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buckets-and-trees · 4 months ago

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Chosen, Part 7: Offering

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: You have arrived at the altar, it is time for the offering, and you finally come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements - human offering for a ritual; light smut: intimate touching, teasing, breastplay, cum swapping/tasting, consent is mildly dubious; public nudity/on display for others; exhibitionism; herbal enhancement/explanation of herbal enhancement in the system

Notes: You might get some answers to some questions in this part... but I make no promises!

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In your final approach to the altar, you notice someone standing behind it, shrouded in shadows.

As you reach the dais, he steps forward into the moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

Standing tall and commanding attention, his powerful build is cloaked in flowing black robes that only enhance the sense of strength emanating from him. He’s the only one in black. His longer, dark hair frames a face that can only be described as painfully handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, covered with rugged stubble. But it's his eyes that truly captivate you. Piercing blue orbs locked onto yours, sending an electric current through your body. With his intense gaze, he seems to see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence.

This is James Buchanan Barnes, the enigmatic founder you've heard so many whispers of and have so many questions about.

James' eyes never leave yours, but as you draw closer, you notice something glinting behind him in the moonlight. Just over his left shoulder, there’s a gleam of blue-ish black that pulls your focus for a brief instant, eyes departing from his, before going right back. He tilts his chin slightly, and you sense he’s interpreting your momentary distraction.

The stone altar, though simple, is intimidating by virtue of its purpose. It sits on a raised dais, bathed in moonlight. You start to see that the dais and altar are both adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with what looks like moonstone. Candles flicker around its base, casting dancing light and shadows that intermingle with the glowing orbs Steve and others have brought with them.

Steve and Natasha guide you to stand at the foot of the dais before the altar, facing James. The circle of masked figures presses closer behind you, their soft humming growing in intensity, the air thick with anticipation.

James raises his hands, and silence falls over the gathering.

“Welcome,” he announces simply. His voice is deep and resonant, carrying easily through the clearing as he commands the attention of everyone assembled. His eyes sweep meaningfully over everyone, before they lock back on you, and the energy in your body surges again. You wonder if everyone else is so affected by his stare.

He’s nothing short of captivating.

"Step forward," he commands softly, eyes fixed only on you.

Steve and Natasha gently direct you to stand before the altar. Your legs feel timid as you ascend the few steps to the dais. As you draw closer, so does he, his robes trailing behind him. He looks down at you, his intense gaze never waver, and you can see his eyes more clearly - a swirling mix of blue and gray that seems to shift in the moonlight.

"Do you understand why you are here?"

You give a single, slow nod, not ready to test your voice in this moment.

"You have been brought here by my envoys to participate in an ancient ritual," he continues.

“Envoys,” he says, briefly looking past you to Steve and Natasha, “you may present this human oblation.”

Natasha and Steve swiftly ascend the steps behind you, coming to stand on either side of you once more.

“We bring this soul as an offering for the ritual,” Steve says, loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear, “an offering to celebrate your power and glory, an offering to further your noble pursuit to reclaim your destiny.”

The two then move with practiced grace, their hands reaching for the ties of your cloak, and together they loosen it.

“She has been chosen and prepared with diligent care,” Natasha speaks, “and we, the appointed envoys among your devotees, present her not only as an offering for the traditional ritual of this full moon, but believe her a worthy oblation for the rites of elim, at your discretion.”

As they speak, a knot forms in your stomach, tightening with each word, your trepidation flaring back up.

In a swift motion, they pull the cloak away from your shoulders, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

But now in only the delicate chemise, it’s not the rest of the crowd assembled that you worry about seeing you like this, only him.

Your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes roam over you, especially knowing there's nothing underneath the midnight blue silk and lace, and the slits feel dangerously higher than they did before. His gaze lingers over the curves of your body, and you swear a small smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“What say those assembled? Could she be elim?”

That word again - elim.

Behind you there are murmurs of assent.

“Then place your oblation on the altar,” he says.

Your envoys step closer. Natasha leans in close and lightly touches your elbow. “Step out of your sandals,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve extends his hand to help you onto the immaculate surface of the table. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch. It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with intricate designs of gold and moonstone adorning its surface. It gleams in the bright light of the full moon, and you feel a sense of awe wash over you as you climb up onto its surface. Instinctively, you sense that should kneel and sit back on your heels. You fold your hands softly in your lap, then lift your gaze once again to the founder.

“Are there eleven among you who will seal their witness on her behalf?”

Your pulse races.

What does that mean?

Why eleven?

And what does it entail?

But grace and confidence, Natasha steps forward and says, “I present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.” Tenderly, she places a finger below your chin and gently turns your head towards hers. Her warm lips press against your right cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment feels sacred and powerful, as if the entire world has stopped to bear witness to this act. You can feel the weight of her act, solidifying your journey down this unknown path.

Steve moves to your other side as Natasha steps back. Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I, too, present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim,” before turning your head and leaning in to press a his kiss to your left cheek. His lips feel slightly chapped against your skin, and you can smell the mint of his breath as he pulls away.

Then others step forward, one by one, alternating between the right or left cheek - right for the women, left for the men, but their words are slightly different, each of them saying, “I affirm the offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.”

Yelena, Thor, Sam, Bruce, Wanda, Scott… These are all people you met at some point through this process.

Their witnessing vows happen steadily, without pause, but you can’t stave off the next worry that enters your mind…

What if eleven people don’t seal their witness?

As the witnessing continues, you find yourself overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions coursing through you. Each kiss, though chaste, feels intensely intimate in this charged atmosphere. The warmth of their lips against your skin, the softness of some and the roughness of others, touches on your arm or shoulder or back as they seal their witness, the subtle scents of each person as they lean in close - it all blends together in a heady mix that leaves you dizzy.

The one thing you grasp onto is counting the witnesses, and after the eleventh, you hold your breath, and look back to James.

During the witnessing, you realize, Steve and Natasha have taken up positions at James' sides. Steve stands to his right, his posture straight and proud, while Natasha flanks his left, her stance graceful yet alert. They form a striking trio, their energy palpable even from where you kneel on the altar. The moonlight and the orbs cast an ethereal glow around the trio, making them appear almost otherworldly.

The clearing has fallen into an expectant hush, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

James steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is relentless, and you feel heat rise up your neck. He reaches out, his hand hovering just above your cheek where the last witness sealed their kiss. You can feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

"The witnesses have spoken," he speaks, his voice low and resonant. "You have been deemed worthy of the rites of elim."

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand finally makes contact with your skin. His touch is electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. You lean into it instinctively, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

"Do you accept this honor?" he asks, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you reply, "Yes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "Then let us truly begin."

He draws away from you and begins to circle the altar, and begins to speak, louder for everyone assembled to hear every word. “You kneel on this alter, chosen and prepared, deemed worthy by eleven witnesses of my devotees.”

His voice is rich and warm and alluring. There are echoes of thoughts you think you should be having, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into, whether or not you’ll be safe - or alive - come sunrise, what the ritual will entail - but they’re all so muted and fleeting, unable to compete with his oratory prowess.

“But now it is now mine to determine whether you are to be elim or only an offering. Regardless of my judgement, the ritual demands your body as a willing sacrifice to me in the light of the full moon. As an offering I will consume energy from your pleasure and then send you away with no memory of this night; but if I deem you to be worthy to the elevation of elim, you will be bound to me for eternity.”

