Hermit, 4 of Discs, Queen of Swords

extras: tacos. party pooper. mellow. skilla baby. carrie underwood. bartleby.

Pile 2: So when I was shuffling for this pile, I heard the term ‘yapper’. This person really likes to talk, even if it’s about nothing. I thought of this guy who I sit next to in my English class, and he says whatever comes to mind. I feel like this person just really wants a listening ear since they didn’t get that when they were younger. They could have been the type of kid to have “talks too much” on their report card. They have big Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Virgo energy. This person just wants to be heard and valued for once, they feel taken for granted. This person has the tendency to go down memory lane as well. They also have a thing for tickling. They honestly seem like a big kid. They are really big on humor. Their sense of humor can be deadpan or they could say a lot of one-liner punchlines. Be prepared to laugh a lot. I think this person values one-on-one time a lot as well, Pile Two.

Cards Used: Judgment, Ace of Swords, Death (RX), Eight of Discs (RX), 7 of Discs (RX)

extras: bright teeth. nice style. black beanies. toby from this is us. “kiss the ring.” wrestlers.

Pile 3: Oh man, the chemistry is hot here. This person really likes PDA. They enjoy physical touch. They want you to find any reason to touch them & they want to do the same for you. This person wants everyone to know that y’all are together. They could be a little clingy, let them know if that’s too much for you. I get the feeling that this could be their first real relationship so please be gentle with them. I feel like this person is like a big teddy bear. They really enjoy hugs, sharing drinks with you, cuddling, hand-holding and sloppy kisses. It all makes their world go round. You guys will be engaging in a lot of sexual activity together so please protect yourselves! Overall, this person is not shy. This person is quite the flirt, very physical. They give big Leo, LIbra, Aries energy. You guys are going to be like that one couple in high school that got detention for kissing by the lockers. People might be uncomfortable by your dynamic because you’re so physical with one another, but fuck it!

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, The Chariot, Princess of Cups, The Lovers, Ace of Cups.

extras: sweet face. wink. “hold me.” soft hands. racy. lord farquaad. monochromatic. skin-to-skin.

Pile 4: Can we say dramaaaa? I feel like your person is really dramatic. They’re the epitome of go big, go home. They give off Pisces, Leo, Sagittarius energy. They’re the epitome of male R&B singers in the early 2000s. This person has the best intentions but it can be overwhelming for you at times. Know that this person is doing their best. This is a part of who they are, there’s no faking this personality. I think this person would literally do anything for you. If you were to ask for a cookie from the store, they would bring you the cookie, a sandwich, a drink, chips and flowers just to make your day. This person is really good at planning parties and spending money. If you were to have a birthday coming up, they would have a surprise party planned with all of your favorite people there and thoughtful gifts. This person wants to give you the world, honestly. Don’t feel embarrassed by the things that this person does because you deserve it. They do it out of purity, but you can tell them to tone it down if it’s really getting to you.

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Fool, Justice, 7 of Cups, Ace of Discs, Princess of Cups

extras: my way by usher. “It’s camp.” new edition. clown colors. teezo touchdown. rich uncle vibes.

[kckt88]

Imzadi X

Summary:

A glimpse into the fifteen year reign of King Aemond Queen Lucaera.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Masturbation, P in V, Knotting, Blood, & Mild Violence.

AEMOND x O.C NIECE

ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA DYNAMIC

Word Count: 10200

A.N - 'Imzadi - Beloved'

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @zenka69 @aemondsbabygirl @aphroditesblunt @iamtoriasworld @persephonerinyes

Fifteen-year-old Rhaegar, tall and sharp eyed, was in mid-spar with his thirteen-year-old brother, Vaelor.

Their blades met with rhythmic precision, Rhaegar fluid in his movements, practiced and poised.

He struck with confidence, testing his younger brother’s defences, but Vaelor was no easy match. His feet were quick, his resolve just as fierce as he pressed forward with determined strikes, his silver-blond hair clinging to his damp brow.

From the edge of the sandy training ground, Aemond stood with arms folded behind his back, his lone violet eye tracking each movement intently.

He offered occasional words of advice, sharp and clear: “Vaelor, keep your stance wide—don’t let him push you off balance. Rhaegar, faster on the recovery—strike before he can retreat.”

Nearby, eleven-year-old Aerys and nine-year-old Daemon were play-fighting with wooden swords, mimicking their older brothers with grandiose swings and dramatic falls, giggling as they collapsed into the sand.

However, Aemond’s attention shifted, when he caught movement near the weapons chest. His lips twitched into a smile as he spotted a familiar head of messy-silver curls—Saeryna, his youngest daughter, crouched behind the chest, peeking curiously at her older brothers.

He stepped away from the training ground, walking quietly across the sand, his long shadow creeping over her.

“And just what do you think you are doing, zaldrītsos?” he said with mock sternness, voice low and amused (Little dragon).

Saeryna squeaked and turned, her big violet eyes going wide before her face broke into a cheeky grin. “I’m hiding, Daddy.”

Aemond arched a brow. “Have you snuck away from your grandmother again?”

“She’s boring, Daddy,” Saeryna said with an impish giggle.

Aemond scooped her into his arms with a huff. “Be that as it may, young lady, she’s still your grandmother.”

Saeryna pulled a face. “My other grandmother is more fun.”

“That’s only because she sneaks you sweets,” Aemond said dryly, narrowing his eye. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

Saeryna beamed. “Uncle Aegon sneaks me sweets too, Daddy.”

Aemond raised a brow. “Which Uncle Aegon? You have two, remember.”

She giggled, whispering like it was a secret, “The one who likes piss wine.”

Aemond reeled. “Saeryna! Where did you learn such talk?!”

“Uncle Aegon says it all the time,” she shrugged innocently.

“I think I shall be having words with your uncle,” he muttered. “Such language is not appropriate for young ears.”

Saeryna giggled and buried her face in his neck, her tiny fingers gripping the collar of his jerkin.

“Now,” Aemond said, “Aside from sneaking away from your grandmother, what brings you here?”

“I want to train too, Daddy,” Saeryna mumbled, determination bright in her eyes.

Aemond smiled warmly and set her down gently. “Alright, my little warrior. Let’s see what you can do.”

He stepped to the weapons chest, selecting two wooden swords. One was a little shorter and lighter. He handed it to her and took the other for himself.

Saeryna struggled a bit under the weight, lifting the sword with both hands before swinging it at him with all her might.

Aemond blocked it easily, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no, Saeryna strikes with deadly precision! How will I ever defeat such a seasoned warrior?”

She giggled and swung again. This time, Aemond dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.

“She got me!” he cried, and fell backward onto the sand.

Saeryna gasped and ran to his side. “Oh no, Daddy, I was just playing!”

Aemond lay still a moment longer before suddenly opening his eye with a mischievous glint. “Got you!” He grabbed her and pulled her down into the sand, tickling her as she shrieked and squirmed with laughter.

“Daddy, nooooo! Stop!”

They rolled in the warm sand, both laughing so hard that they didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a voice rang out.

“And just what exactly is going on here?”

Lucaera’s voice, teasingly stern, drifted over to them as she crossed the yard, her long dark hair shining in the sunlight, her smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Aemond looked up from the ground, still holding Saeryna. “I’ve just been defeated by the most fearsome warrior in the realm,” he declared grandly.

Lucaera laughed. “Is that so? Well, I do hope she takes mercy on me.”

“I will, Mama- I will” Saeryna giggled.

Lucaera reached down. “I’m sure there’s a little girl under all this sand.” She brushed her off gently.

Aemond stood and smiled as he looked upon his Queen—his Omega, the mother of his eight pups.

Gods, how he loved her. She could feel it too, the bond between them thrumming with warmth and affection. She smiled, meeting his gaze.

“I thought I might find our runaway daughter here,” she said.

“She has no patience for spending time with her grandmother,” Aemond replied dryly.

Lucaera rolled her eyes. “Does anyone?”

They both laughed, and Aemond leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Where are our other daughters?” he asked.

“Rhaella’s gone dragon riding with my brother Aegon-” Lucaera said.

Aemond’s smile faltered. “She what?”

“You knew she wanted to go flying with Hūra today.”

“I did,” he muttered, kicking the sand lightly. “But I didn’t know he was going with her.”

“My brother isn’t the devil you think he is,” she replied, raising a brow.

“Yes, he is. He’s weaselling his way into my little girl’s affections, and I don’t like it.”

“She’s five and ten, Aemond. Soon she’ll be a woman grown.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” he said pouting “All I care about is that your brother keeps his hands to himself, or he shall lose them.”

Saeryna shimmied down Lucera and in a sing song voice said, “Oohh, Daddy’s got his mad face on!” Before she ran off toward her brothers.

Lucaera chuckled and wrapped her arms around Aemond, resting her head on his chest, breathing in his scent of leather and ash.

“I know you wish Rhaella could stay your little girl,” she murmured. “But she has to grow up, my love.”

“I don’t want her to,” Aemond replied, voice low. “I don’t want any of my girls to grow up. I want them to stay mine forever.”

“It’s inevitable,” she said gently.

Aemond sighed. “So, if Rhaella’s with him, where are Alyssa and Vaelys?”

“Both of them are with Helaena and Jaehaera” Lucaera said.

Aemond visibly relaxed. “Much better company to keep, if I do say so myself.”

Lucaera smiled and nuzzled closer and Aemond looked down at her with a softness few others ever saw.

“I know you think I’m being overprotective. It’s just Rhaella is close to presentation age. I worry what will happen when it’s revealed that she’s an Omega.”

Lucaera nodded. “As much as you don’t want to hear this-I think Aegon will be her Alpha. She feels drawn to him.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “She won’t be drawn to him when I exile the little runt-”

“Aemond,” Lucaera sighed. “Be reasonable.”

“This is me being reasonable. I could’ve arranged a convenient accident—but I reconsidered.”

Lucaera leaned in and kissed him, soft and lingering. “Please, my love. You don’t have to like the idea, but you love our daughter—and her happiness is what matters.”

Aemond held her face in his hands, thumb brushing her cheek. “When did I get so lucky to have you as my wife?”

“Oh, about fifteen years ago,” she teased, grinning. “When I shocked the realm and presented as an Omega, and the only Alpha Prime took me as his mate.”

Aemond leaned forward, pressing his nose against her mating mark and inhaling deeply. “You still smell as good as the day I claimed you”

“As do you, husband,” she whispered.

Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss—only to be interrupted by a chorus of groans.

“Ewwww! That’s gross!” their children cried from the sparring yard.

Aemond and Lucaera parted, breaking into laughter.

“Monsters-” Aemond muttered fondly.

“-Every last one,” Lucaera agreed, beaming.

She leaned against his side, content, her hand gently resting with his. For a moment, the world was perfectly still — the warm sun casting golden light across the Red Keep, the soft sound of sparring swords, the laughter of their children filling the air like music.

Then Lucaera tilted her head to look up at him. “Are you going to be aiding the children in their High Valyrian lessons today?” she asked softly.

The warmth in Aemond’s eye flickered. His hand, still clasped in hers, gave the slightest squeeze before he looked away, jaw tightening.

“No,” he said, his tone quieter now, the humour drained from it. “Not today.”

Lucaera’s expression gentled, watching him closely.

“I trust Grand Maester Gerardys to lead the lessons in my stead,” Aemond continued. He looked off toward the horizon, where the towers of the Red Keep gave way to the sky. “There is-somewhere I need to be.”

Lucaera didn’t press him. She only nodded, understanding written clearly across her features. “I understand.”

Aemond’s eye returned to her, and the emotion behind it—loss, remembrance, something heavier than time—spoke volumes he couldn’t say aloud.

She reached up and touched his cheek, gently brushing back a strand of silver hair. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Aemond hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I need to go alone.”

Lucaera nodded once more, drawing her hand away slowly. “Then go, my love.”

Aemond took one last glance at the children in the yard—Rhaegar landing a solid strike on Vaelor’s side, Aerys helping Daemon to his feet after a tumble, and Saeryna now leading a charge with a stick as if commanding an army.

He turned back to Lucaera and leaned down, pressing a final kiss to her forehead. Then, without another word, he stepped away, his boots crunching softly in the sand.

She watched him go, her heart aching gently. She knew exactly where he was going.

And why.

Bathed in the warm, flickering light of candles, Aemond knelt in silence before the massive skull of Vhagar.

Her hollow eye sockets stared back at him, empty and vast, and yet still full of memory.

The stone walls of the crypt were silent save for the gentle hiss of wax dripping from the candles around her shrine.

Almost a year had passed, and yet the ache in Aemond’s chest felt as fresh as the day she’d left him.

He had claimed her as a boy of ten in the sands of Driftmark, a lonely child with no dragon of his own, mocked and dismissed.

But Vhagar—had accepted him, the largest and oldest dragon in the world.

She had been his solace, his strength, and his most loyal companion. She had loved him in the way only a dragon could love their rider: completely, fiercely, eternally.

And now, she was gone.

“I still feel you,” he whispered, though it wasn’t entirely true. He used to feel the thunder of her heartbeat through their bond, the ancient power that bound dragon and rider.

Now, there was only silence. Emptiness.

Aemond reached out, placing a hand on the massive curve of bone. He closed his eye and remembered that final day—

She had lain in the grassy meadow beneath the late spring sun, her breath shallow, her body still but for the occasional twitch of her vast tail.

He had known her time was near and had refused to leave her side. His forehead had been pressed against her weathered maw, and her old eyes had looked at him, gentle and knowing.

She had trilled gently, sensing his sorrow, a soft, broken sound from the beast that had once shaken the skies with her roars.

“Emā issare ñuha sȳrje raqiros, kirimvose syt mirre emā gaomagon syt nyke-” (You have been my best friend, thank you for all you have done for me)

His fingers had stroked her ancient scales, the tears slipping silently down his cheek.

“Emā glaestan iā sȳz ābrar, sōvegon dāez ñuha uēpa riña” (You have lived a good life, fly free, my old girl).

Vhagar had exhaled one last time, her head settling with finality upon the grass.

The last remnant of Aegon’s Conquest had finally returned to the skies, perhaps to fly beside Balerion and Meraxes once more.

The bond that had once pulsed within him like a second heartbeat was now only a silence he could not fill.

Aemond had not spoken for days after. He locked himself away, consumed by grief that none could soothe—

Until Saeryna. His sweet little Saeryna.

She had crept quietly into his solar and held his hand, watching the fire with him.

“Vhagar kessa va moriot sagon lēda ao-” she’d whispered (will always be with you).

He had whispered back, brokenly, “Skoros iksin nyke mijegon zirȳla?” (What am I without her?)

Saeryna had crawled into his lap, curled against his chest, and said simply, “My daddy”

That had been the beginning of his healing.

And yet, even now, as he stared at Vhagar’s skull, the pain still lingered—less of a wound, more of a scar.

One that he would carry always.

 “Kesā va moriot sagon isse ñuha prūmia-” (You will always be in my heart).

Aemond stood slowly, brushing off his knees. He took a steadying breath and turned toward the crypt’s exit, his footsteps quiet on the stone.

At the door, he looked back one last time.

“Jaelagon nyke biarves, uēpa riña” (Wish me luck, old girl).

Then he stepped out into the morning light.

He had left the Kingsguard behind by command. This was something he had to do alone.

A lone rider again—only now, there was a sliver of hope that he might not remain one for long.

He took a horse and rode from the Red Keep to the grassy meadow beyond the city’s edge. The earth here was untouched and wild, the sky open, and the wind carried the scent of dragonfire.

In the distance, the great bronze form of Vermithor gleamed under the sun, watching his approach patiently.

Aemond dismounted, his boots crunching against the grass. His eye scanned the clearing—beside Vermithor, curled like a silver coil of smoke, was her.

Silverwing.

The unclaimed she-dragon who once belonged to good Queen Alysanne. She raised her head as he approached, her nostrils flaring, her eyes curious.

He walked slowly, heart pounding, and raised a hand.

“Dohaerās, Silverwing-” he said calmly (Serve).

Her tail lashed at the ground once, then stilled. She studied him. He could feel her wariness, her uncertainty.

“Lykirī,” Aemond murmured (Be calm).

She stepped forward, her breath hot as she pressed her snout against his outstretched hand.

A low trill rumbled from her throat, and something stirred within him—something new.

A whisper of connection. Not the raging fire he had known with Vhagar, but a softer glow, gentle and curious.

A bond, fragile and new, blooming in the emptiness she had left behind.

Silverwing exhaled, and warmth washed over him. Aemond smiled faintly, his gaze drifting to the empty saddle on her back.

Slowly, Silverwing lowered her shoulder in silent invitation.

Aemond took a deep breath, climbed into the saddle, and strapped himself in with careful precision. His fingers tightened around the reins.

“Sōvēs, Silverwing-” (Fly).

There was a beat of hesitation. Then she launched into the sky and Aemond let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as the wind roared past him.

They soared over King’s Landing, the Red Keep a distant silhouette beneath them, and for the first time in a year, Aemond felt whole again.

Not as he once was—but as someone beginning anew.

They circled the city once before he noticed a carriage approaching the meadow far below. He directed Silverwing to descend, her wings folding with surprising grace as she landed, kicking up dust.

As Aemond dismounted, he placed both hands against her warm scales. “Kirimvose,” he whispered (Thank you).

Silverwing cooed, pressing her snout into his side in affection, and the new bond coiled around his heart like a gentle vine, tender and alive.

The carriage door burst open—and then he was swarmed.

“Daddy!”

“You did it!”

“Well done, father!”

Eight pairs of arms wrapped around him, his children taking turns hugging him, cheering and beaming.

Lucaera stood a few paces away, smiling, her pride unmistakable. Aemond beckoned her, and she crossed the distance to wrap her arms around him, their children pressing close.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against his cheek.

Aemond leaned down and kissed her.

“Ugh, not again!” groaned Vaelor loudly.

“Gross” said Aerys.

“Must you two always kiss when we’re around?” sighed Rhaegar.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Daemon moaned, covering his face.

Aemond laughed—a deep, free sound that filled the meadow. Silverwing answered with a roar of joy, her wings flaring in the golden sunlight.

And for the first time in a long while, Aemond felt light.

The skies were his once more.

But Vhagar’s memory would fly with him, always.

The air in the council chambers was thick with impatience. The great oaken doors remained shut, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the carved stone walls.

Daemon leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping out a slow, rhythmic beat on the table—steady, deliberate, and more than a little annoyed.

Across from him, Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, her sigh full of irritation.

Aegon, slouched in his chair with all the grace of a drunk cat, lazily swirled a goblet of wine. He took another languid sip, eyes fixed on the door with disinterest.

Alicent sat rigidly, hands folded so tightly in her lap they had gone white at the knuckles. Her stare was a blade, aimed directly at the doors, waiting. Fuming.

Luke rested his chin on one hand, the other drumming half-heartedly against the armrest. He looked half-asleep, eyelids drooping from the monotony of waiting.

At the far end of the table, Thaddeus and Isembard Arryn were engrossed in a quiet but intense discussion about the rules of Cyvasse.

“No, I’m telling you, the dragon may move diagonally only after the third rank,” Thaddeus insisted, pointing at an invisible board on the table.

“That’s not in the Essosi codices,” Isembard replied, frowning. “That’s a Reach man variation”

Between them, Grand Maester Gerardys idly fiddled with the links of his chain, the soft metallic clink of silver and steel the only consistent sound in the chamber, his lips moving slightly as he recited something under his breath—likely to keep himself awake.

Then, finally, the doors opened with a ceremonial creak. Every head turned.

“Finally-” Aegon muttered into his goblet.

But it was not Aemond.

A member of the Kingsguard stepped forward and announced, “Prince Rhaegar.”

The murmurs died.

Rhaegar entered with calm precision, his posture regal and deliberate. Tall and lithe for a boy of five and ten, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulders—he was the mirror image of Aemond, and every inch heir to the Iron Throne.

He crossed the room with quiet confidence and reached for the stone ball that marked one’s place on the council. He took the sphere without hesitation and placed it firmly in front of the King’s seat—Aemond’s seat.

Then he sat, spine straight, his violet eyes sharp.

“Apologies for my late arrival,” Rhaegar said, voice smooth but firm. “My father is-indisposed at the moment, so I have been asked to conduct the meeting in his stead.”

Alicent’s voice cut across the chamber like a knife. “The King is indisposed?”

Rhaegar inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, Grandmother.”

Aegon let out a loud snort and lifted his goblet again. “He’s busy fucking-”

Alicent jabbed him in the ribs with surprising sharpness for a woman her age. “Aegon! Mind your tongue”

Rhaegar’s ears turned slightly pink, and he cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Uncle—my father is indisposed—”

“Yeah, yeah. Indisposed,” Aegon said cheerfully, waving a hand. “Tell me, dear nephew, is your mother also indisposed? Or will the Queen be gracing us with her presence?”

Rhaegar shifted slightly in his seat, glancing at Rhaenyra, whose brow arched in intrigue. “No, Uncle. The Queen will not be joining us either.”

Aegon barked a laugh. “See? Told you they’re fucking!”

A quiet ripple of awkwardness passed around the table.

“Uncle,” Rhaegar snapped, his composure cracking for a moment. “If you do not hold your tongue, I shall have it removed.”

The room went quiet.

Aegon narrowed his eyes at Rhaegar, some flicker of real warning in them.

“You are your father’s son,” he muttered darkly.

Rhaegar took a steadying breath, letting the heat fade from his cheeks as he looked around the table at the assembled council.

“What is the order of business for today?” he asked, his voice composed once more.

-Meanwhile-

“Take off your clothes” commanded Aemond, his voice low and stern.

“As you wish Valzȳrys” replied Lucaera as she began undoing the ties on her dress. Her fingers moving agonizingly slow against the crisp silk material, as it slipped from her shoulders she moved to the fastenings on her shift, letting the sheer white material pool at her feet as it slid off her body (Husband).

She stood before him, her cheeks-tinged pink as his singular eye roved over her naked body, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

The bond between them was thick pulsing with desire and heavy arousal.

“Now lie on the bed” said Aemond as he pulled off his eyepatch and began to remove his own clothes.

Lucaera obliged and moved too slowly recline against the many soft opulent pillows.

“What else do you desire husband” asked Lucaera as she watched Aemond’s naked form calmly sit in the chair that had been placed at the end of the bed.

“Touch your breasts for me” instructed Aemond, his voice low and hypnotic.

Lucaera did as he asked and slowly moved her hands to her breasts, closing her eyes.

“No. Ābrazȳrys, keep your eyes on me” demanded Aemond as he reclined in his seat (Wife).

Watching him intently Lucaera gently cupped her breasts.

Aemond stared at her transfixed, his fingers tightly clutching the wooden arms of the chair.

“Is this pleasing to you, ñuha zaldrīzes?” asked Lucaera as she ran her fingers across slowly her erect nipples (My dragon).

“Very, now keep going ñuha jorrāelagon” replied Aemond hungrily, his cock was hard and weeping as it rested against his stomach (My love).

Aemond was going to ensure that she peaked from his instructions alone and then after that he would fuck her so hard into the mattress, swallowing every one of her screams.

“Touch yourself” said Aemond; his mouth watering as he watched Lucaera’s hand travel down her body.

Her fingers slowly running down her stomach towards her centre.

“Aemond” moaned Lucaera, biting her lip as she slid her fingers along her already wet folds, slowly stroking herself.

Aemond watched as his wife’s fingers began circling her pearl, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

“Open your legs wider-show me”

Lucaera opened her legs and Aemond growled as he watched her fingers teasing her pearl, his scent of leather and ash swathed in arousal.

“A-Aemond” gasped Lucaera.

“Put your fingers inside yourself” said Aemond firmly.

Lucaera readily obeyed and slowly slid two fingers inside her cunny, curling them slightly as she moved her hand back and forth.

“Oh, fuck” moaned Lucaera quietly.

“Are you getting close” asked Aemond; his eyes firmly fixed onto Lucaera’s shaking body.

“Yes. Yes-” cried Lucaera as she began moving her hand faster.

“That’s it ābrazȳrys, peak for me so I can fill you with my cock” replied Aemond, his fingers digging into the wood of the chair (Wife).

Gods, she looked so beautiful, splayed naked on their bed pleasuring herself for him.

“A-Aemond, I’m going to-“ exclaimed Lucaera, her back arching off the bed as she peaked.

Aemond rose from the chair and walked towards the bed, never taking his of Lucaera whose eyes were now screwed shut, her chest heaving, a thin sheen of sweat covering her brow.

Aemond climbed onto the bed, holding himself above Lucaera as he took her hand and placed the two fingers that she’d pleasured herself with into his mouth, expertly swirling his tongue around her wet digits, moaning at the taste of her.

“Hmmm-you taste so delicious my Omega-” growled Aemond.

“Aemond” gasped Lucaera as he then leaned down pressed his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply at her mating mark-his growl of satisfaction reverberating through her.

“I love you so fucking much” whispered Aemond as he reached down and pressed his hard cock to his wife’s warm wet folds.

Lucaera’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped when Aemond surged forward; her warm wetness enveloping him.

Lucaera’s body trembled under his, her arms and legs clinging to him, never wanting to let go.

“I love you too” moaned Lucaera as Aemond thrust into her, hard, deep, and fast. Holding nothing back as he slammed into her, using no restraint.

Aemond then wrapped his arms tightly around Lucaera’s body and lifted her off the bed, holding her body against the nearest wall as he rutted into her.

“Yes. Don’t stop. Please” begged Lucaera.

Aemond silenced her screams of pleasure with his mouth, his tongue sliding against hers. They were ravishing each other with such ferocity that it could only be rivalled by animals.

Moving together in perfect synchronization; wrapped together as one.

Lucaera clawed at Aemond’s back as he broke their kiss and began to suck her neck, his teeth then sinking into her neck- reopening her mating mark.

“AEMOND” keened Lucaera- her inner Omega purring in delight at her Alpha’s decision to renew their bond.

“My Queen- My wife- MINE” rasped Aemond his tongue lapping up the blood that was dripping down her neck.

“Aemond, oh fuck-“ moaned Lucaera as she was held against the wall with the force and agility of his deep penetrating thrusts.

His hands clasped around the meat of her thighs, never wavering in his aggressive movements.

“You feel so good” growled Aemond, he was close, so close, he could feel the heat shooting across his abdomen, the knot forming at the base of his cock, his body aching for release.