He’s circled you twice while he spoke, and stands in front of you now.

“Are you ready?”

He’s larger than most men, his stature tall, shoulders broad, chest colossal, and arms and what you can see of his legs thick with corded muscle. He would be dangerous given his mere physical presence, but coupled with his enigmatic charisma, and the power radiating off him? Impossible, unthinkable to resist.

And a growing part of you does not want to.

You nod.

He leans forward, placing his palms on the altar, coming closer to you. “Spread your legs for me,” he commands.

You bite your lip, but slowly, you obey.

As you part your knees, the chemise slides up your thighs, revealing more of your soft skin to James' intense gaze. His eyes flicker down, taking in the sight of you, before locking back onto your face. A small, pleased smile plays at his lips.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that shoots heat through your veins.

Without breaking eye contact, James reaches out and trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there, but it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. You can't help the small gasp that escapes your lips.

"Sensitive," he observes, his smile widening slightly. "That's very good."

His hand continues its journey upward, pushing the chemise higher as he goes. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his fingers caressing the crease at the juncture of your hip, but not going to the spot where you’re aching to be touched, and you whimper.

He chuckles. “Not yet.”

James' fingers continue to tease along your inner thighs, never reaching where you desperately want him to. The anticipation builds with each caress, and your body starts to tremble. You struggle to keep still, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Patience," he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "We have a little time yet before the full moon reaches its apex."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he speaks, and these words are only for you. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?"

The heat of his breath against your skin makes you weak. You can only manage a breathy "Yes" in response.

James pulls back slightly, his piercing gaze locking with yours once more. There's a hunger in his eyes that makes your heart race. Slowly, deliberately, he brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Put your hand between your legs and show us all what’s there. I can smell it,” he assures you, “but I want everyone to see how ripe you are with desire - especially you.”

Your pulse quickens at his instruction. Though part of you feels exposed and vulnerable, another part thrills at the idea of obeying him, of showing him just how affected you are. With trembling fingers, you reach down between your legs.

The moment your fingers make contact with your slick folds, a soft moan escapes your lips. You're wetter than you realized, your arousal coating your fingers as you part your labia. The cool night air hits your exposed flesh, making you shiver.

James' eyes darken as he watches you, his gaze intense and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Show me how ready you are."

With trembling fingers, you raise your hand, presenting it to him. The assembled crowd murmurs in appreciation, but you barely notice them. Your focus is entirely on James, on the way his eyes devour you. He catches your wrist gently but firmly, bringing your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting your essence, and a jolt of electricity courses through you.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, releasing your wrist. “Now taste yourself.”

Your heart races as you bring your fingers to your lips, hesitating for just a moment before parting them. The scent of your own arousal fills your nostrils, musky and sweet. Slowly, you extend your tongue, tasting yourself. The flavor blooms across your taste buds - tangy, slightly salty, with an underlying sweetness that surprises you. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation as you suck your fingers clean.

“Have you tasted yourself before?” he asks, and you give a small nod. “But tonight your nectar tastes different, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Your system has taken well to the essence of the Luna’s Tears,” he explains, tracing one of the blooms in your flower crown. “It was in your water at lunch, in your tea, in the oils of your bath.”

Your jaw drops slightly, a rush of thoughts barraging your mind at this revelation.

“It soothes and primes those offered up for the ritual. But your body has become attuned to it in a potency we’ve never seen before. I’ve smelled it in the pheromones of others, but never in the slick dripping from a cunt.”

James's eyes burn with intensity as he continues, his voice low and husky. "Your body craves it now. Craves me. The Luna's Tears have awakened something primal within you."

You feel a rush of heat course through your body at his words. Part of you wants to deny it, to resist this pull, but you can't. Your body is humming with need, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

"Now, let's see just how responsive you've become," he says, his voice low and commanding.

James' hand descends to your chest. His touch is feather-light at first, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone. Then, with agonizing slowness, he trails his fingers down to the swell of your breasts. The thin silk of your chemise does little to dull the sensation of his calloused fingertips against your soft skin.

James' hand cups the gentle curve of your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Let's see how you react to this."

With a swift motion, he pulls down the top of your chemise, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples harden instantly, and you shiver, from the chill, from knowing you’re exposed for many in the clearing to see, but most of all from the intensity of James' gaze.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, and takes one nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his tongue contrasts sharply with the cool air, and you gasp at the sensation. His teeth graze lightly over the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Suddenly James retreats, and you can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment. He steps back, his eyes still locked on yours, and begins to slowly undo the fastenings of his robe. Your breath catches as more of his sculpted chest is revealed with each movement.

“True and noble followers,” he says, tone loud and resonant, “my judgement aligns with those who bore witness, and she will be elevated to elim.”

The few dozen around you begin to hum and murmur again, the words of a song in an ancient tongue.

You bite your lip, and he inclines his head, scrutinizing you.

“A question burns in your mind,” he assesses. “Ask it.”

You wonder if he can he read your mind by some supernatural power, or if has he learned to read you already. You put all your effort into keeping your voice even as the the words, “What is elim?” fall from your mouth.

"Oh, sweet girl," James says, his voice a low, rich timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. "Elim is a sacred bond, an eternal connection between myself and a chosen few. It's a destiny reserved for those who prove themselves worthy, those whose essence resonates with mine in a way that transcends the physical realm."

As he speaks, the others continue their song, and he continues to disrobe, revealing more of his chiseled physique. Your eyes are drawn to the play of muscles under his skin, the way the moonlight casts shadows across his broad chest and defined abdomen.

"Through this ritual, you will become more than just an offering," he continues. "You will be transformed, elevated to a higher state of being. Your body, your mind, your very soul will be attuned to me in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

The robe falls away completely now, pooling at his feet. He stands for another moment, the song of his followers crescendoing, and when they reach the climax of the refrain, he claps his hands together, there’s a streak of lightning across the sky, and the blue light of the orbs extinguishes completely. A hush falls over the clearing, now bathed only in the bright moonlight and the scattered groups of candles around the dais.

“It is time,” he proclaims, extending his arms wide, and your heart truly stops as he finally reveals himself.

NEXT PART: BINDING

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I mean... oh, sorry to leave you hanging there!

Thoughts? Threats? Theories?

SEE YOU THURSDAY! go to the chapter

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nixiefics · 7 months ago

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Fire and Runes - Chapter Three

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a marvel of opulence and grandeur, transformed into a feast hall worthy of the newly crowned King and Queen Consort. Torches flickered on the stone walls, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen triumphs. Long tables stretched the length of the hall, laden with an extravagant array of dishes that spoke to the richness of the realm.

At the high table, Aegon and Reilla sat in places of honour, their chairs adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and their house sigils. Reilla's white gown shimmered in the firelight, the wedding cloak draped over her shoulders adding a touch of bronze to her otherwise pristine ensemble. Aegon, in his dark green tunic that nearly appeared black, exuded a regal presence, his eyes bright with the excitement of the day.

The feast had begun with a flourish, the first course arriving to a chorus of applause from the assembled lords and ladies. Platters of roasted boar, glazed with honey and cloves, sat alongside capons stuffed with chestnuts and figs. Freshly baked trout, swimming in rich almond sauce, and a whole roasted stag garnished with rosemary and lemons showcased the culinary expertise of the Red Keep’s kitchens. Bowls of exotic fruits from the Reach, wheels of cheese from the Riverlands, and baskets of warm, crusty bread completed the spread.

Servants moved gracefully among the tables, filling goblets with Arbor gold and Dorne’s finest wines. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of roasted meats and sweet pastries, creating an atmosphere of indulgence and celebration.

Lords and ladies approached the high table to offer their congratulations. Lord Baratheon, his face alight with pride, toasted the health and prosperity of the newlyweds. "To King Aegon and Queen Reilla," he proclaimed, his voice ringing through the hall. "May your reign be long and prosperous, and may your union bring peace to the realm."

Reilla smiled graciously, raising her goblet in response. "Thank you, Lord Baratheon," she replied, her voice carrying across the hall. "We are honoured by your presence and your kind words."

Lady Reyne, her expression warm and familial, approached next. "My dear Queen Reilla," she said, embracing her gently. "You are such a credit to House Targaryen – beauty, grace and fire enough to survive this lot at court."

"Thank you, Lady Reyne," Reilla replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Your support means a great deal."

As the night progressed, Aemond made his way to Reilla’s side. His keen eyes took in the bustling hall, always observant and calculating. "Congratulations, my Queen," he said, his tone respectful. "A splendid feast and an even finer match."

"Thank you, Aemond," Reilla replied, meeting his gaze with equal respect. "I trust the feast is to your liking?"

"Indeed," Aemond nodded. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowered. "But feasts aside, there are matters of the realm to consider. I have heard whispers of unrest in the Riverlands."

Reilla's expression grew serious. "I have heard the same. What do you suggest?"

"Sending envoys to reassure the lesser lords would be wise," Aemond advised lowly, eyes flicking to his brother. "Remind them of the benefits of unity under the crown. And an envoy with Lord Larys to secure Harrenhal – Daemon would be setting his eyes on it as a seat of power…"

Reilla nodded, brows furrowing thoughtfully. "I will speak with Aegon about it. Thank you for your counsel, Aemond."

Their conversation was interrupted by the musicians striking up a lively tune. Aegon turned to Reilla with a warm smile, extending his hand. "Shall we dance, my queen?"

"It would be my honour, my king," Reilla replied, her heart fluttering with excitement as she placed her hand in his.

The guests parted, creating a space in the centre of the hall for the royal couple. As the music swelled, Aegon and Reilla began to dance, their movements graceful and perfectly in sync. The hall seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, united in their shared joy and love.

Reilla felt a thrill of excitement as they twirled and swayed, her gown flowing around her like a silken cloud. Aegon’s touch was warm and reassuring, and his smile filled her with a sense of belonging and contentment. The guests watched with admiration and delight, raising their goblets in tribute to the couple’s happiness.

As the dance came to an end, Aegon leaned in to whisper in Reilla’s ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You are truly radiant tonight, my queen. I am the luckiest man in the realm to have you by my side."

Reilla’s heart swelled with affection and pride. "And I am the luckiest woman, to be loved by a king as noble and kind as you."

They returned to their seats, the hall resuming its festive atmosphere. The night continued with more music, laughter, and camaraderie. Lords and ladies approached the high table, offering their congratulations and well-wishes. Ser Criston Cole, with his stoic demeanour, gave a respectful nod. "Your Grace, Your Majesty," he said. "May your reign be strong and just."

"Thank you, Ser Criston," Aegon replied, his tone sincere. "Your loyalty and service are invaluable to us."

Lady Redwyne, known for her sharp wit and keen political mind, approached next. "A splendid match, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I hope you are ready for the challenges of marriage."

"Thank you, Lady Redwyne," Reilla replied with a smile. "I do believe we are."

Aegon leaned towards Reilla, his eyes filled with admiration. "You handle these interactions with such grace."

Reilla smiled warmly. "It helps to have a strong and supportive king by my side."

As the evening wore on, the feast continued in full swing. Plates were refilled, goblets never emptied, and the laughter of the nobility echoed through the hall. Aegon and Reilla found moments to themselves amidst the revelry, their connection growing stronger with each passing hour.

Aegon caught sight of Aemond speaking with a group of lords, his demeanour calm and authoritative. Reilla followed his gaze. "He is a formidable politician," she remarked.

"Indeed," Aegon agreed. "His counsel is invaluable. And I am glad you get along well."

Reilla nodded. "We understand the importance of unity in these times."

Later in the evening, as the musicians began a slower, more intimate tune, Aegon took Reilla’s hand once more. "Shall we dance again?"

Reilla’s eyes sparkled with delight. "I would love to."

They moved to the centre of the hall, the fellow dancers watching with admiration as they danced together. The music swirled around them, creating a bubble of intimacy amidst the grand celebration. Aegon’s hands were firm and sure, guiding Reilla through the steps, his eyes never leaving hers.

"This feels like a dream," Reilla whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

"It is real," Aegon replied softly. "And it is just the beginning."

As the dance came to an end, the guests erupted into applause, their cheers filling the hall. Aegon and Reilla returned to their seats, their hearts full and their bond stronger than ever.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall of the Red Keep was electric, buzzing with the excitement of the wedding feast. The lords and ladies of the realm had gathered to celebrate the union of Aegon and Reilla, filling the room with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. The air was rich with the aromas of the feast: roasted boar, spiced lamb, honeyed ham, and a cornucopia of fruits and sweetmeats that adorned the long tables.

As the night wore on, a particularly boisterous lord, well into his cups, called out, “To the bedding ceremony!” His declaration was met with a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, though a few raised eyebrows and disapproving glances were also cast.

Helaena, sensing the growing tension, stepped forward with a loud and deliberate clap of her hands. “Enough of that,” she said, her voice cutting through the din. “I wish to dance with my brother Aemond.”

Her interruption was perfectly timed, and the attention of the guests quickly shifted. The hall echoed with murmurs of approval as Helaena’s boldness provided the perfect distraction.

Taking advantage of the moment, Reilla leaned close to Aegon, her breath warm against his ear. “Now’s our chance,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Aegon grinned, catching onto her plan. “Then let’s make our escape,” he replied, his voice filled with playful excitement.

Hand in hand, they slipped from the dais and darted through the crowd, Reilla leading the way. The corridors of the Red Keep stretched out before them, dimly lit by torches flickering in their sconces. Aegon, unable to resist the moment, slowed his pace, letting Reilla pull ahead just enough for him to start chasing her playfully.

“Where do you think you’re going, my queen?” he called out, laughter in his voice. “You can’t escape me!”

Reilla glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Catch me if you dare!” she teased, her heart pounding with exhilaration.

They raced through the winding halls, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Aegon’s longer strides closed the gap quickly, but he allowed Reilla to stay just out of reach, savouring the playful chase. She turned a corner, her gown flowing behind her like a whisper of moonlight, and Aegon followed, his own excitement growing with each step.

Finally, Reilla ducked into a narrow passageway, her breath coming in quick gasps as she reached the door to Aegon’s chambers. She fumbled with the latch for a moment, her hands trembling with anticipation, before managing to push it open.