“Knot me, Alpha. Please-oh please-” whined Lucaera.

"God. Yes. Lucy-My Lucy” growled Aemond as he gave a series of deep measured thrusts, his knot slipping inside.

Lucaera’s entire body pulsating with euphoria as she clenched tightly around him, her own teeth sinking into his neck-

Aemond moaned loudly as he exploded, his knot locking them together as his seed spilled deep inside her.

“That was incredible” gasped Lucaera, her tongue slowly licking at Aemond’s neck.

“I-I know-” replied Aemond his chest heaving with exertion.

“Your amazing, do you know that” said Lucaera, leaning back to look Aemond in the eye.

“I-Love you” said Aemond as he reached out and swiped his thumb over her lower lip-

“And I love you-” replied Lucaera as she gently nibbled his thumb.

Aemond chuckled slightly and then wrapped his arms around his wife, moving them to the bed.

“We’ve still got a bit of time whilst we wait out my knot, so let’s enjoy it shall we” said Aemond.

“I like the way you think” replied Lucaera as she snuggled closer to her husband.

The warm glow of late morning poured through the sheer curtains of their bedchamber, casting golden light across the silk sheets.

Aemond lay reclined, one arm behind his head, the other curled protectively around Lucaera as she rested her head on his chest, her fingers idly tracing slow, swirling patterns over his torso.

"Do you think Rhaegar is all right leading the council meeting?" she asked softly, her voice low and thoughtful.

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to her head, his lips brushing against her hair. "I'm sure our son is fine," he murmured.

Lucaera’s hand paused for a moment, then continued its tracing. "In truth, it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s the others. Rhaegar is a boy of five-and-ten. Will they truly accede to any decisions he makes?"

Aemond sighed, his jaw tightening slightly. “Rhaegar is our heir. He is the future of our reign. He sat on my knee during many council meetings when he was a boy. They will agree—or they will face my wrath.”

Lucaera chuckled softly and whispered, “Ñuha nēdenka gēlenka zaldrīzes.” (My fierce silver dragon).

Aemond gave a pleased hum at the title and drew her closer. “Rhaegar’s presence during the council meetings will become a regular occurrence now. He’s five-and-ten, it’s time he becomes more involved in the governance of the realm.”

“I understand, my love,” Lucaera said, voice gentle.

Aemond turned to face her fully, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “I just want to prepare him, that’s all. To teach him, to let him have what I did not.”

Lucaera’s hand moved to his cheek, thumb brushing the scar that marred the left side of his face. “I know,” she whispered. “Just don’t put too much pressure on him. Remember—whilst you are King, you are also his father.”

Aemond nodded solemnly. “Mayhaps he’d like to go dragon riding. I could see if Vaelor, Aerys, and Daemon would join us—make a day of it”

Lucaera smiled, eyes dancing. “A suggestion they will happily accept, no doubt. But you’re forgetting someone.”

Aemond groaned and laughed. “Ahh yes my byka sȳndor.” (Little shadow).

Lucaera nodded knowingly. “Saeryna will throw a fit if you don’t take her with you.”

“Will she not be content spending time with her sisters?” Aemond asked.

“You already know the answer to that one, my love.”

Aemond sighed dramatically. “Mayhaps I could pacify her with a new doll or—”

Lucaera placed a finger on his lips, silencing him with a smirk. “You know our youngest daughter is as fierce as any dragon that has ever lived. No number of dolls will soothe her ire if you do not take her and Melusine flying.”

Aemond chuckled. “Melusine. Our daughter was certainly creative when it came to naming her dragon.”

“She named her well-” Lucaera said proudly. “It means female spirit of the water. Quite fitting, given Melusine’s proclivity for fish and other sea faring creatures”

“Hmmm. Much better than Daemon’s choice of name for his dragon.”

“Nagendra is in honour of Caraxes and his serpent-like form,” Lucaera said pointedly.

Aemond huffed. “Not enough that my son is named after your stepfather, but he then names his dragon after that whistling—”

Lucaera silenced him with a kiss.

“Just be glad that all of our children have been blessed with dragons, and that our house has flourished under the reign of King Aemond the Wise.”

Aemond snorted. “Is that what they call me these days? The Wise?”

“A title no doubt given in homage to old King Jaehaerys,” Lucaera said with a soft smile.

Aemond tilted his head, his expression softening. “It is an honour, to be thought worthy.”

“You are a good King,” Lucaera said, her tone suddenly firm and resolute. “The realm has prospered under your rule. The smallfolk are content. The lords-less so, but stuff the moaning cunts.”

Aemond burst into laughter. “Such a filthy mouth my Queen has.”

She grinned playfully. “I do recall my King is rather fond of my—”

Aemond silenced her again with a deep, hungry kiss.

Then he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of her neck, nuzzling her reopened mating mark, breathing in the scent of apples and cinnamon—his favourite fragrance in all the world.

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Always,” she replied.

Lucaera sat on a carved stone bench beneath a blooming plum tree, her daughters Rhaella, Vaelys, and Alyssa gathered nearby, embroidering or plucking at petals, while Helaena and her daughter Jaehaera sat across from them, enjoying the peace.

Helaena looked around and asked gently, “Where is Saeryna today?”

Lucaera gave a soft laugh, brushing a lock of hair from Alyssa’s face. “Hovering around Aemond, I expect.”

Helaena smiled knowingly. “My brother is going to have his hands full with that one when she’s a woman grown.”

“You think so?” Lucaera asked with amusement.

Helaena nodded with calm certainty. “A bold maiden, unafraid to speak her mind and the object of many men’s affections.”

Lucaera laughed aloud. “Gods, don’t say that in front of Aemond. He’s very sensitive when it comes to any discussions—or thoughts—of our daughters growing up and finding husbands.”

Helaena’s eyes drifted toward the sky, wistful. “Fathers never like to admit when their daughters are ready to live their own lives. It means they become spectators instead of protectors. Aemond simply wishes to keep his daughters close.”

“I know,” Lucaera replied, her smile faltering. “But one of them is close to presentation and—”

Helaena reached across and took her hand gently. “Do not fear. Rhaella will be fine. As will your other Omega daughters.”

Lucaera searched her face. “How do you know about-?”

“I saw it,” Helaena said dreamily. “All of them beautiful fruits that will grow and flourish.”

Lucaera’s voice dropped. “What else have you seen?”

Helaena’s gaze grew distant, almost otherworldly. “Many things. Some that will never come to pass. No dragons dancing. The skies stay blue instead of turning red. It is the rains that fall—not ash. A realm prospers with life, not death.”

Lucaera’s eyes shimmered. She squeezed Helaena’s hand. “If only my grandsire had realised you were there all along; a dreamer-”

“I do not mourn what was or what could have been,” Helaena said with a soft smile. “I find joy in what is and what will be.”

“And what is that?”

Helaena leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “From your blood, the Promised One will come.”

Lucaera stilled, her breath catching. “What did you just say?”

“The cold and darkness will come,” Helaena murmured, “and she will bring the dawn.”

“In our lifetime?” Lucaera asked breathlessly.

Helaena shook her head. “Your granddaughter, many times over.”

Before more could be said, a shadow swept across the gardens. Lucaera looked up to see Silverwing gliding gracefully across the sky, followed by a majestic procession: Vermithrax, Sapphyre, Abeloth, Nagendra, and fierce little Melusine trailing behind like a silver-tipped arrow.

Helaena smiled, her eyes bright. “’Tis a wonderful thing to see my brother amongst the clouds again.”

Lucaera watched the dragons with pride and sorrow mingling in her chest. “He still grieves deeply for Vhagar.”

“He was a lonely child,” Helaena said softly. “And she was his greatest friend.”

“He once told me,” Lucaera said, “that he never really felt like he fit in the Red Keep. And since Vhagar was too large for the Dragonpit, she didn’t fit anywhere either.”

“They were kindred spirits,” Helaena whispered. “She was always meant for him.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lucaera said with a fond smile. “She claimed him that night on Driftmark just as much as he claimed her.”

Helaena turned to look at her. “You see things too, you know. Not in the way I do, but you have a way of making sense of the world.”

Lucaera rested her head on Helaena’s shoulder, peaceful—until a sharp scent in the air made her sit up straight.

Peaches and honey.

Her eyes snapped to Rhaella, who was pale, sweating, and looking around in mild panic.

“No,” Lucaera whispered, rising quickly. “Not now. I thought we had more time.”

Rhaella gasped, “Mother—”

“Shhh, sweet girl. You understand what’s happening, don’t you?”

Rhaella nodded tearfully. “I-I’m presenting.”

Lucaera wrapped an arm around her quickly and helped her to stand “Right. We must get you back to your chambers before anyone scents you.”

“I want Aegon-” Rhaella whispered.

“I know you do,” Lucaera said gently. “But your father will go mad if I allow it-”

Rhaella wobbled, and Lucaera steadied her. Helaena stood at once.

“Go,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on the others and tell Aemond-”

Lucaera nodded, grateful. She removed her shawl and draped it around Rhaella, hoping her own Omega scent would mask the girl’s blooming heat.

They moved swiftly through the Keep, Lucaera nodding politely to bowing lords and ladies. "Your Grace," they greeted—but her eyes were only on her daughter.

Inside the chamber, she dismissed the startled maids at once, pouring cool water on a cloth and pressing it to Rhaella’s brow as the girl moaned.

“It hurts, Mother, m-my stomach, it feels like my insides are being ripped apart.”

“I know, sweet girl. Just breathe,” Lucaera said, kissing her daughter’s hand.

A knock at the door, made them pause briefly before it opened and the scent of leather and ash swirled through the air.

Aemond walked in, slamming the door shut, and quickly locking it. He crossed the room in a flash, kneeling by the chair.

“Father!” Rhaella gasped, clinging to him. The scent of her Alpha Prime father helping to ease her trembling slightly.

Aemond stroked her hair. “It’s going to be alright.”

“She needs help, Aemond,” Lucaera said firmly.

“I know. Mayhaps Gerardys can give her milk of the poppy—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Aemond’s head snapped up, face twisted in a snarl. “Surely you are not suggesting I allow that runt—”

“I know you don’t like it,” Lucaera said gently, “-but she’s in pain”

Aemond began pacing, his scent sour with fury. Then Rhaella whimpered again, sobbing as another wave of heat wracked her.

 “FUCK!” balled Aemond before he stormed out, the door slamming so hard it rattled on its hinges.

Lucaera helped Rhaella to undress and get into bed, draping her in a thin sheet.

Sometime later, the sounds of a scuffle and muffled voices could be heard before the door crashed open— and Aemond reappeared dragging a dishevelled looking Aegon in by the collar.

“S-Sister? What’s going on—?” Aegon started, but then caught Rhaella’s scent, and his eyes darkened.

“A-Aeg-” gasped Rhaella.

“Aegon is here to help you,” Lucaera told Rhaella, voice soft. “It’s alright, sweet girl. Everything will be alright.”

“R-Rhae-y-you’re- a-a-” stuttered Aegon.

“Yes, she’s an Omega and she-needs you” said Lucaera.

Aemond tightened his grip as he snarled in Aegon’s ear. “If any harm comes to my daughter, I swear you’ll be begging for death-”

“I-I promise,” Aegon choked out. “I won’t hurt her.”

Aemond snarled again, then glanced down when he felt something hard pressed against him—his eye narrowing. “That better not be what I think it is—”

“I can’t help it!” Aegon yelped, face flushing with embarrassment.

Aemond then shoved him away roughly with a look of disgust.

Aegon looked at Rhaella who was reaching for him, but he hesitated, his scent tinged with fear as he turned to look at Aemond- the Alpha Prime’s scent of unbridled rage making him visibly recoil.

“It’s ok Aegon-go to her” whispered Lucaera softly.

Aegon glanced nervously at Aemond one more, before he stumbled towards the bed, taking Rhaella’s outstretched hand, kissing it as he whispered “I’m here-I’m here”

Lucaera then took hold of Aemond, guiding him out of Rhaella’s chambers. “That’s our cue to leave-”

In the corridor, she gave strict orders for Beta guards to bar the hallway. No one was to come anywhere near until she and the King said otherwise.

Lucaera then turned—and saw Aemond with his fingers stuffed in his ears as he glanced awkwardly at Rhaella’s closed chamber door.

She arched a brow. “What are you—oh never mind. Come on.”

In their chambers, Aemond seized a wine jug and drank straight from it.

Lucaera snatched it, poured herself a cup, and downed it too.

“I can’t believe we’re allowing that runt to sully our daughter’s virtue,” Aemond grumbled.

“Like you sullied mine?” Lucaera shot back.

Aemond caught in his hypocrisy frowned “That’s different. We got married.”

“And Rhaella can marry Aegon.”

Aemond huffed, yanking off his weapons belt, and opening the top claps of his jerkin.

“I just thought we’d have more time,” he muttered. “You were older when you presented. And gods, what about Rhaegar?”

“His scent hasn’t changed yet. But I dare say it won’t be long-”

“I’ll keep an eye on him-”

“Rhaella is just the first,” Lucaera said. “We still have three more daughters.”

Aemond groaned and buried his face in her neck. “Don’t remind me.”

Lucaera slowly stroked his silver hair. “We’ll need to announce her presentation soon, and-”

“-Her betrothal to Daemon’s hellspawn,” Aemond growled.