Aegon was right behind her, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase. As they stumbled into the room, he caught her around the waist, spinning her in a playful circle before setting her gently on her feet.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice husky with laughter and desire.

Reilla’s laughter mingled with his, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “It seems you have,” she replied, breathless and exhilarated.

They paused for a moment, catching their breath and savouring the shared joy of their escape. Then Aegon’s expression grew more serious, though his eyes still sparkled with delight. “You know, I’m going to get criticism from the lords for not completing the bedding ceremony,” he said, though there was no real worry in his voice.

Reilla smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “I have just the thing to cheer you up,” she said, her voice filled with promise. “Wait for me on the bed.”

Aegon’s curiosity was piqued, and he nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. As he waited, he watched Reilla disappear behind the changing screen. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his thoughts filled with wonder and excitement at what she had planned.

Reilla shed her wedding gown as quickly as she was able and slipped into the nightgown Helaena had commissioned for her. It was a masterpiece of Myrish lace, delicate and ethereal. The fabric was sheer, adorned with intricate patterns that accentuated her curves and left just enough to the imagination. The lace hugged her figure, the fine material flowing gracefully as she moved.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, the sight of her took Aegon’s breath away. He had seen many beautiful things in his life, but nothing compared to the vision before him now. His heart pounded as he took in every detail: the way the lace clung to her, the delicate patterns that danced across her skin, and the way her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

Aegon’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His breath caught, and his pulse quickened, a deep, almost primal desire flooding through him. He had never felt such a powerful combination of awe, wonder, and sexual hunger. His body reacted instinctively, heat pooling low in his belly as he drank in the sight of her.

Reilla, for her part, felt a surge of confidence under his intense gaze. She moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. When she reached him, she paused, her eyes meeting his, a silent question in their depths.

Aegon answered without words, reaching out to pull her gently into his arms. He could feel the heat of her body through the delicate fabric of the nightgown, and it drove him wild. His hands roamed over the lace, savouring the feel of it and the warmth of her skin beneath.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and ravenous. The connection was electric, sending shivers up Reilla’s spine and making her toes curl with delight. Aegon’s kiss was hungry and passionate, a declaration of his desire. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fervour that left her breathless.

Reilla responded with equal passion, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed closer to him. The heat between them was palpable, a fierce and consuming fire that left them both yearning for more. Each touch, each caress, stoked the flames higher, filling the room with a heady mix of desire and love.

When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was heavy, their bodies tingling with the intensity of their kiss. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and adoration. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want you right now. Issa gevie ābrazȳrys.” Aegon whispered as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Reilla’s lace covered breasts. His hands slid the traps of the gown down her shoulders, marvelling at the soft, milky skin. (My beautiful wife.)

“Issa sȳz jurnegēre valzȳrys.” Reilla smiled up at him, tucking some hair away from his face. (My handsome husband.)

Aegon's breath hitched as Reilla's soft whisper reached his ears, her words igniting a fierce longing within him. The delicate lace of her nightgown felt tantalizingly fragile beneath his fingers as he pulled her closer, their bodies moulding together with an urgency that belied their previous playfulness.

Reilla's hands were hesitant at first, but as they found their way to Aegon's bare chest, her touch became more confident. Her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin and the strength she felt beneath her fingertips. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a testament to the desire they both shared.

Aegon’s hands roamed over the intricate patterns of the Myrish lace, revelling in the sensation of Reilla’s body beneath the delicate fabric. His touch was firm yet tender, exploring the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the softness of her breasts. The nightgown left little to the imagination, and Aegon’s imagination was running wild.

He kissed her deeply; their mouths moving together in a dance of hunger and need. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving inside, tasting her sweetness. Reilla moaned softly into his mouth, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and then down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. His back was a marvel to her, each ridge and line fascinating under her questing fingers.

Their kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. Aegon’s hands found the hem of her nightgown, lifting it slightly to brush his fingertips against the bare skin of her thigh. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through Reilla, her breath catching as she pressed closer to him.

Reilla’s fingers traced the line of Aegon’s spine, her touch light and teasing. She felt him shiver under her touch, a reaction that sent a thrill of power through her. She let her hands wander lower, exploring the hard planes of his abdomen and the slight indents that hinted at his strength.

Aegon pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire as he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to remember every inch of you.”

Reilla’s heart pounded at his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shyness and boldness. “My body is yours, Aegon.” she whispered, her hands slipping around to the front of his breeches, tracing the edge with a feather-light touch.

Aegon groaned softly, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. He kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to memorize the taste and feel of her lips. Reilla responded in kind, her kisses growing more confident, more demanding.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch building the tension between them higher and higher. Aegon’s fingers slipped beneath the lace of her nightgown, tracing the curve of her spine, while Reilla’s hands roamed over his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing.

Their kisses became more heated, more desperate, as they clung to each other. Aegon’s hands found the soft swell of her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the thin fabric, eliciting a gasp from Reilla. She arched into his touch, her own hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him with a fervour that matched his own.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the scent of desire and the sound of their mingled breaths. Aegon’s hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring, while Reilla’s fingers traced the lines of his body, committing each detail to memory.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their passion. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and desire, his hands cupping her face tenderly. “I need you, Reilla,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I need all of you.”

Reilla smiled, her own eyes reflecting the same need. “Then take me, Aegon,” she whispered back, her voice a soft promise. “Mark me yours.”

“I want to make you feel good,” your husband finally uttered in a whisper. Of course, she had heard the servants speaking of pleasure. That sometimes, if the man did ‘it’ just right, the woman would find bliss but she had never dared ask the question.

“How?” Reilla glanced at the space just above his breeches, where a small trail of blonde hair disappeared.

Aegon’s thumb caressed her cheek ever so softly, pressing on the supple plumpness under the pad of his finger. He had leaned away, not too far, just enough to gauge Reilla’s reaction. Her throat felt dry, and she longed for a cup of wine or water.

“Will you let me?” he asked.

Reilla nodded her head, untrusting of her own words. As his deft hands lifted the nightgown to her hips, Reilla fisted the sheets tight in her hands. She watched him as he watched her, or her womanhood, rather. Aegon’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes twinkling under the subtle warmth of the dimness in his chambers.

Reilla felt open… exposed. The urge to cross her legs threatened to overwhelm her, but Aegon’s hands caressing the meat of her thighs prevented her from doing so. He descended then, planting a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh. Gooseflesh erupted over her skin, and Reilla gasped when he came close to her mound, making her grip his shoulder to stop him.

“Aegon…” she breathed out, eyes wild with panic.

“Let me do this for you, wife.” he whispered, taking her wrist to direct his kisses there. “Emagon p��sagon.” (Have faith.)

Reilla retracted her hand from his firm shoulder hesitantly, leaning her weight on her elbow to watch him. His breath was hot against her slit, which caused an involuntarily clench. He started with light kisses but soon progressed to little licks against her slit. His eyes flickered to gauge her reaction, where she had started to bite her lip to keep quiet. Two fingers parted her folds, baring her to his hungry gaze.

“Oh,” Reilla exhaled, tilting her head back, as his tongue delved deeper, penetrating her. With a surge of confidence, Aegon husband began to devour his little wife in earnest, licking and sucking. Sweet sounds, one he had never heard before in earnest, had started to spill from her lips.