Lucaera smirked. “My brother isn’t that bad.”

“Yes, he is. That boy is a thorn in my side. He’s risen from the depths of the seven hells to ruin my sweet angel”

“Oh, Aemond-”

Lucaera rolled her eyes and leaned into him, flooding his senses with her scent of apples and cinnamon. His anger melted into a heavy sigh as he clutched her tightly.

Peace, for now at least.

The atmosphere in the council chambers was tense with curiosity. Every seat around the long table was filled—Alicent, Aegon, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Luke, Thaddeus, Isembard, and Grand Maester Gerardys—all gathered at the command of the king.

The room buzzed with hushed speculation.

Aemond stood at the head of the table, with Lucaera beside him, her presence calm and composed, though her eyes gave away the weight of what they were about to say.

“I asked you all here today,” Aemond began, his voice steady but tight, “to make an announcement.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair with a groan. “Oh, Seven hells, you’re not having another pup, are you? Surely eight is enough.”

Aemond growled low in his throat, and Lucaera stepped in smoothly before tempers flared.

“No,” she said, offering a pointed look at Aegon. “This announcement is not about us.”

Aemond took a breath. “It’s about our daughter, Rhaella. She-she has presented as an Omega.”

A thick silence blanketed the room for a long beat—then Rhaenyra smiled warmly.

“Wonderful news,” she said. “How is Rhaella doing?”

Aemond and Lucaera exchanged a glance, their expressions laced with hesitation.

“She is well,” Lucaera said carefully. “She has the company of an Alpha, to aid her through her presentation.”

Alicent gasped. “Aemond—how could you allow such a thing? Rhaella’s virtue—”

“Believe me, Mother,” Aemond snapped, “I am well aware of the implications. But she was in pain. I could not—would not—let her suffer.”

Alicent pursed her lips but said nothing. Lucaera gently added, “I understand your concerns, but when an Omega presents, the pain can be unbearable. Only their chosen alpha can soothe them.”

“Chosen alpha?” Rhaenyra echoed.

Lucaera nodded. “Yes. Their bond is forged by scent. For the last six moons, Rhaella has confessed to me there is one Alpha’s scent that she finds most pleasing. The one she cannot be without-”

Isembard leaned forward. “Who is the Alpha?”

Aemond’s entire body tensed. His jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. His scent soured with fury as he gritted out, “Aegon.”

The room exploded in surprised murmurs. All eyes turned to Aegon, who blinked, uncomprehending.

“Wait—what?” he said, raising his hands. “It’s nothing to do with me!”

“Not you,” Lucaera clarified.

Luke's eyes widened in realization. “Our little brother Aegon?”

Lucaera nodded. “Yes. He’s with Rhaella now.”

Rhaenyra let out a quiet hum of understanding. “Now the flowers make sense.”

Lucaera tilted her head. “Flowers?”

Rhaenyra smiled softly. “I’ve caught Aegon picking flowers from the gardens. He said they were for someone, but I never guessed who. I see now that it was Rhaella.”

Lucaera’s face lit up. “He’s been giving her flowers? How lovely.”

Aemond growled louder, and Daemon chuckled.

“I take it the King is displeased with current events?” he said, smug.

Aemond clenched his fists, the Alpha Prime in him bristling. Lucaera quickly stepped in front of him, her calming scent of apples and cinnamon flaring.

“He’s-still adjusting to it,” she said gently.

Daemon smirked. “It’s truly wonderful news. No doubt we’ll soon have a shared grandchild to fawn over-”

That was enough.

With a furious snarl, Aemond moved to strike Daemon—but Lucaera caught him, pulling him to her side.

He faltered for a moment but then leaned down, pressing his nose against her mating mark and inhaled deeply, trying to calm the rage threatening to consume him.

Alicent cleared her throat sharply. “I assume there is to be a wedding?”

Lucaera nodded. “Yes. Once Rhaella’s heat has passed, we’ll begin arrangements.”

Suddenly, Aegon burst into laughter. “I see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Didn’t you do the same with my brother?”

Alicent put her hand to her forehead and the Kingsguard stood ready, expecting Aemond to snap.

But it wasn’t Aemond.

With a feral roar, Lucaera lunged forward, crashing into Aegon and sending him sprawling.

Her fists flew, striking every inch she could reach as Aegon yelped, arms raised to protect his face.

“AEMOND!” Alicent shrieked. “STOP HER!”

But Aemond stood there, his arms folded, an expression of immense satisfaction on his face.

“Wait-” he told the Kingsguard who stepped forward.

Daemon laughed aloud, watching with undisguised delight. “Now this is a meeting.”

Rhaenyra, trying not to smile, hurried forward and attempted to drag Lucaera off Aegon—who was shielding his head and shouting, “Alright! Alright!”

Only when Aemond stepped in, grabbing Lucaera by the waist and lifting her off, did she relent.

“Lucy-” he murmured as he pinned her gently but firmly against the wall, “-That’s enough.”

She struggled, still seething. “Did you hear what he—!”

But then she felt his hips against hers, his breath hot against her skin.

“My feisty Omega,” he whispered, his voice low and rich with desire.

Lucaera flushed. “Did you-find that pleasing, Alpha?”

Aemond smirked. “I did. And once this meeting is over, I’ll show you just how pleasing I found it.”

Lucaera’s anger quickly dissolved in a haze of heat.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and then released her, turning to the council, expression calm and somewhat controlled.

“Brother,” he said to Aegon, still sprawled on the floor, “-Get up and stop whining.”

Aegon groaned and pulled himself into a chair, muttering curses.

Aemond looked to the others. “Now—if there are no further interruptions, take your seats.”

Aemond paced the length of his chamber, arms folded behind his back. His single eye kept flicking to the door as though willing it to open.

Lucaera watched him quietly from the end of their bed, feeling the tension through their bond like a tightly wound string.

She rose and crossed to him, placing a hand gently on his chest. “It’s going to be alright,” she said softly.

“I—I need to know that my zaldrītsos is safe,” Aemond murmured, voice low, his chest rising and falling beneath her palm (Little dragon).

Lucaera slipped her arms around him and pulled him close. “She will be-”

Aemond exhaled and leaned into her touch, closing his eye.

A knock at the door made him stiffen again.

“Come in,” Lucaera called gently.

The door creaked open, and Rhaella entered, her silver hair gleaming like moonlight. Relief washed over Aemond’s face as he looked upon his daughter.

Lucaera whispered, “Go.”

Aemond stepped forward slowly. “Are you well?”

“I am, Father,” Rhaella replied with a small smile.

But Aemond’s eye caught the mark on her neck—the mating bond. He inhaled sharply and took a step back.

Her scent, once all peaches and honey, now carried the faint undercurrent of her Alpha. He growled low in his throat.

Rhaella took a step forward, her voice quiet but firm. “Nyke iēdrosa aōha zaldrītsos.” (I’m still your little dragon).

Aemond frowned slightly. “Issi ao drējī?” (Are you truly?)

Rhaella smiled. “Va moriot-” (Always).

At that, Aemond's anger melted away, as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, stroking the back of her head, like when she was a babe.

It took a moment before he could let her go.

“I wish to see Grand Maester Gerardys,” Rhaella said softly as they pulled apart.

Aemond tensed again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly. “I—I just wish to request moontea.”

Without needing to be told, Lucaera moved to the door and summoned a maid. “Please have Grand Maester Gerardys attend the Kings chambers immediately—and bring moontea.” The maid nodded and hurried off.

When Lucaera turned back, Rhaella was speaking softly. “While I’m thankful to have bonded with my mate. I’m only five-and-ten. I don’t wish to have a pup just yet-”

Aemond nodded. “A wise decision”

Lucaera arched a brow. “And what does Aegon think of all this?”

Aemond snorted. “Like I give a single shit what that little runt thinks.”

Lucaera elbowed him. “I do wish you’d stop calling my brother a runt.”

“He is a runt,” Aemond muttered. “But Rhaella’s made her choice, and I support it.”

“You only support it,” Lucaera said, folding her arms, “-Because you don’t want to be a grandsire.”

“That’s not true,” Aemond replied. Then after a beat: “-Not only because of that.”

“And because you don’t want to share a grandchild with Daemon,” she added, smirking.

“That especially-”

Rhaella smiled. “Aegon supports me. We want to marry and travel a bit before we have children—fly across the Narrow Sea, see the Free Cities. Just be together.”

Aemond softened. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And for what it’s worth. I’m glad Aegon supports you-but don’t you dare tell him”

“He loves me, Father,” Rhaella said. “Just as you love Mother. That’s what I want. So many are not fortunate enough to marry for love, but you two found your way to one another and your love burns as bright as any flame. That is what I hope to have with my Alpha.”

Lucaera stepped forward and cupped her daughter’s face. “And I believe you’ll have it, my sweet girl.”

Aemond reached out and drew Lucaera close, pressing a kiss to her temple. She giggled, nuzzling into him.

Another knock broke the moment, and Grand Maester Gerardys entered with his usual solemnity, a steaming cup in hand.

“Thank you for your haste, Grand Maester,” Aemond said.

Gerardys gave a little bow. “Due to the frequency of your vigorous activities with the Queen, Your Grace, I generally keep some moontea at the ready—unless, of course, you are intending to sire another child. You are both young and still quite—”

“The tea is for me,” Rhaella interrupted hastily, blushing.

Gerardys blinked. “Oh! Apologies, Princess. I merely assumed—”

“It’s fine,” Aemond said, already looking like he wanted to throw himself out the window.

Rhaella took the cup and sipped it, grimacing. Lucaera gave her a knowing look. “You’ll get used to it.”

Gerardys added, “I’d advise you drink moontea after every-coupling, Princess.”

Aemond visibly winced, face twisting like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Lucaera leaned over and muttered, “Oh, grow up.”

Gerardys gave a respectful bow after finishing his quiet assessment. “Do you have any further need of me, Princess?”

Rhaella shifted slightly, her cheeks pink. She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “It-it hurts a little, you know d-down there.”

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Then Aemond grimaced. “All right. I’m going to check on our other children. Yes. That’s what I’m doing. Immediately. Right now-”

He turned and bolted out the door.

Lucaera chuckled, shaking her head. “Apologies, Grand Maester. The King finds such topics-a little delicate.”

Gerardys smiled, unfazed. “Many fathers do, Your Grace. It’s perfectly normal.”

He then turned to Rhaella with gentle professionalism. “Now, Princess, tell me about the discomfort.”

Aemond sat in his armchair, long legs stretched out, one arm curled protectively around little Saeryna, who perched contentedly in his lap.

Her small fingers clutched a well-worn book as he read aloud, his deep voice soothing as the words rolled effortlessly off his tongue.

Across the chamber, Vaelys and Alyssa sat side by side on a cushioned bench, needles flashing in and out of fabric as they sewed—one focused, the other humming quietly under her breath.

At the wide table in the centre, Vaelor hunched over a scrap of parchment, his tongue peeking from between his lips as he drew, utterly engrossed, charcoal dust smudging his fingers.

In one corner, Daemon and Aerys were locked in yet another debate, voices rising in childish indignation.

“Abeloth is faster!” Aerys declared, arms crossed.

Daemon scoffed. “Nagendra is the fastest in all of Westeros!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

By the far wall, Rhaegar stood at a bench, methodically cleaning the blade of his sword, the flick of cloth over steel a calm rhythm amidst the noise.

The door creaked open.

Lucaera stepped in, radiant and composed, only to be immediately met with a chorus of eager voices:

“Mother, is it true?”

“Did Rhaella really present as an Omega?”

“Is Uncle Aegon her Alpha now?”

“Hush,” Lucaera said, raising a hand with a fond but firm smile. “One at a time.” Her gaze shifted, catching sight of Rhaegar, still at his post, his jaw set, movements slightly more rigid.

She walked over to him quietly. “Is everything all right, my son?”

Rhaegar gave a tight smile as he wiped his hands with a rag. “I’m fine, Mother. Truly.”

Lucaera cupped his face, her eyes soft. “You’re not upset about your sister’s choice of Alpha?”

He shook his head. “She chose wisely. Aegon is a good Alpha.”

From across the room, Aemond growled low in his throat, not even looking up from the book.

Lucaera chuckled. “Your father is still-adjusting.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rhaegar said dryly. “We all are.”

They stood together in companionable silence for a few moments. Then, with a sidelong glance, she spoke gently, “You’ve been quiet of late, Rhaegar, are you sure it isn’t Rhaella?”

Rhaegar’s brow furrowed. “-I’m happy for my sister truly. I-It’s about Laena”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding her-”

Rhaegar’s jaw twitched. "She’s kind and clever-" He paused, shifting his weight. "-But I don’t feel that way about her. I-I’ve tried mother truly-but this courtship-"

Lucaera tilted her head slightly. "-If it’s not something that you’re comfortable with then we will sort it out-"

Rhaegar exhaled softly. "I just-I hope that Uncle Jace won’t be too disappointed."

"Jace loves his daughter, and he wants her to be happy. If the match isn't right for you, it wouldn’t be right for her either," Lucaera said kindly.

“W-When will you tell him?”

“He’s currently visiting Lord Stark at the moment- so let’s give it some time and then I’ll tell him”

Rhaegar nodded

"You mustn’t worry or despair sweet boy. Your mate will find you—or you will find her—when the time is right”

There was a long pause.

"What if I already have?" Rhaegar asked, his voice quiet but earnest.

Lucaera turned to face him fully now, her gaze searching. "And you're sure?"

Rhaegar nodded, slow but firm. "“It started recently. I I feel drawn to her in a way I’ve never known. It's like—something inside me stirs when she’s near. It’s quiet, but undeniable.”

Lucaera’s expression softened, touched by the vulnerability in her son’s voice. "Who, may I ask?"

Rhaegar’s ears tinged pink as he glanced across the room. Lucaera followed his gaze—straight to Vaelys.

Almost as if sensing his attention, she looked up. Their eyes met. She smiled shyly, her cheeks colouring.

“Oh,” Lucaera breathed, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you sure?”

“More than anything,” Rhaegar whispered. “I can feel it. I know she is only three and ten and I would never—never dishonour her”

Lucaera touched his cheek, thumb brushing gently. “I know you wouldn’t, sweet boy.”

“I will wait,” he said earnestly. “For as long as it takes. I’ll wait for her.”

Lucaera nodded. “A wise decision. But perhaps you might speak to your father when the time is right? A formal betrothal could be arranged. That way, when she turns four and ten, you may begin a prolonged courtship-”

Panic crossed Rhaegar’s face. “But—Father. He was barely able to stomach Rhaella bonding with Aegon. What if he hates me for this?”

Lucaera laughed under her breath. "Your father won’t hate you, Rhaegar. He’s just protective. Especially of his daughters. But you are his son. His heir, he loves you. I'm sure he’ll be fine."

"And if he isn't?"

Lucaera’s smile turned sly, eyes glittering with mischief. "Then I have my own ways of bringing him around."

Rhaegar wrinkled his nose. “I really don’t want to know-”

Lucaera glanced once more at Vaelys, who was now laughing quietly at something Alyssa had said, her face lit with warmth.

Then she turned back to her son, her expression gentle. “She’s a good girl,” she said softly. “Kind, sharp and steady. She’ll make a fine mate, in time.”

Rhaegar smiled, something quiet and hopeful blooming in his eyes. “I think so too.”

Lucaera laughed softly, then crossed to Aemond just as he encouraged Saeryna, “Come now, sweetling. You read this part.”

The little girl read in a halting whisper, her voice unsure. Aemond’s arm tightened around her in encouragement.

When she was done, she scrambled off his lap and padded over to Rhaegar. He lifted her easily onto the table, her bright eyes watching as he resumed cleaning his blade, her endless stream of questions beginning.

Aemond rose quietly and walked to the balcony doors. He pushed them open and stepped out, bracing his hands on the railing as he drew in a long, slow breath.

Lucaera followed, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He turned in her arms and pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.

“It feels like only yesterday Rhaella was a babe in my arms,” he murmured. “Now she’s a woman grown with an Alpha. I’m not ready to let go-”

Lucaera hesitated for moment deciding it was best to keep her discussion with Rhaegar quiet, at least for now.

“Who said you had to?” Lucaera finally whispered. “Rhaella may have bonded with Aegon, but she still loves you—so very much.”

Aemond raise his head to look at her, voice barely audible. “She does?”

Lucaera smiled, cupping his face. “Of course she does. Her love for you is uncontested. She may have grown, but she still needs her father. She wants you to be proud of her.”

“I am,” Aemond said, a spark of emotion in his eye. “I’m proud of all of our pups-”

Lucaera’s brow arched teasingly. “Just go easy on Aegon. My brother is terrified of you.”

“Good,” Aemond muttered with a smirk.

Lucaera pressed her forehead to his with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I could think of several things you could do with me,” Aemond rasped, kissing the corner of her mouth, then along her jaw, his lips warm against her skin.

She giggled. “Oh really?”

Aemond nuzzled into her neck, breath hot. “I want another pup-”

Lucaera stilled. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”

Aemond drew back, nodding slowly. “I know we said eight was enough. And if you don’t wish for another, then I will accept that—but I do. I wish for another-”

Lucaera studied him, then reached up and gently removed his eyepatch. The sapphire gleamed in the light. Her thumb brushed his scar, and she smiled softly.

“Okay-”

Aemond blinked. “O-okay? Are you really saying—?”

“Yes,” Lucaera said, her voice full of warmth. “Let’s have another.”

He laughed and swept her into his arms, spinning her off her feet as he showered her face in kisses.

Lowering her gently, he whispered in awe, “My Queen.”

“My heat should arrive in the next two moons,” Lucaera murmured.

Aemond nodded. “My rut will come then as well.”

“Perfect time to conceive a pup.”

Aemond leaned in, kissing her deeply—and then:

“Seriously?” came a dry voice.

They turned to see Rhaegar leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

Lucaera raised a brow. “What’s happened now?”

“Saeryna’s challenged Daemon to a fight-”

Aemond groaned. “Again?”

The distant sound of children bickering carried through the doors.

Aemond turned to go, muttering something under his breath. As he reached the threshold, Lucaera called after him:

“Aemond.”

He paused.

“You wanted another-”

Aemond turned back, smiling softly. “I do-”

He disappeared into the chamber with Rhaegar behind him, the door swinging shut on laughter and chaos.

Lucaera stepped forward onto the balcony, eyes casting over the sprawling city below. The streets bustled with life, the Red Keep calm and steady.

A realm at peace—under the reign of King Aemond.

A sudden roar split the sky.

Lucaera looked up, lips parting as Vermithor soared overhead, bronze scales gleaming like molten metal.

Moments later, Silverwing followed, her melodic trill echoing through the air as the two dragons danced around one another in perfect harmony, high above the Keep.

Lucaera watched, a hand resting lightly over her belly, a faint smile playing at her lips.

FIN

[blue-mint-winter]

About Alyssa Targaryen

Alyssa Targaryen, daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne and mother of king Viserys I and Daemon the Rogue Prince, is a character recently talked about due to her brief appearance in the TV show. The fan opinions about her seem strangely very positive. She's seen as a cool character and a good mother to her sons, because she took them dragonriding soon after giving birth. In relation to her younger sisters Alyssa is also seen as the better one or lucky for having a happy marriage with her brother and avoiding a more tragic fate. Certainly she's regarded as the most successful among the daughters of Alysanne because her descendants continued the dynasty. I've seen opinions that Jaehaerys and Alysanne only failed as parents to their younger children (from Daella and younger), who caused many problems, but they raised the older ones - Aemon, Baelon, Alyssa, Maegelle and Vaegon - to become good and decent people. There are also voices that she's just another dead mother, her character is uninteresting/unimportant compared to other sisters and she only exists in the story to have sex and birth future main characters.

After I read about Alyssa in Fire and Blood I found that all of the above opinions feel distinctly off the mark, especially in regards to her good character. Alyssa came off to me as rather unpleasant, mean and obssessed with sex, however the in-universe book's author, maester Gyldayn, doesn't portray any of her bad qualities as bad or undesirable in a princess, while at the same time he's very critical of her sisters' displaying similar faults.

Instead Gyldayn's portrayal of Alyssa focuses on showing her as a good sisterwife to Baelon and mother to Viserys and Daemon. That's what maester Gyldayn and Jaehaerys' propaganda want the readers to think about Alyssa while at the same time telling them that she was the most unfeminine woman she could be. That creates a powerful dissonance while reading about her as compared to others.

This post will be an analysis of Alyssa, her role in the family built on incest and how it affected her and her siblings, her relationships with focus on Baelon and Vaegon, her behaviour and causes of it, her effect on her siblings before and after her death. There will be some extrapolation and theorizing, but I hope it's within reason and will make a coherent argument that Alyssa wasn't like what Gyldayn presents her or what many fans think she was. So buckle up, this will be a long one.

Alyssa's role in the family

Alyssa is the second daughter, but she was born after Daenerys died (in the end of the same year, 60 AC), so functionally she's the eldest daughter, but the shadow of Daenerys hangs over her. Alyssa was her replacement in her mother's eyes until Alysanne realized when Alyssa was 6 years old that she didn't take after Daenerys, but Baelon. From a young age Alyssa preferred boy activities and didn't want to spend time with other girls.

The princess did not act like a girl, however. She wore boy’s clothes when she could, shunned the company of other girls, preferred riding and climbing and dueling with wooden swords to sewing and reading and singing, and refused to eat porridge.

One fundamental, glaring difference between young Daenerys and Alyssa was exactly the type of sibling dynamic they had with Aemon and Baelon. Daenerys was their older sister, a little queen and she was bossing them around.

The young princes loved their sister to distraction, it was plain to see, and Daenerys delighted in the boys, “especially in telling them what to do.” 

Alyssa was the younger sister who was seeking her big brother's attention. She trailed after Baelon and, as it turns out later, she never really stopped.

Just as Baelon had once followed Aemon everywhere, Alyssa trailed after Baelon. “Like a puppy,” the Spring Prince complained. Baelon was two years younger than Aemon, Alyssa nearly four years younger than him…“and a girl,” which made it far worse in his eyes. 

At this point in their lives she was just an annoying younger sister to Baelon.

Daenerys was a leader of her brothers, Alyssa - their follower. Even in the role of the older sister Alyssa was nothing like Daenerys. She wasn't a leader to her own younger siblings, instead she spurned them and stayed distant from them. It's also mentioned 3 times in the book that Daenerys told her pregnant mother that she wanted a younger sister. Alyssa reacted in an opposite way to Deanerys - she didn't want anything to do with her younger sister Maegelle and refused her company.

A gentle, selfless, and sweet-natured girl, and exceedingly bright, she soon attached herself to her sister Alyssa in much the same way that Prince Baelon had attached himself to Prince Aemon, though not entirely as happily. Now it was Alyssa’s turn to bristle at having “the baby” clinging to her skirts. She evaded her as best she could, and Baelon laughed at her fury.

Alyssa's shunning of other girls and having interest in boys' activities sets her apart from her sister. Maybe it was a result of young Alyssa wanting to be different in her mother's eyes than the dead sister she never knew. Probably she just wanted to spend time playing with her brothers so she emulated them. Also, she could have noticed their close bond to their father and tried to earn his love and approval by being like them. It is noticeable that, after losing Daenerys, Jaehaerys was less involved with raising his new children.

On the surface level, it's assumed that Alyssa is just another Arya-type, but I think she has a lot more in common with Cersei in her characteristics and relationships, even though her physical description (mismatched eyes - violet and green, crooked nose after an injury) is reminiscent of Tyrion. Perhaps Alyssa's description is meant to highlight that she's Lannister-coded.

Does the parallel between Alyssa and Cersei foreshadow a similar contrast between Cersei and Daenerys Stormborn in the future books? Perhaps Daenerys will be bossing around both Jaime and Tyrion like her namesake did with Aemon and Baelon.

Alysanne and Jaehaerys announced the betrothals of their older children in 68 AC. That's when it was decided that Alyssa will not take Daenerys' place as Aemon's wife. Instead, Alysanne planned to recreate her own relationship with Jaehaerys by deciding to marry their second son to second/eldest living daughter.

“Alyssa is for Baelon,” she declared. “She has been following him around since she could walk. They are as close as you and I were at their age.”

So a 7 year old Alyssa is told by her mother that she will marry Baelon, her favourite brother, that she's meant for him. That sounds similar to Cersei's belief how she was one with Jaime, that they belonged to each other. Cersei also switched with Jaime, pretending to be him to go to swordplay lessons. Only difference is that Alyssa was encouraged to pursue a romantic relationship with her brother, while Cersei was separated from Jaime and had to keep the affair secret. Alyssa was raised to be her brother's sisterwife and giving him children was the only expectation placed on her by her parents.

The Vaegon Incident

Another similarity between Alyssa and Cersei is that they tormented their little brothers. When I read about the incident with Alyssa pouring wine on Vaegon, I thought it was rather mean and too much. He only said something insensitive to Daella. But one incident of Alyssa being mean can be excused because she defended their younger sister. On the other hand, when she tomented him again, I had to take notice:

One day, mayhaps in an attempt to spur Vaegon into making more of an effort, he brought his sister Alyssa to the yard, shining in man’s mail. The princess had not forgotten the incident of the Arbor gold. Laughing and shouting mockery, she danced around her little brother and humiliated him half a hundred times, whilst Princess Daella looked down from a window. Shamed beyond endurance, Vaegon threw down his sword and ran from the yard, never to return.

Alyssa was 14 and Vaegon was 11. He was training with Baelon for a year at the insistence of their father. The maester claims that Alyssa humiliated Vaegon so badly because of something he'd said a year ago and she'd already punished him for? Either it's true and Alyssa holds grudges like Cersei or... she just hated Vaegon. And I think it wasn't really because of Daella.

Let's rewind to the pouring wine on Vaegon incident.

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.” Princess Daella, as might be expected, burst into tears and fled the hall, with her mother, the queen, rushing after her. It fell to her sister Alyssa, at thirteen three years Vaegon’s elder, to pour a flagon of wine over his head. Even that did not make the prince repent. “You are wasting Arbor gold,” was all he said before stalking from the hall to change his clothing.