A long finger soon replaced his tongue, entering her gummy walls as though it were his cock. He thrust it in and out of her the same way, and when he bent to feel up a rough patch within her walls, Reilla’s toes clenched as her spine bowed off the bed.

“Good?” Aegon asked sincerely. Reilla merely whined, the semblance of a nod greeting him.

His lips found her pearl, and then another finger joined the other. The king soon found a rhythm, one that had her writhing and moaning without shame.

Reilla could feel the pressure in her stomach build in a steady peak. It sparked her muscles to twitch in Aegon’s hold, growing convulsive as she was pushed closer to her precipice. Aegon watched as she finally came with a whine, her head thrown back into the feather mattress, grinning to himself at his accomplishment.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Reilla asked, breathless. Black spots danced around her vision of him, swarming around the otherworldly sight of his flushed, glimmering lips and the loose silver strands that framed his face. It quirked into a small smirk as he regarded her, his arms caging her in between his hold. “No, wait don’t tell me.”

“It is of no consequence now.” Aemond responded. Reilla dared not ask what he meant, unwilling to learn who he had sucked and licked the way he did in order to be so proficient in the act, how he had learned to poke all the right places to earn such lewd sounds from her. Reilla merely hummed, tracing the line of his jaw in a trance.

His deft fingers had grabbed a hold of the straps of her nightgown, pulling them down to bare her fully to him. She let him, willingly so, encouraged by the look in his eyes that promised more. His gaze was fixed her breasts immediately before his warm, calloused hands took them into his hold. They fit perfectly in his palms, much their combined delight. Reilla bit her lip as he squeezed them, massaging the supple flesh and rubbing on your sensitive bud. Aegon could do this for hours, and if it weren’t for the throbbing in between his thighs, he would have.

He cleared his throat and stood, beginning to unlace and remove his breeches until he stood before her, cock stood stiff and weeping for attention. He was utterly handsome like this, bare and unguarded. She beckoned him closer, soft fingertips trailing his knuckles. “You are beautiful.”

He huffed in amusement, planting a kiss on her cheek before mumbling into her skin words she could not hear.

His stiff length was hot and heavy as it sat against her hip, a reminder of the fire that still coursed through their veins. Aegon pulled away, the look in his eyes taking a warmer, softer tinge. The smile on Reilla’s lips melted away to something sincere, hopeful. With a nod, she watched him take hold of his shaft, lining it upon her entrance. His breach was smooth but still, Reilla tensed.

“Don’t tense, love.” He murmured, kissing along her jaw before taking her lips in a passionate kiss to distract her from the pinching pain. Reilla breathed slowly, busying her mind with her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He was pushing slowly, eyes shut tightly against the feel of her tight warmth around him.

“Fuck,” he growled when his hips settled flush against hers. He breathed out against her neck, raising more goosebumps. “Fuck, darling, please tell me when you’re ready.”

Reilla swallowed thickly and glanced down between them, where his cock disappeared. The pinching sensation had lessened and a blooming heat was spreading through her. He gripped at his shoulders and nodded at him, offering her mouth for a kiss.

Aegon’s hips took on a steady pace, rocking into her gently and slowly. It was nothing lewd or animalistic, but rather sensual, intimate. His face was buried into the crook of her neck, his grunts and moans traveling straight into her clavicle. Reilla was no better, her whines of building pleasure echoing into the quiet of the room.

Aegon took hold of her fisted hands and pried them open and intwined their fingers.

“Aegon,” Reilla breathed out. His nose pressed into the side of her face, breathing into the sweet scent of her dampening flesh.

“Say it again…” His voice was growing raspier by the second, but his tone was ever so soft. His lips closed around one of her nipples, sucking on the stiff bud in a way that made Reilla’s core clench around him.

“Aegon, oh, Aegon! My king,” she whined, holding onto the planes of his back as his pace hastened. His pubic bone rubbed on her pearl, sending shoots of fiery pleasure up and down her spine. She gripped him tightly, almost painfully, but he relished in it. He wanted to feel her everywhere, kiss on every ounce of flesh he could, she was his after all.

“My wife, my dearest queen. Will you come for me again? Spill around my cock, hm?”

Reilla nodded fervently at words, wanting nothing else to do exactly as he asked. His forehead was scrunched in concentration, lips barely an inch away from her. Their breath mingled and Reilla chased him when his tongue darted to lick a swipe across her bottom lip playfully.

She screamed his name as her release washed over her, moans swallowed by his hungry mouth. His length drove into her still, chasing his own release with the aid of her spasming walls.

Aegon pulled away to look at where they were connected, committing the sight of his cock, painted with a white ring around its base, disappearing into her sweet cunny. His pace grew rhythmless as his hips began to sputter. With a hand on his wife’s breast, the other on her jaw, Aegon came with an open-mouthed groan, spilling his hot seed deep into her womb.

When he collapsed by her side, she pulled him close to her chest, letting him lay on her breast with his softening length still nestled in her walls.

They lay there together in silence, comfortably breathless and boneless. His hand rubbed patterns on her waist, as hers ran over his back.

Slumber found them a while later, the heat emanating from Aegon’s bare body pressed against her in a comforting blanket.

Aegon and Reilla sat in the sunlit dining room of their shared quarters, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the table laden with fresh fruits, bread, and various pastries. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen history, and the scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea filled the air.

Aegon looked at Reilla with a smile that hadn't left his face since their wedding night, his eyes full of contentment. "You seem to be glowing even more this morning," he teased, reaching across the table to take her hand.

Reilla laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with happiness. "And you, my king, look as if you haven't a care in the world."

Aegon chuckled. "That's because having you by my side makes all the difference. But truth be told, there are still matters that weigh on my mind."

"Are you nervous about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal?" Reilla asked, her tone gentle as she took a sip of her tea.

Aegon sighed, setting down his fork. "I am. Harrenhal is a fortress, but it's also a place of dark history and Larys Strong accompanying him puts me ill at ease, but the thought of Rhaenyra's loyalists trying to take it makes me angry."

Reilla nodded, understanding his concern. "Aemond is capable and determined. He'll do everything to secure it. Besides, Larys Strong is cunning and resourceful; he would never harm that hands that feed him."

He grinned at her words, knowing how much the man annoyed Reilla. She was too smart to say anything else, knowing that having Lord Strong at their side was a boon – he could easily decide that their cause was no longer his and disappear to Dragonstone to treat with Rhaenyra. “Soon he will be but a memory, darling.”

“Not a fond one.” Reilla muttered, chomping down on a strawberry as if it were Larys’ head.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Mother mentioned looking at a betrothal for Aemond. She's been hinting at it for weeks, but there's been no announcement, not even a word in the Small Council meetings. It's unlike her to delay such matters."

"Do you have any idea who she might be considering?" Reilla asked, curious.

Aegon shrugged. "She hasn't mentioned any names. It's strange. She's usually so decisive."

Reilla pondered this for a moment. "I could ask her about it when I see her later. Perhaps there is something she's waiting for or some strategic reason for the delay."

Aegon nodded appreciatively. "I would be grateful if you did. Aemond deserves to know his future, especially before embarking on such a significant mission."