Notice that Alyssa pours wine on him, but she doesn't say anything like "this is for Daella" or "how could you say that to her". It's only maester Gyldayn's conjecture that she was defending her sister (in his efforts to paint Alyssa as the good one among her sisters and completely unlike the simple-minded, promiscous or vain and ambitious ones). Alyssa and Daella weren't close, Alyssa had no interest in hanging out with her sisters and Daella was scared of her.

Her sister Maegelle became her guiding star, and she worshipped her mother, the queen, but her sister Alyssa seemed to terrify her.

To further prove that the close sibling bond between Alyssa and Daella just didn't exist and was entirely imagined by Gyldayn, let's move on to later years. Daella died in childbirth in 82 AC, I wonder what was Alyssa's take on that if she was such a sister protector and she had her own dragon? Rhaena flew on Dreamfyre and threatened Rogar when her mother, Alyssa Velaryon, died in childbirth and that woman robbed her of the crown. There was a huge rift between Rhaena and her mother for many years and she still came to her mother's deathbed and was deeply affected by her loss. I don't hear anything about Alyssa taking Meleys to the Vale to avenge Daella. Most probably she didn't care that much about Daella. Notice how we never hear anything about her ever interacting with her sisters except that she didn't like Maegelle trailing after her when they were little. Even the so-called defense of Daella happens without Daella being present. Was it really about her at all or was Alyssa just dunking on Vaegon because she had a good pretext? I think the answer is obvious.

If defending Daella wasn't the motivation for the first Vaegon incident then what could have caused Alyssa to lash out at him?

I think it was because Vaegon rebelled against the sibling marriage that was forced on him by their parents.

“Be sweet to your little sister,” King Jaehaerys told the prince when he was five. “One day she will be your Alysanne.”

So Vaegon was told that he's meant for Daella, just like Alyssa is meant for Baelon, but unlike Alyssa, he protested the match and he made sure that everyone knew about it. Gyldayn did say that Vaegon was no coward. It was certainly brave of the boy to defy their parents' will in a public setting. Alyssa never did anything like that. To be fair, Gyldayn never mentioned what was Alyssa's reaction to her betrothal to Baelon. As a child, she might not have understood what it really meant and just agreed. He was her favourite brother after all. In Vaegon's case things were different as he and Daella disliked each other. On Baelon's side of things, he was too dutiful to Alysanne to refuse the match.

At the time of the first Vaegon incident Alyssa is 13, she's older and she understands more about what marriage to Baelon means for her. Maybe she wishes she protested it when she had a chance and now it's too late and she's jealous that Vaegon got to refuse Daella. Maybe she's already so indoctrinated into believing sibling incest is their destiny as Targaryens that she wants to "correct" Vaegon for rebelling against their entire system of belief. What's worse, he wasn't punished for his defiance and forced to marry Daella anyway, but instead he got his way. Alysanne listened to him and convinced Jaehaerys to search for a different, unrelated bride for Vaegon. And Alyssa probably knew that Alysanne was never going to call off the marriage to Baelon.

What's interesting is that first Vaegon incident happens same year that Baelon is knighted, receives Dark Sister and claims Vhagar. Baelon gets the holy insignia and is the new Visenya of his generation. Baelon, not Alyssa, the tomboy who likes swordfighting, who is a Targaryen, a future sisterwife raised on the story of the Conquest. Even if it's not outright said in the text, Alyssa probably idolizes Visenya (like Arya did) and wants to be like her. Aemon will be a king like Aegon, Baelon took the spot of Visenya and all Alyssa has left is to be their Rhaenys and become a mother (also she will like sex in a marriage of love with her brother and die early like Rhaenys). And in fact, her son Viserys became the next king and was similar to Aenys. I wonder if Baelon's knighting happens before or after the first Vaegon incident. In any case, Baelon just took tomboy Alyssa's dream away from her and it will affect her future actions. He's not even a girl and he gets to be Visenya. Just how frustrated and angry Alyssa must be? And who she's going to take it out on? Maybe the younger brother she hates and can bully without any consequences?

After the first incident Vaegon was forced to train with Baelon and spend time with him for a year, but the yard incident was the first time Alyssa was included despite how much she loved training swordplay in her younger days. I'm going to assume that at 13-14 and knowing she'll marry at 15, Alyssa wasn't allowed to train anymore (or her time in the yard was greatly reduced) and instead she was forced into princess/wife lessons, learning to do things she always despised doing (like Cersei). So she sees Vaegon, getting to spend time with Baelon, her favourite brother (is he still her favourite at this point? well, she has no one else she's close to), doing things she likes doing and having absolutely miserable time of it. Alyssa must have been pissed - Vaegon gets to live her dream life at the moment and he dares to complain, he dares to dislike it. She'd kill to be in his position. She's just boiling with anger and envy. If only she was the third son, she wouldn't be forced to play her brother's perfect little bride. She could be just one of the boys and their relationship would remain as it was, uncomplicated. Maybe if she beats Vaegon, it would show everyone that she's better than him, better at being a son. Maybe her parents would realize it and something would finally change.

And of course nothing changed and she was cruel to her little brother for nothing. That's why I called the parallel to Arya rather surface, she never did anything like that to Bran or Rickon, while Cersei's hatred of Tyrion is well-documented. Also, both Vaegon and Tyrion are the bookish younger brothers with no real interest or ability to be warriors. No one defends them from their sisters, not even their parents.

Baelon completes the reenactment of the Lannister sibling dynamic because just like Jaime, he is complicit in the humiliation and traumatizing of his little brother (Vaegon - yard incident, Tyrion - Tysha incident). He brought in Alyssa, he made it happen. I wonder if Jaehaerys told him to do it, like Tywin did with Jaime. It would certainly make sense as Jaehaerys wanted Vaegon to toughen up, so using Alyssa to "motivate" him (train harder, a boy can't be beaten by a girl) could have been his idea all along.

It seems that Alyssa is the answer to the question "what-if Cersei was a Targaryen". And we know Cersei is not a good person at all. There's no evidence in text that Alyssa was a good person beyond her role as Baelon's wife. On the contrary, her treatment of Vaegon, furious rejection of Maegelle's company and non-existent relationship with Daella, who was scared of Alyssa, all prove that she wasn't a good sister to her younger siblings.

The parallels between Alyssa and Cersei are apparent. Even their two sons have some similar characteristics. Viserys and Tommen are seen as weak and soft, Daemon and Joffrey are bloodthirsty and violent.

The parallel of Alyssa to Rhaenys works as well with her son Viserys who is a weak king like Aenys and has warrior, ambitious younger brother Daemon, who was even called "second Maegor" by his contemporaries.

Marriage and dragonriding

After marriage Alyssa claims a dragon, Meleys (name starting with M like Meraxes, Rhaenys' dragon) but at first she wanted to claim Balerion, however the dragonkeepers talked her out of it.

Like her brothers before her, Alyssa Targaryen meant to be a dragonrider, and sooner rather than later. Aemon had flown at seventeen, Baelon at sixteen. Alyssa meant to do it at fifteen. 

Again, Alyssa trailing after her brothers, trying to outdo them.

Meleys was as swift a dragon as Westeros had ever seen, easily outpacing Caraxes and Vhagar when she and her brothers flew together.

That really all sounds like a competition that Alyssa is constantly participating in against her brothers, but it's all in her head. She didn't claim the bigger dragon, so she took the faster one. Even her exaggerated bragging about sex sounds like she's trying to be manlier than Baelon.

Speaking of the real competition, Alyssa wasn't a participant, but she was a vital part of it. The competition from the start was between Baelon and Aemon. Baelon was always following his older brother. He started to learn swordfighting early to catch up, had public duels with him, got knighted and claimed Vhagar - a bigger and stronger dragon than Aemon's Caraxes - at 16, so he did it at an earlier age than Aemon did (he was 17). He wanted to outdo his elder brother and marrying Alyssa was a part of that competition. Baelon gets a dragonriding sisterwife, the eldest of their sisters, the one that Jaehaerys intended for Aemon the heir. Aemon marries only their aunt with a small amount of Targaryen blood and without the Valyrian look, who will never claim a dragon. So all around, for Baelon the marriage to Alyssa is a big win over his brother. He's more like their father King than Aemon is, he's more worthy of his love (being the heir).

Young Alyssa saw how close Baelon and Aemon were - it seems natural that she wanted to be included in their competition. But the brother she focused more on was Baelon, not necessarily Aemon (though outdoing Baelon is almost guaranteed to be the same as outdoing Aemon as well). She was trailing after Baelon, she wanted to be as close to him as Aemon, have that sibling bond. Her idea to claim Balerion, the only dragon bigger than Baelon's Vhagar, not to mention the Conqueror's dragon, would have allowed her to outdo both of her brothers. Choosing Meleys, a red dragon just like Aemon's Caraxes, but faster than both of their dragons, puts her on at least equal footing with Aemon, and as a superior to both of them in terms of speed. In the air, they aren't better than she is.

Aemon marries Jocelyn when he's 15 and she's 16, while Baelon is 13 and Alyssa is 9. Alyssa marries Baelon when she's 15 and he's 18. Looks like the wedding was rushed a year because the other princesses married at 16. The reason might be that after Rhaenys was born Jocelyn became unable to give birth again so the king and queen wanted Baelon and Alyssa to quickly make a future husband for Rhaenys. Or Jaehaerys already decided to pass over Rhaenys in succession and saw Baelon as Aemon's heir, therefore Baelon needed a male heir too. Or it was all still part of the brotherly competition of who has a son first.

It's also interesting that Alyssa didn't get pregnant right after the wedding despite the reported frequent sexlife of the couple. She gave birth to Viserys in 77 AC, when she was 17, so she waited around a year before getting pregnant. Daemon was born in 81 AC and Aegon in 84 AC. There was some family planning involved with these mostly even rest periods between pregnancies. For example, Rhaenyra had her second son after a year and the third son was born after 2 years. It's most likely that Alyssa was drinking moon tea, while Baelon was enthusiastic to have sons (and get a win over Aemon). All I'm saying is that this marriage wasn't just pure passion on her side. Alyssa agreed to give children to Baelon, but she controlled when it happened (unlike her mother who was forced to birth Valerion in 77 AC, same year as Viserys, then Gael in 80 AC). That's another similarity with Cersei, who admitted to controlling her own procreation, whose children she had, how many and when.

I think Alyssa wanted to have the time in between pregnancies to pursue her hobbies. Within fortnight after birthing her sons she takes them flying on her dragon and it's not because she wants to give them legendary beginnings - it's probably because she wasn't allowed to fly for months during the pregnancy and she was just impatient to do it again.

Despite claiming a dragon, Alyssa was still excluded. She wasn't allowed to help her brothers and father during the 4th Dornish War. They would never risk her dying like queen Rhaenys in Dorne. Alyssa never used her dragon or sword skills for anything (except humiliating Vaegon). When she tells Baelon that he's made for battles and she for birthing his children, I wonder if it was how she really felt inside? Was she just resigned to her fate at that point? That no matter how much she tried, she will never be a son to Jaehaerys or an equal partner to Baelon and Aemon. She will never be Visenya.

We know that if Cersei or Arya had a dragon, they'd go apeshit with power and go off burning their enemies. And you tell me Alyssa never had a thought to fly to Oldtown and burn the Citadel as the last "fuck you" to Vaegon? Never wanted to burn the Dornish ships alongside her brothers? Never dreamed to go exploring the world? Maybe she was satisfied with Baelon and he kept her home like an anchor. She wouldn't fly off without him. Maybe he and Vhagar ensured she stayed put in King's Landing. Alyssa fully accepted her role as the mother of Baelon's sons. She bent the rules of conforming to her gender, but she couldn't truly break them or she would have lost her privileges.

The truth of Alyssa's character is that in the end she always followed the rules set by her parents. In that way she was a dutiful daughter.

Sex and dragonriding

Sex and dragonriding were Alyssa's favorite activities and she spent hours on both. In her own words she likens them to each other. She says she mounted and rode Baelon and after claiming Meleys she compares herself to her dragon saying that they were both mounted and so lost their virginity.

“Red maidens, the two of us,” the princess boasted, laughing, “but now we’ve both been mounted.”

There's no mention if adult Alyssa still continued sparring, climbing and other masculine activities she preferred in her youth, but most likely she had to give them up in order not to risk any miscarriage. Instead she spent her time on sex and dragonriding - both physical activities that she was allowed and expected to perform. But the way she did them so much, so excessively is rather odd and has implications on her state of mind.

The princess was seldom long away from the Dragonpit after that day. Flying was the second sweetest thing in the world, she would oft say, and the very sweetest thing could not be mentioned in the company of ladies. 

Except she did mention it when she announced that she rode Baelon and was going to do it again.

It seems that Alyssa replaced sparring in the yard with another activity she was doing exclusively with Baelon - having sex with him. Moreover, she puts emphasis on riding him, being on top. It suggests that she was still trying to outdo him. It was definitely a way for her to take control of some aspect of her life and their relationship.

Some readers dismiss passages about Alyssa's sexlife as just Gyldayn being gross and perverted. Her sexual behavior is brushed off as unimportant despite how uncommon and even unique her actions were. I can't think of any other female character in ASOIAF acting this way (let me know if there was one), even among the ones who liked sex.