Reilla reached across the table and took his hand. "I'll speak with her. In the meantime, we need to trust Aemond's abilities and Larys' cunning."

Aegon squeezed her hand gently, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and love. "Thank you, Reilla. Your support means everything to me."

Reilla smiled warmly at him. "Always, my king. Together we will accomplish great things."

After finishing their breakfast, Reilla excused herself to prepare for the day. She walked to her chambers, where sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant room. On the bed lay the new dress Aegon had gifted her, its rich green fabric shimmering in the light.

The dress was a masterpiece of Westerosi craftsmanship, designed to flatter her figure and exude regal grace. Made of fine silk, it was dyed a deep shade of emerald green that highlighted her striking Targaryen features. The bodice was intricately embroidered with golden thread, depicting dragons in flight.

The neckline was modest yet elegant, trimmed with delicate Myrish lace, and the long, fitted sleeves tapered to her wrists with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, creating a subtle, mesmerizing shimmer with every movement.

The dress also featured a belt of braided gold, cinching her waist and accentuating her figure. Reilla admired the way it moved as she turned, feeling a sense of pride and excitement. Aegon's thoughtful gift was not just beautiful; it symbolized his affection and support.

As she donned the dress, she completed her ensemble with delicate golden earrings and a simple necklace, her hair cascading in loose waves down her back. With one last glance in the mirror, she made her way to her next task, feeling every bit the Queen Consort she had become.

As she made her way to her good mother's chambers first, she thought about the strange delay in Aemond's betrothal announcement. It was unlike Alicent to keep such plans to herself for so long.

Entering Alicent's chambers, Reilla found the Queen seated by the window, reading a letter. The room was decorated with an elegant simplicity, reflecting Alicent's taste. Alicent looked up and smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law. "Reilla, it's lovely to see you. How are you this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "I actually wanted to speak with you about Aemond. Aegon mentioned that you were considering a betrothal for him, but there hasn't been any news. He is curious, and so am I."

Alicent's expression grew thoughtful. "Yes, I have been considering a few matches for Aemond. However, the situation is delicate. We need to ensure that the alliance is beneficial to our house and strengthens our position against Rhaenyra. There are many factors to weigh."

Reilla nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I see. Aegon is concerned about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal without knowing his future. It would give them both peace of mind to know your plans, I think."

Alicent sighed softly. "I understand. I will discuss this matter with the Small Council soon. Aemond's mission is critical, and he should know where he stands before he leaves."

"Thank you," Reilla said, feeling relieved. "I'm sure Aemond will appreciate it."

Alicent reached out and touched Reilla's hand. "You've been a wonderful addition to our family, Reilla. Your concern for all my children is commendable."

Reilla smiled, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "I have found true family with you all here and I will always support that."

After their conversation, Reilla made her way to Helaena's chambers. She found her good sister preparing for their visit to the city, watching a gaggle of servants ready the baskets of fresh food they would be taking with them. The room was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, and Helaena's presence brought a sense of calm and joy.

The princess was dressed in a gown of soft lavender, the colour complementing her fair skin and platinum hair. The dress was adorned with silver thread work that glittered in the sunlight, depicting intricate patterns of flowers and vines.

As Reilla approached, Helaena's face lit up with a warm smile. "You look beautiful, Reilla," she said, her voice gentle and sincere. "Aegon has excellent taste."

"Thank you, Helaena," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "You look stunning as always. The lavender suits you perfectly."

Helaena nodded appreciatively, then her gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something far beyond the room. "A wolf dressed in pale blue," she murmured, her tone softening considerably. "There will be a wolf dressed in pale blue."

Reilla frowned slightly, puzzled by Helaena's words. "What do you mean, Helaena?"

Helaena blinked and seemed to come back to the present, her expression softening. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Sometimes, I see things. They don't always make sense right away."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on Helaena's arm. "Your visions are a gift, Helaena. We should always heed them. Perhaps the meaning will become clear in time."

Helaena nodded, her gaze steady and reassuring. "Yes, perhaps it will. For now, let's focus on our task for the day."

The two women shared a determined look, then set off together towards the city, ready to deliver food to the orphanage. The words of the prophecy lingered in Reilla's mind, a reminder of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

As they made their way through the bustling streets of King's Landing, Reilla felt a sense of purpose and fulfilment. The people they encountered greeted them with smiles and gratitude, their spirits lifted by the generosity of their Queen and princess. The streets were alive with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares, children playing, and the general hum of city life.

Reilla and Helaena distributed food to the children at the orphanage, their hearts warming at the sight of the little faces lighting up with joy. They spent time talking with the caretakers, listening to their needs and concerns.

"These children have so little," Helaena said softly, her eyes reflecting her empathy. "It breaks my heart to see them suffer."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "We are making a difference, Helaena. One step at a time. And we will continue to do so."

Helaena nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Yes, we will."

As they made their way back to the Red Keep, Reilla reflected on the day's events. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that she and Helaena were making a positive impact on the lives of those in need. Reilla knew that she and Aegon had many challenges ahead, but with the support of their family and their commitment to their people, they were ready to face whatever the future held.

Back at the Red Keep, Reilla found Aegon in their solar, poring over maps and muttering to himself about strategy. He looked up and smiled as she entered, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

"How was your day?" Aegon asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

"It was fulfilling," Reilla replied, taking a seat beside him. "We distributed food to the orphanage and listened to their needs. It's heartening to see how much a small act of kindness can mean to those children."

Aegon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You have a good heart, Reilla. Our people are lucky to have you."

"And I am lucky to have you," Reilla said, leaning into him gently.

Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, filled with the warmth of their mutual affection. Aegon's hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, as he pulled her closer. The kiss was soft and slow, a comforting embrace of lips that conveyed the depth of their feelings for one another. Aegon's other hand slid around her waist, holding her gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let her go.

Reilla felt a shiver of delight run down her spine as the kiss deepened. She melted into his embrace, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, each moment filled with the promise of their shared future. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their eyes locking in a gaze that spoke of love, trust, and unspoken vows.

"You really do have a way of making everything better," Aegon murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

Reilla smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "I spoke with your mother earlier," she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "About Aemond and the betrothal she mentioned."

Aegon’s eyebrows raised in interest. "And what did she say?"

"She didn't give a definitive answer, but she seemed to be weighing her options carefully. I think she’s waiting for the right moment or perhaps the right match."

Aegon chuckled softly. "Matching Aemond’s intensity is no small feat. Did she hint at anyone specific?"

Reilla shook her head. "No, but she seemed thoughtful about it. I get the sense she wants to make a choice that will benefit both Aemond and the realm."

Aegon nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "That sounds like Mother. She’s always thinking three steps ahead."

Their lips met once more, this time with a bit more urgency, a silent promise of their shared strength and unwavering support for one another. The warmth of their connection enveloped them, making the weight of the crown and the trials ahead seem just a little bit lighter.

The Small Council chamber was a grand and imposing room, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The room was lit by the warm glow of numerous torches, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. A large, polished table dominated the center of the chamber, surrounded by high-backed chairs reserved for the council members. King Aegon II Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding respect and attention.

The attendees took their seats, their expressions reflecting the seriousness of the matters at hand.

Aegon cleared his throat, signalling the start of the meeting. "We have important matters to discuss today, the foremost being the departure of Larys and Aemond to Harrenhal to secure it against Rhaenyra’s loyalists."

Larys Strong leaned forward, his face a mask of calm calculation. "The task at Harrenhal is of utmost importance. Securing it will provide us with a strong foothold in the Riverlands and prevent any incursions from Rhaenyra’s supporters."

Prince Aemond nodded in agreement; his one remaining eye gleaming with determination. "We will ensure that Harrenhal is firmly under our control. Vhagar’s presence alone will serve as a significant deterrent."

Ser Otto Hightower, his expression thoughtful, added, "We cannot afford to show any weakness."

Aemond's gaze shifted to his mother, who seemed to be waiting for the right moment to speak. Alicent took a deep breath and addressed the council. "I have two viable options for Aemond’s betrothal, which will strengthen our alliances significantly."

All eyes turned to Alicent as she continued, "The first option is a daughter of House Baratheon. A marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters would secure his loyalty to our cause. Aemond, you may choose among the Baratheon girls as you see fit."

Aemond’s gaze flickered with interest, but he remained silent as Alicent presented the second option. "The second option is Rosyn Tully, the daughter of Lord Grover Tully. This marriage would not only solidify our hold on the Riverlands but also ensure that Harrenhal’s security is maintained. Additionally, if Aemond refuses Rosyn, Helaena could be married to one of Lord Grover’s younger sons, securing the alliance from another angle."

Ser Tyland Lannister, always calculating, leaned back in his chair, considering the implications. "Both alliances are beneficial. The Baratheons would provide strong military support, while the Tully’s would secure our position in the Riverlands."

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement. "We must weigh the benefits carefully. Aemond’s decision will significantly impact our strategy moving forward."

Aemond, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Both options have their merits. I will consider them carefully and will send my answer within a week."

Alicent smiled warmly at her son. "I know you will make the right choice, Aemond. These alliances are crucial to our success."

Aegon looked at his brother with pride. "Aemond, your judgment is valued here. Choose wisely, for the future of our realm depends on it."

The discussion then shifted to the logistics and strategies for securing Harrenhal. Ser Criston Cole outlined the security measures and troop deployments. "We must ensure that Harrenhal is fortified and that our men are well-prepared for any potential siege."

Larys Strong added, “Rumours indicate that Rhaenyra’s forces are spread thin, but we cannot underestimate her. With Vhagar at Harrenhal, we will have a significant advantage."

As maps were unrolled and plans scrutinized, the room buzzed with activity. Grand Maester Orwyle provided insights on the supply lines and the importance of maintaining them.

After a thorough discussion, Aegon turned to his council. "Is there any other business to address?"

Tyland cleared his throat. "There are reports from the western borders that require attention, but they are not as pressing as the matter of Harrenhal. We can address them in the next meeting."

Aegon nodded. "Very well. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

As the council members began to rise and gather their documents, Alicent approached Aemond. "I trust you will make the best decision for our family and the realm."

Aemond met his mother’s gaze with determination. "I will, Mother. You can count on it."

The Small Council chamber slowly emptied, leaving behind an air of resolved determination as the Targaryens and their allies prepared for the challenges ahead. The future of the realm hung in the balance, and every decision made in that room would shape the course of history.

The Dragonpit loomed large and foreboding, its vastness filled with the echoes of ancient roars and the lingering smell of dragons. The air inside was thick with the heat of dragonfire and the musky scent of the great beasts. Stone corridors, worn smooth by centuries of use, twisted and turned, leading deeper into the heart of the pit.

Helaena Targaryen led Reilla through the massive stone corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the cool stone floors. The faint light from torches cast flickering shadows on the walls, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. The anticipation built within Reilla with each step, her heart racing in both fear and excitement.

As they approached Dreamfyre’s chamber, the dragon’s massive, serpentine form came into view. Dreamfyre was a magnificent sight, her scales shimmering with hues of blue and silver, catching the light and reflecting it in a dazzling array. She lifted her head, her eyes glinting with curiosity as the two women entered her space. Her wings, though folded, hinted at the immense power they held when unfurled.

Helaena stepped forward, speaking soothingly to her dragon. “Dreamfyre, my love,” she murmured, her voice soft and melodic, like a lullaby. “This is Reilla, my dear sister by marriage.”

Reilla stood back, awestruck by the dragon’s sheer size and grace. Dreamfyre’s eyes, large and expressive, focused on her, and for a moment, Reilla felt a connection, a sense of understanding pass between them. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes never leaving Dreamfyre’s.

“Come, she will not harm you,” Helaena encouraged, her smile gentle and reassuring.

With a deep breath, Reilla stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest. The dragon remained calm, her gaze steady and accepting. Reilla felt a sense of calm wash over her, the initial trepidation giving way to a strange comfort in the presence of the dragon.

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “She likes you,” she said softly. “Dragons are more perceptive than most people realize.”

They spent some time with Dreamfyre, Helaena tending to her dragon and speaking in low, soothing tones. Reilla watched, fascinated by the bond between them, noticing the subtle, almost tender interactions. Dreamfyre would nuzzle Helaena gently, responding to her touch with a soft rumble of contentment.

As they finished, Reilla noticed another presence nearby. Aegon entered the chamber, his golden hair catching the light of the torches, and beside him was his dragon, Sunfyre. Sunfyre’s scales gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, a striking blend of gold and red. His regal form moved with a fluid grace, his eyes sharp and intelligent.

“Aegon,” Helaena greeted her brother, “I thought it would be good for Reilla to meet Sunfyre as well.”

Aegon nodded, his gaze shifting to his wife. “Sunfyre, meet Reilla,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle.

Sunfyre’s eyes locked onto Reilla, and for a moment, the dragon seemed to assess her. Reilla felt a mixture of awe and trepidation, but she held her ground. The golden dragon lowered his head slightly, a sign of acceptance.

Aegon walked over to Reilla, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He likes you,” he said, his tone softer now. “Sunfyre can be quite discerning.”

Reilla felt a rush of emotions, a sense of being embraced by these magnificent creatures. “Thank you, Sunfyre,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to fear from him. He knows you are family now.”

Reilla looked up at Aegon, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”

Aegon chuckled softly. “It takes time, but you’ll find your place here. We’re all adjusting in our own ways.”

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “Reilla has a good heart, Aegon. She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Eventually, Helaena turned the conversation to a more personal matter. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Reilla,” Helaena began, her tone curious and thoughtful. “What happened to the dragon egg that was sent to you as a babe?”

Reilla sighed, her expression wistful. “It never hatched. I kept it close, hoping it would one day, but it remained cold and still. And with my upbringing at Runestone, claiming a dragon was impossible. I never had the chance.”

Helaena nodded thoughtfully, her fingers absently stroking Dreamfyre’s scales. “Perhaps you could try bonding with one of the castle dragons without riders. There are several that remain unclaimed.”

Reilla’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not sure about that, Helaena. I’m not much of a warrior, though I have had some sword training.”

Helaena smiled gently, shaking her head. “Bonding with a dragon should never be about fighting, Reilla. It’s about the connection, the essence it brings to one’s life. A dragon is more than a weapon; it’s a part of you, a companion.”