The bride was fifteen, the groom eighteen. Unlike their father and mother, Baelon and Alyssa did not wait to consummate their union; the bedding that followed their wedding feast was the source of much ribald humor in the days that followed, for the young bride’s sounds of pleasure could be heard all the way to Duskendale, men said. A shyer maid might have been abashed by that, but Alyssa Targaryen was as bawdy a wench as any barmaid in King’s Landing, as she herself was fond of boasting. “I mounted him and took him for a ride,” she declared the morning after the bedding, “and I mean to do the same tonight. I love to ride.”

Alyssa is a 15 year old child bride who was so loud during her first time having sex that everyone in the castle heard it and talked about it, then she told them all her favorite sex position. And she was boasting about it. That is not a normal behavior of a girl that just lost her virginity. Gyldayn is weird not because he reported her abnormal actions and words, but because he tries to make them sound like a good thing and not something actually concerning. Just because she's so eager to have sex with her husband, it's all good and fun. And even then, she's compared to a bawdy barmaid (I'm not exactly sure from this wording if Alyssa is boasting that she's bawdy like a barmaid or Gyldayn compares her to a bawdy barmaid because she was fond of boasting about her sexlife). Gyldayn treats this story like a humorous anecdote.

Even if Alyssa was just a horny teenager, why was she so shamelessly discussing her wedding night in public? The reasons I could think of are:

An attempt to act more like a man than a woman by boasting of a sexual "conquest" (another question is if she even knew how women act, she wasn't close to any, but I'm going to assume she knew normal conduct and chose to act differently on purpose).

To say: "I was on top, so I'm the real boss in this marriage".

To embarrass and shame the gossiping courtiers (maybe? But then she kept having loud sex so maybe not).

As a passive-aggressive form of rebellion against her parents - "you can make me marry, but I'm going to act in a way that's as scandalous and embarrassing to you as possible while technically obeying the rules and doing what I'm supposed to do".

Because she feels so euphoric after the sex and she has a poor impulse control, so she's oversharing.

Because being shameless and bawdy is a part of her personality now.

Alyssa's unusual sexual behaviour is dismissed as her just being a horny teenager or having high sex drive or being so in love with Baelon or all of the above. The fact is that Alyssa's sexual habits didn't change until she died at 24 after complications from childbirth.

Alyssa's promiscuous behavior could be caused by her still emulating Baelon and following his lead like in her childhood. When they married he was 18, older and more knowledgeable. Baelon was a lusty lad, so she became bawdy like a barmaid to match him.

I think it can be argued that Alyssa exhibits signs of sex addiction.

Prince Baelon had not ceased smiling since his marriage. When not aloft, Baelon and Alyssa spent every hour together, most oft in their bedchamber. Prince Baelon was a lusty lad, for those same shrieks of pleasure that had echoed through the halls of the Red Keep on the night of their bedding were heard many another night in the years that followed. 

One thing is being newlyweds, the other is spending many hours having sex and making it a habit for 9 years of marriage. From the sound of it Alyssa's life revolved around dragonriding and sex, excluding any other activities and company of other people. It seems extremely unhealthy. Spending this much time and focus on sex sounds like she's addicted.

Against all advice, his mother clapped the boy in swaddling clothes, strapped him to her chest, and took him aloft on Meleys when he was nine days old. 

Unnecessary risky behaviour resulting in child endagerment? Check. That's what an addict would do. Their inhibitions and impulse control are often lowered.

Another sign of sexual addiction is "engaging in sexual behaviors that go against your personal values, religious beliefs or what society deems appropriate". Alyssa's loud sex and boasting about it definitely aren't what Westerosi society deems appropriate.

Next sign of sex addiction is engaging in paraphilia, like exhibitionism, voyeurism, sadomasochism. Alyssa's behavior is almost exhibitionistic. She's definitely skirting an edge here. She doesn't expose her sexlife to other people's eyes, but to their ears.

“They call me Baelon the Brave,” the prince told his wife at her bedside, “but you are far braver than me. I would sooner fight a dozen battles than do what you’ve just done.” Alyssa laughed at him. “You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!”

This quote says a lot. Baelon praised her for being so brave, because childbirth is dangerous and women died because of it - their grandmother Alyssa Velaryon, their sister Daella just died recently, their mother had difficult births with Valerion and Gael. Alyssa just laughs it off, dismisses his worry. She doesn't see the danger. Well, she survived it 3 times, so she's different than other women (she's not as she later doesn't recover and dies at 24). She wants to get back to it ASAP - or rather to the babymaking. That's a risky behavior that disregards her health in pursuit of what she's addicted to. She wants to get her fix.

All of this put together paints Alyssa as at least sex obssessed if not sex addicted, especially the amount of time she dedicates to it and her risktaking, reckless attitude, against justified worries of Baelon or maesters advice. Gyldayn could be exaggerating. Or he's just saying it how it was but makes it into a humorous, romantic tale. Of brother and sister that do nothing but fly on dragons and have sex. That's their entire marriage life. But the focus put on it really makes it look unusual. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had 13 children, but there are no "heartwarming" tales about how much time they spent in the bedroom.

Alyssa expressed a belief that she was made for giving birth, for procreation. She accepts her assigned role in life and finds as much enjoyment as she could in fulfilling it. There's nothing else. She was raised to do only this and the indoctrination worked too well. Alysanne wanted the couple to be like her own marriage and Alyssa emulates her by planning to have a bunch of kids, even though Alysanne was so much more to Jaehaerys - advisor, diplomat, lawmaker. Baelon even told Aemon that he leaves making law to him, because he prefers to make sons.

“I will leave the making of law to you, brother,” Prince Baelon declared, whilst drinking to Prince Aemon’s appointment. “I would sooner make sons.”

Apart from her environment and fulfilling expectations what could be the other causes of Alyssa's sexual behavior? It could be related to many mental health problems and we know Targaryens as a family have a predisposition to them. If she's addicted, it could be a response to personal trouble. A tomboy is forced to be a traditional wife, giving up her dreams. It could be a coping mechanism if she was feeling depression. Sex raises mood like alcohol. An addict wants to forget his troubles and just feel good. Alyssa's younger sisters, Saera and Viserra, also showed signs of addiction, both getting drunk when they were young teenagers. Saera at 12, Viserra at 15.

Alysanne was pregnant with Valerion and Gael around the time of both of Alyssa's pregnancies. I wonder what does it do to a pregnant woman to watch her mother be forced into risky pregnancies, having difficult labour and recovering for half a year after that? Did she feel like she was seeing her own future? That this will be her in 20 years? But it's too depressing to think about, so she had to ignore, repress, deny it. She was different, younger, stronger, she was in control of her body, Baelon wouldn't do that to her. This is her battle and she was made for this, she's a warrior. Her mother survived it 13 times, so Alyssa will too. Better stop thinking about it and go have sex or fly on a dragon.

Alyssa having depression may seem like a leap but as I said - she has a good reason. She's a tomboy turned housewife at 15. What are her real feelings on the marriage? Gyldayn never provides anything substantial. He says outright that "Prince Baelon had not ceased smiling since his marriage" and links it with all the sex he was having. Why didn't he say instead "Baelon and Alyssa were smiling", just Baelon? What about Alyssa? She's constantly dragonriding or having sex. Both of those activities are keeping her way from all other people except Baelon. It looks like she's isolating herself. When she interacts with others, she's bawdy and boasting about her sexlife (after wedding night, after claiming Meleys) or reaffirms her role in life as a childbearer (to Baelon and in front of the maesters after she gave birth to Aegon).

Alyssa's solitary activities after marriage and over the top enthusiasm for sex may be covering up her feelings of dissatisfaction with her life. Look at the similarity to her son Daemon, he had a reputation for his abundant sexlife and patronage of brothels when he was unhappily married to Rhea Royce. He couldn't even hold any position on a Small Council for long and Otto was undermining him and taking the spot as his brother's chief councilor. Daemon had plenty of reasons to be unhappy and dissatisfied with his life and that's when he was behaving promiscuously. Then it all disappeared after Rhea's death and him choosing a new wife for himself. It's likely Alyssa passed the predisposition to sex addiction to her son.

Other character acting similar to Alyssa in the series would be Robert Baratheon - a chief example of a depressed sex addict, but he was masking it by feasting and getting drunk all the time. Alyssa's main parallel, Cersei, became an alcoholic, which is just another type of addiction. Cersei also exhibited risky sexual behavior by having an affair with Jaime, having his children and everything that followed from that (like sex in the Broken Tower, her affair with Lancel).

Taking into account all of the above I'd say it looks like Alyssa developed a sex addiction and any type of addiction signifies deep personal trouble that one tries to forget/cope with.

Gyldayn portrays the marriage as happy, but the only one who was shown as happy was Baelon. Gyldayn sees that Alyssa liked sex, satisfied her husband's sexual needs all the time, accepted her role as a mother and gave birth to sons so he treats it like a successful marriage. But he doesn't care about what Alyssa felt, only Baelon.

Alyssa - the role model for Saera and Viserra

Alyssa resembles Cersei because of her "I'm not like the other girls" attitude. She wants to be in the boys' club with Aemon and Baelon and has nothing in common with her sisters. And she's said to avoid other girls' company. It's all rather strange. In a way she's like Alysanne, who was purposely deprived of female friends in her childhood by her mother, however in Alyssa's case it was a choice.

Despite Alyssa's distance she had a profound effect on both Saera and Viserra as their older sister. She was supposed to be their role model as a Targaryen princess. They were probably constantly compared to her and told that she's a good wife. If they want to be successful, they should be like Alyssa. Unfortunately for the younger girls, Alyssa is in fact a terrible role model.

Saera is the most similar to Alyssa out of all their sisters. This comparison is explicitly stated in the book, as according to her maesters Saera was:

as strong and quick and spirited as her sister Alyssa.

The similarities between the family's problem child and the parentally approved older sister are also in their behaviour, which Saera was probably copying off Alyssa. Saera even wanted to claim Balerion like Alyssa initially did before the dragonkeepers changed her mind. It's also interesting to note that:

Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

That means Alyssa shared the common dislike for Saera despite keeping general distance from all her sisters and the 6 year age gap. What reason Alyssa would have to dislike Saera? I think the most possible reason was that Saera became Jaehaerys' favourite and could get anything she wanted, despite her general mayhem and misbehavior. Meanwhile, Alyssa's efforts to please him, first by being like the boys, then obediently marrying Baelon, didn't get her anything she wanted, apart from a dragon that she wasn't allowed to use for battle or for any other purpose than leisure flying. Jaehaerys was never the same after Saera's escape to Essos but there was no mention of his reaction to Alyssa's death. It's clear that Saera had his affection without trying, but Alyssa didn't, so Alyssa had a good reason to be jealous of Saera and dislike her.

Going in chronological order, the first similarity between Alyssa and Saera was their cruel and humiliating treatment of those who couldn't even defend themselves from them - their own siblings. Alyssa was cruel to her little brother Vaegon and humiliated him so badly that he completely gave up on learning the sword despite keeping up with it for a year, but no one ever mentions her actions as something bad. Vaegon was an unpopular, bookish and unhappy boy that wasn't good at traditional male activities like fighting, so Alyssa could bully him without any repercussions and even with a tacit permission from their father (reminds me of Sam Tarly situation). No wonder he lost confidence, closed off and took the first chance to leave the family that didn't love or protect him. No wonder he only visited when he was summoned and his letters to Alysanne were perfunctory.

Was Saera emulating Alyssa's cruelty? It's very possible. Saera was 6 and 7 years old when the two incidents of Alyssa bullying Vaegon happened. Saera might not have seen them (it's likely she did), but she definitely heard of them and saw how Alyssa was unpunished. It must have emboldened Saera's own cruel streak. Her first childhood victim was Daella who she kept scaring with her pranks (the prank with hiding bees in a chamberpot was definitely dangerous and cruel). Daella was an easy target as she was mentally disabled and delicate. Septon Barth noted Saera's jealousy of the attention Daella was getting from their mother. After Daella left, Saera started playing cruel and humiliating pranks on another mentally disabled person, the court fool Tom Turnip.

It's also worth noting that both Vaegon and Daella were in Jaehaerys' disfavour because they both failed to meet his expectations. Both were avoiding marriage in their own ways, Vaegon lacked martial talent and Daella's mental disability was the proof against the king's Targaryen supremacy propaganda. Jaehaerys was the driving force to send them away from their home, never to return. It seems that Alyssa was used by their father to teach Vaegon a lesson. Saera not only picked up on Jaehaerys' dislike for Daella, but also on his quiet approval of Alyssa's bullying of Vaegon. She knew it was allowed.

The next similarity between sisters was in their hypersexual behaviour. Saera was 8 years old when Alyssa got married and the tale of her wedding night spread. She must have heard some of Alyssa's boasting about sex, saying how much she loved it, or the often occuring loud sex sounds coming from her bedroom. It continued until Alyssa's death when Saera was 16, nearly 17. Saera's formative years were spent influenced by her sister's sex-obssessed example. Alyssa's behaviour was accepted by all, approved by their parents despite how unusual it was. It's no wonder Saera took a cue from her older sister and began her own sexual explorations as a teenager with her group of friends. She even sought out the older and more experienced Braxton Beesbury to be her Baelon substitute.

Like Alyssa, Saera also exhibited signs of sex addiction - risky sexual behavior, sex with multiple partners, sexually humiliating pranks on Tom Turnip (voyeuristic in nature - she wanted to see him naked, to see him having sex). We know she had an addictive personality as she became alcoholic when she was 12 years old.