Reilla pondered this, her eyes drifting to the tunnels leading to the nests of the unclaimed dragons. “Which dragon would you suggest?” she asked hesitantly.

“Silverwing,” Helaena replied without hesitation. “She’s relatively docile and loved her previous rider, Good Queen Alysanne, very much. She might accept you if you approach her with an open heart.”

Reilla’s gaze turned toward the direction of Silverwing’s lair, uncertainty and curiosity warring within her. “I will ponder it,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on the darkened tunnels. The idea of bonding with such a majestic creature was daunting, yet exhilarating.

Aegon, who had been listening quietly, added, “Silverwing is a good choice. She’s wise and gentle, perfect for someone like you.”

Reilla looked at Aegon, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, Aegon. Your confidence means a lot to me.”

Helaena reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Reilla’s arm. “Take your time. The bond with a dragon is not something to be rushed. When you’re ready, Silverwing will be waiting.”

Reilla nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude towards Helaena and Aegon for their understanding and support. “Thank you, both of you. Your guidance means a lot to me.”

Helaena smiled, her eyes reflecting her sincerity. “We are family now, Reilla. And family looks out for each other.”

As they made their way out of the Dragonpit, the anticipation and excitement of what lay ahead stayed with Reilla. The Dragonpit seemed less intimidating now, the shadows less foreboding. The notion of bonding with a dragon, something she had long thought impossible, now seemed within reach.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they exited the pit, the warmth a stark contrast to the coolness within. Reilla couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope igniting within her. The idea of bonding with a dragon was daunting, yet exhilarating, and she found herself looking forward to the possibilities that lay ahead.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” Reilla said, her voice filled with determination.

Helaena nodded, a look of pride in her eyes. “I know you will, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”

Aegon added, “And so will I. Together, we’ll face whatever comes.”

Together, they walked back toward the Red Keep, their steps light with the promise of new beginnings and the strength of their newfound bond.

The war table in Dragonstone's grand hall was surrounded by the key members of Queen Rhaenyra’s faction, the atmosphere tense and charged with anticipation. The news of Aegon’s coronation and marriage to Daemon’s estranged daughter, Reilla, had sent shockwaves through their ranks.

The chamber was bathed in a warm, ambient glow from sconces and flickering torches, their light casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. At its centre sprawled the Painted Table, an immense block of wood carved and painted meticulously to resemble the detailed contours of Westeros as it stood at the dawn of Aegon's Conquest. Settlements and landscapes were vividly depicted, yet without the confines of borders, offering a panoramic view of the realm's expanse. Near the representation of Dragonstone, a raised seat awaited, providing an optimal vantage point to oversee the entirety of the map. Over three centuries of varnish lent the table a rich patina, while nearby, an iron brazier crackled softly, adding to the chamber's warm ambiance, complemented by the gentle heat emanating from a hearth nestled in one corner.

Rhaenyra stood at the head of the table, her presence commanding and regal even amidst the turmoil. Her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her violet eyes were steely with determination. Daemon stood beside her, his expression dark and brooding. His gaze flickered with anger and frustration, the tension palpable between him and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, who sat opposite with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Rhaenyra’s voice broke the heavy silence, steady but laced with anger. “Their union strengthens Aegon’s claim substantially,” she began, her eyes scanning the faces of her loyal supporters. “We need to act swiftly and decisively.”

Rhaenys, her eyes flashing with the same fire that burned in her husband, nodded in agreement. “Harrenhal must be secured. If Aegon sends forces there, it will cut us off from the Riverlands.”

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “I will gather an army and claim Harrenhal. Aegon will not hold it while I breathe.”

Corlys looked thoughtful, stroking his beard. “Borros Baratheon remains undecided. We need his support if we are to secure the Stormlands.”

Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra’s eldest son, stood tall and resolute. “I will fly to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Baratheon.”

“No,” Rhaenyra interjected, her tone firm. “You are needed to fly to Winterfell. We must secure Lord Cregan Stark’s aid. Lucerys will go to Storm’s End.”

Lucerys, though younger and less experienced, nodded bravely. “I will do my duty, Mother.”

The tension in the room mounted as the discussion shifted. Daemon’s face darkened further as the conversation turned to Reilla. Rhaenys brought up her concern with barely concealed contempt. “This marriage is an affront. Reilla should have been here, with us.”

Daemon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Reilla is a mistake, just like her mother. I would have bastardized her if Viserys and that snake Alicent hadn't interfered.”

Rhaenys stood, her voice rising. “You may despise her, but you cannot deny she is your blood. My sources say she is the spitting image of the late Queen Alyssa. Raised with the Royce intelligence for battle and political strategy, she would have been a powerful aid to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

Daemon’s hand went to his sword, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. “Speak another word about that child, and you will regret it, Rhaenys.”

Corlys rose to his feet, placing a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Enough, Daemon. You will not threaten my wife. We stand united, or we fall.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence, calm but commanding. “We cannot afford to be divided. Our enemies are formidable, and we must stand together. Harrenhal must be secured, and we must bring the Baratheons and the Starks to our side.”

Lord Bartimos Celtigar, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “We have dragons, Your Grace. They are our greatest advantage.”

Rhaena Targaryen, squaring her shoulders, added, “Silverwing remains in King’s Landing, but Vermithor is on Dragonstone, along with Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and Seasmoke. Cannibal is too dangerous to approach. Aemond’s dragon Vhagar is the biggest threat we face; she is powerful beyond measure.”

Daemon nodded, his expression hardening. “We have Meleys and Caraxes.”

Rhaenys squinted at her cousin shrewdly, clenching her hand on the arm of her chair to avoid saying something that would start an all-out brawl. “Baela and Moondancer will train with myself and Meleys as well, so that she might be ready for any circumstance.”

“We might search other avenues as well,” Jacaerys said trying not to let his nerves show. “We could enlist riders from outside the family-

“No dragon will accept a non-Targaryen rider.” Daemon scoffed dismissively.

“Dragonseeds have enough Targaryen blood.” Jacaerys said, eyes flicking to his mother. “Who cares where our fighting power comes from, as long as we have it.”

Maester Gerardys nodded in agreement. “The dragons are crucial to our success and there might still be some on the island with dragon blood…”

Ser Erryk Cargyll, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I will have my men scour the island for information on any remaining Dragonseeds and descendants, Your Grace. The prince’s idea is a good one.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched and he stood abruptly, storming from the room without a second glance. Rhaenys shared a look with Rhaenyra, conveying her ire towards the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over her council. “We will move forward with our plans. Daemon, will prepare to take Harrenhal. Jacaerys, you will fly to Winterfell. Lucerys, you will go to Storm’s End. We must secure our allies and our positions.”

Rhaenyra turned to her sons, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Be careful, my sons. The fate of our House rests on your shoulders.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys nodded, determination in their eyes. “We will not fail you, Mother,” Jacaerys vowed.

The council members continued to discuss their strategies and plans. Rhaenyra spoke with Lord Bartimos Celtigar about securing additional supplies and reinforcements, while Maester Gerardys and Ser Erryk Cargyll provided updates on their intelligence and reconnaissance efforts.

The air was filled with a sense of urgency and resolve. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but united, they were determined to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The battle for the Iron Throne was just beginning, and they would fight with all their strength to claim it.

Taglist: @481theralicat

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