Saera's scandalous sexual conduct was caught by her parents after Alyssa's death, in the same year. And she even used as one of her justifications that "Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time", proving that she took notice of their relationship and how sex-focused it was. She learned from them that a happy, successful marriage is based on having sex all the time. At the same time, the only other example she had was her parents, who were becoming distant from each other and stopped having sex (and their reasons for disagreeing were Daella's death and Jaehaerys forcing 2 risky pregnancies on Alysanne, which endagered her life). Aemon and Jocelyn lived on Dragonstone, so they couldn't serve as a more normal example of a married couple for Saera.

Viserra was also affected by Alyssa's bad example. She witnessed Alyssa's marriage from the age of 4 to 13 years old, so for most of her young life. According to Alysanne:

"She aims much higher, our Viserra. I have seen the way she preens and prances around Baelon. That is the husband she desires, and not for love of him. She wants to be the queen.”

So Alysanne started losing it because she thought that Viserra wanted to be the queen, while Aemon was the heir and married, so marrying Baelon would not make her a queen. Unless she suspected the sly Viserra to have a plan to get rid of Aemon and Rhaenys to get to the throne after marrying Baelon. However, the one who explicitly stated that she wanted to be a queen was Saera, not Viserra. Alysanne was confusing her daughters. Previously she had more accurate insights on her children. Maybe she was spending less time with them and focusing more on young Gael.

Alysanne statement has to be taken with a grain of salt, it's not entirely factual, but rather her opinion on Viserra. She can't allow Alyssa to be replaced in Baelon's heart, as she fashioned their marriage in the image of her own with Jaehaerys. She believes that Baelon and Alyssa are the true love story, so he can never remarry. Her solution to the danger of Viserra replacing Alyssa is to betroth her to the old lord Manderly. That way she'll stay far away from Baelon and Alyssa's memory will be preserved.

Viserra understandably protests the betrothal, but her parents are unyielding, so she decides to seduce Baelon by sneaking into his bed naked and drunk. The thing is, that behaviour wasn't Viserra's usual MO. She was known for playing with boys like puppies, manipulating them to do what she wanted and sending them on foolish quests. She wasn't a seductress. Then why did she take this straightforward approach with Baelon and just jumped into his bed?

“He married one sister, why not another?” Viserra told her closest friend, the empty-headed Beatrice Butterwell. “I am much prettier than Alyssa ever was, you saw her. She had a broken nose.”

This quote proves Viserra's interest in Baelon and also provides a lead to the reason for Viserra's actions. Based on what Viserra saw of Baelon's relationship with Alyssa, she concluded that Baelon only cares about sex and the only way to get his attention is to offer him her body. Viserra doesn't know how to interact with or romance her older brother. Alyssa spent most of her time with him by having sex, so that must be how it's done, right? It sounds like Viserra is unaware if there was anything other than sex between Alyssa and Baelon. She even thinks that he wouldn't care which sister he's having sex with.

It's important to note that Viserra is vain, but she is not stupid. She's described as sly and capable of manipulating people to do what she wants. A skilled manipulator has to be observant and notice things about people. And those are the conclusions she drew about Baelon and Alyssa's marriage which she observed for most of her life - that all he cared about was having sex with his sisterwife, that all a good sisterwife had to do was to be sexually available. It's possible that Viserra didn't understimate Baelon's actual loyalty to dead Alyssa, but only his sense of duty and honour. He didn't take advantage of her, even when she offered, but if his parents ordered him to marry her, he'd probably obey them like he always did.

Alyssa is seen as different and better then her younger sisters despite all the evidence to the contrary. The positive spin on her qualities is like the opposite of the negative spin on her sisters' characters. Basically, she gets special treatment (from both her parents and Gyldayn) because she married Baelon and fulfills the traditional role of wife and mother. On the other hand, when her sisters follow her example or want the same things she had, they are villainized. Saera is called "an evil child" by her septa, then "a whore" by her father and heavily punished, forced to watch her father kill her lover, Viserra is labeled as ambitious and manipulative by her mother.

Maegelle, Alyssa and the incestous family planning

Maegelle seems to most people like the sister that had the least to do with Alyssa, had a good life as a septa and was lucky to escape her sisters' various tragic fates. However, she was heavily impacted as a child by Alyssa and also their parents' plans for both of them.

Alyssa broke the chain of younger siblings trailing after the elder. Baelon followed Aemon, Alyssa followed Baelon, but when Maegelle tried to follow her, Alyssa was completely against it. Probably she just didn't want Maegelle joining the dynamic Alyssa had with their brothers, getting close to them and taking away their affection.

Maegelle joined the Faith of the Seven in 73 AC when she was 10 years old. It can be argued that Alysanne was always going to send one daughter to Oldtown, but did it have to be Maegelle and not Daella, Saera or Viserra at a later date? Maegelle could have married Vaegon or someone else, so why didn't she?

Jaehaerys' idea for arranging marriages was pretty simple, he wanted to pair them up by the order of birth - eldest son to eldest daughter, second son to second daughter and so on. It was Alysanne who had to intervene and tell him who liked who, he had no clue about the relationships between his children. According to Jaehaerys' matchmaking plan, Aemon would have married Alyssa, so logically I assume next would be Baelon and Maegelle, Vaegon and Daella. Alysanne must have seen problems with that, like the age gaps - 6 years between Aemon and Alyssa, 5 years between Baelon and Maegelle. She also made Jocelyn sit next to Aemon during a feast for his investiture as Prince of Dragonstone when he was 7 and saw that the two got along really well. So that is one example of Alysanne's successful matchmaking and arranged well in advance before the betrothals were made.

It's likely that Maegelle's future was sacrificed to appease the Faith so they wouldn't oppose another full sibling marriage - between Alyssa and Baelon. And that's why when the betrothals were made in 68 AC, Jaehaerys told Vaegon that he will marry Daella, not Maegelle who was older.

I wonder if Maegelle became pious because she was being prepared for her life as a septa or it had something to do with Alyssa rejecting her company. Maybe the religion provided Maegelle with some comfort and friendship. Maybe she didn't want to marry her brother or anyone at all and becoming a septa allowed her to avoid that fate. The opposite was also possible, what if Maegelle only wanted to please and imitate Alysanne, who was pious herself, but she didn't actually want to become a septa? Maybe she became pious because she was praying for something specific, had some wish? The point is we will never know what Maegelle wanted to do with her life as she was never asked and the choice was taken from her before she was grown enough to make it. And the same thing happened sooner or later to all the other siblings. In any case, Alysanne removed Maegelle from the marriage plans so that Alyssa could marry Baelon.

Was it fair to Maegelle to decide her whole life for her when she was so young? Was it fair to do the same to Alyssa or any of their other siblings? The moral of the story of all the children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne is simple - that parents controlling their children's future and deciding their whole lives and careers when they are 5-10 years old is unfair, awful and often has tragic consequences. Maegelle is as much of a victim here, she was said to be bright and studious as a child, she had intelligence and potential for greatness that was squandered by sending her to be a septa. Funny that Alysanne didn't notice that Maegelle, not Alyssa, was the most like her out of all her daughters. Maegelle with her gentleness, caring for the weak like Daella, charitableness could have been the next Good Queen.

Maegelle is regarded as the only sister that got away from tragedies of her siblings. But she was made to join a religious order as a child. She never had a choice or an opportunity to be anything different. When she died, nursing patients with greyscale, she was only 34 years old. She didn't even reach middle age. She lived only 10 years longer than Alyssa. Ironically, Saera could have outlived them all, as the last time she was mentioned, she was alive at age 34 during the Great Council of 101 AC.

Alyssa despite being portrayed as accepting of her duty and even enthusiastic about having more children, isn't the happy exception, the successful daughter. She has to give up on any of her previous dreams and aspirations, she has power - a dragon, that she's not allowed to use in battle as equal with her brothers. Despite having the role of Rhaenys she can't fight alongside her brothers, she has to stay behind and be protected by them. She's reduced to being just a wife and mother and it seems to me that her enthusiasm about sex is at best her simply finding pleasure and control in what little she's allowed to have and do. She makes the best of what she has because what else she can do? It can be even argued that she showed signs of sex addiction and was hiding her dissatisfaction and depression. She dies at 24 from complications after childbirth.

Both Alyssa and Maegelle were obedient daughters who spent their lives fulfilling their parents' expectations, following the paths they didn't choose, and died as a result without even reaching middle age. They are both tragic, but their parents, Gyldayn - and through them the book readers - don't realize it.

After Alyssa's death

After Alyssa's death her shadow is cast over her younger sisters. Saera and Viserra are condemned for pursuing what was once granted to Alyssa. They can't have a brother, a lover or a dragon. They aren't allowed to fill her shoes. Alysanne projects herself on Alyssa and won't let a younger and prettier queen take her place. You know she just hates the idea of Jaehaerys marrying a new woman after she's gone, because it would disprove their eternal love, so Baelon has to be forever Alyssa's.

Alyssa isn't just a distant elder sister and bad role model for her younger sisters (who get punished for acting like she did - that's a big parenting failure of Jaehaerys and Alysanne). Her ghost deeply affects Baelon who isn't allowed to stop mourning her for the rest of his life. It's written like a proof of their great love that he couldn't move on, but what if he eventually wanted to? Baelon couldn't find happiness again after Alyssa because that would disappoint Alysanne and he was too dutiful to her. So he was stuck in this loyalty to a dead wife for 16 years (85 AC to 101 AC).

Though shattered by his loss, Baelon took solace in the two strong sons that she had left him, Viserys and Daemon, and never ceased to honor the memory of his sweet lady with the broken nose and mismatched eyes.

I find it interesting that only Baelon's reaction to her death was mentioned. Compared to the other siblings dying, usually we are told Alysanne's and/or Jaehaerys' reaction. They probably mourned her, but didn't see her death at 24 due to complications after childbirth as overly tragic. They probably thought that these things happen and there was nothing they could do. They don't realize that expecting Alyssa to keep having more children was what killed her. She had two sons, but to carry on the family tradition of sibling marriages, they needed her to have a daughter. Baelon wanted a girl, a sisterwife for his son, to continue the cycle in the next generation.

Gyldayn's description of Baelon's reaction to Alyssa's death seems overly sugary. He's trying to make their relationship look as romantic as possible, but calling her "sweet lady with the broken nose and mismatched eyes" ruins the effect. In what way Alyssa was ever sweet to anyone? Calling attention to her broken nose and mismatched eyes is rather weird, as they are physical imperfections. It's causing the whiplash, a dissonance between what was told and shown. How much of this statement by Gyldayn is even true?

Conclusions

Alyssa Targaryen is a complex character beyond being a wife and mother. She's distant from most of her siblings but has a significant influence and impact on their lives. The only one she's close to is Baelon and she tries to compete with him and Aemon. She bullied Vaegon, furiously rejected Maegelle, scared Daella and set a bad example of sexual behavior to Saera and Viserra. What's more, Alyssa's character isn't good or nice or even responsible. She's cruel, bawdy and competitive, avoids company of other girls and her sisters, because she thinks she's different (better) than them. She dismisses the danger of childbirth and unnecessarily risks her newborn sons when she takes them dragonriding.

Alyssa is deeply indoctrinated by her parents to believe in Targaryen supremacy ideology and accepts her role as a sisterwife and childbearer. She follows the rules set by them and is rewarded and praised for it. Despite that, she's likely depressed and coping by having sex or dragonriding. She exhibits signs of having a sex addiction, which is likely because her younger sisters and son Daemon also had addictive personalities. Her marriage life consists of having sex for most of the time and only her husband is mentioned to be happy with it. She's not allowed to express and pursue her own goals and the cases of her bullying Vaegon seem to be her lashing out because he rebelled against his parents' plans for his future.

Many existing similaries prove that the Alyssa is the answer to the question: "what if Cersei was a Targaryen?" She also resembles queen Rhaenys in her dynamic with her older brothers.

Alyssa's death isn't seen as tragic, despite her dying at 24 after giving birth to a third son they didn't need. She died young and for unnecessary reason. Her death was in vain as the child didn't live through infancy. The only one who was said to be mourning her was Baelon, who became a martyr of their great, lost love, and a sad widower for the rest of his life to appease Alysanne, who saw his marriage to Alyssa as a mirror to her own marriage with Jaehaerys.

Alyssa is not the one good, unproblematic daughter that Jaehaerys and Alysanne raised. Their bad parenting affected her as well as every single one of her siblings, even Maegelle, whose future was sacrificed so that Alyssa and Baelon could marry.

Jaehaerys and Alysanne weren't good parents to any of their children, including Alyssa. They decided their children's future paths when they were still too young and didn't finish growing, and then expected them to follow those plans. In result, most of the siblings died, either due to obeying their parent's will (Daenerys, Aemon, Alyssa, Maegelle, Daella) or rebelling against it (Viserra, Gael). The 3 remaining ones (Baelon, Vaegon, Saera) didn't die, but endured much suffering and hardship in their lives as an effect of their parents' control over them.

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I worked on this for a week, so I hope it's interesting and at least provides some food for thought. I'm open to questions and more discussion, so you can send asks. I might write more analysis on Jaehaerys and Alysanne's bad parenting method and maybe some other topics related to their reign.